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pleasantanathema · 4 years ago

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Graves into Gardens | Reiner Braun x Reader | Chapter Six

Chapter Six: Revelations

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Warnings: Modern AU, spoilers up to season four, slight manga spoilers (only by including characters met later), captivity, mentions of death, violence enemies to lovers, angst, and eventual smut (ohohoho we’re so hot on it now, just wait until the end of this one)

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Thank you so, so much to everyone who has left comments, screamed in reblog tags, and just encouraged me to create this story. I have never felt so much love for a fic in the time I’ve been writing.

This chapter reveals a lot, and it’s a little longer than the rest, but it’s for good reason- the end of this is one of my favorite things I’ve written.

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Reiner’s apartment truly wasn’t much. You thought he’d been joking, perhaps was even being humble, but the small studio apartment was quite dismal. The walls were stark white, a few faded posters peeling off the wall from neglect, a couple of medals and trophies lining a small bookshelf that was bursting with paperbacks and notebooks. A simple bed with a royal blue comforter and overstuffed pillows, the most compact L-shaped couch in front of a tv, and a corner dominated by a desk with two monitors and stacks of documents, manila envelopes, and crates of papers crammed below.

A kitchenet that looked hardly used was tucked away in another corner, the entryway to a small bathroom right near it.

There was truly nothing worth looking twice at, save a handful of framed photos scattered around.

You’d taken it all in rather hurriedly, still out of breath from practically running through snowy alleyways, the developing snowstorm covering the land like fresh linen. There was a window near his bed, which you gravitated toward after kicking off your damp boots by the door. Not much a view, either. Just more desolate, brick buildings and a sorry looking street below.

He told you once that he didn’t grow up with much, and it unfortunately seemed like despite joining the ranks of the military, he was still left with close to nothing.

“What are we here for?”

He was busy toiling with the thermostat, thick fingers mashing against the heat button to try to warm the small box of an apartment.

“You won’t like it,” he grumbled, golden eyes glancing over to you with a tinge of regret painting his brow.

“Then why bring me?”

“Because you need to see it.”

You tucked your hands under your arms, the chill of the winter’s day finally settling into your bones.

You watched keenly as he shrugged off his snow laden jacket, hanging it by the door before promptly locking it. He seemed as out of breath as you were, nose red from the cold, hands shaking as he fumbled with his phone. You bit the inside of your cheek with impatience, a small flame of ire licking its way into your chest.

Bringing you out here could get you killed. He knew that, right? Of course he did, but he did it anyways. Surely this matter of seemingly great importance could’ve been fetched by one of his comrades. You hadn’t quite considered the danger leaving the headquarters could bring upon you until you were dashing through the streets, the heavy paw of Reiner’s hand squeezing around your wrist. At one point in time, he’d shoved you back down another corridor, shielding you with the size of his body as particular caravan of cars turned down the roadway. He seemed to fear any pair of government eyes spying you.

He always was so careless.

He was busy texting someone, still standing idle, lip worried between his teeth.

Must be the girl you ran into that’s giving him a headache. He probably thought he could slip out and back again without a soul noticing, without anyone giving him grievance, but that bright eyed little cousin of his had ruined that. She’d been so excited to see him; he probably hadn’t been to see his family quite a while, seeing that he was on guard duty after his last mission.

How many days had it been since you’d been here? You’d honestly lost track of time, your world feeling like it had been caught in a slow turn of molasses. A few seconds could feel like hours, days felt like minutes, every heartbeat felt like it could be your last. You tried to add it all up in your head, eyes closing as you replayed all the events that led to you standing in Reiner Braun’s home in Marley.

A week and a half, you surmised. But it could be a little more, a little less. You think you would have kept your eyes on the sun a little more acutely, seeing that you’d missed it rise and fall for at least two days when you were bound in that cell.

“Are you alright?”

For a moment, you thought you had spoken the words. You were thinking them, but he asked you instead.

“That’s a loaded question,” you looked back down to the street, catching the sight of a line of what appeared to be school children marching in tandem down the sidewalk, snow in their hair and happiness on their faces, “but for the moment, I’m okay.”

Reiner pulled his lips to the side, considering your words. Maybe it hadn’t dawned on him that you couldn’t have been in any state of ease since you’d been promptly abducted and plopped down in this new world to navigate.

“Are you alright?” You encored, observing how his worried thumbs were still fast against the screen.

“Have I ever been?”

You made at face at that reply, corners of your mouth turning down while your shoulders shrugged. Fair enough.

Though, for the first time, a bit of pity crept into your mind. Reiner didn’t really ask for this life, did he? He was doing whatever he could to get by, fallen rather inelegantly into the position of being sent to Paradis, and was now being handed you to watch over, presumably without his full consent. You were both pawns in this world, kings and rooks dominating the board and playing you both for fools.

Being a Scout hadn’t been your intention, either. You’d once had other dreams: college, a career, a family, but you’d been grandfathered into the role by your government working parents, and cemented into it when they’d died. You had nothing else to do, so you served. You served your country, your friends, but you also served yourself, using the role to keep your life afloat, even if it sometimes meant spilling the lifeblood of others, even if it meant sacrificing aspirations and settling. Though, you would admit that some rather beautiful things managed to bloom from the barren soil. Regrettably, those had all been left behind, washed away by tides you couldn’t control.

“I’m sorry,” Reiner grunted, sinking into the cushions of the couch, “she—she already opened her mouth. I’ve gotten Annie to settle things at HQ, but I imagine Chief is still furious.”

“Is it such a bad thing to take me out here? I mean, you could easily stop me if I tried to run away.”

“Could I?”

You debated his question. While you were quite nimble, you’d be like a rat in a maze trying to find a way out of this god forsaken place.

“If I let you,” you reasoned, a tinge of humor behind your words.

He smiled, all warm and soft, full lips parting. The realization that you hadn’t seen him smile in years pummeled into your chest like a heavy hand stealing from your lungs. It made the sorrow that much more palpable.

“For the record, Zeke is more upset I didn’t ask permission. He’s hellbent on his authority.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

You also pinpointed something else of note, a picture glinting on his nightstand catching your attention.

It resembled the same one you’d seen on Zeke’s desk, only now you could make out the faces. Reiner didn’t pay you any mind as you reached for the framed memory, plucking it from its home, dust from the back of it staining your fingers.

A red booth housed five familiar faces, all grinning over half-drank pints of beer. Their arms were interlocked around each other’s shoulders, all the men young and handsome, Reiner and Bertholdt even more youthful than when they’d first walked through the doors of the Scout Office. Then there was Zeke seated next to Porco, the latter in that green jacket you’d seen him in earlier. But your eyes were set on a face you’d never thought you’d see again, a face that possessed the very recesses of your mind, only appearing late at night when you’d see it in corners, catch it lingering behind your eyelids. He was attractive, appeared personable, messy dark hair and distinct brow that matched the boy next to him.

“Reiner…” you whispered, still unmoving from your spot between the bed and the window pane, “who is this?”

He peered over his shoulder, any hint of a smile now vanished like etchings being erased from a page.

“You don’t recognize him?”

Him, a photo full of faces, and he knew who you were asking about. He’d probably stared too long at the ghost himself. You wondered if he ever placed the frame down at night to sleep better; you would have, if you’d killed someone you cared about.

“You know I do.”

Reiner held his hand out, long arm stretched across the back of the couch. You finally talked your feet into moving, shuffling across the hardwood as you placed the offending item into his upturned palm.

Then, you sat next to him, your knees bumping together as you tried to analyze the emotions stirring within. You couldn’t quite place any of them—Regret? Fear? Curiosity? Sadness? But they were quelled when Reiner placed his hand on your twitching thigh, pressing that anxiousness away for a moment.

“Marcel Galliard, Porco’s older brother.”

Your lips parted, both of your attentions centered on the souvenir held between you.

“It was his birthday, and we hadn’t had the chance to celebrate mine and Zeke’s yet either, so we all went out for drinks. I unfortunately don’t remember much from that night, but I remember being…happy, content.”

“Why’d you do it?” you asked it a little quickly, “why would you…save me, not him?”

“I told you, some things I don’t have a choice about.”

“But you—you could’ve said he killed me and got away, right? You did have a choice.”

You saw how his jaw clenched, muscles in his cheek flexing.

“I don’t know.” Agony lined his voice, the words soft, hushed.

That situation was something you both thought about far too often than you’d like to admit, a late-night mulling that never led to conversation.

“I’m sorry.” You took the photo away, placed it face down on the coffee table.

“Don’t be. We can’t change the past,” he said solemnly.

You could, however, lament it. Which is something you did perhaps too often.

━━━─── • ───━━━

Reiner wasn’t ready for what was to come. He knew he never would be, which is why he threw precaution to the wind and decided to lay his cards on the table now.

He had to pick a side. Even if these wars didn’t truly concern him, even if the fate of countries ultimately didn’t matter to his conscious, you did—you mattered, he mattered, and he had to start thinking about things on a smaller scale.

He wanted to go back to Paradis. He practically yearned to go back in time, to return to a place where being Eldian didn’t matter, where his status didn’t matter, where he could remake himself into something new. If it hadn’t been for his binds connecting him to Marley, he could’ve actually seen hope instead of sorrow on the horizon. He could never seem to cut the vines, could never actually get away from the people controlling his life.

But now, now he saw an out, and it was with you. When this cataclysm first happened, all he wanted was for you to be dead, for you to go away and leave him and his miseries alone to rot and wither. Being with you, however, reminded him of a life he could have. He just had to make it happen, he had to start molding his own clay, had to keep bearing the weight of the world like the weary Atlas until he could find a way to make it turn in his favor.

He was tired of wishing for death.

Which is why he had to bring you here and why he would handle the consequences that were waiting in the distance.

You might not be very helpful to Marley, but he could be of use to Paradis.

“I believe you,” he hadn’t noticed he was still touching you, fingers gripping onto your leg like a lifeline, “about Zeke. I believe you because I—we, Pieck, Annie, Bertie—we know he’s up to something beyond what he tells us and the generals. He is working with someone in Paradis. We don’t know who, but we do think we know what for.”

“Oh my god…oh my god. Why didn’t you—”

“You think I can just fucking say that when anyone could be outside my door listening?”

“I thought you said I wouldn’t like what you have to show me.”

He noticed how your shoulders relaxed, like you’d been holding in tension for far too long.

“That’s not…I have something else for you.”

He didn’t move just yet, not quite ready to actually set this all in motion.

This all hinged on you. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew you quite well; of course, that was the you of four years ago. The you he had next to him now was older, scarred, burdened, but he still felt that same magnetic pull to you that he could never explain. He was just a moon consigned to orbit you, to be connected to you even when neither of you desired the attachment.

He knew you were going to be upset, livid; his skin was already prickled at the thought of how you would possibly punch him if when you read what he had to give.

At least you always looked pretty when you were angry.

He could still remember how Jean had cowered undeath his desk when you’d stomped into the office after discovering he’d used the branch’s own money to play in a high-stakes poker game while undercover. He’d been fishing for information on the elites, found himself tipsy, and then found himself on the receiving end of your fury. The only thing that stopped your yelling was Erwin, who, for personal reasons, didn’t want any fuss made over government money being gambled away.

Erwin. He’d never cared for how close you were to him.

Reiner finally stood, expecting you to sit and wait, but you were following him like a shadow, small hand wrapped around his forearm as he moved to his computer. When he sat down, that hand moved up to his shoulder, your fingers squeezing into his muscle with encouragement. It didn’t really put him at ease.

He turned the desktop on, the monitor flashing to life. He typed in his password quickly, then went searching for that folder he’d kept hidden away so he’d never bother to look at it again.

“Hand me one of those,” he nodded his head in the direction of a small container of flash drives on the other side of his desk. You plucked one out of its resting spot and went ahead and placed it into the port on the computer. He knew you wouldn’t question why had so many on hand—you both knew how it all worked, you both kept important documents that had to be shuffled around digitally.

Familiar names lined the inside of the folder, ones he’d once tried to forget. He heard you suck in a quick breath and took a moment to look up at you. Your brow was set, tongue obviously caught between your teeth to keep yourself from saying anything.

This was his job. He was in charge of keeping tabs on The Scouts, he was the one who fed Marley all the information they could. Well, almost all of it.

“These are files I never gave over. They’re yours now. I never gave Marley everything they wanted I…I thought I was protecting you. There’s also a few files on Zeke that Pieck created in here, too.”

You both watched as he copied the folder over to the flash drive, one by one the names and dates slowly dropping into a new safe place for them.

He touched your waist, signaling you to step back. He rolled his chair out, ducking under the desk for a split moment to gather a box of the printed documents he had actually handed over; the action was a mistake.

You were leaned over him in an instant, hand clutching and moving the mouse so quickly it scraped against the desk. He attempted to reach up and stop you, but he paused—there were still bruises on your wrist, on your fingers, faded watercolors of surviving pain. He’d gripped your hand, your wrists, all day, why hadn’t you stopped him?

He already knew which file you opened; he didn’t need to look. But he did anyways, moving the crate to the side and sitting back in his chair, arms crossed across his chest. His poor heart felt like it was going to burst.

Marco Bott’s face filled part of the screen, all sweet and freckled like he remembered. Those kind eyes were looking straight at him, judging him. Reiner was just waiting, he knew what was said in there, he wrote it all, still recalled how puffy his eyes were when he did it, how much he regretted it.

There was a pregnant pause, one so heavy he felt like he was being crushed.

This all hinged on you. He needed you to help him, needed you to help you.

“I fucking knew it.”

He was already flinching, shrinking. He watched the screen scroll, the black letters and white spaces all a blur.

“Threat eliminated by gunfire, killed by organized crime members after…” you hesitated, eyes dancing as you reread the words, “after his gear was removed to ensure death.”

He was on his feet before you could hit him, backing away from your clenched fists, chair rolling to be forgotten in the corner.

“What. Did. You. Do?”

Each word came with a step toward him. He was running out of space, nearly tripping over the edge of the couch as you encroached upon him.

“What did you do?” Your voice was getting louder, pain written across your face like he’d just stabbed you. “You told me there was no fucking truth about Marco!”

“There isn’t! Marco’s dead, there’s no changing—”

“There’s no changing the past,” you mocked his words, venom dripping from your tongue.

━━━─── • ───━━━

Your blood was boiling, wrath itching between your fingers.

You were going to kill him. You were going to wind your fists around his neck and watch the life drain slowly from his eyes like he fucking deserved.

You couldn’t believe you’d let you guard down, that you’d started to trust him. You always knew something had gone awry the night Marco died. He’d been slaughtered, ransacked with bullet holes across his body. It was like he had been dropped into the line of fire, dangled out like a piece of meat to be eaten alive.

And he didn’t have his gear, that’s what stumped everyone looking into the mess of it all. It was like he had walked in unprepared, like a boy on a suicide mission walking straight to his death. Thirty-six bullets and even more empty, splattered holes littered had riddled his corpse. Jean had fallen to his knees. Connie didn’t speak for a week. Sasha didn’t eat for days.

Because of Reiner’s decision, that man suffered, you all mourned, and you felt like you most of all had let him down. Marco had been your protégé, you’d taught him everything he knew, and that was the first mission he was allowed to go on after his training. You’d been tailing a rather violent gang, found their hideout, and were infiltrating for arrests and to see what was inside. Marco had been paired with Reiner and Bertholdt to lead the first wave of infiltration, while you and the rest waited for the signal to rush the back doors to the run-down ranch not far out of the city of Trost. They’d been up ahead by the barn that was sandwiched between stables.

But your signal turned to sounds of gunfire. You could still hear it echoing in your ears as you approached Reiner. The sounds of metal clicking, of repeated blasts from automatic weapons ringing across the hillsides like single note windchimes in a raging storm.

“Tell me why.”

Your fingers were digging into his shirt before you could stop yourself, the threads of the worn Henley threatening to rip from your nails sinking into it. You could actually feel his heart beat against his chest, a frightened bird trying to flee his ribcage.

When he didn’t speak right away, your anger flared, made you shove him back against the wall with all your might. It made your arms hurt, like you’d just slammed your hands against brick, a sharp pain that made you hiss.

“He overheard us—”

“Overheard what?”

You could tell he was getting a little infuriated as well, nostrils flaring as he looked down his nose at you. It must look funny, you pressing him against the wall of his own apartment. Reiner was nearly twice your size—he was bigger than most people, and he towered over you like a looming threat.

“Let me fucking finish,” he took a deep breath, eyes nearly glazing over, “He overheard Bertie and I talking about how we should relay the details of that gang, of organized crime in general, to Marley. We—we hadn’t had time to talk alone since we’d been prepping that shit for days. We didn’t know Marco followed us around to that side of the rooftop.”

“That’s it? He heard you whispering little secrets and you killed him for it?”

One of the buttons near the neckline of his shirt popped as your knuckles dug deeper into the fabric.

“He literally heard us say that we needed to find a time to call General Magath of Marley. If he lived and told someone that—,” his breath caught for a moment when one of your nails started to pierce his skin, “it would have compromised our entire mission. We’d been there for three years, and he could’ve ruined it all.”

You were at your breaking point. You could feel that terrible heat that comes with sadness creeping up your neck, snaking around to your cheeks. If you weren’t careful, you were going to cry. All this time, all this time spent wondering why, and this was why he had to die?

Killing wasn’t unusual in your life. It was part of the job, something you’d unfortunately had to do on a few occasions. You knew those strangers who ate your bullets or your knife had families, that they were people too, but most of them were monsters, thieves, rapists, threats to the corrupted balance of the governmental structure. But Marco…he was like family, and finding his limp, almost unrecognizable body had sent even the most hardened veterans into despair. Levi took off from work the next day; the only time he had ever missed a day on the job.

“Tell me how!” You truly didn’t mean to scream it, but the emotions raging in your stomach, your chest, it all ached too much.

“Be quiet, I have neighbors—”

“I don’t give a fuck about your god damn neighbors, Reiner!”

He finally moved then, his once idle hand now jerking up to your face to fiercely hold your cheeks beneath his fingers. You tried to smack his hand away, your own fingers digging and tugging at his wrist.

“Letme-go!” Your words were jumbled, your open mouth allowing his fingers to press your cheeks in between your teeth.

“You have to be fucking quiet,” he hissed, a whole new light shining in his eyes, a familiar rage you had seen when you’d fought against him the day Paradis was invaded. The reality of how large he was sunk in again; he looked like a vengeful god peering down at you, all hot-blooded and incensed.

You thought for a moment he wouldn’t hurt you, but then you remembered he already had. He had the inclination to be just as cruel as you could be.

His fingers stayed firm against your cheeks, holding you like he was daring you to speak again.

“Tellmehow,” you managed to spit out, wincing when he took the leverage he had on your face and used it to shove you back. You stumbled, banging into the side of the couch as you rubbed at the sore flesh of your mouth.

But he was unmoving, back straight against the wall, a statue built on the foundation of wrath and agony, waiting to crack and fall onto you if you made the wrong move.

“We knew their guards were patrolling. Bertholdt covered his mouth while I stripped him of his equipment, of his guns, and I pushed him off the roof and into their sight.”

He said it so calmly that it made you sick. But that was a reality he had to live with every day, wasn’t it? He had to replay in his mind over and over again that he had done such a vile thing, he had to justify it else it would eat him alive.

Your tears were hot, but contained, your lashes blinking them aside as you just stared at him. You opened your mouth to scream at him, you were so ready to spew hatred and let it burn him, but he was quicker than you.

With one step, he was on you, your hair wrapped in his fast as he wrenched your head to the side, smarting your scalp to silence you.

“Marco’s dead, and I’m sorry for it. You fucking screaming will do nothing but have the assholes who live below me calling the authorities and you’ll find yourself in a much worse prison than before.”

You didn’t like how he was right. Still, you glared up at him, brows pinched together in pain.

It felt like you’d merged into him, those rapid hearts within your chests suddenly beating as one with the same suffering, the same torment. You both had to live with the poor reality of your lives; you were killers, you were monsters too.

You were too close to him, could smell the heat of his skin, could feel his breath against your sore cheeks. Your hands were flat against his chest, trapped between you, his arm an anchor as it tugged at the roots of your hair, keeping your face turned towards his.

You couldn’t help but look at him, there was nowhere else to focus, only on him. It was like you could see the pages of a book open across his face, wretchedness and anguish painted in broad strokes in the fair wrinkles around his eyes, in the curve of his brow. It was beauty and pain bleeding together, the amber color of his eyes swirling as he searched your own face like he was looking for something. What would he find hidden behind your own grief?

“I hate you,” you whispered, breath long gone.

“I know.”

“And I’ll never forgive you.”

It was like he was moving closer, the time you were losing now completely stopped, frozen between your bodies.

“Don’t want forgiveness,” he caught your whisper and gave it back, “just judgement.”

His lips met yours with a bruising fervor.

The hand in your hair flexed, pulled you closer, made you gasp as your hands slid up his chest. Your fingers found his rumbling throat, and in the back of your mind, you recalled how just moments ago you were waiting to snatch the life from his neck. You felt his pulse beating beneath your thumb, a war drum beating hot and fast in his veins. Your mouth was moving against his, eyes closed, suddenly greedy and hungry; for what, you didn’t know. All you did know was that this felt so wrong, like you’d taken a misstep and landed right into the lion’s lap, but that it also felt like absolution, like he was devouring your sins and taking them for his own.

Your mouth slanted for him, a hum resounding from both your throats as you fell into this new, strange rhythm. You’d thought about it before, kissing him like this, feeling those plush lips against yours, angry and hot and needy. You cherished the taste of him, like a dark, rich wine filling up your mouth, spilling over and enveloping your senses. Your tongue tempted him to open his lips, to let you in. There was no hesitation.

His other hand found your hip, fingers mean and pulling you impossibly closer. Your palms drifted up from his neck, found his face, thumbs smoothing over cheekbones. You could feel the soft hairs of his cheeks, his chin, sweeping against your skin. It all felt too good, like you were getting lost, delirium taking over. Nothing else mattered anymore, just the gratification of tasting his emotions, of taking his groans into your mouth and echoing them back. You pressed harder into him, kept your tongue tangled with his, noses brushing as you found new beats to your rhythm.

It was wicked, sinful, something your heart was pleading for and your mind screaming out against. But you couldn’t stop. You didn’t stop. It was as if you kissed for as long as you’d known each other. Every year passed by, every regret, every sharp turn of your tongues against one another, all the hurt and longing, placed into one moment of your bodies finding one another.

When the heat began to die, you were both still stroking the flames, deep, languid kisses turned into smaller presses of your lips against one another. It was intoxicating and you felt so drunk, so, so drunk off of him.

There was a stillness between you, like the gentle sigh and breaths of the world as it awoke to the morning sun when you finally stopped. A lulling peacefulness lingered in the wake of what you’d done.

His hands were still on your body, in your hair, looser now. Yours were still on his face when your eyes fluttered open.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, lips plump, wet.

“I know.”

Next Chapter

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kalaluchi · 4 years ago

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chapter 05: Jagged Stone

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Marinette was confused.

How could two people go from comfortable banter to awkward silence in a span of two days? She’d heard of going from 0 to 100 real quick, but she’d never thought it’d happen to her.

More accurately -- to her and Adrien.

She stared at the back of his head, wondering where she’d gone wrong, as Mme. Bustier droned on with her lesson.

Marinette had really thought she’d finally gotten over the shy-awkward-start phase after the whole movie “date” last Friday. (She still wasn’t sure if that had been meant as an actual date, or as a chill friend hangout. And frankly, she was too scared to ask.)

But then the weekend came and they’d barely talked. (Though she’d been secretly hoping for a random good morning from him or something -- even just once.) She’d been busy baking and cramming assignments and random projects, and just like that the weekend was over.

It was now Monday, and she was sad to think all her efforts to become closer had gone down the drain. They’d exchanged greetings as she made her way to her seat that morning, but it was now 2 periods after lunch, and he hadn’t spoken to her at all. There weren’t even any of the corny memes he used to send when they were both bored in class.

Not that he’d been ignoring her, though. It just seemed like… he’d forgotten about her or had nothing more to say to her.

She probably could have reached out herself… but every time she was about to approach him, she felt like she was walking on eggshells. One wrong step, one wrong word, and something would crack.

She groaned, painfully aware that she was probably overthinking things too much. She checked her phone for the 10th time that period -- no new messages.

Marinette let out a sigh.

One apparently much louder than she’d intended.

“Anything to share with the class, Marinette?” Mme. Bustier’s voice broke through her thoughts.

She bit her lip, her ears red. “No, Mme. Bustier. Sorry,” she murmured, embarrassed.

She thought it was absolutely worth it though, because just then Adrien offered her a small smile in sympathy before turning back to face the front. So there was hope for them yet.

She sat back in her seat, deep in thought again. On impulse, she leaned forward and tapped Adrien’s shoulder while Mme. Bustier was facing the blackboard.

“Do you, uh, can I borrow a pen?” Marinette whispered in his ear.

If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought Adrien was blushing slightly from the sudden interaction. “Here you go,” he replied in the same quiet voice.

Her fingers tingled when they brushed his during the exchange, but she thanked him anyway. She really had no intention of using the pen (she’d never leave home without her beloved pencil case, with all the colorful pens and markers, please) so she decided to wait until class ended to return it and use it as an excuse to start a conversation.

Brilliant! This must be what Alya feels when she comes up with one of her schemes.

An hour later, as Adrien began packing his bag to go home, Marinette tapped him on the shoulder nervously. Her brilliant-a-period-ago plan was starting to not feel brilliant at all.

Nevertheless, she held out the pen to him, smiling. “Thanks for lending me this a while ago. You’re a lifesaver.”

He chuckled easily. “No problem. You looked like you needed some life-saving,” he joked.

Marinette couldn’t help but scoff at that. “I can save myself, thanks,” she muttered, in a tone sharper than she intended.

“Of course,” the blond backtracked hastily. “I didn’t mean to assume, I just--”

“Is… that a Jagged wallpaper?” Marinette asked suddenly, immediately forgetting the earlier offense.

“Uh, yeah. You listen to Jagged Stone?”

“Listen to Jagged? Get out, I practically breathe Jagged! Wow, I can’t believe he didn’t come up once in our conversations…”

“Well, I… didn’t really peg you to be a Jagged girl, honestly. No offense, though, I really don’t know why it didn’t occur to me. I mean, now it seems obvious. You’re nearly as cool as him.”

“Shut up,” Marinette laughed, waving away the compliment. “No one is as cool as Jagged. And it’s okay, I didn’t peg you to be a Jagged fan either.”

“You’re kidding. How could I not? A great singer, and a great player too. Piano, guitar, you name it! Heck, I bet he could even play, like, a lyre or something.”

Marinette scrunched her nose and raised an eyebrow. “A liar and a player at once? Can’t say that’s exactly my type. I’ve met too many of those, thanks.”

Red spots bloomed in Adrien’s cheeks as he sputtered, “No, I’m not-- that’s not what I--”

“I’m joking,” she interrupted, honestly surprised at his reaction. So annoyingly endearing.

“Oh.” Adrien sighed in relief, as Marinette bit back a smile.

There was an awkward pause as she thought of what else to add.

She had just opened her mouth when Adrien blurted, “There’s actually a Jagged show tomorrow.”

“Yeah, part of the Jagged Worldwide tour, right? I’ve got my room all set up with 3 flavors of popcorn to eat while I stream it.”

“Actually,” Adrien said somewhat nervously, “I may or may not have an extra ticket to the show, thanks to the Agreste brand and all.”

“Get out,” Marinette deadpanned, in shock.

(Adrien noted that that was the second time she’d said that in the last five minutes, and chuckled internally. How cute.)

“So, you wanna go?”

There it was again. That… awkward is-this-a-friend-thing situation. Marinette’s conscience told her no, don’t fall for his trap! He definitely only sees you as a friend, you’ll just get hurt if you hope for more! Which, true… but then again. This was Jagged. How could she say no?

“I’m in.” She beamed, bouncing on the soles of her feet. Even though the concert was on a school night, she was fairly sure her parents would let her go once they found out it was another ‘date’ with Adrien.

“Hey, Nino! Marinette said she’s game to come with us to the concert tomorrow,” Adrien called over his shoulder at his best friend.

“Sweet! See you there, my dude! I’ll pass the news on to Alya.” He gave a last wave before leaving.

Ah. So definitely not a date. At least she was aware.

Unless… a double date? Marinette groaned inwardly. Why did things have to be so complicated? She could almost feel the headache she was going to get from all this. (Especially now knowing that Alya would be involved.)

Marinette had never seen so many people in her life.

If she thought her bakery’s end-of-the-month sales were insanely crowded, that was nothing compared to the mass of people at the concert grounds, tightly packed and eagerly awaiting the arrival of their favorite singer.

As usual, something went wrong right off the bat. Their little group of four had gathered outside the grounds at 4:30pm sharp, but it hadn’t even been five minutes since they’d entered and already Alya and Nino were nowhere to be seen.

Marinette panicked immediately, obviously, frantically searching for the telltale brown-red-tipped hair of her best friend.

Adrien calmed her down immediately, saying that the lovebirds probably wanted to ‘spend some alone time together.’

Had Marinette been in a normal state of mind, she might’ve noticed that this practically reeked of another of Alya’s schemes. As it is, she simply allowed herself to be led by the blond-haired boy.

“Let’s go this way so we’re closer to the stage,” Adrien said gently, steering her one way. “Here, you can… hold my hand so we don’t get separated,” he added softly, taking her hand in his.

Soft. She was surprised to find that his hands were smooth and uncalloused. Well… she didn’t know what she had expected, but she thought they were absolutely fine as they were.

They finally made their way to the front as the singer stepped onto the stage to an eruption of cheers. She had to bite back a pout as Adrien dropped her hand to clap his own. She was about to suggest they link hands for the entirety of the concert, but all thoughts disappeared once the music started playing. She let herself get lost in the song, letting go of all her fears and doubts just this once, dancing to the tune, jumping to the beat.

A few minutes in, Adrien leaned in close. “I love this song,” he said, speaking directly into her ear to be heard over the crowd’s screams.

“Me too!” she shouted in reply, hoping in her heart it were actually words of endearment he’d said.

Once the first five songs ended, Jagged Stone stepped up to the mic, and a quiet hush spread through the crowd, waiting with bated breath for what he would say.

“I just want to thank everyone here for coming,” he started, pausing when the crowd roared their approval. He laughed heartily. “Never in my life would I imagine I’d be getting crowds like this, especially right here in Paris. Not many people know this, but I didn’t always like the name Jagged Stone. I mean, as is, it’s really nothing, right? It is what it is: a stone that is jagged. That means cut different from the rest, sort of sharp around the edges, prone to hurting others. Who would want that, right? Growing up, I was told I’d probably amount to nothing, so maybe I should choose a safer, more secure path. But then-- and here’s the key-- I grew up. And look where I am now.”

Marinette whooped along with the other concert goers, wanting her support to be evident.

“See, that’s the thing,”Jagged continued, on a roll. “These things take time. I came to love the name Jagged Stone. Because over the years, stones that are jagged smoothen around the edges. They become toned, weathered. They become the kind of precious stone you see being used in jewelry, maybe. Suddenly they’re something beautiful, valuable. Meaningful. Are they different from what they were before? Of course. But are they still themselves? Absolutely. Was that greatness there all along, right from the start? Without a doubt.

So to everyone out there: don’t rush it. Everything moves at its own pace. You may seem sharp around the edges, but that’s just how we are. Other people might not know how to approach those edges, afraid of getting hurt. But give it time. The ride will smoothen out. I want you to remember that there is already something valuable in each of you, even at this very moment. It’ll just take time for you to get used to that something, to hone it into the best version of you.

And speaking of time, I’d like to thank you all for the time you’ve given to be here! With that I’ll be performing my last song of the concert, my brand new single: Miraculous!”

“That. Was. Amazing.”

Ten minutes later, Adrien and Marinette had navigated their way out of the thick of the crowd, and were making their way to the meet-up spot as previously discussed.

“Definitely,” Marinette agreed, taking a bite of the cotton candy she’d bought. “That speech before the last song? That was my favorite part.”

“Really? He played six songs and not one of them classifies as your favorite part?”

“Oh, be quiet,” Marinette scoffed, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Stop judging. It just… hit close to home, I guess.”

“Oh… Well, uh, I don’t really know any of the context, but you do know you’re pretty amazing, right? As you are right now.”

Marinette took another bite to hide the blush spreading across her cheeks. “Thanks,” she said meekly, unsure of how else to respond.

“There you are!” a voice called. Marinette suddenly found herself enveloped in a tight hug. “I can’t believe we got separated right at the start! Nino here wouldn’t even let me go look for you because we’d found a great spot, he said.”

“Hey!” her boyfriend protested. “You were the one who said let the two lov-- oof, did you have to step on me foot?”

“Oops, accident,” Alya said lightly. “So anyway, how did you two find the concert?”

“It was fun,” Marinette replied softly, wrapping her arms around her best friend’s waist.

“Yeah? Something interesting happen?”

Marinette laughed. “No, I guess not. It was just… I don’t know, it seemed pretty--”

“-- miraculous,” Adrien finished, and they all had to agree.

As they headed back, Marinette reflected that maybe it wasn’t so bad she’d been treading on eggshells just the other day. Maybe her relationship with Adrien was just like what Jagged had said in his speech. At the moment rough at the edges, either party cautious of how to proceed in fear of hurting the other or getting hurt. And that was okay.

Because eventually, it would smoothen out.

And eventually, maybe, just maybe, it would bloom into something beautiful-- something hopefully more than friendship.

All they really needed was time.

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#adrinette april 2021 #adrinette #miraculous ladybug #idk what im doing sorry #ml #mlb #mlbcn #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrienette #mlb fics #adrinetteapril2021 #day 5: jagged stone #jagged stone

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aureumjeon · 5 years ago

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tiptoed his way (m) || kth

pairing; taehyung x reader. genre; roommate!au; smut; fluff; angst. warnings; breaking and entering, unintended voyeurism, female masturbation, oral (both receiving), unprotected sex via doggy style, choking, tae suffers from MSS(Monster Schlong Syndrome lol), that’s about it. word count; 6.4K (unedited im sorry :()

summary; ➜ Taehyung found himself locked out of your shared home and there were only two options to successfully get inside. (1) Wake you up from your sleep and face the wrath that’ll follow, (2) Think like a burglar and enter through your window. (Un)fortunately for him, he picks the latter.

taglist; @bella-victoria002 @chaitaewithkookies @saddiesan @wehadnochoice @knjhe @thoughtsfromfaroffplaces @livorna @taetaeobsessed @erisann @thoughtsfromfaroffplaces @wickizer

a/n: the old gif doesnt work i dunno what i did wrong :(

“I’ll be out ‘til late, y/n! Don’t wait up for me.” Taehyung hollered while lacing his worn out white high-cut converse in the entryway. Hoping his voice would reach the end of the hallway where you were currently cooped in in your room.

“Alright! Stay safe!” Not bothering to leave your room, you answered back. Voice echoing through and bouncing off the dry walls. After waiting a few minutes, you heard the door slam shut with a thud. You cautiously tiptoed your way to the direction of your door, slightly opening the solid block of wood and peeking through the narrow crack you made. With no Taehyung in sight, you pumped your fist in the air and cheered victoriously. You finally have the house to yourself. You beamed with delight scurrying yourself over to the kitchen to make yourself a hot steaming bowl of instant ramen.

Taehyung and Jungkook had been your room mates since you can remember. It was freshman year of college, and you were looking for a cheap place to stay with the money you saved up working as a part-time student during your last year of highschool. A friend had introduced you to Jungkook, saying they needed one more person to split the bill with, broke college students need to support each other. At first you were hesitant, a girl living with two boys in a shared house wasn’t you initial plan but as the days go by since you first moved it, you got to know Taehyung and Jungkook a little more. Your friendship with them had gotten greater, the three of you were inseverable and you treasured them to bits!

Although in the four years you’ve been boarding together, every now and then they can really get on your nerves; letting the dirty dishes stack up at the sink until molds would flourish on the left over food; leaving the empty carton of milk in the fridge just as you’re planning to enjoy it with cereal or maybe a pack of Oreos; bags of chips and boxes of pizza scattered on all parts of the living room floor whenever they’d have movie night on Fridays with Jimin and Hoseok; and last but not least, the thing that they always do that grinds your gears the most, their dirty laundry in every corner, nook, and cranny of the house. Stinky socks, sweaty shirts, crusty jeans and even used underwear, you name it!

One time you had guests over; all girls might you add, studying for a group project in chemistry. Oh poor, sweet Yeri… Her unsullied innocence mercilessly corrupted by Jungkook’s disgusting underwear that had a suspicious dried up patch of white something on the crotch area of the small fabric. Yeri almost fainted when she pulled out the article of clothing from the kitchen caddy, flinging it across the room to where the other girls were. You scolded Jungkook the same day, advising him to keep all his stuff where it needed to be kept and on top of that to apologize to the poor girl he scarred for life. Which he did, and that’s the story of how Jungkook and Yeri’s relationship began. Who knew, right?

Taehyung was like Jungkook at first, but somehow he decided to stay under your radar as best as he could. Once you lectured him on something he’s done wrong inside the quarters of your home, he’d make it a point to engrave it on the back of his head. He has his fuck ups every now and then, but nothing too consequential. There was one time though, and you wish you could forget, that he brought a girl home which wasn’t against the house rules. Jungkook had brought Yeri numerous times and you, yourself, had your fair share of men visiting the house, specifically your room. It was s well established etiquette to keep the ruckus down since you we’re sharing this living space between the three of you. But during that critical time, which you’ve spoken to Taehyung and Jungkook beforehand never lacking to remind them on multiple occasions throughout that day. Telling them to please keep the noise to a minimum because you'll be revising for for a major exam that was equivalent to forty percent of your total grade. Somehow, Taehyung managed to forget your simple and completely doable request. With the paper thin walls between you and the absence of soundproofing, you were able to get every moan, groan and mewl that came from Taehyung’s rooms adjacent to yours. That bastard is so dead was the sole thing on your mind right now and not the words inscribed in the textbook that you’ve read over for the tenth time that night. The morning after that horrendous night of not getting anything done, you waited irksomely in the common room for taehyung and his date to emerge from his chambers.

“Y/n, y-you’re up early.” He gulped, taking in your appearance. Your gaze was piercing especially with the huge dark bags under your eyes. “I’ll take Minju ho--”

“I’m sure she knows here way back.” You cut him off with a bark in your tone, “Can’t you, Minju?” Your focus was now directed at her and she was quivering under your constant scrutiny.“Y-yes,” She clutched on her designer handbag bowed nervously before fleeing the place like a prey encountering it’s predator.

“I asked you for one thing, Taehyung, one thing.” You lowered your head and massaged your aching temples with your fingers, placating your exasperation towards the boy who was placed in the hot seat. “You knew I was studying tonight, Tae.” The timbre of your voice wasn’t sickeningly livid anymore. From spiking up to a hundred degrees in the last two minutes, it dropped down to a negative ten. “This test is worth forty percent of my grade, I told you that. This is the first time I requested you to do something for me...” You shut your eyes close and drew out a long sigh before standing up and intending to head back to your room. “If I fail this test, I want to let you know it’s on you, Tae.” His features were extremely devastated and disheartened, not because of the things you just said but because of how he had forgotten all about it.

You inconspicuously peered back at him and the look on his face says it all. A helpless puppy abandoned by its human, that’s what he resembled most at this moment. Big glassy eyes, a wet nose and pouty lips. Okay, that was kind of a mean thing to say, you thought. But you never failed to remind him, always opening up and squeezing in the topic during the mundane conversations you shared together. After one last disappointed sigh, you looked up the clock, 6:55 am. “Anyway, I still have three more hours before the test. I’ll be in my room.” You turned your back on him and proceeded to take a few steps forward before saying one last thing to him, “Please, please, please. Don’t bother me.” You were on your way back down the hall, nothing will stop you from cramming seven chapters of lesson into your brain in less than three hours in one sitting.

“Sorry, Y/n.”

Sorry ain't gonna cut it, chief.

Its as if Taehyung was able to read your mind, “ I’ll- I’ll be on bathroom duty. For two, no, four weeks. Yeah, yeah. One month of bathroom duty, Y/n. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to forget.”

You glanced over your shoulder and caught a glimpse of Taehyung with his hands clasped together, his facial expression pleading for forgiveness. You knew he was really sorry. Why? Because nobody liked bathroom duty, not even you.

“That seems fair to you, kook?” You spontaneously asked, making Taehyung scan the living room area. Glass started clattering in the kitchen and your doe-eyed bunny-boy of a roommate came hopping in. Taehyung was seeking compassion from his long-time comrade. Maybe shortening his time on bathroom duties or lending him a helping hand at least. Bros before hoes, right? “For the record.” Jungkook started, taking a sip from the cold banana milk bottle in his hand. “You kept me up, too. And I have football practice at eight.” He shrugged his shoulders casually before hiding back in his man cave. “Have fun cleaning, Tae.”

Your chiding was for everyone’s best interest, may this incident serve as a lesson of respecting other people who also lives in this household. Although there was one thing you were still unsure about. After that episode, Taehyung has never set foot in the premises with a woman draped around his arm again. You hoped you did not terminate his hopes of getting a love life.

In conclusion, they’re just a bunch of stupid college boys wanting to survive this hell hole, what do you expect? So, having the house to yourself was a once in a blue moon moment you’d never take for granted.

It was two in the morning, and Taehyung was stupidly perched at the doorstep patting his pockets for what seemed like the tenth time in the last ten minutes searching for his keys. "Shit." He grumbled under his breath, taking out his phone from his back pocket and calling up Jungkook's number. After the third try, he finally answered the call.

"H-hey, what's up? I love you and all that shit but why are you calling at two in the fucking morning?" The voice is the other line was dry and scratchy.

"Ah," Taehyung felt apologetic for waking up the Jungkook but he absolutely needed help, "Sorry for bothering you, Kook. Do you happen to know where the spare key is? Left my copy in my room before I went out and now I'm locked out of the house," He laughed embarrassingly, attempting to check his pockets one more time before calling it quits, wishing his keys would magically turn up in one of them.

"Taehyung…" The line suddenly went silent, it was a good fifteen seconds before Jungkook went on speaking,"Didn't I tell you that I'm holding onto the spare key to have it duplicated since my I lost my copy?"

There it was again, complete and utter silence. If it wasn't for irregular breathing coming from the other line, Jungkook would've guessed Taehyung had dropped the call already.

"Just wake up y/n, I'm sure she wouldn't mind." Jungkook suggested, that was probably the best route to take.

"No bro," Taehyung's tone was unnaturally dark and empty.

"Can I ask why?"

"L-Last time I locked myself out and woke up y/n," he choked on his series of words, recalling the traumatic event that occurred in the past. "She made me wait a whole hour before opening the door. While I was waiting out in the cold, y/n cooked bacon and pancakes at midnight just to spite me. The smell of the food made my stomach flip and growl. When she finally let me in, she ate it all by herself while looking me straight in the eye."

Jungkook on the other line laughed uproariously at Taehyung's untold story, "Remind me not to get on Y/n's bad side. But in all seriousness, how are you planning to get inside the house?" He queried the boy who was stuck in an unfortunate predicament."I don't get back til' Sunday. And it's only Friday."

Taehyung's eyes lit up like those light bulbs in cartoons when the characters gets a genius idea. "Is your room the one without the safety locks on the window?"

"One, no. My windows have safety locks. Y/n's window is the one without it. And two, that's a really bad Idea, Tae."

"What's a bad idea, babe?" Taehyung indistinctly overhears a hushed voice in the background. His conversation with Jungkook probably woke up Yeri too. "Oh, Taehyung's planning to enter through y/n window to get into the house." Jungkook made sure that taehyung was hearing what Yeri had to say, since she's been friends with y/n just as long as them. Her giggles were so innocent, akin to a baby but the words she said were the exact opposite. "That is a stupid idea, unless Taehyung wants to be hit on the head with a metal baseball bat and bleed to death."

"Yeri said that that's a stupid idea unless you--"

"I heard what she said. And I won't even make a sound! I'll tiptoe my way through her window and out of her room in a flash! That way I'll be in the house and won't have to wake up y/n! I see this as an absolute win." Taehyung broadcasted triumphantly like he had discovered the map to the lost City of Atlantis.

Yeri snatched the phone from her boyfriend's hand and lectured Taehyung y/n style. "Tae, this isn't the time to be quoting the Incredible Hulk when you're the one who's gonna be beaten to a pulp when y/n wakes up and mistakes you for a burglar. Just wake up y/n and ask her to open up the door for you. It can't be that bad, you'd live a longer life that way. Face the consequences of being a pee-brain."

"Nope," It seemed like Taehyung had made up his mind, and when Taehyung makes up his mind, there's no point in stopping him.

"Ahhh, tell your friend good luck. I'm going back to sleep." Yeri gave back the phone to her boyfriend. "You have our regards. If you don't die, call me back in the morning." A loud yawn can be heard from Jungkook's end as he hangs up.

And that's Taehyung's go signal.

He stealthily made his way round the perimeter of the house to the side where your room was located "Bingo." He mused as he spotted your window, slightly left ajar. He strategically maneuvered his way across the flower bed embedded on the ground, calculating his steps accurately not wanting to step on your precious roses and daffodils. He knows he can't lie to you, if asked who trampled on your bloom, he'd rat himself out in a blink of an eye. He'd like to enjoy a long flourishing life. Grow old, get married and possibly have kids and grandkids.

Not like what he's about to commit will spare his life either way.

Even with the lack of light and the gauzy material of the curtain, his eyes could make up your vague figure on the bed, tossing and shifting your legs about. Must be some crazy dream you're having, he thought. Though he can't get a clear view of you, he's certain you were there.

He sucked in a deep breath and slowly pushed the unlocked window wider just enough so that he can slither his body inside, dragging the curtain along with it. He prayed to the heavens above that the hinges doesn't make a sound, not even a tiny squeak or his head will be the one hanging from the valances.

With his hands securely clasped on the window sill, he utilized his upper body strength to propel himself up until his knees were secured on the narrow wooden surface. "Phew" he shakily exhaled, switching from his current kneeling position to a crouching one, gaining more balance for his following steps.

Before fully entering your room now that he had obtained a better view, he decided to take a proper look at your charming unconscious face. Wait, scratch that, that didn’t come out right. What he meant to conclude was…

When Jungkook first introduced you to him as their new flatmate, he couldn’t help but be blown away. He was thunderstruck when he was graced by your overwhelming presence. Soft silky hair that he’d like to get bury his face in, letting the scent of your shampoo take over his senses; Round bright eyes that somehow carried the countless stars and galaxies, he’d willingly surrender himself just to get lost in them. A lovely button nose that scrunched up when you smiled and introduced yourself for the first time. “I’m Y/n, nice to finally meet you Taehyung.” he remembered clearly, god, how can he forget. Your soft-spoken voice perfectly fitted your delicate face. It was love at first sight, what else could it be? He fell for you hook, line and sinker.

He covertly watched over you, not in the stalker-ish way, of course. Whenever you’re lounging around in your favorite pajamas or simply tidying up the house, he’d inevitably find a small smile creep up on his lips. Even just knowing that you’re inside the house when he comes home from the university by the way your favourite music was blaring from your room made him happy. He learned along the way that you were really introverted, spending most of your weekends at home reading your favourite novels and choosing to withdraw yourself from the generic college scene. Opting for a movie night date with your friends rather than partying at some musty frat house. Moreover, you didn’t strike up any conversation with him or Jungkook unless it was about the house or if it was that important to talk about. Unbeknownst to you, all the things you detested like unwashed dishes or misplaced dirty laundry, he did it on purpose just to get the attention he craved from you. Sometimes he felt guilty at the way he acted whenever you were around, a pout or two on your upset face.

But he came to the point that he was tired of hiding and playing safe behind that thin line called “Friendship.”If he wasn’t gonna man-up and take action, nothing’s gonna change. So on your twentieth birthday, that’s when he decided he wanted to confess his love for you, hoping that the unrequited becomes requited. He bought a cake and decorated the whole house with a banner, balloons and streamers. He even paid Jungkook fifty dollars to keep his mouth shut about it.

What happened after was far from his or Jungkook's expectations. You came home from a date. A date which none of them knew about but here you were, wide eyed and jubilant to see the simple surprise party your dear roommates took the time to prepare for you. You introduced the boy standing next to you as your boyfriend. "Boyfriend" that word stung like a bitch.

It was then that he decided to put an end to this one-sided pinning that has been going on for quite some time now that hasn't bloomed into anything, not even a tiny sprout. If the stars were aligning and the universe was really on his side, he would have been your boyfriend by the end of the day, not some guy named Lucas.

Every other night he'd return with a girl to his room for nothing more than a quick fuck, never meeting with them for a second time. He thought it was something that would dull the agonizing throb in his chest, it worked for the most part. The bodily pleasure those women brought him made him forget momentarily about everything he's ever felt for you. He thought it was only a matter of time until all the feelings he'd kept would dissipate into thin air.

Minju, he recalled. A girl who was just as perfect as you in his eyes, well almost. With the thought of taking Minju home and having her all to himself as a priority in his mind, he got carried away and overlooked one critical thing you asked of him which was on top of that a principal house rule the three of you agreed on. "Always keep the noise to a minimum."

He knew he fucked up the moment he spots you sitting on the couch glaring at him as he and Minju walked out of his room. He saw the look of disappointment etched on your face at how he had let you down and recognized how bad he fucked up. He thought that you’d never forgive him and end up hating him for the rest of his life, but you always kept proving him wrong. A familiar box was atop the center island with a pink sticky note attached to it.

"I'm sorry I got mad at you, Tae. It was probably the stress talking. Btw, I passed aced the exam! Hehe. <3 y/n.”

That was when he realized he truly did not deserve you.

His profound daydreaming was put to a halt when he heard a hushed moan originate from your direction. His jaw almost unhinged at how low and wide it was hanging from his face at the sight he has failed to notice prior to entering your room. A convoluted expression was apparent on your face, with your brows knitted together, and eyes shut tight, upper teeth frustratingly nibbling at your bottom lip. Your left hand hidden under the sheer fabric of your shirt, kneading at your mound lavishly while the fingers on your other hand were tirelessly circling around the glistening flesh between you spread legs. You weren’t sleeping, you were masturbating!

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Gotta get out. Gotta get out. Gotta get--

His whole life flashed before his eyes as he witnessed the mason jar you used as a flower pot unexpectedly gets knocked over by his rogue foot, emanating in a clangorous noise as it hit the seat of your metal chair tucked under your desk. There were numerous circumstances that he wished he could get out of certain situations unscathed, which as luck would have it he did. This one? Not so much as your instincts urged you to direct your attention to where the abrupt sound came from. He saw your bewildered eyes staring at his squatting figure by your window.

Taehyung quickly slammed his palms over his face concealing his eyes while blindly steering his body farther into your room, knocking over your other stuff in the process. As his feet finally met solid ground, it was now time to plead for his life. “Y/n! Shit! I-I can e-explain. I l-left my keys! A-and I didn't want to wake you up. I didn't mean seeing that!" He heard the sound of his rapid heart beat resonate in his ears, ringing so loudly that he couldn't even hear himself think.

You found his flustered stuttering adorable and endearing. You weren't angry and knew he was telling the truth. Taehyung, no matter how brazen and badly behaved he was, has not ever lied to you. You can take his word for this one but a little teasing hasn't killed anyone. “Never perceived you as the peeping type, Tae."

"I swear, I'm not!" His cheeks started burning red, the scorching heat of embarrassment crawling up to his ears and down his neck.

You didn't answer him right away, and all he could make up with his vision temporarily impaired was the shuffling sound of your bedding and the indistinct footsteps walking towards him. "Well since you're here, might as well help your roommate out." You whispered suggestively in his ear, and he felt his jeans grow a little tighter by the crotch.

You pressed your body against his until the corner of your desk was painfully digging into his back. "What do you say, Tae?"

"I-I don't think this is right." He respired weakly, his knees were starting to buckle at the figurative weight weighing down on his shoulders with palms still stuck to his eyes.

"Wanna know what I think." You purred salaciously, the tip of your pointer finger lightly tracing over the skin of his clavicle. "I don't think this is a question of what's right and wrong," Your hand started to head south, stopping precisely at his sternum, your fingers drawing small figure eights over it. "I'm single, your single."You further proved your claim, hand once again dropping lower. Taehyung wasn't much of a gym rat like Jungkook or Jimin so he didn't have any abs. But you still appreciated his body nonetheless, especially paired with his remarkably attractive face. "I see this as a question of want and don't want. And judging from this," without warning, you cupped the hard-on he was sporting. Waves of electricity surged through his blood vessel, every cell in his body had doubled its working pace. "You want this as much as I do." Slowly, you palmed him through his jeans, fingers molding the curve of his clothed dick. His heart rate spiked and breathing got more labored with your words and actions.

He wanted to see you. He wanted to remove his hand from his face and see how the moonlight shining through your window illuminated your appearance, enhancing your elegant features tenfold but he was terrified that this will lead to something that will eventually ruin your friendship.

"Taehyung..." You whimpered, starting to feel impatient. "Say something. Tell me what you want. Tell me to stop, please just say something."

"I-I," Fuck it, he thought. He detached his hands from his eyes and encased it around your petite torso, finally giving in to the treacherous temptation that is you. "I want you, y/n." He dipped his face in the curve of your neck, filling himself up with the sweet scent of you. "I've wanted you for the longest time, y/n." His voice was guttural and strained, he'd never thought the time of him finally confessing to you would come. It required him every tendril of his being to finally come clean. An abandoned door that was once locked has instantly been pushed open, and his desire for you has never been more ardent.

"I want you too, Tae."

Moments later you've found yourselves entangled within each other's embrace, caught in a sweltering and heart racing make out session. Every brush of lips and prod of tongue was burning of lust and passion. The way your fingers intertwined with his and filling its spaces perfectly like the final piece of an unfinished puzzle. It felt so natural, the way the rise and fall of your breathing and the tempo of your pulses fell in sync. It felt like something that should've been done ages ago but was hindered by something unforeseen.

As he hovered above your frame, you couldn't help but be drawn in the boundless sea of his deep hazel eyes. Wisp of his curled lashes resting prettily on his eyelids, the tip of his pointed nose dusted a shade of baby pink and lips pursed into a gentle smile. He observed you with hooded eyes as you absentmindedly stared at his face. You couldn't comprehend how a mere human can bear this much beauty and elegance in his mortal body, even the gods would seethe in jealousy at his splendor.

"T-tae. I want to feel your dick down my throat." You professed bashfully, marvelling at his beauty can wait. Right now there was one thing you fervently wish for, him and his entirety.

Your bluntness was always one of his favourite traits of yours. "I'm all yours." He replied, placing an affectionate kiss on your lips.

"Stand at the edge of the bed." You instructed, going on all fours and crawling your way to the same spot. "C'mon!"

Taehyung with arched brows headed to where you wanted him, planting his feet firmly on the carpeted floor. "Okay, now what?"

"I've always wanted to try like this." You pressed on, lying on your back with your head almost hanging off the edge of the bed, slightly propping it up with a small pillow. Taehyung was caught off guard with your new position, “Y/n, what are you doing?” He queried with an arch of his brows.

“I’m ready to take your dick.” You seemed determined, sweeping your loosened hair away from your face and tucking it behind your ears. “Saw this in porn before and I’ve been itching to try it out.

You just kept pulling out tricks from your sleeve, Taehyung never imagined you to be the type who watches porn. “You watch porn?” He incredulously questioned eyes going wide that hinted inquisitiveness.

“Oh please, I am a human being. Stop looking at me like I’m some saint. I can watch adult videos whenever I want to.”

“Fair enough,” He acknowledged while unbuckling his belt, revealing the stiff bulge tucked in his boxer. He tugged the garterized hem of his underwear down and allowed his member to spring free.

You were genuinely astounded with his impressive size and girth, tip red and already leaking pre-cum. “From all the years we’ve been living together, I kinda expected you were big, but not this big. Didn’t know you were suffering from MSS.”

“MSS?” he eyed you outlandishly, having no idea what you were talking about.

“Monster Schlong Syndrome.” You answered as you tried suppressing the mischievous smile forcing its way onto your lips.

“Shut up, Y/n.” Taehyung’s cheeks grew rosier at your compliment about his dick, but he still preferred being humble about his size even when he was with other girls.

“Make me,” You provoked him, opening your mouth fully and sticking out your tongue. Feeling rather wolfish to have him in your mouth.

“Are you sure about this?” He queried you one last time, making sure you were a hundred percent okay with this. “I’m the one beginning to feel uncomfortable with your position.”

“I’m fine, Tae. I want this.”

He couldn’t help stroking himself while taking in the image of you sprawled on the bed eyes totally blown-out. Begging and lusting over his cock. Taehyung gently tapped his length on your cheek,causing a smirk to form on your lips. “Stopped teasing,” You wailed vexingly, growing eager by the second. You tossed your head back even further while opening your mouth much wider, giving Taehyung a greater angle.

“You ready, baby?” His already deep voice dropped an octave lower, a sultry and sickeningly honeyed tone slathered all over his words. You crossed your legs together feeling the steamy heat pool between them as you nod fervently.

Unhurriedly, Taehyung pushed the tip of his cock past your lips. The warmth and wetness of your mouth elicited a satisfied groan from him. He pushed even further down your throat, sheathing himself completely and noticing how tight the space has gotten as he descends. “Fuck, baby. Your mouth feels so good,” he euphorically moaned seeing how your pretty mouth is stretched by his thick cock.

You blissfully purred at his praise, and the vibrations of your throat around his member sent a chill down his spine. “I-I’ll start moving, okay.” He choked on his word, his senses brimming over with the buzz of pleasure. At a leisurely pace, he began gliding his dick in and out of your hot cavern, hearing lewd squelching sounds with every push. “Shit,” He rasped when you hollow your cheeks around him. “Your mouth is the best, baby.” He quickened the speed of his thrusts, savouring the constricted hold you’ve got on him. Tears started to pool at the corners of your eyes as your mouth was bombarded with the repetitive jabbing motion. You’ve never felt this full before, the way he has you gorged put you in a state of pure ecstasy.

Taehyung shifted his veiny hand to caress your face, wiping away the wetness from your corners of your eyes. With his balls slapping right into your face, you failed to capture his pupils dilate and the concupiscent glint in his dark orbs. His hand found its way at the base of your neck, favouring the tug of the skin, muscles and bones outlined beneath the surface. His slender, bony fingers spread across the expanses of your neck, petting the strained muscle domestically. His digits started to curl around the base, the blunt of his fingernails digging into your skin and you felt the restriction of air affect your lungs.

Taehyung knew you were enjoying this as much as he was even with you gagging and choking on his dick. He exerted more pressure on your jugular, and you felt your body sink further into the mattress. He thwarted his hips into you once more, deeper than before as his wanton howls reverberated inside your room. Before he could blow his load in your mouth, he stopped himself and pulled out his swollen cock coated with your spit.

You opened your eyes and griped at the sudden sensation of barrenness, "W-why'd you stop?" You felt light headed, your body eventually recognized the lack of oxygen you underwent. Your chest hurriedly heaved up and down as you were gasping for air, trying to catch your breath.

"This is my first time fucking you, the only place I'll be cumming in right now is your pussy." Taehyung wickedly grinned, looping his arms behind your neck and knees and carried you bridal style. He walked over the side and carefully lowered you on the bed, head snuggly resting on the pillow leaned on the headboard. He made his way back to the foot of the bed, taking a seat directly in front of your bare core. "Since I interrupted you earlier," his hands began stroking you calf, tiny goosebumps springing up from his touch. "Let me make it up to you and make you feel better than those little fingers of yours."

You detected a hint of embarrassment as Taehyung's gaze focuses on you already seeping sex. He began crawling closer to you core, tipping in to pepper kisses on your inner thighs. As his warm breath began rousing over your skin, you couldn't help but clench around nothingness at the level of arousal you were experiencing. "What were you thinking about when you were pleasuring yourself?" He cooed the question out before licking a wet stripe along your moistened slit. His tongue was dancing in his mouth after finally acquiring a taste of your delectable nectar. "I-I was thinking about you, Tae." You answered weakly, the pad of his thumb now circling your sensitive nub. He hummed in approval at you words, his tongue was the one promptly to devote its undivided attention to you bundle of nerves. "What was I doing then?"

You released a long exhale when you felt Taehyung slip on of his slender fingers inside your hole. "I-I thought about how you'd fuck me with your huge cock," You admitted, shutting your eyes as he twirls his finger inside you. He inserted another digit, and it got you tossing your head back in fervor. "How you'd make me cum so hard.”Your eyes reeled back at the back of your head as another finger slips into you with such ease.

“You’re soaking wet, y/n.” he was prideful of how you’ve become putty under his ministrations, “And all for me.” He sloped down once more and flicked your clit with his wet muscles at an excruciating pace. You started feeling yourself clench around his digits, “W-wait.” You intervened, not wanting to release just yet. “I want to cum with you.”

He devilishly grinned from ear to ear and flipped your body over, your knees and palm bearing the weight of your exhausted body. “Wanna hit you from the back so bad.”

You lowered your torso and arched your back inwards, excessively sticking your ass up on full display. Taehyung smeared the accumulated pre-cum on the tip of his cock all over his length, painting it with the lubricating substance. He aligned himself with your entrance and gingerly drove his hips forward until he bottomed out. “Fuck, y/n. You’re cunt’s even tighter than your pretty mouth.” the interior walls of your vagina squeezed at his member, accommodating his length incomparably. “Your pussy was made for me, y/n. Best pussy I’ve ever had.”

As much as you fancied him to rant about how amazing your pussy was, you wished he’d just shut up and pound you into oblivion and put an end to the tormenting ache bubbling inside you. “Move.” You sought, pushing your rear end against him hard and coaxing him to ultimately move.

His knuckles were turning white at how tight he’s gripping onto the curve of your hips, nails engraving small crescent-shaped marks on your skin. Without warning, he launched the onslaught of the brute ramming of his dick into you. Each thrust he bore were insanely crisp and accurate, striking your sweet spot with every jab. The sound of skin slapping against skin and your heavy breathes were the only tunes filling the silent space of your room. Taehyung pulled out his length almost completely, appreciating how coated and soaked it was with your juices, awakening another entire level of his vehement lust for you. He slammed himself back into your tight slit, clenching his buttocks and rutting his pelvis at an inhuman speed.

“I’m so close, Taehyung.” You wailed sinfully with a high-pitched strain to your voice, aware at how every muscle in your body is tensing up.

“Me too, baby.” He unexpectedly towed you by your hair until your back collided with his chest. His hand located your neck yet again, wrapping his digits around it and cutting your intake of air. You swear that at the end of this, your neck would be sore, purple and bruised because of how robust he retains his grip on you. At this point, his movements began getting sloppier and imprecise, suggesting he was at last getting to his most sought-after high. His idle hand shakily made its way to your almost forgotten clit, ruthlessly rubbing at it with the pad of his fore and middle finger continuously until you were convulsing around his cock and milking him down to the last drop. Both of your body collapsed on your bed, utterly breathless.

“Wow.” Taehyung managed to breath out.

“Yeah, wow.” You repeat, steadying your breathing. “What happens now?” You awkwardly asked, staring at the blank ceiling like it was the most interesting thing in your room.

“Wanna go on a date?” His voice was filled with reluctance, the thrumming in his chest never calming down. Now wasn't the perfect time to ask you that kind of question. So he braced himself as he waited for your answer.

You turned your head in his direction and looked at how the light from the now open window magically outlined his enchanting profile. “You’re way out of order but I’d love too.”

Taehyung's obnoxious ringtone Disturbed the silence of your sleep.

"Your phone is ringing." You grumbled, t

"Yo, Tae, glad to hear you're still alive. Got into the house yet?"

"Yeah," He paused, looking at you. "Got into y/n pants as well."

#taehyung x reader #ksmutclub #btsguild #magicshopnet #bangtanarmynet #taehyung smut #taehyung x you #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung oneshot #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts oneshot #kim taehyung #kpop smut #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fic #bts dark moodboard

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jovialyouthmusic · 4 years ago

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Double Trouble

Following Bastien and Sophia Lykel, the proud new parents of twins. Sophia’s parents come to visit.

Word Count 2293

A/N Nothing to report, just fluff. The chapter got a bit long so I’m splitting it.

6a Granny and Grandpa

‘There they are!’ Sophia threw her arm up in the air and waved as she caught sight of her parents, Bob and Edith, coming out of Customs into the arrival lounge at Cordonia’s main airport. Costa and Althea had not stayed long when they visited, but the Turners would be there for a week.

‘What are we going to do with them?’ Sophia had asked Bastien ‘I love them, but it takes all my energy looking after the twins. We can’t really ask Hana to help while they’re here. She deserves a break’

‘Don’t worry, Regina has invited Edith and you for afternoon tea for one thing. You can take your mother shopping in the Capitol and Bob and I can look after the twins. I’ll find lots of things for us all to do, and if you’re tired, you can just rest. I’m sure your parents are capable of taking the twins for a walk in the grounds.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘Perhaps we could invite Costa and Althea back, after all they haven’t met yet.’ Bastien’s foster parents were often busy visiting others that that they had fostered over the years, and were ‘foster’ grandparents to many children, so had missed both their wedding and the reception back in the palace after their honeymoon.

‘Oh my goodness, I can’t imagine how that would go – but it’s a good opportunity’ Sophia said ‘I suppose there’s no harm in asking if they’re free’

At the airport, Bastien smiled to see the joy on her face.

‘Go on, I’ve got the pushchair’ he said, putting his hand on the handle of the double stroller. The twins were mesmerised by the noise and bustle of the airport terminal, Theodore looking all around wide eyed and Beatrice frowning in disapproval, fidgeting and wriggling in her seat. Sophia rushed forward to greet her parents. Edith hugged her, but she was scanning the lounge for sight of the twins and broke away from her quickly.

‘Where are they? Is that Bastien over there?’ she asked impatiently, while Bob gave his daughter a warm embrace.

‘You’re looking well, Sophia’ he said fondly ‘How are you coping with being a parent?’ Edith was surging determinedly ahead toward her quarry, her luggage forgotten. The trolley was laden with bags and Bob looked tired.

‘It’s hard work, Dad’ she replied ‘But we have a lot of help – we’re lucky really, the Palace is a great place to stay right now.’ Edith was out of earshot but Sophia could hear her delighted cries at meeting her grandchildren.

‘We’d better catch up’ Bob said, and Sophia kissed his cheek as he went back to pushing the luggage trolley.

‘How on earth did you get all these bags on the plane?’ she asked incredulously.

‘Your mother’ Bob said, as if that was all the explanation that was needed, but went on to elaborate. ‘She harassed the check in girl thoroughly. I think she overlooked the baggage limit just to save her eardrums’

‘You must have had to pay extra, surely’ Sophia replied, and her father shrugged, smiling warmly.

‘It was worth it for the sake of my only daughter’ She squeezed his arm as they caught up with Edith, bending down and cooing at the babies. As usual with any new stimulus, Theo regarded her with fascination, fingers stuffed in his mouth, and Beatrice continued to wriggle, but she was engaged at the new person paying her and her brother such close attention,

‘They haven’t got your lovely fair hair’ Edith said, looking back at her daughter. ‘You were such a pretty baby, strangers didn’t believe Bob was your father because you were blonde’

‘It’s genetics, Mum’ Sophia sighed ‘You must both have recessive genes’ Edith sniffed, unconvinced.

‘Well, they’re very bonny.’ she conceded ‘How did you get here? Did Bastien drive? How are we all going to fit into the car?’

‘We’ve got a minivan’ Sophia explained ‘We’ll all fit in fine – and your bags’ she looked back at the trolley ‘At least I think so’

‘We’ll manage’ Bastien asserted. Bob had been gazing fondly at the babies, but his attention went to his son in law.

‘Lykel’ he said, taking his hand and shaking it firmly ‘You’ve got a hard job looking after twins’

‘They keep us on our toes, Sir’

‘Now then son, it’s Bob’ Bastien smiled wryly.

‘With respect, you used my surname, Bob’

‘Well dammit so I did. Force of habit, s – uh Bastien. No offense’

‘None taken, Bob’ Edith was talking to the babies in a sing song voice, which caused Theo to reach out to try and touch her while Beatrice stopped wriggling to concentrate on her voice, staring at her intently.

‘They’re such little darlings’ Edith gushed ‘When is Granny going to get a cuddle?’

‘You can help when we get out to the car, Edith’ Bastien said ‘It will be easier to keep them in the stroller for now.’ He looked at the baggage trolley. ‘Let me take that, Bob. Sophia can take charge of the twins’ They set off for the car park, Sophia taking the lead and Edith walking beside her, Bastien and Bob taking up the rear. It was warm outside in the Mediterranean autumn air, white clouds billowing up in the sky as the day wore on. They reached the minivan and began the loading process.

‘Would you mind taking Beatrice, Mum?’ Sophia asked. She’d never been able to change her habit of calling her parents Mum and Dad. It just didn’t feel natural calling them by their names. ‘She’s more likely to get cranky. Theo’s pretty laid back’

‘Well who’s a gorgeous girl?’ Edith enthused as Sophia unbuckled the baby and handed her over. ‘Granny’s been waiting to meet you and your brother’ Beatrice sat quietly in her arms, happy at being paid exclusive attention. Bob caught up with them and beamed as Sophia handed Theo over to him so that she could wrestle with getting the stroller folded up and stowed away and putting the nappy changing bags where they could be reached easily. Bastien was taken up with manhandling the bags into the back of the van, scrutinising them first to work out how best to stow them away.

Sophia climbed into the van and reached out to Bob for Theo first, knowing that he would be content to be buckled into his baby seat. Edith was only too happy to spend a few more moments rocking her granddaughter before handing her over.

‘Now Beatrice will probably cry when I buckle her up’ Sophia explained ‘But as soon as we get moving she’ll quieten down. Theo will be fine’

‘I’ll sit next to her’ Edith offered ‘Granny will keep her quiet’ Sophia pursed her lips dubiously but said nothing. Beatrice squirmed and grizzled as she placed her in the car seat and adjusted the straps. Edith swiftly climbed into the next seat and leaned over her as Bastien crammed the last bag into the back.

Bob wheeled the trolley back to the collection point while Bastien got into the driver’s seat. Bob came back and sat beside him whilst Sophia settled next to Theo, who kicked his legs happily. He seemed to like the motion of the minivan, whereas Beatrice just wasn’t happy being strapped into anything. It wasn’t as if she could get anywhere under her own steam, just that she hated any kind of confinement apart from being held and fussed over. Happily, the fact that Edith was paying the little girl attention pleased her, and she quietened down before they started off.

‘Beatrice must really like you, Mum.’ Sophia said ‘Normally she cries until we get moving. Not that we’ve manage to get them out and about much. It’s like organising a campaign getting them ready’

‘Well four pairs of hands are better than two’ her mother said ‘I know you have extra help at the Palace, but whoever it is can have a little holiday while we’re here’ Sophia sighed inwardly, knowing that things were never that simple with her mother, well meaning as she was.

It wasn’t a long journey to the palace, and Edith carried on talking to Beatrice all the way, only looking up when they got to the palace gates.

‘Oh, here already? How’s the King? Didn’t you say that the Queen’s expecting a baby too? Theo and Beatrice will have a real life prince or princess to play with’

‘Mum, I told you we’ll be moving to Edinburgh when the academic year starts’ Sophia said.

‘Oh, still so far away.’ Edith sighed ‘However will you manage the twins on your own? You should move back to the island, then we can babysit for you.’

‘Now Edith, that’s a huge commitment.’ Bob said firmly. ‘Much as I love the idea of being a grandpa, I want to enjoy my retirement. Sophia and Bastien will manage just fine without us.’

‘I’d planned to set up my own security consultancy, but I can delay a lot of it while we settle in’ Bastien explained ‘Most will be done remotely anyway, so I should be at home most of the time once it gets going’ Edith boggled at this.

‘You mean you’ll be a house husband?’ she gasped ‘Sophia, you should be the one staying at home’ Bob coughed loudly, and she looked sheepish. ‘Oh dear, I’m being old fashioned, aren’t I? Things are different nowadays I suppose’ Sophia rubbed her forehead.

‘I was honoured to be offered the job.’ she explained. ‘I didn’t think I’d fall pregnant so fast. They deferred, but I really want to take it up.’

‘I’m sorry dear.’ Edith sighed ‘It was so different in my day. You were expected to be at home to look after your children and wait for your husband to get home’

Any further discussion was halted as the minivan drew up at the security post at the Palace gates and went on to stop in front of the staff wing after being checked over.

‘Let me have Theo this time’ Edith offered as they started to unload, so Sophia handed him over and carried Beatrice herself, leaving the two men to unload the baggage. They climbed the stairs to the apartment.

‘Now Mum, you know you can’t stay with us this time. The twins have the spare room, so the King has very kindly put you in a suite in the guest wing. It’s not far from us, and we can all eat together. Your suite has a very nice view out over the grounds at the back’

‘Oh’ said Edith ‘That sounds lovely. When can we see it?’

‘I just need to check the twins aren’t hungry or need changing, then we can all go over and take your bags’

‘Are you bottle feeding them? I fed you of course, but I stopped when your teeth came through’

‘I’ll feed them for as long as I can’ Sophia explained as they reached the apartment, and she unlocked the door. She went along the corridor to the nursery, and Edith exclaimed at the room.

‘Oh my, aren’t you a lucky boy?’ she cooed to Theo ‘Your mummy didn’t have her own room until she was at school’ She made a face and held Theo away from her body. ‘Oh dear, I think he’s a little damp, darling’

--------

At first Edith had been a little peeved not to be staying with her daughter. Sophia and Bastien had discussed putting the twins back in the main bedroom and reinstating the spare room, but it would have been too disruptive. The suite Bob and Edith had was one that was usually put aside for nobility to stay in the social season when there were balls and other occasions to attend. Edith was most impressed at the grand décor and soon forgot all about the little apartment in the staff wing. The arrangement meant that everyone had their own space and weren’t on top of each other.

After taking all the bags through, Bastien sent for a meal to be served in the Turners’ suite, and Sophia sat feeding Beatrice whilst it was all laid out on the table. She felt a little guilty at always feeding her first, but she was impatient where her brother was not. Edith paraded up and down with Theo, singing and chatting to him.

‘What’s in all the bags, Mum?’ Sophia asked.

‘My painting things’ she replied. ‘After all, I work by Royal appointment, you know’ Sophia suppressed a smile, as she knew that remark to be caused by Regina politely saying she’d like to see Edith paint the palace grounds. Beatrice stopped feeding and Sophia waved her mother over to swap, handing her a napkin for her shoulder.

‘Make sure she’s winded’ she warned ‘If she gets tummy ache neither of them will settle.’ When Theo had been fed and winded, Sophia went to sit at the table. Theo was happy to sit in his bouncy chair, and surprisingly Beatrice was too.

‘My foster parents are passing through tomorrow’ Bastien said casually as he passed the breadbasket to Bob ‘If you like, we could meet up with them.’

‘Oh, Althea paints, doesn’t she?’ Edith piped up ‘Of course we should meet them’

‘Perhaps we should plan an outing’ Sophia suggested ‘I’m getting a bit fed up of the same four walls. A walk along the seafront and lunch at a café would make a change’

‘That’s an excellent idea’ Bastien replied, standing to take some plates back to the kitchen and stopping on the way back to put his hand on her shoulder and lean down to kiss her cheek. ‘I’ll get in touch with them and arrange it’

@sirbeepsalot @katedrakeohd @fluffyfirewhiskey @kingliam2019 @rainbowsinthestorm @camillemontespan @texaskitten30 @bascmve01 @nomadics-stuff

#double trouble #sophia x bastien #bastien lykel #Bastien x OC #bastien x sophia

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mallowstep · 4 years ago

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i haven't been subtle about it...but yes, i'm adding a squilf fic to "stolag," so it will now be eight fics instead of seven.

i'm not adding it to anything official yet, because i really can't decide where to place it.

okay, soft spoilers (i.e., you could get spoilers out of what i'm about to say) below the readmore

so, you may recall, i said for spottedleaf's piece that i needed to write it because otherwise "grieving for the living" (and "in a faith-forgotten land", which isn't released, so i didn't bring it up) would be overextended.

i go into these fics with an idea of length, and i'm actually good at judging the lengths of one-shots. long fics, not so much, but even then, i have a really good handle on chapter length.

comes with the territory: i write a lot of one-shots. you have to make it work. you have to know how long things are, how much, pacing needs to be as simple and obvious to you as breathing.

that might be a little extreme, but i really do praise the fact that my final fic lengths for one-shots are usually within 500 words of my predicted outcome.

if it's much longer or much shorter, then my story structure needs to bbe reevaluated.

so...why bring that up now? look at the word counts for stolag:

gftl : 3.4k

wtsmtb : 3.5k

primd : 3.8k

ibpta : 4.4k

now, you can analyse the plot of stolag in a three act structure quite nicely: the first three fics are exposition, four and five are rising action, six is the climax, and seven is your dénouement.

but it's also...not perfect like that. you can chop off the first three, and put the beginnings of fics four and five together for an act one, make the rest of them an act two, and the rest is the same.

which is really how i want to analyze this, with the first three as their own thing, but they do set the tone.

anyway. now, the problem is, that means four and five are doing a lot of heavy lifting, in a way they just can't. narratively. for reasons that come down to: holy fuck mothwing's fic is supposed to cover a lot and i can't possibly cram it all into one fic.

but, as with spottedleaf's fic, it's not like adding in a squilf fic can just sap off some of mothwing's problems, no, it's going to really shift the balance.

anyway, to circle back, when i wrote ibpta, it just couldn't hold enough of act two. it couldn't. it was already 4.4k words, when these are suppposed to really not surpass 4k.

i knew this when i outlined it, too, i just don't think i realized how fragile it would be. like, i knew that this problem existed, but i thought i had more wiggle room to mess with it. but no, i had to cut things i thought i could split between ibpta and iaffl for pacing, and leafpool and barkface's relationship is already critically underdeveloped.

no, ibpta just couldn't hold more than exposition. i had to be okay with that, because it just...it just wasn't.

i mean look at it. try to tell me what the plot is.

leafkit thinks about destiny

training montage

thinking mothpaw is pretty

a suggestive riverclan scene that doesn't go anywhere

journey stuff

a suggestive mothpaw dream that doesn't go anywhere

windclan, crowfeather

a suggestive decision that doesn't go anywhere

and that's it.

that's not a plot, that's...well, exposition.

but here's the problem, i have three plot threads that are undeveloped, that will be more developed.

(to be clear, every fic in stolag has undeveloped plot threads. it's breathing room, for me. it's how i like to write, with background ideas that aren't fully resolved. but in this case, they're front and center, not background threads in a main plot.

like, let's look at "where the spirit meets the bone," because that has an easy plot for these purposes

destiny worries

does a good job training

tells her siblings bye

struggles to fit in with riverclan

bonds with mudfur

her brother dies

starts seeing tiger bone problem

tigerstar stuff

bones as a forced thing

she picks moth to be a seer

even without adding in all of my thoughts, you can see there's a strong thread. the background ideas aren't even worth a bullet point — willowpelt, her time in the pit, her relationship to misty storm & feather, etc.

if i wanted to make a strong argument for ibpta's plot, i could focus on leafpool's relationship to duty, but i literally did not have space to resolve that without really just overextending it.)

right, long tangent.

so anyway, my initial plan was to resolve all of these in mothwing's fic. buuuut...this circles back to the long fic/one-shot problem.

i know how long mothwing's fic should be: around 4k words. i also now see i can't fit everything i need to into 4k words.

enter: a squilf fic. great! but what's squilf thread in this? well, from what we see of her in ibpta:

she has unresolved issues with how much her parents love her

she has an unexplored relationship with brambleclaw

she doesn't want to talk to leafpool after leafpool leaves

but they were super close as kids.

so...what gives! a lot, actually, but resolving it...means resolving at least as far as jayfeather, but likely all the way to alderheart.

deep breath here.

if i want squilf's fic to patch the gaps between mothwing and jayfeather's fics, then i need to release it between them.

BUT doing that will cover at least all of jayfeather's fic.

but wait! i hear you saying, grieving for the living covered the first half of where the spirit meets the bone.

well, even if we pretended half was whole, look at the overlap: spottedpaw is having a big emotional journey, yellowstorm is focused on her place and role.

but jayfeather and squilf's conflicts are interlocked.

so...what should i do? i'm not sure. my instinct says, the plot structure needs squilf between mothwing and jay. it can't really go before mothwing, because moth and leaf need to stick together because of how they complete each other.

alderheart's fic has to end it; it's the only one that can. i promise.

putting squilf between jay and alder will really mess with the pacing and tension, so that only leaves between moth and jay.

so, yeah.

woof this was supposed to be a quick ramble not...this.

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is0gild · 4 years ago

Text

Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Chapter 22

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 9,146

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

“Alright, Elsa, you can do this! You're going to get up on that stage and you're going to wow them!"

So all that stuff about me not trying out? Total bald-faced lie. Kudos to any of you who saw right through it. Since, you know… I'm so good at the whole deception thing.

"...alright fine, maybe not wow them, per se… but you can do okay at least, right?"

This was all just for fun, after all. It's not like it was anything important, it's not like it really mattered. It was nothing, just a silly childhood dream. Just one moment, one blip in time that would be over before I knew it. No big deal.

"...passable? Surely, you can at least give me passable!"

Now if only I could convince my reflection of that.

Which, judging by the flat look she was giving me from the mirror on my vanity, was not going too hot.

"Ugh!" I huffed, tossing up my hands and turning away to pace my bedroom floor. "Just try not to fall flat on your face and I'll be happy. Can you just do that much for me? Please?" I snapped, facing my reflection once more.

She scrunched up her nose and gave me a noncommittal shrug.

My shoulders slumped and I hung my head, bracing my hands atop the vanity table. "Look, you've been practicing nonstop since yesterday. And yes, I know what basically amounts to cramming sing-alongs for almost twenty-four hours straight isn't going to make up for the lack of any sort of professional training. Or the absence of any real experience. Or the fact that besides karaoke that one night, you pretty much haven't sung in almost a decade except for maybe a personal concert in the shower once in the blue moon. I know you're going into this blind and have no idea what you're doing and others there will be way better prepared than you and-" I frowned, narrowing my eyes, "...and I had a point. Fudge, what was it again?"

My reflection looked remarkably unmoved by my rallying little speech just now.

"Ah!" I snapped my fingers, face brightening before jabbing my index up against the mirror. "The point was that none of that matters! What matters is you've done the best you could do in the time you had! So worrying about it any further is nothing more than a useless waste of time and energy! So just go on out there, have a good time and… and give it your all!" My hands closed into fists and they made weak, halfhearted thrusts into the air over my head as I gave a tiny, "Woo!"

She just drooped her eyelids at me.

I plopped down hard into my chair with a small growl. "I know I suck at pep talks. Yeesh, you don't have to be so negative!"

I don't know why I even bothered. Reflection Me was always such a downer.

Sighing, I propped my chin in my palm while I brought my other hand up to fiddle with the flower poking out of a miniature vase sitting on my vanity. It was the winter honeysuckle Lea had given me, dried out now because I'd wanted it to last. I toyed with its delicate petals, my fingers gentle so as not to break them. Somehow merely touching it seemed to sooth my frayed nerves and lighten my spirits, even if only just a little bit.

My phone buzzed and I checked it to see that it was a text from Lea telling me he'd arrived and was on his way up. I exhaled slowly. Okay, I couldn't procrastinate any longer. It was now or never. I stood up and made my way over to my bed, on top of which laid the sheet music I'd managed to hunt down after some internet searching. Gathering it up with care so as not to wrinkle any of the pages, I then headed towards my bedroom door.

"Who's a pretty, pretty princess? Daddy is! Isn't that right, jelly-belly-welly-bean?"

The dulcet tone of Rayne cooing down at her own tummy was the first sound to greet me when I walked out into the living room. I blinked, taking in the scene before me as Rayne returned her attention to the, er… "pretty, pretty princess." That is to say, her husband, whose lips were set into a grim line while his left eye gave a little tick. She had him seated in one of the kitchen chairs as she stood behind him, putting the finishing touches on the long braid she'd fashioned his hair into. It was complete with teeny butterfly barrettes, a colorful assortment of flowers weaved throughout, and a giant, frilly bow at the end holding it all together.

More practice for styling her future daughter's hair.

I'd know, since normally I'd be the one sitting in that chair instead of Riku.

Thankfully, it was now his turn to suffer hair bedazzling hell.

"Not one word, Fryse," he grumbled. "Not a single, solitary word."

I held the sheet music up to my mouth, concealing a tiny grin behind it. Then carefully schooling my features, I told him, "I was only going to comment on how masculine and rugged you look this evening."

"Damn straight," he harrumphed, crossing his arms and slouching further into his seat.

"I have the bestest, sweetest, manliest hubby in the whole wide world," Rayne declared happily, pulling his head back so she could plant an upside down smooch to his lips. This seemed to mollify him somewhat. Giggling, she then glanced my way. "You all ready for your big debut, pumpkin?"

Rubbing one elbow, I shrugged, "...as ready as I'm going to be, I suppose."

Her lips twisted sourly as she clipped another glitzy butterfly into his hair. "Still wish I was able to go and give you moral support."

"No no, it's fine," I said hastily with a shake of my head and a small, reassuring smile. "Lea's driving me so it's not like I'm stranded in need of a ride or anything. Plus you have your baby appointment to get to and I wouldn't want to make you reschedule for some silly little thing like this. Really, just don't worry about it."

"Besides," Riku tacked on, "friends and family of those trying out aren't usually allowed in to watch the auditions anyway."

Rayne's cheeks gave a little puff of annoyance. "I'd like to see them try and stop me if I showed up."

There was a knock at the door just then. Knowing it was Lea, I moved to open it and found him standing there, one shoulder propped against the doorframe. He grinned down at me, "Hey, El! Ready to go? I-" he stopped as he looked past me, blinking a couple times. Then the curl to his lips grew a touch evil, "Yo, Raindrop, who's your new gal pal? She's hella cute!"

"Cram it before I curb stomp your ass," Riku ground out through his teeth.

"Threaten me with a good time, mamacita," he purred back at him, waggling his eyebrows.

Riku sneered with a tch, grumbling under this breath, "Better pray we don't meet in a dark alley, clown, because I will crush you."

"Oof, I usually like a girl to ask me to dinner first, but I might be willing to make an exception just this once if ya keep sweet talking me like that, gorgeous," Lea winked. As Riku shot up to his feet with a black look, I ran out the door and grabbed Lea's arm. "Oops, looks like duty calls. We'll hafta continue this later, hot stuff. Call me!" he blew Riku a kiss with a snigger as I dragged him away, slamming the door shut behind me.

I started jogging down the steps, listening to Lea's footfall as he followed close behind. Shaking my head with a soft scoff, I said, "Can't believe Mr Guyliner here is making fun of a dude with flowers in his hair."

"Was only doing it cuz I knew how butthurt he'd get over it," he snerked as he appeared at my side. "Now me personally? Don't have a problem with it. I'd rock a thousand posies in my majestic mane and look damn fine doing it too."

I glanced over at him, one corner of my lips tugging up. "I might have to hold you to that."

He flung himself onto the handrail and slid down past me in a blur. Converse hitting the landing below, Lea spun around to block my way just as I caught up to him, smirking as he brought himself nose-to-nose with me. "Only if you're the one weaving all them pretty lil blossoms into my hair."

My heart spasmed.

Down, girl.

After all, it was only the empty teasing he always did.

I turned my head a little, shooting him some side-eye. "...do I get to choose the flowers?"

"I don't see why not."

"Good." I ducked under his arm to slip past him and make my way towards the next flight of stairs, "Leadwort it is then."

"Well now, that sounds ominous." I could hear the frown in his voice. "Should I be worried?"

I shot him a sly grin over my shoulder. "Depends. Very pretty. Very, very itchy. Hope you're ready to suffer for fashion."

"For you?" he beamed, hopping down the steps two at a time now to gain on me once more. "Totally worth it."

I merely rolled my eyes, electing not to dignify his comment with a response.

Soon enough we'd climbed into his car and were hitting the road. Sunset Hill Auditorium wasn't really all that far, but still a bit further than I'd rather walk. Thankfully Lea had been free and only too happy to give me a lift over, seeing as how Riku and Rayne had a prior commitment on the other end of town. Speaking of, they'd probably left immediately right after us and I idly wondered if Riku was planning on showing up at the doctor's with his hairdo still all fab like that. The image brought a little smile to my face.

It quickly faded however as I stared down at the sheet music sitting in my lap. My fingers twisted at my braid as I took in a shaky breath and blew it out slowly. Now that I'd fallen quiet, I could feel that nervous energy creeping its way back into my chest. It was actually kind of sort of a good nervous. I was a bit loathe to admit it, but a small part of me was looking forward to this.

That said, it didn't mean I wasn't also absolutely friggin' terrified.

I was actually a little relieved that friends and family weren't normally allowed into the auditions. The offer of moral support was appreciated, but ultimately I think I would have been more anxious if Riku and Rayne had been able to come and watch. Anna too, for that matter. I know my sister would have dropped everything to be here in a heartbeat, which is why I hadn't even mentioned anything about this to her. Making a fool of myself in front of strangers? Mortifying, but I'd survive - at least if I royally screwed up, I'd never have to see any of them again and could just pretend the whole big mess had never happened. Not so if people I actually cared about were there to witness me flop hard. And it wouldn't matter how kind and supportive they would have been after any sort of epic failure on my part... in fact, that might have only made me feel even worse.

Still, them not coming was only a minor comfort lost in the sea of dread filling up inside me now. My stomach burned with queasiness and my lungs felt like they were shrinking, making it harder and harder to breathe.

"Hmm," Lea's low hum broke me out of my thoughts. I glanced over at him as he pursed his lips to one side before shaking his head, "Mm-mm, nope. Too tangy. You need to be spoiled rotten with the sugary sweetness."

Feeling that cold anxiety loosen its grip and recede somewhat, I furrowed my brow for a few seconds before it clicked. "Ah. You've ruled out another ice cream flavor for me."

"Yup!" he chirped, switching his car over into the next lane.

"So which one got the boot this time?"

"Ever After."

"Huh," I fixed my eyes on the road straight ahead, squinting slightly. "Didn't you rule out a different flavor previously for being too sweet?"

One of his hands came to rest on the shoulder of my car seat. "Well yeah, but having a sweet tooth is one thing, while suicide by pure, massive sugary overdose is something else altogether. I think you know where to draw the line."

I tipped my head to one side. "Interesting."

"Interesting?" he echoed, quirking an eyebrow as he checked his side view mirror. "...am I wrong?"

"Didn't say that," I muttered, my fingers absently fiddling with the corners of the sheet music. "Just said it was interesting."

He frowned. "Crap. That's gonna bug me now."

I flashed him a half-grin. "I know."

"Cruel, cruel woman."

I just crinkled my nose at him smugly.

I knew he was trying to take my mind off the audition. And the distraction was welcome, but unfortunately brief. I could already feel that frown resurfacing, that apprehensive chill knotting tightening in my stomach once more.

Lea shifted his head slightly towards me, watching me out of his peripheral with a small downward tug at the corner of his lips. "...ya know you got absolutely nothing to worry about, right?" he asked softly. My eyes flicked over to him for a second before staring back down at my lap again. He elaborated, "It's community theater."

My eyebrows knit together. "...so?"

"So that means ya got no one to impress. Nothing to prove. No one's gonna be expecting a Julliard education from you or for you to have a few Broadway shows under your belt. This is all just for kicks. An absolutely zero pressure environment. Just a buncha goofballs who like acting and singing and dancing around in wacky costumes and so have found others who share their same brand o' crazy so they can all geek out together doing what they love in their free time. Doesn't matter to any of 'em how good or bad ya might be. They're not there to judge, they just wanna have a good time." He lightly tapped his knuckles to my shoulder, "So loosen up, will ya? You're gonna have a blast and knock 'em dead."

The knots loosened a little and a small grin found its way onto my face despite myself. "Thanks, Lea."

Surprisingly, his words helped.

For a grand total of two minutes.

Which just so happened to be right about when we were parking in front of the auditorium. Imagine that.

"Break a leg! I'll just chill in the car and you can meet me back here when you're done," Lea told me as he rolled down his window and fished his phone out of his pocket.

I barely heard him over the sound of blood rushing in my ears. Swallowing hard and finding my throat too tight for words, I simply gave a stiff nod before climbing out of the car. Hugging the sheet music to my chest, I stepped over the curb and up onto the sidewalk before pausing to stare at the auditorium's double doors, opened wide to invite people in. My bottom lip tucked in and I made a quick glance back towards Lea who grinned and gave me a thumbs up through his window. Then I looked at that doorway once more.

My eyes hardened. My hands gripped the papers more firmly. My chest puffed up and my spine snapped straight.

Let's do this.

I determinedly marched right up to the bottom of the stairs leading up to the entrance.

Then I spun one-eighty and determinedly marched straight back the way I'd come from.

Lea looked up from his phone, both eyebrows shooting up his forehead. "El? Did you forget-"

Whipping back around, I drew in a deep breath before releasing it.

Alright, let's try that again.

I stomped towards the building once more.

This time I actually made it onto the first cement step before retreating.

Expression blank, Lea said nothing as he watched me do this again (making it as far as the second step up) and yet again (third step). By my next attempt, he'd gotten out and was leaning back against his closed car door, arms folded beneath his chest, ankles crossed. Drat, only the third step again. As I returned and came to a stop in front of him, my eyes narrowed and I released a huff through my nose. He just gave me a small shrug, as if to ask what exactly I expected him to do. I whirled on my heel once more, stormed back towards the auditorium and… fudge! Third step again! Now I was just in a friggin' rut!

Beyond frustrated with myself, I walked up beside Lea this time, folded my arms atop the roof of his car, pillowed my face into them and let out a muffled yell. Then I flipped around, bracing my back against the vehicle and scowled up at the sky.

A pause.

Then Lea piped up, "Ya know you actually have to go inside the place in order to audition… right?"

I whacked him upside the head with my sheet music.

"...take that as a yes."

My shoulders sagged and I hid my face behind the papers in my hands, mumbling, "I can't do this. I'm too much of a scaredy-cat."

There was a snort from him. "You kidding? You're one of the bravest people I know."

I scoffed into the printouts, "Stop patronizing me. I don't appreciate it."

"I'm serious." I felt his hands on mine, gently pulling both them and the sheet music down so I could see him standing in front of me now, hunched down to my eye level. "Do you know what the definition of being brave is?"

"Not Elsa, that's for sure," I muttered, looking away.

"Shush," he flicked my forehead. Rude. "Being brave is not a complete and total absence of fear. No, being brave is taking action despite your fear. Remember your wedding day?"

I fixed him with a dull stare. "How could I forget? I ran away. Like a coward."

"No, a coward woulda done nothing. A coward woulda just done as she was told cuz she would be too chicken to make any waves. A coward woulda stayed, gone through with the wedding and led a miserable life she didn't want just to please her folks. Just because it was the safest, easiest route. But you didn't do that."

"No, instead I oh so bravely ran away like a warrior," I corrected my previous statement with a roll of my eyes.

He nodded, "Exactly! You were frightened, had no idea what you were gonna do, didn't have the foggiest of where to go or who to turn to, and yet you still did it. Took that leap and did the whole independent thing and guess what? You've been thriving!" His hands still cradling mine, I felt his thumbs start to trace soothing circles along my knuckles. "And sure, everything's been new and scary… finding a job, meeting new people, not caving to your family's demands… but no matter how afraid you may have got, you never hid from any of it. You've been facing your fears and meeting each new challenge head on. Now I'd call that pretty damn brave."

Wow, his pep talk game was way, way better than mine.

That said, I still eyed him dubiously. "Really?"

"Hell yeah! Shit, if I had to carry around as much fear inside of me as you do, I dunno if I'd be strong enough to do half the things you've done! You're a goddamn hero, babydoll!" he smiled big. "Now, I know this is something ya really want."

My face heated and I averted my gaze. "...how can you tell?"

"Trust me, I can read you pretty well by now," his fingers tweaked my nose. "So listen up: if you can do all that other stuff that terrified you before, if you can just grab hold and take charge of your life the way you have so far, then this one teensy-weensy audition should be a total piece of cake!"

"You really think so?" I frowned uncertainly at him.

"I know so!" he declared with a laugh. "So whaddya say? Think you're ready to do this?"

Though my chest was still tight with anxiety, I could feel that tiny glow of excitement and longing deep, deep down sparking back to life. I slowly smiled and gave a hesitant nod, "...yes, I believe so."

"Then what're you standing round here for? Go on, scoot!"

I didn't budge an inch. After a few seconds, I hung my head. "My feet won't move."

Lea blinked, then chuckled softly. "Do you need me to give ya a tow?"

I grimaced, "Maybe."

"Alright, I can help you inside, but that's as far as I'll be able to take ya. It'll be up to you to get yourself on that stage."

"Just get me through that door," I agreed quietly.

Linking his hand in mine, he turned and led the way towards the auditorium. I stumbled into a walk behind him, drawing what little strength I could from his warm, steady grip. With his help, I finally made it all the way up those daunting stairs and through that foreboding doorway.

Only to be stopped almost immediately once we stepped inside by someone standing in our way.

That someone being a tall, familiar, skinny guy with a spooky yet snappy suit.

"Elsa!" Jack flashed me what I was beginning to suspect was his signature ear-to-ear grin. "You don't know how thrilled I am to see that you could make it! Here to try out or just observe?"

"...try out?" I said, voice small. Yes, it came out just like that. Like it was a question. Like there was a right or wrong answer and I was just guessing, hoping for the best.

"Splendid, Splendid! Glad to hear it! I'll get you added to the director's list and your name will be called when it's your time to shine. For now, you can just take a seat and watch the others. Lea," he turned his gaze on him now, "good to see you too, but you know the rules. Unless you're here to audition, you're going to have to wait outside."

I unconsciously sidled closer to Lea, squeezing his hand.

Huh. Guess I actually wanted him to stick around and watch me make a fool out of myself. Shocked? I know I was.

Maybe it was because he thought I was brave. Maybe if he stayed, I could trick myself into thinking I was brave too.

Lea snuck a glance my way. Eyes crinkling, he squeezed my hand back before returning his attention to Jack with a sheepish grin and ruffled his fingers through his crimson spikes, "Aw c'mon, man, this is her first time! Could ya maybe be a pal, do me a solid and bend the rules a lil just this once?"

Jack crossed his arms, squinting at him with a flat look. Then he sighed and stepped to one side, his smile back and bigger than ever, "Alright, just this one time though! And you better be on your best behavior, bucko!"

"I will! Scout's honor!" he held up three fingers pressed together and beamed. "Thanks, man! Let's go, El." And with that, Lea was pulling me further inside.

The auditorium was larger on the inside than I expected, with rows upon rows of theater seating stretching out before us. While those seats were far from full, there were still more people here than I'd expected there would be, making me gulp. Auditions were already under way it seemed as I watched a familiar guy I recalled seeing in the food court previously - Joshua, I believe? - dip into a flamboyant bow before jumping down off the stage. Remaining up there was an old, clunky piano on wheels with Mullet Boy from the Blue Sitar seated at it.

"Setzer, you're up," came a call from someone sitting in the middle of the third row, presumably the director. All I could tell about him from the back of his head was that he had choppy, shoulder-length pink hair. Slumping lazily into the seat next to him with feet kicked up onto the chair in front of her was that blonde chick from Cinema XIII - I'd recognize that weird hairdo anywhere.

"Ah, looks like Marluxia The Douche-ah is running the show this time round," Lea whispered into my ear with a nod towards Mr Rosy-Locks as we walked down the aisle. "Not gonna be winning Personality Of The Year anytime soon, but I hear he can be a halfway decent director."

He then straightened back up, eyes scanning the people gathered here for a second before his face lit up, "Oo, let's sit with them!" His hands went to my shoulders and he steered me into a sharp turn down one of the rows. Coming to a stop next to two more faces I vaguely recognized, Lea greeted, "Ladies, mind if we join you?"

The two women looked up at us with friendly smiles, the ginger nodding, "Of course! Take a seat!"

We did just that, with the pair of them to my right and Lea to my left. He reached across in front of me to fistbump the closer of the two girls, "Sweet! Redheads of the world unite, booyah!"

I looked over with a timid grin. It was time once again for another one of my little misadventures into the world of small talk! Clearing my throat and tapping my sheep music against my knees to straighten them even though they were in no actual need of straightening, I asked, "It was Tiana and… Ariel, I believe?"

"Mm-hm!" Ariel closed her eyes as her smile grew. "Elsa, right? We haven't officially met yet, but I remember seeing you around at 7th Heaven that one night! You and Lea were amazing at karaoke! Well… really more so you. No offense, Lea," she giggled.

"None taken. I know my gal's got a beautiful pair o' lungs on her," he slung his arm around my shoulders, hugging me close and pressing a kiss into my hair.

Tiana leaned forward to look past Ariel and meet my gaze, "You really do. Do you work with a professional voice coach or anything?"

I blushed, tugging on my braid. "I, uh… no. No, nothing like that."

"Really?" Ariel's lips formed a surprised little 'o'. Then her face brightened once more, "Well, if you're looking for someone, I can put you in touch with mine if you'd like. His name is Sebastian and he's absolutely wonderful. He can be uptight and a bit of a party-pooper, but he gets results!"

Squeezing my braid harder now, I gaped at her slightly. "You actually have a voice coach?"

This was community theatre, as Lea had made a strong point of earlier. People here weren't supposed to have friggin' voice coaches!

"Yup! I'm going to be a famous singer one day and finally leave this sleepy town to tour all over the world, after all, so it's important I do my best right now! I've been practicing ever since I was-"

"Eric to the stage please," Marluxia's voice suddenly echoed throughout the room.

Ariel gasped excitedly and struck a finger up to her lips, shushing Tiana, Lea and me (despite the fact that none of us were talking) before eagerly sitting forward in her chair, practically buzzing with anticipation. That silver-haired Setzer guy - oh gosh, had he come in costume or was that crazy getup just what he normally wore? - swaggered cockily down the stairs to the right of the stage while another dude was coming up the left. The newcomer had short black hair, dimples when he smiled and I suppose what some might call Prince Charming good looks.

Ariel plonked her elbows down onto her knees and propped her chin up in both hands with a delighted sigh. "Isn't he dreamy?"

Tiana wrinkled her nose and muttered to me behind Ariel's head, "She has a bit of a crush."

"You're one to talk," Ariel snorted, elbowing her in the arm. "Naveen's should be up next. Believe me," she smirked towards me, "you haven't seen heart-eyes until you see the ones Tiana has for this guy."

"Shut up, do not!" she laughed, swatting her shoulder.

Brushing her off, Ariel suddenly pointed towards my sheet music. "May I?"

"Oh, uh… s-sure," I handed them over, freeing up both my hands to strangle my braid now. Noticing this, Lea took one of them in his own, shifting it over to the armrest between us and lacing his fingers into mine. The warmth of his palm against the back of my hand brought me some comfort and I felt a little less restless.

Ariel squinted at the papers for a second before grinning, "Oh wow, I love this song! Good choice! Although, if I remember correctly…" she flipped towards the end. "Ah, yup! A second singer does come in. They only have a couple lines though. I can go up with you and fill in for those bits if ya want, the director shouldn't mind!"

"That's really nice… thank you," I smiled, taking the pages back. Sally had said pretty much the same thing when I'd texted her to make sure the song would be okay, but that still had meant I needed to find someone to sing those few extra lines. I hadn't counted on someone finding me instead. Thank goodness for small miracles.

This was one of my most favorite songs too. One from a musical I'd watched over and over again when I was a child, so often that it'd probably driven my parents to the point of insanity. I had just identified so much with the character who sang this number and it still to this day held a very special place in my heart, even after all these years. I knew this song forwards and backwards. Knew it like the back of my hand. I figured if I had any chance of leaving any sort of good impression here today, it would be with this song.

Looking up from the music notes scrawled across the papers, I saw that that Eric person had left. He'd been replaced by a man with a newsie hat on over his wavy, dark brown hair and was singing something jazzy. The way Tiana was reddening while Ariel giggled and whispered to her, I suspected this had to be Naveen. I tried to just sit back, relax and enjoy the show. Tried to banish the anxiety from my thoughts, instead focusing more on Lea's hand now toying with my fingers. On the way he lightly traced up and down their lengths, making them tingle pleasantly. Hoping that little tingle would help keep the nervousness at bay.

But it didn't.

I began to flinch slightly with each new name called, fearing it would be mine. Feeling a little relief when it wasn't, as well as a little annoyance from just wanting to get this over and done with already. A flinch for when Olette was called, who was sitting with a boy with black spiky hair held up by a headband. I idly wondered if it was that buddy of hers who hadn't been able to make it to Friday night drinks - Pence, I believe? Another flinch for when Yuna was called, some brunette with mismatched eyes who sang a pop song I was unfamiliar with. Two more flinches for each of her friends when their names were called, a perky blonde with a long ponytail full of small braids and a freaky looking goth chick in a tight, strappy leather outfit. And yet another flinch for when Rhyme was called, a girl whose sweet demeanor was at odds with the little skull on her black cap and the rap number she'd chosen to sing.

I had to keep resisting the urge to glance towards the doors in back. The ones leading to the outside world. To freedom. Not for the first time, I wondered… what if I made a run for it? You know, just straight up booked it? The idea did hold merit and was very tempting. Nay, extremely tempting.

The only drawback? I'd hate myself.

Because as much as I was dreading this, Lea hadn't been wrong. This was something I wanted. Like… really, really wanted. I'd been trying to lie to myself, pretending I didn't really care, downplaying how important it actually was to me. But this was something I'd dreamt about since I was little. Sadly, I had lost that dream somewhere along the way as I had grown older. Had misplaced and forgotten it in favor of pleasing my parents, of fulfilling their wishes and expectations for me and how I led my life. I had carelessly discarded it, giving it up for nothing more than useless childhood fantasy.

But now it had found its way back to me and I'd been given a second chance. And even if it ended up going nowhere and turned out to be nothing more than a deadend, I still had to try. I just knew that this was something that I had to do. That I needed to do. For me. For the sake of my own happiness.

...gah, just why did it have to be so scary though?!

And all these women trying out before me? Were so not helping! They were all so amazing and talented. Each one seemed better than the last. Each one had most likely been practicing for this audition for days, if not weeks. Each one had probably done this at least once before. Everyone knew everyone here and were all friends. Everyone, that is, except for me. How could I, a stranger with no real experience or training and very little preparation, possibly even hope to stand a chance?

Man, making a break for it through that back door was looking better and better by the second.

My fingers clutched the sheet music more tightly, wrinkling and creasing it after I'd tried so hard not to this whole time. I didn't really seem to care anymore. I could feel the blood draining from my face and-

"Yawn, total snoozefest," came a sudden whisper in my ear.

I jerked my head around towards it, blinking owlishly at Lea once, then twice. "...huh?"

"Her," he nodded to the current girl trying out, her long golden hair ending in curls. "That Aurora chick. She's got me just 'bout ready to hibernate over here."

My wide eyes darted back and forth between her and him. Then it happened. A tiny snerk, escaping through my nose before I could stop it. Too late I clasped a hand over my mouth. After a short pause, I lowered it to whisper back, "You don't really mean that. You're just trying to distract me."

He bobbed his shoulders and grinned. "Is it working?"

I looked away now, carefully schooling my expression as I attempted to smooth the crumples out of my sheet music. "...maybe."

Next up was Tiana. "Jeez, talk about frog in your throat," Lea murmured low out of the corner of his mouth. A mutinous little snort burst out of my nose and I tried to shush him. Then it was Ariel's turn. "Love that girl to death but I'm sorry, a warbling seagull sounds better." I bit back a soft pft and pinched his arm. I was trying not to laugh, I really was, but each remark was so ridiculous, so stupid, so obviously not true that it was hard to resist. A Snow White was called next - now that was a stage name if I ever heard one. At least, I hoped it was. She'd gotten about halfway through her audition when I heard a hushed, "Tch, who taught her to sing, a buncha tone-deaf coal miners?"

I spluttered, clamping my hand firmly over his mouth. "Okay, you need to stop now," I hissed out in a poor attempt to hide my amusement.

There was a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Then I felt him licking my fingers.

"Ugh, real mature," I scrunched up my face, snatching my hand back only to wipe it off on his cheek a second later.

"Psh, acting like ya don't like it," he sniggered, cupping the side of my head so he could pull me in and rub his damp cheek to mine.

I squirmed, trying to break free. "Gross! Why? Just… why?"

Grip holding me firmly in place while he still nuzzled our cheeks together, he cooed, "Consider it a good luck charm from me to you! Now you have no choice but to knock their socks off!"

"How old are you, seven?" I grunted, trying to wedge an elbow between us. "You seriously need to gro-"

"Could Elsa please step onto the stage now?"

Both Lea and I froze for a split second. Fudge, I'd all but forgotten where I was and why I was here. Now it all came crashing back to me.

Ka-thunk.

What was that, you might be wondering? Oh nothing really. Just the sound of my heart plummeting to the bottom of my gut.

Before I'd even realized what I was doing, I'd sprung up onto my feet and was walking briskly towards the center aisle with all the grace and dignity I could muster. As if I couldn't still feel Lea's slobber drying on my cheek. Good luck charm, indeed. I'd show him good luck!

...that hadn't come across sounding as threatening as I would have liked.

It took a few seconds for it to really sink in. What I was doing. Where I was going. What I was about to do. I was about to audition… to sing in front of all of these people. I had to remind myself that this was something that I really, truly wanted. It was hard to remember right now in this exact second, but the desire was still there. Way deep, deep down inside of me, there was still that tiny spark valiantly burning away, smothered and small though it may be at the moment.

As each step brought me closer to that stage, I felt it again. That chilly dread pooling in the pit of my stomach. The iciness seemed to spread outward and I slowly grew numb. My mind started to feel detached and far away from the rest of my body, like I was no longer in control of it. Instead, it was more like I was only a passenger as it kept moving me forward seemingly of its own accord now, taking me up those stairs leading to my doom. That's right, my doom. I wasn't being over dramatic here at all. Not one bit.

Conceal, don't feel.

As I started crossing the stage, I was hardly even aware of Ariel out of the corner of my eye, whispering something to Marluxia before he gave a curt nod and she was scrambling up those steps after me. My ankle boots against the hardwood echoed loudly throughout the quiet theater. Too loudly, it felt like. But it paled in comparison to the thundering of my heart - oh gosh, could everyone else hear it too?

Conceal, don't feel.

All too soon, I was reaching the pianist and offering him the (rather abused at this point) sheet music with a shaky hand. He took it, looking it over briefly before setting it down on the music rack and smiling, "Just give me a nod when you're ready."

Ariel popped up then, plonking down onto the bench beside him with a grin. "I'll just sit with Demyx here and jump in for the parts you need me. Don't worry, you'll do great!"

My mouth tightened into a crude approximation of a smile before I turned to face the audience.

Big mistake.

Jeez, were there more people out there now? I could swear there were more people. Somehow, I willed my feet to move me closer to the front and center of the performance area. My fingers were running along my braid nonstop, up and down, up and down. My breathing had become so rapid and shallow. It felt like I wasn't getting enough oxygen into my lungs. Could the air be thinner here on stage? You know, all the way up at this higher altitude of a whopping five feet?

Conceal, don't feel.

My eyes darted from face to unfamiliar face, not sure where to look. At the director maybe? That'd make sense, right? He'd be the one to decide my fate here, after all. I glanced down at Marluxia. At that blonde chick next to him - maybe she was his assistant director? Did community theater even have an assistant director? Well I suppose it would just depend on- focus, Elsa, focus! I squeezed my eyes shut with a grimace before opening them back up, looking to that pair once more. By their expressions, they both already seemed so remarkably unimpressed by me and I hadn't even begun yet. No, staring at them would only rattle me more.

I gripped at my braid more tightly and my gaze shifted about once more, almost desperate now, searching for what, I wasn't quite sure. But at last I seemed to find it - a face I knew. Lea's face. There, suddenly, like a beacon in the crowd. I wasn't quite sure how I'd not seen him until now. When our eyes met, he merely bobbed his head slightly and smiled at me. So small, so simple. And yet it filled me with such warmth and encouragement.

Lea thought I was brave.

And maybe, just for this one moment, I could pretend to be.

I inhaled deeply, my breath a raspy hiss through my nose. Holding it in for a couple seconds, I then puffed it out softly, releasing my braid and letting my hands fall to my sides. Finally, I gave Demyx a stiff nod over my shoulder.

Welp. This was it. No turning back now.

It was probably only a second, maybe two, but it felt like an eternity before that first piano note sounded. When at last it did, I swear it practically gave me a heart attack and my knees almost buckled. But I steadied myself, my clammy hands smoothing the nonexistent wrinkles out of my dress as I let the tune wash over me, trying to find solace in its familiarity. I kept my eyes fixed on Lea. Anywhere else and I knew I would lose my nerve completely. I could hear it coming in the music. My cue to start singing. I sucked in a breath.

"Every inch of me is trembling," oh gosh, that had never been more true than it was in this very moment, "but not from the cold. Something is familiar like a dream I can reach but not quite hold." Was I too quiet? Pretty sure I was too quiet. Licking my dry lips, I pushed my quavering voice to be louder, "I can sense you there like a friend I've always known... I'm arriving and it feels like I am hom-" I choked, my tongue stumbling over the word. My pulse flatlined, my blood turned to ice in my veins, and every atom in me was screaming at me to run, run, run.

But I resisted. I don't know how, but I did. Maybe it was Lea's reassuring gaze still holding mine. Maybe it was that spark deep down inside, flaring up obstinately to fight back against the cold fear closing in around my heart. Whatever it was, I remained rooted to the spot, clenching and unclenching my hands and eyes hard.

"I have always been a fortress," my heart hammered in my ears as I stubbornly pushed on, pretending I hadn't made a mistake, "cold secrets deep inside. You have secrets too, but you don't have to hide." Lea folded his arms atop the back of the chair in front of him, bending forward to rest his chin atop them and looking quite content. Feeling emboldened, I went into the chorus, "Show yourself, I'm dying to meet you. Show yourself, it's your turn." I think my voice was getting stronger. Perhaps it was only wishful thinking. "Are you the one I've been looking for all of my life? Show yourself, I'm ready to learn... Ah-ah, ah-ah!" I rang out the last bit and I heard Ariel's voice echo an answering call behind me.

"I've never felt so certain, all my life I've been torn," some of my tension was beginning to melt away and I took a tiny step forward. "But I'm here for a reason, could it be the reason I was born?" I could feel something bubbling up inside my chest… giddiness, maybe? "I have always been so different, normal rules did not apply. Is this the day? Are you the way I finally find out why?" A smile was beginning to find its way onto my face. I couldn't believe it. A small, but actual, genuine smile of pure joy.

"Show yourself, I'm no longer trembling!" I burst out suddenly, almost triumphantly. Lea was lifting his head back up, face slack, eyes round. I had no idea what that meant. Was it a good reaction? A bad one? Either way, I was spurred on to do better. "Here I am, I've come so far! You are the answer I've waited for all of my life! Oh, show yourself, let me see who you are!" I wasn't even looking at him anymore. I was starting to forget about where I was, just getting lost in the was the only thing that mattered to me anymore in that moment.

I brought my voice back down, singing slowly, sweetly, "Come to me now, open your door, don't make me wait one moment more... Oh, come to me now," I repeated the line with more energy, "open your door, don't make me wait one moment more!"

"Where the north wind meets the sea," Ariel chimed in now and I took the moment to close my eyes, pulling in a big breath and reveling in the delightful tingle in my chest. I was entering the home stretch and there was no fear left. Only excitement. "There's a river full of memory... Come, my darling, homeward bound…"

"I am found!" I sang, putting all I had into it, letting the last word stretch and ring throughout the theater. "Show yourself, step into the power! Grow yourself into something new!"

Ariel came in one last time, "You are the one you've been waiting for…"

"All of my life!" I belted out, finishing the line she'd started. "Oh, show yourself! Ah-ah, ah-ah!" I vocalized the notes a few more times, each round louder and more confident than the last before finally ending the song in one long crescendo.

The auditorium was suddenly very quiet except for my low panting as I tried to catch my breath.

Then I heard it.

The sound of clapping. More specifically, of one single person clapping very enthusiastically, reverberating noisily around the otherwise dead silent room.

Feeling my face erupt in heat, I immediately buried it in my hands. I knew who it was, even before I parted my fingers to peek between them out into the audience. Yup. There he was. Lea, up on his feet to give me a standing ovation while everyone else remained seated, staring at him blankly.

The dork.

Ariel was at my side now, snickering as she muttered behind her hand to me, "This is why they normally don't let the boyfriends in to watch."

He didn't look like he planned on quitting any time soon either.

"Hsst!" I blew through my grit teeth at him discreetly. Well… as discreetly as I could, given I was still standing on a stage in front of a room full of people. "Stop it," I whispered, narrowing my eyes on him. I could see Jack making long, annoyed strides towards Lea. "You hear me? Stop. It."

He seemed to take 'stop it' to mean 'applaud harder and pepper it with a few shrill whistles for good measure.'

I sighed, hanging my head and pressing my fingers between my eyebrows.

"D'aw, I think it's cute," I heard Ariel laugh and I hazarded a glance up again. Lea, finally spotting Jack coming for him, had vaulted himself over some chairs into the next row and was trying to make a run for it. "Your boyfriend is your biggest fan."

"...yes," I rubbed a curled finger over my lips, eyes crinkling as I watched the little scene he was making. Sally had been waiting for him on the other end of the seats opposite of Jack. Realizing his mistake too late, she snagged him by the ear before he could backtrack and started dragging him out of the auditorium. "Yes, I suppose he is."

I still had to sing my second song, the one from Wicked itself. That one ended up being a lot less nerve-wracking. Don't get me wrong, a few jitters yet remained to wriggle about my insides, but I was still riding the endorphin high from getting through my first song, making the second one seem like a breeze in comparison. When I was done, the only acknowledgement I got from Marluxia was an impassive, "Thank you," before he was calling the next person. I hurried off the stage and had a quick word with Jack and Sally before saying my farewell and walking outside.

The sun was beginning to set by now, making the shadows stretch long. It wasn't hard to spot Lea, leaning against his car as he thumbed through his phone and waited.

My heart swelled and my feet suddenly had a mind of their own, propelling me forward.

He glanced up, pocketing his phone and grinning big at me as he used his foot to push himself up off the car. "Hey! You kicked some serious ass up th-" A surprised grunt was forced out of him as I suddenly crashed into his chest, hugging him tightly around the waist.

"...thank you for that," I muffled quietly into his shirt.

Lea was very still for a second. But then I felt a small chuckle rumbling throughout his body as his arms slowly wrapped around my shoulders, returning the embrace. "Nah, that was all you, El. I just provided the wheels that got ya here."

I loosened my grip but didn't fully let go. Just enough so I could lean back slightly to smile up at him. "Thanks for coming with me. I didn't think I'd wanted anyone here, but… it made a difference and meant more to me than I realized it would. And thank you for encouraging me to do this and…" my nose wrinkled a bit, "...and for making me get up on that karaoke stage a couple weeks ago, despite my multiple protests."

He snorted, but his face softened as he brushed some of my hair behind my ear, his thumb just barely grazing along my cheek with the gesture. "What can I say? Being a pushy, overbearing asshole is one of my many wonderful talents."

"That's not what I meant," my eyelids drooped.

"I know," he hummed a laugh as he pulled me in for another hug, squeezing me close as he rested his chin atop my head. We stayed that way for a few seconds more before he released a heavy sigh. Then he pulled back, cupped my face with both his hands, tenderly pressed his lips to my forehead, and...

...blew a goddamn raspberry.

I gasped and shoved him away, furiously scrubbing at my brow with my forearm. "Ugh, was getting more of your slobber on my face completely necessary?!"

"Oh without a doubt! I know what a huge fan of it ya are," he smirked cheekily as he made his way around his car to open the door for me. "Now then, shall we get you home, m'lady, so we can spread the good news?"

I squinted at him with a frown as I followed him over and took a seat. "...what good news?"

"That ya got the starring role, of course!" he chirped down at me.

"I did not-" I was interrupted as he shut the car door in my face. Huffing and buckling myself in, I waited until he was climbing into the driver seat to try again, "They won't even be announcing who's getting what part until next week, but I seriously doubt they're going to give me a lead."

"You're right, my mistake," he stuck his key into the ignition and twisted it, shooting me a wink. "They'll give ya two."

"Goodness, I'm getting two leads now?" I fought the upward tug I felt at one side of my mouth. "Do you even know how plays work?"

"Course! That's why I know for a fact that they're just gonna give you all the parts."

I bit back a grin. "Huh. A one-woman Wicked show. Now that'd certainly be a… choice."

"And one I have every confidence in you to pull off!" he nodded chipperly as we exited the parking lot.

I just shook my head at him. Honestly, I didn't care what part I got. I'd be honored just to be included in the chorus if they even gave me that much. But no, all that I really cared about was that I'd actually done it. Gone through with the audition and lived to tell the tale. And sure, it had scared me out of my mind, but in the end it'd been worth it. Because you know what? Turned out I'd absolutely loved singing on that stage. And I knew for sure now that this was something I wanted to do… something that I wanted to play a part in my life, no matter how big or small. And so what if I most likely wasn't going to get the lead this time around? I could just use this experience to learn the ropes and get better prepared.

Better prepared, that is, to totally crush it at the audition for the next show.

Author's Note: And yet another scene where I included the full lyrics of a song sang by a character - again, it's not something I would normally do, but I felt this was a rare occasion where it's important enough to Elsa's character growth that again I shouldn't just gloss over it. But gosh, I feel so awkward writing detailed singing scenes! Why oh why did I have to make her want to do something with singing? This was a story decision I fast grew to regret, haha xD I hope it turned out okay tho! Anyhoo, for anyone out there who hasn't seen Frozen 2, the song she sings this chapter, Show Yourself, is from that - I suggest you give it a listen if you haven't heard it before :) Actually hearing it does it way more justice than I could ever do in writing xD And I've decided that Disney movies still exist in this AU, they're just musicals now and the characters in those musicals most likely just all have different names than their Disney movie counterparts, but the plot is otherwise unaffected xP Fun fact: The ice cream this chapter, Ever After, is named after Corona's keyblade and I imagine its description on the menu would look something like: "Let down your golden lemon soft serve! A specialty from Corona, this treat is garnished with edible flowers and served in a stack of purple waffles cones to form a tower."

So, did Elsa manage to impress the powers that be at the audition? Will she make the cut and land a part the musical? Will she get a lead, a bit part, or the boot? WAS Lea's slobber actually lucky enough to tip the scales in her favor? Find out… NOT next chapter xD No, we have something else on the horizon for next time… could that fated yet dreaded weekend with the folks finally and at long last be upon us? Stay tuned to find out!

Thanks for reading, I super duper appreciate it! And an extra BIG thank you to those of you who’ve liked, reblogged, and followed so far, seeing those lil notifications always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

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brokasteltranslations · 5 years ago

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Fate/Requiem: Chapter 4

Several days had passed since I had been relieved of my duties as the Reaper. No more work had come in from my master, Caren Fujimura, since the Kundry case, and I no longer received information on a preferential basis over the municipal network. I had been barred from the critical point where the Akihabara district barrier was located, and my access to Kanda Shrine and Yushima Temple, where multiple ley lines converged, had also been restricted. Stripped of my rank and duties, I was nothing more than another truant – and one dragging a nameless, powerless, useless Servant in tow to boot. A lone wolf not even worth employing as a guard dog.

Fortunately, Akihabara was a prime tourist destination, and as long as I wore my usual swimwear and windbreaker I would more or less blend in with the usual clientele. However, that did nothing to help me feel less out-of-place. Whatever I did, I just felt like running away and hiding in a hole.

I had received no more information on the Command Seal Hunter. It was worrying that the case had not yet been publicly acknowledged. My gut told me that it had not been quietly solved and faded away. It was merely biding its time.

Whispers of the “Woman with the Missing Hand” circulated Shibuya. It had become something of an urban legend among students.

Don't you know better than to cut that out? Keep repeating it and it'll become real, and then who'll have to deal with it? It'll be... actually, I suppose it won't be me. Not any more.

----

As a consequence of my newly-imposed freedom, I had taken to wandering the town aimlessly with Pran on a daily basis. Wherever we went, we found faint traces of Chitose's presence. It crossed my mind more than once to quit Akihabara for one of the other wards.

–

There were many things that seemed to draw Pran's interest, but over time I started to notice a broad pattern. It was live experiences that he seemed to enjoy - street performers, buskers, speed painters and the like were what most often caught his eye.

Thinking back to the episode with Kuchime, I tried taking him along to a shop geared towards those 'otaku'. It was crammed to the rafters with endless figurines of buxom girls, male-oriented toys and all manner of merchandise, to the point where I was almost sick of looking at it. However, none of it particularly seemed to resonate with him.

Maybe it's because they're all manufactured goods. Perhaps it's originality that appeals to him?

He stood by, a little sleepily, gazing into the distance as though squinting into the sun, watching faraway strangers. Only when we passed a shop selling astronomical telescopes did he exhibit a different reaction. He squatted down in front of a poster of the planets – clearly not hand-made – and stayed there for well over a minute.

“Do you know Jupiter?”

“This eye... it follows me.”

“Eye? Oh, you mean the Great Red Spot?”

“This planet's so big. It's so big...”

He shivered, then pulled the goggles resting over his head down over his eyes, and peered at the poster once more.

“A planet, huh? I'm surprised you know that word.” Had he picked it up from when I read The Little Prince to him? He had initially talked about coming from somewhere far away – perhaps he wasn't just making it up? Or maybe... no, was that even possible?

I chose my words carefully. “That's a very old photograph. From before the war. The Great Red Spot on Jupiter isn't there any more. It got smaller and smaller, and then it disappeared.”

He smiled gently at the poster.

“Maybe it went to sleep. I hope someone comes to wake it up.”

–

Before I knew it, the day of the Grail Tournament had arrived. I hadn't exactly been waiting with bated breath, but still I found myself in front of the Colosseum.

The colossal stadium was located on the outskirts of Akihabara, bordering the ocean. Its enormous silhouette threatened to overwhelm the surrounding cityscape. Towering arches, each easily the size of a skyscraper, rose high in three, four levels to form the thick exterior of the cylindrical structure and enclose the arena within.

This was a place of pure competition. The poets once spoke of the ancient Roman emperors giving their people bread and circuses; here was the circus reborn for the modern age, the manifestation of the people's right to entertainment.

–

I had ended up accompanied to the Colosseum by Pran and Karin. Koharu had, to my great chagrin, seen fit to furnish me with not one, not two, but a whole four reserved tickets – two Master-Servant pairs. Technically Servants had no need for tickets – after all, they could just assume their spiritual forms – but no-one willing to come to see the Grail Tournament in person could reasonably be refused a seat, and they were provided in pairs as a matter of course. That being said...

“How long's it been?”

It had been twenty minutes since the stadium had opened, and we were still waiting.

Enormous lines snaked from each and every one of the Colosseum's myriad entrances. At this rate, the tournament would probably have started before we got to our seats. Personally I hardly minded, but it must have bothered Karin, because she suddenly yelled out at the top of her voice.

“All right, fine! Flake out on me, see if I care! We're going in, you hear?”

“You really want to go in? You sure you don't want to wait a bit longer?” I did my best to keep my voice neutral.

“Damn right I'm sure! Never should've invited you anyway, you lousy no-show son of a...”

None of her messages had prompted a response, it seemed.

–

The individual keeping us waiting was the weary-looking guitar player, Kuchime.

Unsure what exactly to do with my four tickets, I had decided to start by offering them to people I knew. Karin herself had snatched the chance with typical zeal, but her partner Kouyou had been reluctant to join us, leaving me with one left over. However, a few days later the two of us had happened to stumble across Kuchime in a side-street in Akihabara, strumming away with his usual gloomy air and being flatly ignored by every passer-by. Karin had called out, probably taking pity on him.

“Hey, Kuchime, was it? Ever thought of checking out the Grail Tournament? Maybe the halftime show'll give you some tips on how not to make your customers run a mile.”

“Ain't got no need for that, little missy. I'm happy as long as I'm getting' through to people with ears to hear.”

“Think you're some kinda auteur, huh? Keep dreaming, idiot. Why don't you just go the whole way and die young while you're at it!”

I had watched blankly as she exploded at him unprovoked. Her tirade had ended with her snatching the ticket from my hands and thrusting it squarely into his unshaven face. Had she done it in a spontaneous surge of pity for this dishevelled musician, or had she been planning it all along? I may have been the Reaper, but even I wasn't so insensitive as to probe any further.

However, in the end, the chance she had taken came to nothing. She stalked towards the arena, fuming. I followed her, leading Pran by the hand.

–

Eventually, we arrived at our designated seats. The interior of the Colosseum was spacious, tall, and delightfully modern.

I now understood why the queues today had been particularly bad: the staff were conducting unusually extensive baggage checks and body searches on all attendees. I had even seen staff members flagging down particular individuals for Command Seal checks, and it was hard not to notice the guns at the hips of a number of security personnel dotted around the stadium.

I'm glad they didn't try to check my Command Seals. Maybe the reservations got us through...

In any case, it was gratifying to see that my warning to Hannibal hadn't gone unheeded. Although there was always the possibility that the organisers had gotten wind of the serial killings themselves, and acted of their own accord.

“Yo! Sorry we took so long.” Karin reappeared with Pran in tow. Both of their arms were piles high with soft drinks, packets of peanuts and other junk food. She tossed me a freshly-grilled hot dog.

“So this is the bread part, huh? Shouldn't be long until the circu- Yeowch! Aah! My tongue!”

“Circus? You mean the halftime show, right? Oh yeah, there was a stall selling some kinda porridge too if you want some. I tapped out though, seemed pretty weird.”

“Porridge, huh? How odd... Hey, who gave you those?!”

I suddenly registered Pran was decked from head to toe in tournament merchandise, complete with a little paper cap and a megaphone. He was ready for the show.

I couldn't stop myself from bursting out laughing, and soon both me and Karin were clutching our sides. She was so engrossed in the tournament now that it was hard to imagine she had been furious not twenty minutes ago. I could probably learn a lot from how quickly she rebounded.

Next to our seats on the very front row was a space to be kept open in case of emergencies. Fortunately, it was just large enough for Kouyou to squeeze in. Accommodating larger Servants was probably half of the reason it was there.

–

After a minute or so, the music playing throughout the stadium increased in volume and a rousing melody began to play. It seemed we'd timed our arrival perfectly.

The music faded away, and for a moment, the entire arena fell silent. Then, as if on cue, a voice rang out across the stadium. Below us, eldritch lights began to dance across the very front row where the patricii would have sat in the original Colosseum. A diminutive figure strode down to the aisle, and unfurled a pair of feathered wings. At the same time, the main screen cut to a close-up of a girl - a woman? - dressed in a plain white Grecian tunic.

“Good evening, my lovely little piglets!” Her greeting echoed around the Colosseum at amplified volume. “Welcome, one and all, to the ocean stage of the Grail Tournament! That's right! We're all setting sail for Okeanos, and I, the great witch Circe, will be your guide!”

She stoked the crowd's excitement, and they answered with a deafening roar… although I did pick up some rather crude jeers mixed in with the cheering.

“Thank you, thank you, my little piglets! I love you too! Now, before we meet all our brave warriors, I'd like to introduce our commentary team!”

Two burly men strode down the aisle to join her, waving to the audience.

“First, for the Ottoman Corsairs, we have a scallywag among scallywags! The Gentleman of the Caribbean! The one and only Blackbeard, Edward Teach!”

“That's me!” Blackbeard was greeted by deafening boos. He did not seem to care a jot.

“Sounds like you know him well! Let's move swiftly on!”

“Wait, that's all I get?!”

“Next, for the Carthaginian Alliance, we have the king of admirals! The man who saved the Roman Empire from the Ptolemaic Dynasty! Friend and advisor to Emperor Augustus, I give you Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa!”

Agrippa! The commander who led the Romans to victory at the Battle of Actium!

I expected him to bask in the applause of the crowd, but instead he rounded on the emcee.

“What is this? I never agreed to this! First you invite me to attend nigh on midnight last night, and now you expect me to commentate?! Explain yourself!”

“About that... Honestly, we wanted Eukleides of Alexandria, but he cancelled at the last moment. What are Foreigners like, right?”

“Some nerve on you, girl! You expect a general of Rome to commentate on the Carthaginians? And you! Yes, you, the Servant with the easel! You think capturing my face is funny, do you?!”

The sight of the irate Agrippa slowly being talked down by the witch emcee, and eventually taking a reluctant seat at the commentator's desk, drew no small amount of laughter from the audience.

“All right, everyone, make sure you have your channels all set to your favourite team! If you're feeling peckish, why not try some delicious kykeon?”

–

“Well, that sure was something.”

Karin was grinning next to me. I, for my part, was aghast. This was grotesque, a vulgar display that made a mockery of Servants' pride and nobility. It was difficult to tell how much was real and how much was acted, but the tastelessness of the ambiguity only made me feel more disgusted. The tournament itself hadn't even begun yet, and I had a feeling it was only going to get worse.

I guess the least I can do is watch it through. I probably won't be getting another chance.

My reasons for being here were twofold. Firstly, I wanted to see what I could learn about Koharu's mysterious Possession ability. I had also been deeply impressed by the way that, despite being aware of her naivety, she disapproved wholeheartedly of any wrongdoing, and the evident admiration with which she viewed her companions.

My second reason was that I wanted to see for myself the incredible power that Servants were permitted to wield here. I felt both awe and terror for Noble Phantasms. It was baffling to me that abilities so destructive might be allowed to be used freely.

The citizens of Mosaic City were different to Masters in the true sense. They were no magi, with magic circuits passed down from previous generations or developed through special training, and it went without saying that none of them possessed a Magic Crest. The mana that powered their magecraft originated from the Holy Grail, and was distributed throughout the city via ley-lines. This mana was more than enough to sustain a Servant in everyday life with no discomfort. However Noble Phantasms, which employed magecraft on a much larger scale and consumed vast amounts of mana, were another matter entirely. Activating them was highly challenging, and they could kill a Master unless attempted with extreme care.

Broadly speaking, the most common foes I encountered in my work were Masters who fought with little regard for their own lives, because they had found something they valued more.

Had the combatants in this Colosseum all reined their latent magical abilities to extraordinary levels? Or had the footage I had seen simply been enhanced in some way after the fact? I had come to determine the truth.

“Oh, there you are, Kouyou.”

In the formerly empty space in the midst of the cheering crowd, the enormous bulk of the Ogress had appeared. She sat with her belly pressed to the ground, trying to make herself as small as possible. Occasionally her eyes glanced sideways to meet with Pran's.

–

Feeling a little relieved, I turned back to the arena. The battlefield was enormous: a huge rectangular arena, two hundred metres on the larger side. Above each of the spectator seats floated semi-transparent screens that provided a closer view of the action.

Finally, the battlefield began to change. Cracks ran across the centre, and the stage began to fold in on itself with mechanical precision, forming a deep, wide basin. Water swirled in to fill it, and rocks rose from beneath its surface to form a maze of crags in the open water. Two galleys burst from the canals at either side of the stage, defying the current. They hung in the air for a second, like salmon poised mid-leap above a waterfall, and then crashed down into the water below with a mighty splash. A host of smaller boats and schooners followed them out, and quickly organised themselves into two fleets.

There was no magic in this, only the most cutting-edge stage equipment... although perhaps it was best not to think about the enormous, ominous shadow circling beneath the water's surface.

–

“Now, my little piglets, I think we've kept you waiting long enough! Let's get this naumachia started! We know you're tired of the same-old same-old, so this year we thought we'd change things up a little with a large-scale team-on-team battle! Which of our brave teams in Akihabara today will be crowned the conquerors of the high seas?

“First, we have the Ottoman Corsairs! For these terrors of the Mediterranean Sea, this man once more takes up the rank of Pasha! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the great pirate of Barbary, the Redbeard, Heyreddin Barbarossa!

“And that's not all! Next we have his second-in-command! There's not a man west of Austria who doesn't know his name: the Grand Master of the Knights Templar, Jacques de Molay!”

The witch introduced each of the competitors one by one, stoking the crowd's excitement. Illustrious admirals and infamous pirates lined up upon the deck.

“And now, last but not least, someone you know very well! The mightiest commander of the navies of the far east - can you say “Hassou-tobi”? Our favourite natural-born Heike-killer, Minamoto Kurou Yoshitsune!

“Could this samurai be the most dangerous competitor on the field today? I'm sure the other side won't be showing much quarter, so look forward to some spectacular acrobatics!”

–

The pretty young warrior looked a little uncomfortable in responding to chants of “Ushiwaka!”, but eventually gave in and began to wave to the crowd. The sight broke me from my trance, and a young girl standing nearby caught my attention; she hadn't been introduced.

Could that be Yoshitsune's Master?

She was dressed in elegant traditional Japanese robes and heavy facial makeup, matching Yoshitsune, but she herself appeared to be nothing more than an ordinary citizen. Behind or beside the other Servants stood similar unassuming figures. More than a couple of them were wearing masks that obscured their faces.

Eventually, the oriental arrangement of Mozart's Turkish March playing throughout the Colosseum drew to a close, and was replaced with an unsettling, savage, African-style drumbeat. The Grail Tournament was as tasteless as ever.

–

“Now swivel your heads the other way, my adorable piglets! Little corkscrew tails to the east, and snouts to the west! Please give it up for the mighty heroes of the Carthaginian Alliance!

“Cast your eyes upon Rome's worst nightmare! At his back, the souls of three war elephants with whom he crossed the Pyrenees and the Alps! Ladies and gentlemen, the Lightning Commander, Hannibal Barca!”

The sight of Hannibal, cross-armed on the deck in traditional battle garments, was so wildly different from the garrulous old tourist I had met in Cafe Borges that I could hardly believe it was the same man. The mighty cheer from the crowd put not so much as a crack in his stern expression, and he harboured a menacing aura.

“And not to be outdone, his second-in-command: The Firebrand of Castile, El Cid!”

The witch continued with her introductions, each one punctuated with thunderous applause. I tuned them out. My attention was absorbed by a small figure on the deck, with a white coat draped across her shoulders. I followed her with my augmented vision as she stared keenly into the enemy ranks.

He stood a short distance behind her, head askew, hands on his hips. He seemed devoid of tension, as though this were nothing more than a routine warmup.

“And taking up the rearguard is someone I'm sure you all remember! None other than the warrior who took the Newbie Tournament by storm! Our proud Knight of the Round Table, Sir Galahad!”

–

With the introductions concluded, the galleys began to slip forwards, and each team assembled into their respective formations. Karin rapped on my knee with her megaphone, unable to conceal her excitement.

“I told you it was gonna be awesome! Dunno much about the pirates, but even I know Yoshitsune!”

“You expecting me to be impressed or something? You could hardly call yourself Japanese if you didn’t.”

I could not imagine it would be easy for this collection of pirates, outlaws to the bone that they were, to assimilate cleanly into everyday life in Mosaic City - although, of course, there were exceptions. Perhaps it was for the best that there was a place for them here, where they could put their talents to use while also entertaining the populace. However...

“I know it's just a mock battle, but don't you think this seems really one-sided? The Ottomans are obviously better at sea. Hannibal's famous for his war elephants, but he can't even use them on the water.”

“Haven't been reading up, eh Eri? Here's a flyer for you. See? Says right here the field will change halfway through, and turn into a land battle. There's your Carthaginian advantage.”

“Ah. I get it.” This was never supposed to be a fair battle, but a dramatic turnaround against overwhelming odds. The perfect script to drive the audience wild. I myself had to confess, I was looking forward to seeing Yoshitsune and Galahad face off – so much so that a part of me wished this were a real Holy Grail War.

“Yeah. Now I see.” I gazed around at the nearby spectators with dawning realisation. I felt as though I'd grown a little closer to understanding how these competitors could wield such extraordinary power, and the system that supported them in doing so.

----

“Eh?”

The back of my neck prickled. Someone, somewhere, was watching me.

I slid my gaze slowly around myself, careful not to let my reaction be noticed, but my stalker was impossible to discern through the interference of the crowd around me.

I'm being watched. No doubt about it. There's something else, too. A familiar, maybe?

The Borgia siblings' warning came to mind. Someone I'd previously crossed, out for revenge. As I looked around warily, hoping to forestall some impending attack, I noticed something strange: dotted throughout the crowd were spectators standing motionless, seemingly blind to the excitement around them.

Victims of the Command Seal Hunter? No, that doesn't seem right...

I focused, filtering out the auditory noise, following the sense of wrongness back to its source... and happened to catch a snippet of conversation from the row in front.

“You serious? A fire in Shinjuku?”

“Where? Tsunohazu? Kashiwagi?”

“Seems like it's around Hanazono way.”

Hanazono?

My old house was in Hanazono. Which was to say, Chitose's house was in Hanazono. I leaned forward a little, and stared at the woman in front's phone from over her shoulder.

“Eri, the hell are you doing?”

On the screen was a video someone had uploaded to the municipal network.

“What on earth...?”

A video of a building on fire. In real time.

A row of old wooden houses in Shinjuku wreathed in smoke. A human figure appeared from the billowing grey curtain, aflame from head to toe. However, they did not run or drop to the ground, but continued calmly into the next building, and even as their blood boiled and their skin charred with the flames' caress, began to feed the flames.

The video cut short - interrupted by a new upload of a public train brought to a standstill, flames licking at its roof.

As I watched, a buzz of concern began to spread throughout the crowd. It was hardly surprising; there were probably no small number of spectators here from Shinjuku. I turned around to see that Karin, too, was transfixed by her phone.

“What's wrong?”

“They say there's been some kinda 'pedestrian accident' in front of Shibuya station. A tram derailed and went across the cross... Oh. Ew. I'm not looking at that. Trains are stopped too. The hell's going on?”

Simultaneous incidents, all across Mosaic City.

“Ugh...”

I gripped my arm as a dull pain blossomed inside it. The stench of death was agitating the spirits. Black blood oozed out from beneath my hand, as their ire turned on my own body.

Just when I thought I'd gotten them under control...

This arena was no longer a place I should be. I was the greatest threat here, to the tens of thousands of spectators present and the partners by their sides. Right now, these simultaneous incidents concerned me.

Security here was tight, and more to the point, greater warriors than I could ever hope to be now thronged the main stage. This was perhaps the safest place in all of Mosaic City. My place was not here – as much as I had wanted to see Koharu fight, I no longer had time to worry about that.

“Eri, wait.”

Karin must have guessed my intentions as soon as I stood up.

“You're going? Just like that? Without me, again?”

“Sorry. I know I invited you out here and everything, but... there's something I need you to do.”

“What is it?”

I stared back at Karin for a moment, then looked down to the boy by her side.

“Kouyou, do you think you could take care of Pran?”

The ogress looked to Karin questioningly, then gave a slow nod.

“Consider it done. Just leave it to us, Eri.” Karin flashed her newly-recovered Command Seals, alongside an irrepressible grin. Just as I made to leave, Karin's phone buzzed with a notification, and she pulled it out.

“Who's texting people at this kinda time?”

She checked the screen and sighed.

“It's that Kuchime asshole. He says “Sorry.””

“That's all?”

“That's all.” She smiled, resignedly and a little sadly.

----

I left the seats behind and made my way to the outer hall. While still indoors, this was an airy, open space, with high arches modelled meticulously after Roman architecture. It extended far away in both directions, curving gently to match the shape of the arena. Shops lined the outer wall, still milling with a fair number of late customers. Here and there people clustered around screens outside the storefronts, drinking as they watched the matches unfold.

What's even the point of coming here?, I thought. You could be doing that at home!

–

As I hurried towards the exit, I organised the idea I'd hit upon earlier in my head: to whit, that the competitors in the Holy Grail Tournament were taking their mana from the crowd itself. Tens of thousands of pseudo-magi, all pouring mana into the Servants doing battle below. That was my hypothesis.

This Colosseum was not a post-war addition to Akihabara. It had been a part of this town since long before the world was restructured, and it was far too large an anomaly to be permitted to exist without a reason. And in ancient Rome, the battles that took place in the colosseums had been sacred acts; offerings made to the gods.

Heroic Spirits take on all of our thoughts, hopes and dreams. They draw power from them.

The greater the mark a Servant had left upon history, and the more fame they had earned, the more power they drew. Such was their nature – and as an unintended and tragic consequence, Servants were occasionally summoned with the strange and cruel skill, “Innocent Monster”.

How much of this do the Riedenflaus family realise, I wonder?

I couldn't help but wonder just to what extent thaumaturgical systems might be entwined with the structure of the Colosseum itself.

An unexpected voice called me to a halt.

“Erice, we need to talk. It's important.”

It was the first time I had seen Ms. Fujimura in several days. I wheeled around to find her standing in the dimly-lit outer hall, dressed like a librarian as always.

Why is she here? What could she possibly want to talk about?

I strode towards her, with the intention of grilling her on the events in Shibuya and Shinjuku.

As I opened my mouth, I heard an odd sound from the broadcast. As the camera focused on the Carthaginian flagship, the witch performing the commentary had yelped in shock. I spun around to look. Ms. Fujimura, too, focused on the screen.

What I saw defied comprehension.

Regardless of the fact that the enemy was still distant, Hannibal, the Carthaginian commander, whipped his blade from the sheath at his belt, and without a moment's hesitation thrust it deep into the chest of his second-in-command, El Cid.

“Gah!”

El Cid's face froze in an expression of disbelief. His Master rounded on Hannibal in his confusion. The Carthaginian pulled his bloodstained sword from his ally's chest, and without a care for the man's protests, swung his sword crosswise in a vicious slash.

Both El Cid and his master collapsed. Two heads flew from the boat, to splash down unceremoniously into the artificial sea.

#Fate/Requiem #Fate #translation #light novel

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calliecat93 · 4 years ago

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Well... this is late. Several weeks late at that. Stupid life getting in the way. Anyways, yeah due to sickness, dog sickness, the holidays, and everything in between I am three chapters behind on reviews. I am going to do what I can to catch back up before Saturday, starting now. Also since I am behind, this and the next review won’t include a Predictions section since... well, that’s pretty pointless now. On the upside, the wait has given me plenty to think over regarding the past few episodes and get my thoughts sorted out.

So last week we had the team splitting up, Ironwood shooting a man in cold-blood, and Salem sending her Grimm... thing to capture Oscar. A tense, but very well done setup for the volume. So with the tension and stakes already this high, what’s going to happen next? Well... we already know, but let’s talk about it anyways.

We begin in the Atlas prison, where Qrow, Robyn, Watts, and Jacques are being held. Robyn is understandably pissed off at everything that happened, Jacques tries to shift his blame (even using the famous “I’m a victim!” quote) but is otherwise confident about Whitley bailing him out, and Watts clearly just doesn’t give a damn about anything and is chilling. Qrow however is quiet, merely sitting in the hard light cell and staring at Clover’s badge. Some guards come in and enter Watts’ cell, smacking him with their guns and dragging him out. Qrow also finally talks, having a suggestion on what they can do: kill the man who put them behind bars to begin with. Yeah...

In Mantle, Atlas is reporting on the going-ons before Joanna takes the mic to inform the people of the plan to head for The Crater. Team JYRO make it to Pietro’s pharmacy and discover what he left for them: three hoverbikes. Yang is especially overjoyed while Oscar I think has developed a fear of flying things. The four work to get a section of people to The Crater, also facing some Grimm in the process. There is one elderly woman however who is uncooperative, wanting to go up to Atlas and not to the slums with a bunch of Faunus. But Yang properly shuts her up by pointing out how Atlas bailed, clearly deciding that they weren’t with while the Faunus are willing to help regardless of if the people deserve it. Yang Xiao Long, Destroyer of Racism.

Even though the citizens agree to go, it’s still rough. Ren uses his semblance to mask everyone with Jaune amping him up. The old woman is still complaining about the conditions. Oscar, driving behind everyone, is frustrated at how people just can’t cooperate. Boy is THAT the most relatable scene in the current times. Ozpin takes this moment to try talking to him, even apologizing for abandoning him. But Oscar isn’t mad about that, he’s mad that Oz came back, especially since after so long he finally felt like his own person. But Oz reminds him that the merger is still on track, to the dismay of both. Ren is also struggling to keep his Semblance powered up and when Jaune tries to give him a pep talk, he snaps that he just needs to focus, clearly upsetting Jaune.

Meanwhile,, RWBNP have been joined by May in their efforts to break into Atlas. Weiss had an idea on how to do so: via the SDC’s shipping department that sends Dust up to Atlas via tubes. This includes the military facility. As they look for the correct one, Ruby goes to Penny who is understandably upset by what’s happening. Ruby tries to console her regarding the argument with Yang, but Penny is actually hurt by Winter, Ironwood, and the others fighting against them as they were their friends. She also feels guilty as she is now even more than just the Protector of Mantle and is still clearly hurt by ironwood’s words last chapter. Ruby assures her that Ironwood was only trying to hurt her and that they are doing good. It helps some, but not to the extent that we’d normally see. The good news is that they found the tube... and Nora promptly shoots Weiss up it. Whoops.

Back in Mantle, Fiona has taken over coordinating the evacuations with May gone. JYRO returns with their group, with Fiona and Joanna impressed. Fiona comments that she was concerned due to half their team being gone, which clearly upsets the four. SO much so that Ren walks off in a huff and Yang gets defensive about how they clearly were able to handle it. The Faunus welcome the refugees and the Happy Huntresses and others are doing their best to get everyone settled. We earn see Fiona’s uncle, who was the man who gave Oscar soup last chapter. A call comes in about a Grimm attack, so Team JYRO go to deal with it. It goes well at first, but more Grimm begin to come in... at least, that is, until they suddenly retreat. Much to the confusion of the others.

Before anyone can contemplate on it, the Grimm from last time that we now know is called The Hound attacks Oscar. It very quickly grabs him, beats him up to the point of breaking his Aura, and knocks him out. Yang tries to help, but to her shock The Hound uses Oscar as a human shield. It easily faces Jaune and Ren as well, with all of them confused as the Grimm are usually not this smart. Ren demands The Hound release Oscar... but to the group’s utter horror the Hound says “N”. yeah, you read that right. The Hound talked. It gets worse as it sprouts wings, the black ooze landing on Oscar as the Hound’s whole body contorts in a gruesome matter. It grabs Oscar and flies off. JYR are all understandably shocked, but give chase as the episode ends.

Review

Two chapters in, and already things have gone to Hell. At least Volume 6 gave them one triumphant moment in Chapter 1 before piling on the ‘Oh Crap’. This volume is holding back zero punches people... and I love it!

This is a natural follow-up to the premiere and was paced very well. It covers both the things we didn’t see last time, and shows us the progress of the events set in motion. We see what has happened to Robyn and Qrow. We see how the evacuations are being handled. We have both sets of heroes well underway of their objectives. And of course we have The Hound succeeding in capturing Oscar. It’s a lot of things, but nothing felt rushed or crammed in just for the sake of getting it over with. It all felt natural and exactly what we needed to see. Like I said, holding back zero punches.

One thing I really enjoyed about this is seeing more of the Happy Huntresses. Probably one criticism I have about Volume 7 is how only Robyn, and to a lesser degree Fiona, got any real characterization of the group. We saw they were effective, but otherwise Robyn’s companions just kind of... existed. But now with her in jail, it allows the three to really shine. Joanna is a no-nonsense woman more or less now taking charge, but also friendly to her companions as we saw with her complimenting Fiona. May is sassy and confident as well as quite useful with her Invisibility Semblance, and it’s real cool to see her teaming up with RWBNP. We already know that Fiona is a cutie, but we see how she’s organizing the masses and more or less coordinating settling people in, which as we learn she’s from the slums makes sense. I’ve really enjoyed seeing more of these three, and it really helps make them feel like actual characters and not just there to fill out Robyn’s team.

Speaking of Robyn, we have the prison scene, and it’s as glorious as I was hoping. Her telling off Jacques for his part in all of this was perfection. Of course Jacques tries to shift blame, but still. Watts not giving a single damn about anything was also freakin’ great. But then there’s Qrow... oh golly Qrow. As expected, e\he’s not doing okay due to Clover dying but... him wanting t kill Ironwood makes me... worried. Oh don’t get me wrong, with the path he’s heading Ironwood dying is probably going to be necessary. IDK if I necessarily want it, but I can’t say he hasn’t brought it upon himself. I just don’t think that would do Qrow any good at all, especially because it would be out of revenge and not for the good of Mantle or Remnant. It’s him slipping into that Branwen bandit mentality, and that is NOT a path that will lead him anywhere good. I’m worried, but hopefully whatever happens will do good for Qrow and his mental state.

Then we have Team JYRO and Team RWBNP. First, it was really nice to have some humor in this one. While everything is super tense, we really need some levity so it doesn’t become overly depressing, RWBY loves feels, but it’s never been one to go grimdark and serious every waking moment either. I mean gosh, Weiss getting sucked up the tube in and of itself is one of the funniest scenes they’ve had in a while, especially with Kara Eberle’s perfect high-pitched scream and Nora’s reaction. Moments like Blake teasing Weiss about her family owning everything, Yang’s reaction to he bikes, Oscar likely never wanting to fly again after riding with Yang al made me giggle and was a nice break from the tension, especially when the end brought it roaring back.

But at the same time, it’s clear that the tension is very much there. We see how defensive Yang gets with Fiona’s comment, and how bitter Nora is about her disagreement with Ren. Speaking of Ren, we see how he’s more snappy and closed off he’s becoming, the seeds planted last volume now coming into bloom. Despite how evacuations are going smoothly so far, the sense of looming doom and desperation is very much present. The Grimm horde is unrelenting and the people are scared, upset, and uncooperative. Yeah, despite the situation, we see an old woman unable to but her biases aside and just complains about the slums instead of being in the more cushiony Atlas, who as Yang points out, left them for dead. And the woman STILL complains during the trek to the slums. Needless to say especially after this year, Oscar’s annoyance is VERY understandable.

But speaking of Oscar, we see a lot of parallels with him and Penny here. Both are struggling with their sense of identity and self-worth. Both are now something greater than they ever imagined, but struggling with the sense of responsibility and what it means for them. Oscar finally began to feel like his own person again. He felt like he was crating his own identity and like he was finally being seen as well... him. And I agree, especially since I had complained before how it felt like Oscar didn’t have an identify up to last volume. Penny of course is struggling with her feelings and wanting to be seen as a real girl. How the people she trusted like Ironwood and Winter have turned on them and personally hurt her. How she’s now the Winter Maiden and not just the Protector of Mantle and worried that she’s hurting more people than helping, especially since she now has the responsibility of protecting everyone.

Sadly. things aren’t going their way. Oscar is still on the track of merging with Ozpin, and has no idea who he’ll be at the end of it. Penny is a Maiden, burden with tremendous responsibility that will not only prevent her form doing what she wants. but continue to restrict her identity. It’s just... sad when you think about it. These are two kids who just want to have their lives, but they can’t and it’s all due to circumstances beyond their control. Oscar got zero say in bonding with Ozpin and had to abandon his life for the greater good. Penny had to take the Maiden powers to keep it away from Cinder. Seeing them both lament on this is just... heartbreaking. But at least Penny has Ruby to comfort her. Sure it doesn’t help too much, but Ruby is still there as support. Oscar has no one but Ozpin, and he can’t really do much to help the kid at this point. Oscar has to burden it alone, and that’s especially true when we get to the end.

That brings us to The Hound. So... I freakin’ love this monster, even though it terrifies me. It is legit creepy. The way it contorts and shifts it’s body, that gross lack goo oozing all over like blood. It hasn’t topped The Apathy for ‘Scariest Grimm’, but it’s certainly up there. But what’s even scarier is that it is intelligent. Now we know that Grimm CAN be smart, Oobleck gave us a whole lesson on it in Volume 2. But we’ve never, EVE R seen a Grimm this intelligent before. Not only did it throw JYR off by using Oscar deliberately as a shield, but if you look closely you can see it in other shots clearly watching Oscar. It was on the hunt, watching and observing until the moment to strike came. And, of course, it was able to talk. While IDT Jason Liebrecht doing the voice is as significant as others say (likely they wanted to distinguish from William Orendorff’s voice and Jason was available, it has nothing to do with Qrow), the fact that a Grimm who isn’t Salem can talk, even if briefly, is horrifying.

There have been a lot of theories going around since the episode aired. Many believe that the Grimm used to be human, which I agree with. The most popular candidate for who is Summer... which I’m more mixed about. On the one hand, it just feels unnecessarily cruel especially to Ruby and I personally am not 10% sure if I’d like that happening. On the other hand it would be a horrifying tragic twist that would greatly affect Ruby (not to mention Yang and the remains of Team STRQ) and raise a LOT of questions about what happened in between Summer’s ‘death’ and now. Still I’m not fully convinced it’s her. nut I’m not fully against it depending on how it’s played out. But I do agree that it is most likely a former human, and considering Cinder is a human well on her way on becoming a Grimm... yeah...

Chapter Stats

Favorite Character: Happy Huntresses Favorite Scene: The Hound vs. Team JYRO Least Favorite Scene: Umm... IDK, the Atlas reporter maybe? Favorite Voice Actor: Kdin Jenzen (May Marigold) Favorite Animation: The Hound’s contorting body Rating: 9.9/10

Final Thoughts

It was a tough job following up the premiere, but this chapter succeeded in keeping everything on track. It as funny, it was insightful, it was scary, it was... everything! The stakes continue to feel high, yet nothing feels forced or rushed. We have good glimpses at certain characters mindsets, the plot is continuing to push forward, the dead is strong yet still has room of some fun stuff, and the end fight is both awesome and sets up a LOT of tension as we continue forward. Like i said, the volume is not holding back. I’m still terrified about everything upcoming, but if the volume continues with this kind of quality (which having seen 3 and 4 I know they are), then we are in for one Hell of a fantastic volume~

#rwby #rwby reviews #rwby musings #callie reviews #rwby8 #rwby spoilers

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hedwigstalons · 4 years ago

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High Expectations - Ch17

This was meant to be a fic about Gordon but as I get further through the timeline the other brothers start waving more and pointing out that they are an important part of this and should be considered too. Alan has been feeling a bit left out and wants some attention.

Thanks to @willow-salix for her amazing editorial skills and ‘quick chats’ that are somehow never very quick.

Earlier parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen,

AO3 chapter link

Chapter Seventeen

If Gordon’s journey out to Marineville for officer selection had been different to his first visit to the base it was nothing compared to the contrast of the journey home. This time his journey north had needed no furtive sneaking off, no cover stories and no lies. There had still been plenty of butterflies in anticipation of the trials ahead but he had faced those trials with the blessing and support of his family. His father had even travelled to the airport with him rather than entrusting him solely to a driver.

The journey south, however, was accompanied by butterflies an order of magnitude greater.

As he exited Marineville to board the bus back to the airport it was impossible to miss the imposing hire car in the visitors’ parking lot or the even more imposing man stood next to it. So far he had managed to maintain a level of anonymity but as he left the cluster of participants he was acutely aware of the whisperings behind him. He ignored the mutterings and strode over to his father, his head held high, it didn’t matter if they worked out who he was now, he knew he had earned his place on his own merits.

“So Gordon, how did it go?” There was still that look of pre-emptive sternness, as though Jeff was waiting to receive another mediocre report card.

Gordon couldn’t stop the grin that flashed across his face or the air of cocky smugness, he was riding the wave of success again and it felt good. “Aced it. The standard was a lot higher and only about a third of us got through but when the next intake comes around you are looking at the newest recruit to WASP.”

The sternness dropped away and was replaced by the look of pride Gordon had seen directed at his brothers far more than himself. “Good, son. You can tell me about it on the journey home.”

As they headed away from the base Gordon recounted the tests and challenges he had faced. For Jeff it was like having a much younger Gordon back, the one who had regaled him with tales of race wins and given blow by blow accounts of dives, turns and sprint finishes. His fourth son spoke freely and animatedly in a way he hadn’t heard for years and Jeff realised just how much of his sons’ lives, all of them, he had missed out on by burying himself in his work and leaving the boys to fend for themselves. He was trying to be more involved again, to listen to them, but his sons had gotten used to existing without him around. All too often he’d come in to hear Gordon ending a call to one of the others, usually Virgil, or arrive home just as Alan was finishing telling Gordon about his day. He rarely got to hear their news now and was almost never the first to be told; it didn’t make it any easier knowing this was a situation of his own making.

Jeff drove them, not to the main Marineville airport, but to a much smaller private air strip just out of town. As they turned off the route being followed by the shuttle bus Gordon kicked himself for not realising sooner that they wouldn’t be on the regular flight. Of course they wouldn’t, his father hadn’t taken a scheduled flight in years.

As they entered the cockpit of the jet Jeff slipped into the co-pilot’s position leaving the main pilot’s seat for Gordon. It had been an intensive few months going from minimal experience at the controls through to being able to take charge of the family jet. His swimming training had always prevented him from experiencing this part of the family education before but now his time in the skies had him thrown in at the metaphorical deep end in the race to get qualified before starting WASP training. Scott of course had gained his private licence on his seventeenth birthday, desperate to achieve official recognition at the earliest possible moment, and Virgil and John hadn’t been much older than the official minimum themselves. Gordon’s dedication had been tested as he crammed in what the others had spent years learning gradually.

This was where the butterflies came in.

He still wasn’t yet able to fly unaccompanied but he was getting closer. Today though it seemed he was to be tested to a whole new level. A two hour flight down the coast, taking off from an unfamiliar runway, was a jump up from the short flights he had taken until now. To make that leap while utterly exhausted following a gruelling three day selection course was perhaps a step too far.

He looked to his father for confirmation that this really was what was expected of him and received only a silent nod in return but if there was one element of being a Tracy that Gordon had truly mastered it was not backing down from a challenge. He pushed the tiredness away, buried the self-doubt with it, and with Jeff next to him scrutinising his every move he requested permission from the tower and taxied out onto the runway.

Jeff stayed silent as Gordon completed the maneuver. He watched the precise and controlled movements his son made, finding little to pick fault with despite watching with a highly critical eye. He knew Gordon must be desperate for his bed, the dark bags under his eyes a testament to what his body had been subjected to, but he needed to be sure his son would be capable of rising to a challenge. Now that he knew Gordon had been accepted into WASP and would receive rigorous training on all manner of submersibles his son changed status from dependent child to potential rescue operative.

He had already started considering the possibilities of expanding the scope of his organisation to include water rescues, indeed he already had the first concept sketches for a submarine, but for that to become a reality he needed an aquanaut. Being accepted into WASP was a start but until Gordon held both his pilot's licenses, for both up in the sky and under the waves, Jeff wasn’t yet ready to consider his fourth son as a full part of his vision and so for now he was content to watch, and wait, and plan, leaving Gordon ignorant of his ideas.

xoxoxox

Barely a week after the selection course the letter arrived confirming what Gordon had already been told at the end of the trials, that he would be joining the next officer training intake. Even though the contents of the letter were no surprise it was still reassuring to see it in black and white, indisputable proof that WASP had confidence in him and that his future path was set.

“So, when do you start?” Jeff asked across the dinner table.

“Huh?” Gordon snapped his head up in surprise, he had been oblivious to the room around him as he read the letter through several times, drinking in the validation it gave him while butterflies fluttered in his stomach at the prospect of actually going off and doing it. “Oh, um, beginning of July, then it’s…”

He didn’t get any further. The scrape of chair and the clatter of discarded cutlery cut him off as Alan flew from the room and disappeared down the hallway, the slam of a bedroom door confirming where he had gone to ground. Jeff sighed and half rose from the table, his expression showing anger at the rudeness of the departed teen, but Gordon waved him down.

“No, I’ll deal with this.”

Gordon had been sensing the impending storm ever since he got back from Marineville. Amongst the congratulations of the family one voice had been noticeably absent and it seemed that the official confirmation letter was all that had been needed to bring it to a head. The last thing he needed was for their father to make a difficult situation worse by laying down the law.

Alan’s room was the typical teenage mess. Clothes lay discarded on the floor and various electronics were piled on surfaces next to empty water glasses but in amongst all the mess it was clear where his passions lay. It was like wandering into an untidier version of John’s room. Star maps adorned the walls and there was a model rocket that Gordon had every confidence could make it into space if that was how Alan had designed it. The difference between this room and the usually unoccupied one next door, apart from the mess, were the newspaper cuttings, article print outs and piles of Olympic memorabilia that vied for space with the astronomical paraphernalia. Dotted around the room was evidence of a devotion to Gordon and the swimmer was sure you could piece together the story of his sporting career if only you took the time to collate the collection.

“Alan…”

“Leave me alone, it’s what you’re going to do anyway.” The voice was muffled, smothered by the pillow in which Alan was buried face down.

“Alan, please, talk to me.” Gordon picked his way carefully across the room and sat on the edge of the bed next to the sprawled figure. The only answer he got was a choked sob and he felt a wave of guilt at the upset his brother was feeling.

“I hate it here. I hate it. I hate it.” Alan sat up and glared at his brother, there was venom in the voice as anger crept in around the upset. “Everyone gets to leave and I’m going to be stuck here on my own. Maybe Virgil will add me to his pity list and call me cos you sure as hell won’t have the time. I don’t want to be his next pet project and charity case though.”

Alan’s words cut deep, as he had intended them to, and Gordon found himself wondering if that was all he’d been to Virgil, a project to feed Virgil’s desire to help people. Surely not? The friendship and growing bond between them felt real enough but the familiar doubts began to creep in about his self worth. He tried to shake them off, knowing the dark places such thoughts could lead him to.

“That’s if Virg can even make time for me in his busy schedule once he goes off to Tracy College. Why the hell does he need to get space rated anyway? He’s never shown any interest in being an astronaut before. Fine, John’s pretty much had his name down for the space programme since birth but why does Virgil get to go too?”

So that explained the animosity towards Virgil, Alan was harbouring a deep jealousy that he was getting to do something that was Alan’s own dream. The youngest Tracy had always made it clear that he would be the third of that name to head into space after his father and middle brother and yet here was Virgil taking his spot, seemingly on a whim. This, coupled with the growing bond between Gordon and Virgil, had evidently ignited a burning resentment.

A shuddering breath wracked the Alan’s body as the primary reason for his upset flooded back into his mind. “I..I don’t want you to go.”

Whatever the issues were with Virgil, Gordon couldn’t shy away from the fact that he had been slowly drifting away from Alan to set up a new life. He had been Alan’s primary source of company for so long, had been a confidante and carer to the younger boy, and now he was heading off leaving Alan facing a future of loneliness. Their father was trying to be more involved but he was still a virtual stranger in Alan’s life and had a lot to learn about parenting teenagers.

He wanted to let Alan know that it would all be ok. Wanted to tell him that soon enough he would be out of this hateful city and in a place where their father and at least some of his brothers would be around a lot more. He wanted to tell him about the rockets and the space station and everything that he knew would ignite his little brother’s passion. But he couldn’t. Even if their father hadn’t expressly forbidden it there was still a fundamental issue in that the island wasn’t actually theirs yet and until the deeds were signed and move confirmed he just couldn’t plant the seeds of the dream in Alan’s mind if there was any chance of the dream crashing down. Instead he had to make do with platitudes that must have felt empty to the devastated teen.

“It’ll be ok, you’ll see.”

“Will it?” The words were spat at him.

“It will; trust me on this. I’m not going anywhere for a little while yet and I’ll still be able to call, I’m going to be at Marineville not Mars. Those first 6 month of training will be pretty intense but I’ll still get some time off.”

“And what about after that? What about when you aren’t at Marineville but you’re getting sent all over the place like Scott does? You won’t be able to just pick up the phone or head back for a weekend if you’re under water on the other side of the world. You may as well be on Mars then.”

Gordon slung an arm around his younger sibling, drawing that smaller form into a hug. He half expected Alan to pull away but he took it as a good sign that the anger was burning out when Alan acquiesced and leaned in heavily against him.

Alan felt like his whole world was dropping away. Of course he had known this moment would come but the arrival of the letter had just hammered home the inevitability of the situation. He felt angry at Gordon, angry at their father and more than a little angry at himself. He was fifteen for goodness sake, he shouldn’t be needing hugs from his big brother, but he still didn’t pull away from that warm hold. There was something comforting about those strong arms, honed through years of hard exercise, that made him feel safe and with that feeling of safety came the assurance of familial love. He clung to it, knowing that all too soon his last brother would be leaving just like the others had; his big family had run out, he was the last and he would be alone.

Of course he had been alone before, Gordon had been away enough times at competitions that he was capable of fending for himself but this time was different. This wasn’t just a few days with the excitement of following the swimming results to keep him occupied, this was a whole new future and he was facing the prospect of being alone with the father who seemed barely aware of his existence. The next few years stretched bleakly ahead of him leaving a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“None of us know what the future holds but even when I’m not here you aren’t going to be on your own. You’ve got four big brothers and we all care about you, you will always be able to get hold of one of us. I need to do this though, Al. If it wasn’t Marineville it would have been college somewhere and it won’t be much longer before you’re choosing what you want to do with your future too.”

There was a damp sniff. “Gonna miss you.” The admission was a quiet whisper but it stabbed deeply into Gordon’s heart.

“Gonna miss you too, Sprout”

They sat there a while longer, each lost to their silent thoughts but still needing that physical contact. Gordon sincerely hoped it would be okay. He’d been so focussed on his own future and excited about the prospect of a fresh start and fresh challenges that he hadn’t fully considered what he would be leaving behind, or rather who he would be leaving behind. He had been looking out for Alan for nearly five years and now he would be leaving. Alan’s whole life had been punctuated by loss as first his mother, and then the brothers who had stepped up in her place, disappeared one by one. Now he would be adding another loss to the pile leaving Alan behind with just the father who had been far too distant for far too long.

#High Expectations #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #military selection #abandonment #loss #loneliness

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ft-dads-au · 4 years ago

Text

End of the Road

I Take Pride In What I Am 2020 Prompt: Tease Pairing(s): Silver x Gildarts, Past Silver x Mika (mentioned) Rating: E

A Collaboration by @mdelpin and @oryu404

AO3 | Next: Ch 2

Summary: Silver and Gildarts have been living together happily for a year, but now that school has started up again they don't have as much time for each other as they’d like. When Silver comes home to celebrate Gildarts landing the internship of his dreams, he finds himself at the mercy of his partner's teasing.

Chapter 1

September 6, 1989

Silver came home at the end of a very long day. One which had included two lectures, a four-hour shift at his research assistant job at one of the university’s Biomedical Engineering labs, as well as assistant coaching a hockey practice. He was exhausted, starving, and very much looking forward to seeing Gildarts.

He let himself into their apartment, dropping his backpack on the floor, surprised to see Gildarts sitting at the dining room table surrounded by textbooks, more than Silver even knew he owned, and seemingly looking at every one of them at once.

“Gil?” Silver puzzled, “What are you doing?”

“I have an interview tomorrow,” Gildarts muttered grabbing another book and putting it down when it didn’t seem to have what he wanted, “Everyone wants this one, and I really want to make a good impression.”

Silver chuckled at the panic on his boyfriend’s face and grabbed the book from his hands.” Are you even reading any of these?”

Once he had emptied Gildarts’ hands, he grabbed them in his own. “Look at me,” he ordered, as Gildarts continued to eye the books. When Gildarts finally met his eyes, he smiled, “You don’t need to do any last-minute cramming. You’re great at what you do, and you know your stuff. The people at your last internship adored you. You’ve got this, okay?”

Gildarts nodded uncertainly, and Silver let go of his hands and stood behind him, forgetting his hunger for the moment. He kneaded his boyfriend’s shoulders or rather tried to, as he was extremely tense.

“Loosen up, will ya?” Silver complained.

“I can think of better ways to relax,” Gildarts grinned, grabbing Silver’s hands and urging him onto his lap, facing him. As soon as he was in place, Gildarts leaned in to kiss Silver’s lips, sucking gently on his bottom lip, and darting his tongue into the well-loved mouth.

Silver moaned at the intrusion, captivated as always by the feelings and sensations that Gildarts never ceased to invoke in him. They soon separated, but he was happy to see that Gildarts did indeed look more relaxed.

“Thanks, I needed to hear that,” Gildarts remarked, pulling Silver into a hug. “I just really want this one, you know? I think I’d be able to make a big difference there.”

“I don’t even know why you’re worried, we both know you can charm the pants off anyone you want,” Silver chuckled.

“Hey, there is only one pair of pants I want off, and sadly you’re still wearing them,” Gildarts pouted, “Anything I can do to change that?”

“Pfft, maybe later. Right now, I’m starving,” Silver admitted, “I had a long-ass day, and I still have about two hours worth of reading to do before I go to bed.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“Did you make dinner?” Silver asked hopefully.

“I’m sorry, I went into panic mode as soon as I got the call, but go jump in the shower, I’ll make us some sandwiches.”

“Thanks, you’re the best!” Silver called behind him, hurrying to the bathroom, “I promise if I get my reading done both our pants can come off!” He teased before closing the bathroom door.

Gildarts laughed and headed to the kitchen to make their dinner, already knowing it wasn’t going to happen but appreciating the gesture all the same. More often than not, Silver fell asleep with his head buried in a textbook. Gildarts would indeed get his pants off but only to put him to bed.

It had been like that the previous year too, and though it worried him to see his boyfriend pushing himself so hard, he was also moved.

When Silver had come out to his parents, they had cut him off, making it so he had to work twice as hard as anyone else to be able to afford school. He put himself through all this so the two of them could be together.

It was a sacrifice that he seemed happy enough to make, never once complaining about the extra work, but Gildarts knew he still missed his family. Just as he knew that Silver harbored a secret hope that they would someday change their minds and accept him as he was.

He deserved so much better.

Gildarts told himself it would only be for a little while longer. After this year was over, he would graduate with a Masters in Social Work and get a full-time job to support them both until Silver finished his own degree. They just had to hold on.

Once the sandwiches were ready, he set about cleaning up the table, leaving only the books he would need to study for his own classes. When Silver came out of the shower, shirtless and in a pair of sweatpants, everything was ready for him. He was still studying when Gildarts called it a night.

0-0

Silver had woken up in their bed that morning only to watch Gildarts try on the entire contents of his closet. He would have liked to go back to sleep, but as amusing as it was to watch his boyfriend freak out, he knew how important this interview was to him.

“Wear that red button-down shirt your Mom gave you for Christmas and uhm, maybe some black slacks?” he commented from the bed, chuckling as Gildarts just about jumped at his words.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Gildarts apologized, coming over to give him a good morning kiss.

“Nah, I’m glad, I would have been upset if I hadn’t been able to wish you luck before you left,” Silver stretched his arms over his head before sitting up. “Do you have to wear a tie?”

“Do you think I should?” Gildarts looked terrified again, “I don’t know how to knot those things.”

“Seriously, you’ve got to chill,” Silver scolded, getting up and walking to his side of the closet where he kept a small basket with his ties. He sorted through them - while Gildarts put on the clothes he’d recommended - until he found one he thought would match the shirt. “Come here,” he ordered.

Gildarts walked over, red shirt still unbuttoned, and Silver took in the sight of his boyfriend’s taut pecs and tantalizing abs, “I wish we had more time,” he murmured as he buttoned the shirt closed, noticing Gildarts shiver at his touch.

“Problem?”

“Your hands are like blocks of ice,” Gildarts complained, his features settling into a cute pout that didn’t fool Silver one bit.

“Maybe you should warm them then,” Silver teased, slipping his hands down Gildarts' back and into his pants, squeezing his butt cheeks and grinding into him.

There was no disguising the desire in Gildarts' eyes at even that simple touch, and he felt terrible. Ever since school had started a few weeks earlier, they’d had no time to be together. But now really wasn’t the best moment and he knew that even though looking down it was quite clear they were both more than ready.

“Silver,” Gildarts cautioned, drawing his lower lip between his teeth.

“I know, I know, sorry,” Silver immediately removed his hands and smiled to show there were no hard feelings, “I got carried away. You’re just too damn sexy for your own good.” He was relieved to see Gildarts perk up at his compliment.

“Anyway, tie.”

Silver finished buttoning up the shirt, tugging the collar up, and draping his tie around Gildarts' neck until the ends lined up the way he wanted. He worked on knotting the tie in the way his father had taught him so long ago. Little things like this always served to remind him that his boyfriend had never had a father figure to teach him all the things that Silver took for granted.

He chuckled as an image of Porlyusica trying to teach a young Gildarts how to do this flitted through his mind.

“There you go, you look very handsome,” Silver adjusted the collar and kissed his cheek.

“Not bad,” Gildarts agreed, admiring himself in the mirror.

“Just don’t give some poor old lady a heart attack, I don’t want to be responsible for that.” He eyed their bed wistfully but grabbed some clothes from his closet and got dressed for the day instead.

“No promises,” Gildarts retorted, confidence fully restored. “I gotta get going, but I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yep, no practice tonight, so I should be home early.”

“Great, can’t wait!” Gildarts gave him a quick hug. “Love you,” he called out, giving Silver one of the grins that still made him weak at the knees even after two years, before rushing out of the bedroom.

Silver could feel his mouth curving into a smile in response, and with one last well wish, he set about getting ready for his day.

A few hours later, he trudged into the crowded student center, searching his wallet for one of the coffee shop gift cards Porlyusica was continually giving him. She claimed her patients gave them to her, but Silver was pretty sure that was an excuse, and it warmed his heart to imagine the surly doctor standing in line to buy them just so that he could have a treat. She was a complicated person, but at her core, she was just as kind as her son.

She demanded their presence at her house every Sunday without fail, claiming to need their help with repairs. After bossing them around for a couple of hours, she would make them lunch, often making enough to send them home with plenty of leftovers and one of the gift cards. With Ur back in Margaret Town, Porlyusica was the only family they had at the moment, and he loved her for it.

Finding it, he looked at the line, sighing when it was just as long as always. Thankfully his next class was nearby, so he should be fine. He felt a huge yawn coming on and quickly covered his mouth. He’d stayed up way too late again, but at least he’d gotten most of the reading done.

“Silver?”

Upon hearing his name Silver turned around, finding Mika Cheney, his ex-girlfriend from high school, standing right behind him. “Hey, long time no see!” he greeted her with a quick hug, “How are you doing?”

“Good, it’s nice to see a familiar face around here,” Mika smiled at him, then peeked around him to observe the line they were standing in. “Busy place, huh?”

“Tell me about it,” Silver chuckled, “So did you just start your first year here? I thought you went to Clover Uni?”

“I did, I switched colleges after I got my bachelor’s. My dad insisted that the program here was better,” she sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Still a hardass?” Silver asked, remembering many nights spent commiserating about their fathers.

“Yep, yours?”

Silver was about to answer when he felt himself being picked up from behind in an over the top manner that could only come from one person. He turned around as soon as he was set down, and sure enough, there was Gildarts, looking incredibly pleased with himself.

“You got it?” Silver asked, completely forgetting about Mika for the moment.

Gildarts nodded, grinning from ear to ear, “I got it.”

Silver wanted to kiss the fool out of him, but after coming out to their parents, they had both decided that while they would not deny their relationship if asked, they wouldn’t go searching for trouble either. He’d have to wait until they were at home to show Gildarts how proud he was of him.

“Who’s this?” Gildarts asked, noticing Mika gawking at them.

“Huh?” he turned to see who Gildarts was referring to, “Oh right, this is Mika Cheney. Mika, this idiot is Gildarts Clive. This is her first year here.”

“Obviously,” Gildarts remarked, “I never forget a beautiful woman.”

Mika’s cheeks flushed at the compliment, “Nice to meet you, Gildarts.”

“Oh, the pleasure is most definitely mine,” Gildarts winked, “So how do you like our school so far?”

“It’s different from what I’m used to, and I haven’t really met too many people yet, so I was glad to see Silver.”

The line finally began to move, much to Silver’s relief as a quick look down at his watch let him know he was running out of time before his class started.

“Well, maybe you could join us for dinner or something sometime,” Gildarts offered politely, ignoring Silvers’ attempts to get his attention. “Well, I just wanted to drop in and tell you while I knew where you were. See you at home, gotta go find a payphone to call my mom.”

He took off, leaving both of them staring after him.

“He is not hard to look at,” Mika commented unexpectedly.

“Bastard knows it too,” Silver agreed, finally getting to the counter and placing his order.

“So home, are you guys roommates?” Mika asked with interest.

“We live together,” Silver conceded, hating to pretend they were nothing when Gildarts was his everything.

“So, uhm,” Mika looked uncomfortable, and he tensed up, waiting for her next question, “this is kind of awkward, but do you know if he’s seeing anyone?”

He was caught off guard, both by her question and the way it made him feel. Gildarts was a likable guy, Silver was well aware of the attention he got for it, and even though he knew his boyfriend would never stray, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy at times. Which was why he blurted out, “He’s with me,” before he realized it.

His name was called, and he grabbed his drink, “It was nice to see you again, Mika. I have to get to class.” He took off without a backward glance, leaving her staring after him with a flabbergasted expression on her face.

0-0

Gildarts had ordered pizza and bought a six-pack of beer on his way home from the University. They didn’t get take out often, always having to be mindful of their finances, but it was a special occasion, and he’d decided to splurge.

He’d busied himself with putting away the clothes he’d left strewn all over the bed that morning while waiting for Silver to come home. He was in a great mood and he hummed along with the radio. Even though his mother had yelled at him for interrupting her at work, he’d still heard the pride in her voice.

She’d even invited them over to her house for a celebratory dinner the following evening. And when he had asked to invite his supervisor from his previous internship, she’d only ranted for five minutes before agreeing.

He remembered Silver mentioning he’d be home early, and his thoughts turned to how good it had felt to have his hands all over him that morning. Gildarts was already getting aroused at the idea of continuing where they’d left off. Another thing he’d been dying to splurge on, but it would have to wait until Silver got home, and they’d finished eating their pizza…

Yeah, screw that, he couldn’t wait anymore. Not when thoughts of his boyfriend and all the things he wished they’d been able to do earlier wouldn’t leave his mind, only getting more creative and colorful with each passing second. Every single one seemed to last forever as he waited, and his cock was already responding, straining against the confinement of his clothes.

Besides, he thought to himself, if he got some of that frustration out now, he’d last a lot longer later. And that was all the self-persuasion he needed to lay back on the bed and undo his belt.

Gildarts closed his eyes, imagining Silver running his hands all over his body, pupils blown and mouth slightly open as he looked down at him. Would he undo the buckle slowly, or would he be in a rush to get his hands, or even better, his mouth on him?

Just thinking about the wet heat of Silver’s mouth as it licked and sucked him was making him groan with need. He quickly undid the buckle, unfastening the button of his pants and pulling them down. He tossed them on the floor, along with his underwear.

His hand strayed down. At first, only tracing the curve of his cock slowly, teasing himself just the way Silver would if he were there, but that didn’t last very long. Even that small touch was enough to get him going, and he soon wrapped his hand around his cock, still pretending his lover was there with him.

“Silver,” he moaned, jerking his hand up and down with abandon.

“Is this what you do when I’m not home?”

The last thing Silver had expected when he got home was to find Gildarts jerking off in the bedroom, and while it shocked him somewhat, it was also the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. Gildarts saying his name in that needy voice reinforced that he was his, something Silver needed to hear after the incident with Mika earlier.

“You’re home,” Gildarts grinned, not looking ashamed in the slightest at being caught with his pants down. He made to get up, cock still hard, but Silver shook his head.

“I never said you should stop,” Silver’s tone was playful, but he knew Gildarts would recognize it for the challenge it was.

Gildarts raised an eyebrow but lay back down. “Anything in particular you want to see?”

“Surprise me,” Silver watched as Gildarts began to unbutton his shirt.

“Leave it!” he commanded, “I want to see you just like this. So desperate to have me fuck you, you couldn’t be bothered to take it off.”

Gildarts breath hitched at his words, his hand returning to its previous position and giving a tentative jerk. They’d never done this type of play before, and it was exciting.

Silver should have known he was in trouble the moment Gildarts peered straight into his eyes and grinned.

Grabbing one of the pillows, Gildarts placed it under his lower back. “Do you think you can grab me some lube?”

Silver found it hard to swallow, but he hurried to their nightstand, grabbed the first bottle he saw and handed it over. He leaned in, wanting to steal a kiss, but Gildarts refused, that same smile on his face. “You only get to watch.”

He should’ve seen it coming, knowing Gildarts as well as he did, and yet it still caught Silver off guard. He stared, entranced, as Gildarts poured some lube over his fingers before pulling up one of his legs and easing his finger inside. His eyes widened as he watched his boyfriend working himself open, oh so slowly.

“Is this the way you like to do it? I’ve never really done this to myself,” Gildarts mused, and how he could keep his voice level while fingering himself and jerking off was a mystery when Silver didn’t feel like he could trust his own voice.

His cock protested the action or lack thereof on his part, but he couldn’t look away, fascinated by what was happening in front of him.

Gildarts eased another finger in, hissing in discomfort as he thrust his fingers in and out, slowing down the rhythm on his cock as he did so. It was Silver who moaned in pleasure, prompting Gildarts to look at him.

” Like what you see?” Gildarts licked his lips, making Silver think of all the sinful things that mouth was capable of.

“Yessss,” Silver hissed, giving voice to the desire that burned through his veins.

“Show me how much.”

Silver didn’t hesitate, quickly stripping off his clothes and giving his cock the attention it craved. His eyes fell shut at the sensation, but he forced them back open, not wanting to lose at this game he’d started. Although at this point, he no longer understood the rules. He just knew he wanted to fuck Gildarts senseless, and didn’t care what he had to do to get there.

“Damn, that is hot,” Gildarts gasped, stopping what he was doing to watch as Silver put on a show for him.

“I want to fuck you,” Silver sensed he’d somehow managed to gain the upper hand, and he wasn’t about to back down. He began to thrust his hips, fucking his own hand for emphasis, “hard enough to slam your head against the headboard. I want to hear you beg for more, to scream my name so loudly the whole apartment floor will know you’re mine.”

“Sweet Mother of Jesus, I have no idea what’s gotten into you, but if you don’t get your ass over here and put your money where your mouth is, I’m gonna be seriously pissed.”

Silver hurried to the bed, not having to be told twice.

“I’d rather put my mouth on you,” he declared with a wicked grin. He tugged at Gildarts’ tie and pulled him up for a kiss, pushing him down when he was done.

“Just fuck me already,” Gildarts whined, the fingers in his ass speeding up as his need grew.

“You can beg better than that,” Silver taunted, grabbing his wrist to keep it from moving, much to his partner’s frustration. “Let me hear you.”

Silver moved down to Gidarts’ balls, taking them in his mouth and sucking on them, continuing to fondle them even as he licked a path down to where those fingers were, moving them out of the way to make room for his tongue. He started simple, licking zigzag patterns around the sensitive area.

“What are you-, oh God, that’s -” Gildarts panted, “Fuuuuck, I’m gonna-, Silver pleeeease!”

Silver tickled Gildarts’ hole with just the tip of his tongue, reveling in the loud moans Gildarts couldn’t contain.

He puffed out a small breath on the sensitive skin before thrusting his tongue in as far as he could get it, letting his tongue fuck Gildarts mercilessly, wanting to make him even more desperate for his cock. He repeated this a few times before asking innocently, “Please, what?”

He was being a jerk, and he knew it, but the sound of Gildarts begging for him as he lost all control was seriously turning him on. He was almost unbelievably hard, and he worked himself some more, desperately needing some friction on his leaking cock.

“I swear to God if you don’t stick your dick up my ass this instant, I am going to make you regret it the next time I top,” Gildarts fumed, thoroughly done with this game.

“Good enough,” Silver quipped before grabbing the bottle of lube and drizzling some over his cock, remembering Gildarts’ earlier hiss. Lining himself up, he rammed into Gildarts, slamming his head into the headboard as promised.

Silver gave him no quarter, ravaging him with a desperation he hadn’t even realized he’d felt. Every delicious moan he was able to coax out of Gildarts with his hands, and his mouth and his cock brought him closer to losing control as the pleasure built up in his body. But it was the sound of Gildarts screaming his name in ecstasy as he came that proved to be his undoing.

After all that teasing and weeks of pent up desire, neither of them had lasted very long, but they were both left more than satisfied. They lay in each other’s arms, basking in the afterglow of their climaxes. It had been so long since they’d had a moment like this. They wanted to hold onto it for as long as possible.

“So, do you do that a lot?” Silver asked once he’d caught his breath, having never really thought about what Gildarts got up to while he was away. He leaned his head on Gildarts' broad shoulder as they both sat with their backs against the headboard.

“Not really, I’d rather wait for you most of the time. You just really got me going this morning,” Gildarts kissed Silver’s head, tenderly moving some strands of hair that had stuck to Silver’s sweaty forehead away from his face. “I’ve had a lot of sex over the years, but that was all there was to it, it was just sex. It’s different with you, and that feeling is better than anything I could ever manage on my own.”

Silver smiled, content with the answer, and remembering why it was they were celebrating, he praised, “I’m so proud of you, Sweetheart. You are gonna do such a great job at…,” he wrinkled his nose as he tried to remember any detail Gildarts might have mentioned. “What is the job anyway? You didn’t really say.”

“It’s a place that provides services to families in need. I’d be doing whatever they tell me to, but I’d get to work with kids who are growing up like I did, helping them find resources my mom and I never had access to.”

“Sounds like you were cut out for it. Except for the ‘doing whatever they tell you to do’ part, of course,” Silver teased his boyfriend.

Gildarts scoffed, “I can follow orders when I want to.”

Silver snorted, “Yeah, right after you tell them to go to hell.”

“I was pretty obedient a little while ago,” Gildarts reminded him.

Silver let out a little moan remembering how sexy his boyfriend had looked when he’d walked into their bedroom, “Yeah, you were. You better not be that obedient with anyone else,” he mock growled.

Gildarts peered at him and scratched his head, “Did something happen today?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, you don’t usually act so possessive, I mean I don’t mind it or anything,” Gildarts was quick to reassure him, “it’s just unusual for you.”

“It’s dumb,” Silver admitted, feeling stupid for the way he had overreacted at Mika’s innocent question.

“No such thing, Darlin’.” Gildarts caressed his cheek, then got up, loosening the tie and removing it as well as the soiled shirt from his sweaty body, giving Silver a beautiful view of his backside as he strode into the living room, and one of his front when he returned with the pizzas he’d ordered and two cans of beer. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

Silver sighed, “That girl I introduced you to earlier, we used to date in high school. You flirted with her, and after you left, she asked me if you were seeing anyone, and I just, I don’t know, I guess I snapped? I told her we were together.”

“Aww, you were jealous?” Gildarts offered him a slice of pizza and closed his eyes,” You don’t have anything to worry about, Silver. I’m not so fickle that I’d endanger what we have for a pretty face. I have my life all planned out, and you have a huge role in it.”

“Good,” Silver answered, mouth full of pizza. It had gone cold in the time they’d spent in the bedroom, but it had been worth it, and cold pizza was still great pizza. He reached out for Gildarts’ hand to hold while they both ate their pizza and drank their beer.

“Oh, I meant to tell you,” Gildarts snapped his fingers, “Mom invited us over for dinner tomorrow, she wants to celebrate my internship.”

“Sounds good,” Silver yawned. It had been another long day, and although he knew he should probably study, he decided to put it off. He wanted to fall asleep in Gildarts' arms for once.

He tugged Gildarts' arm, letting him know he wanted him to lie down. Gildarts snorted, grabbed the boxes, tossed them on the floor to be disposed of later, and got under the covers.

Mine, Silver thought to himself with a smile as he curled himself around his boyfriend and drifted off to sleep.

#fairy tail #ftdadsau #ftlgbtpride2020 #sildarts #ftlgbtales #fics #prompt: tease #I Take Pride In What I Am 2020 #silver x gildarts #silver x mika #mature #dads pride 2020 #chapter 1

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addictofsupernatural · 5 years ago

Text

The Southsider (pt. 8)

Sweet Pea x reader

Chapter Summary: Y/n has to stall by talking with one Penny Peabody. But her problems don't stop there. She still has to deal with her aunt.

Word Count: 2239

Chapter 1 • Chapter 7 • Chapter 9

You stepped inside, not ready for whatever was waiting was waiting for you. You knew this was dangerous, and Sweet Pea warned you, but you had to do something. Your aunt could be being tortured for all you knew. The last time you hid while waiting for others, your mom's life ended.

"Aunt y/a/n, I'm home." You called out.

"I'm in here." You flinched at her voice. You walked to the living room, where your aunt was sitting on the couch, terrified as Penny Peabody sat across from her. Six other ghoulies were crammed in the living room as well.

"Took you long enough." Penny said. "Take a seat."

You sat next to your aunt, who was glaring at you. "So," you said, trying to not sound terrified. "What brings you here?" You made yourself comfy. If you looked scared, then they would use that fear.

Her and the ghoulies laughed. "Oh, you know, just in the neighborhood." She was playing with her knife. "It's a good thing you came when you did, I was getting a little bored with your auntie here. Thought about messing with her a bit."

"Hm." You leaned forward. "So what's the real reason your here?"

"Well you're a bold one, aren't you? It must not be a family trait, because auntie here told me everything I wanted to know about you."

You playfully shrugged. "Well, it seems like everybody knows about my past these days, so you're not really that special. Sorry to be the one to break the news. But, you still haven't answered my question."

Malachi gave a crazy smile. "I like this one."

"So do I." Penny said. "I'm here because I know how close you are with FP Jones and his greasy son. I kept thinking about all these ways I could get back at him, but then I saw you and Sweet Pea together, and decided to check out what was so special about you."

"Did you like what you found?"

She breathed out a laugh. "Very much so. Auntie helped fill in the blanks." That made you more nervous than anything. But the more you talked, the more you stalled. You could do it.

"So, what I plan on doing is hurting you, very badly. I might let you live, I haven't decided yet. But now that I think about it, you'd be perfect for the ghoulies. And nothing will hurt the King and prince more than their adopted princess you turning your back on them."

Your breathe hitched. How could you keep stalling? You prayed Sweet Pea would be here soon. You looked at your aunt, and she nodded for you to agree. "No." You quietly said to your aunt.

"What do you mean no? You have to." She glared daggers into you.

She hated you, and you knew it. She would always request business trips for her job to avoid you. When she was home, though, she would take jabs at you and make you feel worse about yourself. Sometimes she would raise her hand, knowing that you'll flinch.

You didn't like her either. You knew why she hated you, and you hated yourself too. But she was your family, your mother's sister. She should love you.

You saw the others watching, amused. This should be stall them enough for Sweet Pea to come. "I am not turning my back on FP. He is always there for me, and the same goes for Jughead.

"I'm your family, I come first."

"Yeah, and so was my dad." She put her hand up, and you flinched out of habit. You then grabbed her wrist, fed up.

"If you're going to hit me, hit me. If not, then don't try to scare me like my dad did to mom and I." She ripped her wrist away, dead silent. You felt too angry and scared right now, the words just came out of your mouth without a thought. "FP and Jughead are more family than you have ever been, and pretty soon I'll have a new family. With the Serpents."

Y/a/n's anger increased at the thought of you being a serpent. Her sister was a serpent, and look where she ended up. And now you were dumb enough to be talking so highly of them. "You really think they'd actually care about you?"

Just then Jughead kicked open the door, and in came around twenty Serpents. You smiled at her. "You tell me."

"Damn it!" Malachi yelled, going up to you and gripping your jaw with one hand. "You just made a mistake, little girl. You could have been my new plaything." He said through gritted teeth.

"Hey!" FP yanked him away from you and pinned him against a wall. "Careful now, boy."

Penny looked at you. "So you're more than just a pretty face after all. We'll back off, but we'll be back. Count on it." And with that her and the five others left.

Sweet Pea ran up to you and gave you a huge hug, sweeping you off your feet as you stood and spun. He then inspected you. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

You shook your head. "I'm fine. Promise." You put your hands on his cheeks, and he pulls you in for another hug. When you pull back you see Jughead staring at you before going up to you and pulling you in for a big hug. Then Toni gets into the hug, followed by Fangs and Sweet Pea.

"What the hell are you doing?" Your aunt got up. "Get away from them."

Everybody pulled away from the hug. "They saved our lives!" You argued.

"Knowing them is what got us into this mess! I'm your aunt, and family comes before anything else."

You hated the lies that spilled out of her mouth. "Oh really? So where were you when mom was being beat to death?" She responded with a hard slap to your cheek. Everyone watching was shocked.

FP reacted fast, pulling you away from her. "Easy there y/a/n."

"You know what? Fine. If you all just love her so much, why don't you take her? I'll be away in four days anyways. When I'm gone, I don't give a crap what you do, but while I'm back in this damn town, you won't be living here. If I were you I'd pack a few days worth of clothes."

FP squeezed your shoulder from behind you. You turned your head around and saw him nod towards your room. You nodded back, heading to your room to pack some clothes.

Sweet Pea watched you walk to your room, dead silent. He slowly followed you, but stopped when saw Jughead doing the same thing. The two boys looked at each other, before Sweet Pea said, "She needs all the support she could get."

When they opened the door they saw you putting clothes into a duffle bag while your eyes were glassy and threatening to spill. "Babe." Sweet Pea gently said.

You looked at the two of them and rubbed your eyes, hating to have them watch you cry. "Hey guys." You said in a shaky voice.

"You feeling okay?" Jughead asked.

"Yup, never better." You voice cracked.

You were holding a shirt and was about to stuff it in the duffle bag when Sweet Pea put his hand gently on your wrist. "Babe, talk to me."

You looked at his worried expression. He was going through all of this because of you. "God, I'm such a bad person. You don't need this in your life, and neither do you." You looked at Jughead. His expression was unreadable as he stared at you.

Sweet Pea ushered you to your bed for the two of you to sit down, waving for Jughead to take a seat on the other side of you. "No you're not." Sweet Pea said.

You shook your head. "Yes I am. My own aunt hates me. Not that I blame her, sometimes I hate me. She blames me for my mom's death, and I do too. I was too scared to tell somebody about my dad, and that was my fault."

Jughead spoke up. "Not it wasn't. You were a kid, you didn't know any better. You were raised to fear your dad, you couldn't have known."

You looked down at your hands. "But that's not it. The real reason why my aunt hates me is because the only reason why my mom didn't get help was because he threatened to kill me. Me being alive is what got my mom dead."

You took deep breathes. All you did lately was cry, and you didn't want to do it again. "Don't say that! You mean a lot to everyone." Sweet Pea said. You were a little startled at his outburst. "You mean a lot to me."

"And me." Sweet Pea entwined his fingers with yours while Jughead put a hand on your shoulder. Sweet Pea put his head on your shoulder, kissing it.

You smiled and giggled. "Thanks guys. I think I'm gonna start only being my annoying self from now on."

"And there she is." Jughead said with a small, teasing smile.

You quickly pack your things and headed out, with a brother and a boyfriend right beside you. When you guys got there you heard shouting, seeing y/a/n and FP face to face with anger written all over them.

When you entered you purposely made noice while walking. Everybody stopped what they were saying and turned to you. You stepped onto the kitchen tile, making more noice. You then placed your duffle bag on the counter, opening cabinets and putting things in there.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Your aunt asked.

"I am just taking what is mine. You know, since I had to pick up a job to pay for my status of being alive. Maybe I should be your guardian." You said, still putting things in.

"Don't even try to make me look bad, okay? I send you money every month."

"50 dollars a month isn't gonna get me anything except for maybe a week's worth of Pop's. But hey, having a soul isn't for everybody. Bye now!" You presented a big smile and waved.

When you left, everybody, with the exception of your aunt, followed. "So where are you gonna go?" Toni asked.

You shrugged. "You can stay with me." Sweet Pea suggested, smiling at you and taking the duffle bag off your shoulder.

"No." Jughead and FP said in unison.

FP then grabbed the bag from Sweet Pea. "She'll be staying with us."

"I'll see you tomorrow then." You said. "We have an interesting double date to go to?"

"Yeah, nothing funner that going on a double date with basically your brother." He quietly said, unconsiously putting a hand on your waist. You giggled.

"Y/n! Let's go."

"Oh, Sweets is taking me home." You smiled.

He looked from a cheerful you to a nervous Sweet Pea. "Okay then."

As he and his son rode off, you and Sweet Pea got on his bike. You looked at Toni to confirm if your plans later were still on. She nodded.

When you got to the trailer you were staying at, you and Sweet Pea said your goodbyes. You both inched forward, about to kiss when you heard FP open the door, starling you. "C'mon, get in. It's getting cold." You gave Sweet Pea a knowing look and went inside.

Right when you stepped inside you went for your duffle bag, grabbing some materials to make food and got to cooking. "What are you doing?" Jughead asked.

"Making lasagna." He nodded in response. He would never argue over free food.

"You don't have to do that, we could go to Pop's." FP suggested.

"It's okay. I want to say thank you for letting me stay here. Jug seems happy about it. Either way at least we'll actually be using your kitchen for once."

After a while you finished cooking and ate. "This is amazing." FP said while wiping his face with a napkin. "I don't know when was the last time I had a home cooked meal."

You felt proud of yourself. Jughead slid his plate to you. "More please."

You stared at the plate. "Are you serious?"

"What can I say, I'm hungry." He knew exactly what you meant. You huffed and grabbed the plate, serving him another piece.

You finished and washed your plate. "So, I promised Toni that I'd help her with her homework tonight. I was wondering if I could go."

FP didn't really give much thought into this. She lived in the same trailer park. "Sure. Don't be back too late."

"Okay." And with that you left.

"I want you to keep an eye on Sweet Pea for me." FP was still staring at the door. "Find out if he's trying to do any funny business."

"Really, dad? Sweet Pea really likes her, he wouldn't do anything to hurt her." Jughead said as he ate his food.

"I don't know, just make sure nothing bad is going on."

"Dad, you didn't see him comfort her today. He's good for her."

As a protective father and a argumentative brother disagreed over some issues, you knocked at Toni's trailer. She opened it. "Glad you came." She said. "You sure you want to do this?"

"Yes." You said, happy and excited over your decision. "I want you to teach me the serpent dance."

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Author's Note: Sorry that this chapter kind of went by fast without as much comedy or cuteness.

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Tag List:

@madaboutlili @sireennotsiren @elsie2018 @greyfairie @iamaunicorn4704 @wanna-plan-world-domination @whenallsaidanddone @t-a-i-l-o-r-m-a-d-e @live-love-bailar @thecraziestcrayon @cvvlxx @grim-adventures58 @official--fangirl @jesus-jagiya @skeletalwolfcat @theunofficialduke @punkrock-cinnamonroll @rhi-an-onn

#riverdale fanfiction #riverdale fandom #riverdale #riverdale sweet pea #sweet pea fluff #sweet pea fanfiction #sweet pea fic #sweet pea #sweet pea x reader #southside serpents #riverdale southside #the southside serpents #the southside #the southsider

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dogbearinggifts · 5 years ago

Text

Little Tyrants, Chapter Two: Worth the Whiskey

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: When Vanya was four, Reginald Hargreeves visited her cell. But not to take her powers away. Just to let her know he could. Just to prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that her powers were a privilege he could rescind should she ever choose not to fall in line.

Years later, the old man is dead—and the last sibling Vanya wants to see has reappeared in the Academy courtyard.

This work is also available on AO3.

Prologue Chapter One

Author’s note: Sorry this chapter took so long, everyone. I’d hoped to update more frequently, but life intervened and…well, here we are. If you’d like to read the asks that inspired this story, you can find them here and here, as well as under the tags “vanya keeps her powers au” and “five returns as a kid au.”

This chapter title is adapted from Cole Swindell’s song “Ain’t Worth the Whiskey.”

***********

“You okay here?”

“Yeah.”

Luther opened his arms slightly, and Five slid to the floor. Klaus had never considered, in the sixteen years he’d been missing, just how small Five was. Not that the fact itself had eluded him—old pictures resurfaced in tabloids or narrative magazines from time to time, proving they’d all been a hell of a lot shorter back when they were still in Dad’s clutches—but it hadn’t struck him as something worth noticing when he’d stumbled into the courtyard. Now, watching him glance around in bewilderment beside a twin nearly twice his height, Klaus couldn’t think about much else.

“Where’s Mom?” Luther asked. “Thought you were gonna get her.”

“I—” The rest of Diego’s retort collapsed when he saw who was—and wasn’t—in the kitchen. “Shit. Mom!”

They’d lost Allison somewhere between the courtyard and the kitchen, when she’d announced her intent to get some towels. Luther had carried Five in, cradled in his arms lest walking worsen whatever condition led him to collapse in the courtyard. Diego jogged out of the kitchen, retracing their steps through the corridor in search of the one who could provide some guidance. Klaus stood by the sink and racked his brain for something, anything he could say.

Five wasn’t wearing his Academy uniform. Not unexpected—he’d never been fond of those starched collars and plaid sweater vests—but he’d always joked about replacing that uniform with everything from jeans and a T-shirt to a tuxedo paired with evening gloves and a billowing cape. Maybe it was the leftover high or the cognac haze clouding his thoughts, but Klaus couldn’t conjure a single reason why Five might have paired scuffed boots and a heavy jacket with sturdy jeans and a pair of aviator-style goggles around his neck.

“You, uh, you need anything?” Luther asked.

Five shrugged. To say he had always smiled before his disappearance would be a misstatement. He’d frowned. He’d grouched. He’d cried for the minute or two it took to realize he’d been seen, the second or two it took for his face to twist and for him to slink off down the hall. But there had always been a glimmer of mischief behind those eyes, a flicker within his expression. Whether harsh with fury or gentle with laughter, Klaus couldn’t recall a time when that light had gone out.

Until now.

“Klaus, could you get him some water?”

Somewhere toward the back of his mind, a flicker of irritation sparked to life. Luther had come up with the idea. Luther knew what he wanted done. Luther could get the damn water himself. But the annoyance was dim to begin with, and died with another glance at Five dripping rainwater onto the tile. Without a word, Klaus went to the cupboard and retrieved a glass.

Allison brushed past before the glass was completely full; and by the time he turned around, Five was reaching for a towel from the stack Allison carried. She plucked one and shook it out as though to dry him off herself; then, with a small and apologetic smile, she placed it in Five’s hands. Klaus set the glass on the table, fought again for something to say, gave up and snagged a towel instead.

He needed another drink.

He couldn’t carry Five up to his room or calm him with four small words. He couldn’t run a few tests and determine what had happened and what Five needed to recover, and he wasn’t the one headed off to corral the one who could chart a course for the healing process. Getting a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water was about the extent of Klaus’ contributions, and he’d done that already. No one would notice if he headed upstairs and went to town on the liquor cabinet. Allison might say something if he popped a pill or two right then and there, but she wouldn’t cause a scene. It would be expected from him.

The longer he watched Five sip from the glass he’d poured, the more he needed to leave. The longer he watched, the less he wanted to leave.

“Where’s Vanya?”

That was from Luther, naturally. Klaus couldn’t say when or how he’d forgotten Vanya’s feelings toward her family, but maybe the Moon erased memories. “Where do you think she is?”

“I don’t know, Klaus. That’s why I asked.”

Klaus hadn’t seen her separate from their group, wasn’t sure if she’d split off before or after Allison had gone off for towels, but the relative peace in the kitchen should have been enough to let Luther know her absence was not to be questioned. “Well, if we’re lucky, maybe she’ll just stay…wherever the hell she is. Oh! You think we could camp out down here? Roast some marshmallows, sing a couple songs? O Vanya, please stay away from us….”

Impromptu performances like that tended to earn flat looks and rolled eyes from most of his siblings, and threats from Vanya, but he’d hoped it might raise at least a small smile from Five. No dice. Five looked down into his glass, holding it in both hands, without so much as a hint of a smile or a chuckle.

Nice going. Allison didn’t say it. She didn’t need to, with the amount of impatience and contempt she crammed into that one glance. He’d messed up, said exactly the wrong thing at just the wrong time, and there was no recovering, no going back.

Of course, he’d known as much before that look of hers. No need to drive it home with the glare of death.

“Well, fine.” Klaus stepped forward, opening a cupboard. A canister of rolled oats was the first thing he saw, and so a canister of rolled oats was what he grabbed. “If you fine folks don’t appreciate good performance art like an audience with sense, I shall take my leave.”

Giving his coat the most dramatic swish he could manage, Klaus strode out the door.

*********

If liquor preference was a personality trait, then Dad’s taste was one of his few redeeming qualities.

Like most objects in the Academy, Dad’s alcohol supply was less an amassing of ingredients and more of a collection. Port and sherry shared a shelf with more varieties of red wine than Vanya cared to count, more types of white than she wanted to taste. Not that she opposed wine on principle, but the sight of so many bottles and so many shades, each promising a different flavor and composition and all the other things wine junkies raved about, brought a twinge of embarrassment when she remembered the five-gallon box she’d purchased because it was red and she’d bought white last time.

But then, nobody could tell the difference between cheap and expensive wine anyway. She wasn’t unrefined. Just honest.

Vanya turned from the wines and toward those promising a shorter path toward inebriation. A half-empty bottle of tequila and a nearly full bottle of mezcal sat a few inches from peppermint schnapps and two different types of rum. Closer to her sat scotches and bourbons nestled beside the whiskeys.

Every label bore the name of a place she knew. Scotland. Jalisco. Kentucky. Each name conjured up a different image, borrowed from a different mission with a different objective and outcome. Dad had sent her and she’d gone in, done what the situation demanded of her, and left with snatches of scenery she liked and memories she didn’t. Each city had its own personality, but there came a point when they blended into each other, leaving her uncertain whether El Paso or Tucson had the hotel with a mosaic tile entrance, or if it was Paris or Amsterdam with the houses she liked. Glances through the sort of books ordinary people kept on their coffee tables cleared a few things up, but there were better things to do than relive what only Dad would call the glory days.

Behind the Canadian whiskeys, and between those boasting an origin in Tennessee, was a single bottle announcing itself as Wyoming Whiskey in no-nonsense letters. After a moment’s study, Vanya poured herself a glass. If she was going to try and erode unwanted memories old and new, a drink from a place she’d never visited seemed the best way to start.

Footsteps approached sometime after the end of the first drink and the beginning of the second. Vanya downed the rest in a few quick swallows. If it was Diego coming to tell her off for not being there for Five, she’d need to steel herself; if it was Five himself, she’d need to clear her glass for another pour.

Klaus rounded a corner, skirt swishing about his ankles as he came to a halt. It had been some months since she’d seen him, and then out in the open and at a distance. Perhaps that was why he seemed thinner than she remembered, collarbone protruding above his bare chest, feathered cuffs dangling over too-slender wrists. He’d tucked an open canister of rolled oats into the crook of one arm; a few oats slipped from his clenched fist and fluttered to the floor. He let out a laugh when he saw her, as though she’d made a joke. As though he were happy to see her.

Vanya added twice the recommended amount to her glass.

“Well, well, well.” He let his handful of oats fall back into the canister and sauntered forward—she couldn’t tell if he was staggering or not—and set the oats on the counter. “And here I thought I was the only one breaking into Dear Old Dad’s liquor cabinet.”

Vanya sniffed. Klaus’ presence demanded she down the whole glass in one swallow, pain be damned, but she settled for a sip. “I’m not breaking into anything. It’s right out in the open.”

Klaus had a way of moving like a slinky, swaying one direction only to fold himself around a corner and past whatever obstructed his path. In one stride, maybe two, he was behind the bar, hand on a bottle of bourbon. “Amazing there’s anything left.”

“Yeah, with you around.”

Within seconds, Klaus’ glass held more bourbon than it should have. Not quite as much as hers—but if he’d had to cope with someone like him, he’d have ditched the glass and drank straight from the bottle. “Oh, right, ‘cause I’m the one who ran up here to get drunk soon as everybody was in the house.”

“And you were completely sober when I got here.”

There was that laugh again, the infuriating giggle that made her want to send a bottle of vodka crashing onto his head. “You really think I’m gonna do a family reunion without a little help?” He took a swallow of bourbon. “Figured you’d get it.”

Vanya’s fingers tightened on the glass. She wasn’t like him. This world he’d constructed in his head, where she was just a shadow of what he was—it was a fantasy. He spent his days wandering the streets or bouncing from rehab to rehab. She worked, and the money she brought in went toward her apartment, her clothes, her food. She spent her days coaching kids through basic chords, cooking and cleaning, playing in the city’s orchestra. She wouldn’t have earned first chair if she’d devoted what remained of her life to the next fix.

A high, sharp noise commanded her attention. Looking took only a second, but by the time she did, the glass had cracked beneath her fingers, webs of spindly lines spreading out and up. Another side effect of Klaus’ presence.

“I think you should leave now.”

Klaus downed half his liquor in one swallow, planting the glass firmly on the counter. A few drops came close to splashing out, but the counter remained dry. “I think you need another drink, if you’re just gonna get your panties in a twist over everything.”

He was needling her, poking her skin over and over until he found what caused the most pain. For what, she couldn't say. Perhaps he was so enamored with Five’s return that he simply could not comprehend why she hadn’t followed to the kitchen to wait on him hand and foot. Perhaps he was still angry over her last refusal to let him crash at her place. That had been years ago, but Klaus was just the sort to hold a grudge for that long.

She could lash back, with words or force. A few sharp retorts already came to mind, but they might not land the way they should. Klaus’ quest to rid himself of powers Dad had never thought to take from him had apparently robbed him of his faculties, if his incessant giggling was any indication, and there was little point in an insult that slid off like water from a tarp. The Academy had never been a noisy place, but what few sounds there were—air rushing through the vents, the creaking of old boards—already tempted her.

And Klaus remained, with no trace of fear.

“I’ve had kind of a rough day,” she said, setting the cracked glass in the sink slowly and deliberately, so as not to throw it the way she longed to.

Klaus’s mouth formed a round O of mock surprise and he clapped his hands to his cheeks. “Me too! Weird, huh? Us both having the worst day ever at the same time?”

Vanya clenched her teeth. He was like the cockroaches at a place she’d lived, one of the few complexes she was grateful to be blacklisted from. Lay out traps and they’d skirt around them. Stomp on them and they’d avoid your boot. Spray them with Raid and they’d roll onto their backs long enough, only long enough, to make you think you’d won. Long enough to make their swift return all the more infuriating. “I don’t want to break anything worse than a glass, is all I’m saying.”

“Why? Afraid the cops might come? Afraid they might send you to—” He put a hand to his mouth, covering a gasp too melodramatic to be genuine, and looked to left and right before continuing in a stage whisper. “Therapy?”

Vanya felt the cracks in her discarded glass spread and splinter before she ever heard it. She wanted to let it shatter—no, she wanted to make it shatter, send a hundred jagged shards exploding out from the sink to embed themselves in the wall, the counter, Klaus’ skin; to strike other bottles like bullets and send their contents cascading.

“You don’t understand.”

“No! I mean, Sitting on a comfy couch for a whole hour while some lady in an ugly-ass pantsuit listens to your problems?” He shook his head in mock amazement, adding more bourbon to his glass. “It’s a miracle we’re at Dad’s funeral. You should’ve just—”

He blew a raspberry, pointing his thumb to the floor.

Another crack spread through the glass, and another. He didn’t see. Didn’t know the humiliation of walking into that office, week after week. Couldn’t comprehend the misery of hearing mistakes inflated and exaggerated, balled up and thrown back in her face whenever she tried to explain herself. He couldn’t know the recurring sting of walking past her favorite coffee shop—a place that had once pulled her into an embrace of scents both earthy and sweet—knowing that the police would be called if she so much as crossed the street to reminisce from the wrong side of the window. If anyone under the Academy roof spared an ounce of sympathy for her, it should have been him. He, at least, knew what it was to have his faults paraded before police and judges and dismissed with no regard for what it was to be in his shoes.

She should have known that was too much to ask of him.

The glass was all but destroyed now; there was little point in leaving it whole. The sink would absorb most of the damage, and while a few shards would fly out, Klaus had learned to dodge. He knew what he faced if he failed to. He couldn’t call the police without risking his own skin.

Yet a part of her, a small part of her, whispered that he just might be insane enough to try.

The canister flew across the room to smack against a formation of bottles, knocking them over with a crash. Liquor spilled over the counter and onto the floor, sweeping up oats in the flow. Vanya turned on her heel, not giving Klaus the satisfaction of one last grin.

********

“That could’ve gone better.”

“Yeah, you think?” Klaus downed the rest of his bourbon and regarded the bottles still standing. The accidental cocktail Vanya had created with her little tantrum wouldn’t be tasty—especially not with oats floating in it and faint remnants of floor cleaner offering a different kind of intoxication—but all of those liquors together would get him drunk faster than anything he could mix on his own.

Well. Drunker.

Klaus didn’t sway as he straightened and headed for the tequila. He wasn’t quite to that point, though he sensed its approach.

“Seriously?”

“Hey, you try dealing with Vanya sober.” He opened the bottle, raising his voice in a mocking imitation of Vanya’s. “Oh, look at me, I wreck some coffee shop and have to not go to prison, everyone needs to be sad for me.”

“Oh, you mean like my entire life? And afterlife, so far?”

“So far?” Klaus grinned, raising both eyebrows. “What are you not telling me, Ben?”

Ben rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.” He poured a shot of tequila and tossed it down. “If there’s drunkenness after death, you really need to tell me. This could change everything.”

“You really think I’d tell you something like that?”

“Some brother you are.”

“Said the guy who left Five to come get shitfaced.”

The sting was sharp, as if Ben had slapped him across the cheek. Klaus poured another shot and downed it without breaking eye contact, but when he set the glass down he had to look away. He tried for some remark glib enough to set Ben on a different course, but nothing came to mind in time.

“Bet you can still catch up with him.”

It wasn’t the first time the thought had occurred to Klaus, but he hadn’t allowed it to take root in his mind with this level of clarity. Go back to the kitchen, or track Five to wherever the others had brought him. Apologize for whatever it was he’d said wrong—more than one thing, probably, though he could only think of the one. See if Five wanted to go flip off Dad’s urn for a while. Let Five watch him stagger down the stairs, sway in the door, smell the alcohol on his breath. The others, Diego and Luther and Allison—they might not understand, but they expected it. They’d seen it before.

A part of him whispered that Five would see it sooner or later, that maybe he’d already extrapolated from those moments he’d caught Klaus at the bar when they were kids, those times he’d given Klaus the cover he needed to sneak out for his next fix. It didn’t matter, or wouldn’t matter. Sobriety was little more than a punchline around him, and it was only a matter of time before Five saw the joke.

He straightened, swallowed the last of the tequila in his glass, fished for a cigarette in his pocket and lit it. He took a long drag, closing his eyes as he exhaled. It wasn’t’ the first time he’d smoked in the Academy, not by far, but usually Dad or Pogo would come barreling around the corner seconds after his lighter clicked on. This time, there was only silence. Blissful, smoke-filled silence. He leaned against the island, allowing each breath to carry off more of Vanya’s lingering presence.

He wasn’t sure how long it was before the edge of the counter began digging into his back, before the floor began to press against his feet through the thin soles of his shoes, before the weight of the items in his coat reminded him of where he could be and what he could be getting. A pang of guilt accompanied the last thought, regardless of the facts. He wasn’t needed at the Academy. He’d probably sent Five into a tailspin with whatever it was he’d said. The memorial service seemed to have been forgotten for the time being; even if he were missing when it began, his absence wouldn’t be lamented or questioned too heavily. The more he considered it, the more he itched for what those items would buy him.

He’d be leaving Five again. Leaving him not in the kitchen, but there in the Academy while he was off elsewhere in the city; but Five wouldn’t be alone. Might not even notice he was gone.

“Klaus?”

Five’s voice was too soft, too uncertain, but it still gave Klaus a start and he nearly dropped his cigarette.

“Christ on a cracker,” he breathed, glancing down at the floor. Still a safe enough distance from the spilled alcohol that a lit cigarette wouldn’t send a puddle of flame racing up the cabinets, but closer than he would have liked. He sucked in a breath and turned to Five, plastering on a smile. “What’re you doing up here?”

Five didn’t answer. He’d changed into his pajamas—which were drier than what he’d been wearing, and in better shape, but Klaus could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen any of his siblings wearing pajamas in the middle of the day. In each instance, they’d been sick enough to get out of training, sick enough to remain in their rooms instead of joining the rest of the family for silent meals and Dad’s droning records. Five was still walking on his own two feet, his skin lacking the pallor it had held on those days; but Klaus didn’t recall him being so thin when he’d left.

How long had he stood just out of sight?

“Dad’s not here, is he.”

There were two answers: the tactful one, and the direct one. The tactful one was more up Allison’s alley, requiring more gentle words and roundabout phrasings than Klaus had in his arsenal. It was probably more akin to what Five needed, closer to what he’d like to hear, but Klaus had already stalled long enough.

“Died a little over a week ago.”

Five nodded slowly. If there was any surprise in his expression, Klaus couldn’t see it. “He…he probably would’ve walked out when I showed up, huh?”

And done a lot more than that, Klaus thought, but didn’t say as much. Five must have known he’d have been hauled off to one of those rooms everyone hated, held there until he’d divulged every secret he’d brought back with him, had Dad occupied the Academy. “We can go flip off his urn for a while, if you want.”

Five didn’t smile, or even meet Klaus’ gaze. He’d said the wrong thing again. Made a joke when Five needed something else, something Allison or Luther or even Diego would be better suited to offer. Something Klaus couldn’t muster, not even when it was needed. Especially not when it was needed.

“Where’s Ben?”

If Ben’s remark had been a slap, Five’s question was like a punch to the gut. He had to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t form and he couldn’t muster even an I don’t know or a Why do you ask? He could only struggle, through the fog and the emotions that one question dredged up, to say anything at all.

Five dropped his gaze, biting his lip. He didn’t sink to the floor or look for a place to sit down. He didn’t let out a cry or suck in a breath. Klaus watched him crumple all the same.

“Hey, it—” He started forward, barely remembering to put out his cigarette before Five fell into his arms.

Maybe he should have expected it. Over a decade stood between him and Ben’s death. No one would say he’d used them well, and if pressed he wouldn’t disagree; but he’d still had them. Ten years to let the dust settle and the blood dry. Ten years to accept that Ben’s clothes no longer occupied the closet, that no one would set a place for him whenever they were allowed back into the Academy. Ten years of hearing his voice, watching him roll his eyes and try in vain to block access to his stash, of being the only one to know he would never really go away. For all Five knew, Ben’s face should have been among those who greeted him upon his return.

He returned the hug awkwardly, too awkwardly, running a hand along Five’s back. Tears shook his bony frame, and Klaus wanted to kick himself for not hunting down Allison to answer that question. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

“How?”

Ben no longer leaned against the bar. He had a way of doing that, of stepping around while your back was turned to show up in the last place you wanted to see him. This time, though, Klaus didn’t mind the sight of him, the look he got—or the clear instructions it carried.

“I mean, it’s not like he’s gone.”

Five pulled away, and the hope in his eyes made Klaus want to shrivel up and disappear.

Ben smiled a bit, raising a hand in greeting. “Hey, Five.”

“He says hi.”

*******

Vanya should have brought the whiskey along.

Her anger hadn’t quite burned away when she reached the top of the stairs, but it had calmed enough for her thoughts to turn to things other than Klaus’ exaggerated smiles and mocking words; and they turned to that bottle on the counter. She should have grabbed it before storming off—or if not that bottle specifically, then another close to it. Something strong, something she could keep all to herself. Something that would get her to the memorial service in one piece.

If her siblings still planned on holding a service.

She found her old bedroom less by intent and more by muscle memory, and it hadn’t changed much from the day she’d left. The furniture was gone, shuttled off to her first apartment and then the next; as were her clothes, which had been added to over the years. It would have been an empty room, devoid of the personality she’d lent it, but there were small signs, little memories here and there. A length of blue ribbon she’d once worn to a press briefing snaked across the floor. The green hair tie she’d thought had been lost in the move lay in one corner, grey with dust. Along the wall adjacent to her window Vanya could just make out little patches where the drywall was ever so slightly uneven, marking the places where, in retaliation for being sent to her room, she’d driven holes into her wall to spell out an obscene message. Dad had barged in before she’d finished the first word.

She ran a hand along the windowsill, catching dust on her fingertips. It wasn’t surprising that Dad’s memorial service had stalled—in the back of her mind, she’d expected Diego or Klaus to delay it somehow, though she hadn’t written off Allison as a potential culprit—but she hadn’t thought it would stall indefinitely. Yet here she was, waiting for her siblings to stop doting on Five long enough to put their dead father to rest.

Vanya looked to the wall again. For a moment she considered finishing the word, leaving it as a parting gift for whenever she was allowed to walk out of the Academy without Dad’s unread will hanging over her head. But then, it would’ve been just like Dad to turn something about willful destruction of childhood bedroom into a condition.

She closed the door behind her and stepped into the hall, seeing no one, but Five’s room stood open. Maybe someone had been there in minutes past; maybe Mom had left it open for whatever reason. Vanya couldn’t say and couldn’t bring herself to care. He’d be moving back into it soon—but then, once the memorial service was over and done with, she’d be back in her own apartment, away from that room and its occupant.

A short walk took her back down to the entryway and then the common room, but that wasn’t where the voices led her. One she recognized as Klaus, the other as Five—but the cheer in Klaus’ voice seemed more genuine now, the simmering resentment she’d caught now missing.

“So I’m just there in my book fort, minding my own business, and the librarian walks over and she’s all ‘Sir, you need to put these on a cart.’ And I’m all ‘Wouldn’t it be a lot easier to just build a new one instead of putting this whole thing on a cart?’”

“Maybe she just wanted you to put the books away?”

“That’s what Ben said, but I dunno. That fort was awesome.”

Ben. Her breath caught. Asking her to name a favorite sibling was like asking her to name a favorite toothache, but some toothaches hurt less than others. Some could be almost pleasant, when they wanted to be.

And some left a different sort of pain when they went away.

“What books did you use?”

“What books did I—Five. I built a fort. Out of books. Had turrets, a moat and everything. That’s all you need to know.”

Rather than pressing Klaus for more details, Five turned his gaze to the armchair. “What’d he use, Ben? You remember?”

Klaus rolled his eyes and began listing off titles, but Vanya barely heard them past the pounding of her own heart. Ben wasn’t there—or at least, he wasn’t where Klaus could see him, and that was by design. The ghosts he alone could see, the ghosts he alone could command, were evidently far more frightening than the poisons he forced into his system and the people and laws he trampled to get them. The substances he favored were still there. His powers were gone—and here he was, playing the medium. Speaking for the dead when the dead no longer spoke to him. Using Ben as a prop to tell an asinine story about himself.

“Don’t.”

Allison’s voice was soft, but Vanya stopped in her tracks. Her sister sat on the stairs, just out of the light cast from the sitting room.

“Are you hearing this?”

Allison bowed her head for a few seconds. When she raised it, there was sorrow in her eyes—but also a glint of steel Vanya had rarely seen outside of particularly nasty missions.

“Don’t take this from him.”

“Take what? A lie?”

Allison stood, mouth tight. She took a few steps forward, but didn’t come close to bridging the gap between them.

“I don’t care what it is.” Her voice had grown softer, scarcely rising above a whisper, but no less stern for it. “You’re going to let him have this.”

A stab of fear went through her. Allison hadn’t referenced those four words, but the threat was there, carried on a tone addressing her as a child. A child who needed to be put in her place. “Or what?”

She didn’t answer, but the glare she leveled on her way into the common room was enough.

************

Chapter One

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy fanfic #tua fanfic #vanya keeps her powers au #five returns as a kid au #little tyrants #vanya hargreeves #five hargreeves #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #ben hargreeves #reginald hargreeves #alcoholism #implied/referenced alcohol abuse #implied/referenced drug abuse

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ghostbustermelanieking · 6 years ago

Text

phantom weights chapter four

one, two, three

season 11, post my struggle iv. part of my series that i write as i rewatch the x files.

Summary: In the wake of their second encounter, Mulder, Scully, and Jackson reconnect (both by accident and on purpose).

---

Things may have slowed down in Jackson's life, may have seemingly stopped being dangerous, but he still found himself jumpy and paranoid. Still found himself worried about the few people in his life, that they were in danger. He checked the news in and around Farrs Corner every now and then, searching for any crimes popping up near or around where Mulder and Scully lived—they were definitely great for money and things like that, no matter how awkward his encounters with them were, but usefulness wasn't worth getting them or the kid killed. He kept an eye on the nationwide news, looking for any activity similar to the activity of the assassins they'd sent after him, or activity of kids like him. (He'd thought about the little grave in San Diego a lot, the little girl named Emily, wondering if he had more siblings out there like her. The idea frankly made him furious, of more kids like him subject to exploitation, more exploitation of Dana.) He got extraordinarily nervous when there was a series of break-ins two buildings down from him, until it was revealed to be a disgruntled handyman. He used fake names a lot when he was out with friends and played it off as a stupid prank, and he was very careful when meeting Sarah, on the rare times that they met.

His relationship with Sarah was messy, messier than it had been before—which seemed unreal, considering what an asshole he had been. Sometimes, she would say she was too busy to meet him with a rushed text, offering excuses about her pissed-off parents and her suspicious little sister. And she seemed pissed off herself when he insisted on trying to hide. "I want a normal boyfriend," she'd say irritably, "not some fucking shadow who spends all his time hiding." And he would have to struggle not to snap at her, to tell her that he had never been normal. He didn't want to hurt her feelings, to hurt her anymore than he already had. (He was still wracked with guilt over the incident on the Chimera, not to mention the fact that he cheated on her and Bri both. He still felt horrible about all of it, and equally horrible about ghosting Brianna, but her parents were even stricter than Sarah's, if that was possible, and he couldn't stay with them both. He felt guilty for even staying with Sarah, after everything, but he felt like he didn't have a choice. She was one of his last links to his old life, and he couldn't let that go. He was terrified of being alone.)

Sarah seemed constantly pissed off at him now, and not just about the aliases. She seemed on edge the few times they talked on the phone; she was dodging his texts, to the point where he stopped calling and texting. He didn't want to be the jerk anymore. He tried to just enjoy the time that he got with her. But he could sense the tremors in their already fragile relationship, could sense what was coming before it happened, almost like shockwaves in an earthquake. When he got a call from her one day in July, her contact photo a picture of the two of them last New Year's making goofy faces into the camera, it sent a wave of dread through him that probably wasn't supposed to accompany a call from your girlfriend.

He answered anyway. "Hey, babe," he said, trying his hardest to sound cheerful. "What's up?"

She was silent on the other end. He could hear her breathing, uncertain and awkward. And then she said, "Jackson, we have to talk."

He leaned forward, his forehead against the wall of his shitty kitchen. It was totally pathetic, but he suddenly wanted to beg her not to do it, tell her that he needed her to keep him grounded. But he didn't say that. He said in that same falsely cheerful voice, "What it is?"

Sarah took a deep breath. "Look, babe, it's…" There was some clattering, a voice on the other end, and then the sound of her yelling: "It's just someone from school, Mom!" Jackson grimaced at the cacophonous sound. "Sorry," Sarah said softly into the phone. "It's just been crazy since the break-in, we're all crammed into a tiny fucking hotel room, and I'm sitting in the fucking bathtub right now…"

His head shot up, nearly hitting the side of the fridge. "Wait-wait-wait," he blurted, waving a hand like he was scrubbing at the air, trying to scrub away the awful words. "There was a break-in? Somebody broke into your house?"

"Yes," said Sarah, annoyed. "Last weekend, some jackass completely ransacked the place…"

"W-why?" he stammered, cold sweat breaking out on his hands. Goddamnit, he'd been so careful, and it still wasn't enough. How the hell could he do this, not take preventative measures to protect Sarah? "What were they looking for, what did they steal?"

"That doesn't matter, Jackson. Listen…"

"Was it someone looking for me? W-were they coming for you, because of…"

"Jesus, Jackson, no! Not everything is about you," she hissed, trying to be quiet and clearly failing. "Look, I think it's time for us to end this, okay? After the break-in, my parents can't afford to send me to Richmond for expensive music lessons anymore, so there's no way for us to see each other, anyway."

He was dumbfounded, speechless, torn between trying to talk her out of it and supporting it simply for her own protection. What if the burglars had been looking for her, what if they'd only stolen things to cover their tracks? He didn't want to lose anyone else, but if he held on, he might really lose her. And he couldn't force her to stay with him if she didn't want to. "Babe…" he began in a soft voice.

"Look, Jackson, this is the right thing to do. We've both felt it coming. Don't try to tell me you haven't, okay? We've been growing apart for months." He could picture her on the other end, sitting in the tub with her socked feet up on the lip, twirling a curl around one finger as she talked. "It's not fair for us to hold each other back, not when there's other people out there. I hope we can still be friends…"

"Babe, did they catch the guy he robbed your apartment?" he asked, because he was still thinking about it. Even after dumping him, they still might come for her.

Sarah sighed with exasperation. "Seriously? We can't even have a mature conversation?"

"This isn't immature, Sarah!" he snapped, finally losing his composure. "They killed my parents, you know they killed my parents! And they could kill you, too, if they think you're my girlfriend."

"Well, I'm not," she said in a sharp voice. "I'm not your girlfriend anymore."

He winced, his head falling forward again. It was for the best, but he couldn't stand it, he couldn't stand it. "Please," he said softly, "please just tell me if they caught the guy, Sarah, please…"

"They didn't, okay?" she said, and she sounded like she was crying. "I'm sorry about your parents, Jackson. I'm sorry about… all of it. But you can't worry about me anymore. I'm not your concern."

He thumped his head against the wall lightly: once, twice. "Okay," he mumbled.

"I'm sorry," she said again. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

"You be careful," he told her, suddenly stern. "Be careful, and be safe, and…"

She hung up abruptly, leaving him sitting alone in the dark and the quiet. He let the phone drop on the tile with a clunk. That was it, he thought. Everything from his old life gone, and maybe for the better. Maybe for the better.

He didn't know if he could have contact with anyone now, get close to anyone. And a new thought was building up in the back of his mind: what if they came for the baby? If the baby was around him… what if they came for the baby? What if they came for all three of them, because of him?

(If the baby turned out to be like him, then there might be no protecting the three of them. But he couldn't let anything happen to them and it be his fault. He couldn't risk it. He didn't know what he could do about it, but he knew he couldn't risk it.)

---

Jackson had it decided by the next morning. He would distance himself from his new friends as much as he possibly could, to protect them. And he'd distance himself from Mulder and Scully. It wouldn't be hard, considering what a distance there was between them already, considering how his last encounter with Scully had gone. He would just have to start dodging their calls and making up excuses, to let them down easy, as hard as that would be.

In theory, he could keep them at arm's length, and tell himself determinedly that they were not his parents (because they weren't), but in practice, it was much harder. He was connected to them in a way he never had been to anyone else, and he could always feel the waves of their emotion when he talked to them: their guilt, their grief, their caring, their earnest hope. It was hard to turn that away. He thought that it might've been easier if they were assholes, but they didn't seem to be assholes. They seemed to genuinely care.

But he knew that he had to start being more careful, for everyone's own safety if nothing else. It was decided the night Sarah dumped him; he had to do this, and so he was going to do it, and do it right. He was going to start first thing the next day.

Within a few days of barely talking to his friends and not talking to his birth parents, though, there was already a hitch in that plan. Jackson's landlord showed up at his door and informed him that the apartment building was being fumigated this week. "We have an infestation of cockroaches on your floor, and we don't know how extensive it is," he said. "Do you have anywhere else to stay this weekend, William?"

Jackson winced automatically when the landlord called him that. It'd been dumb to sign the lease William, both because it was kind of an asshole move towards Mulder and Scully, and because he could barely stand to be called it. (He flinched every time the landlord called him that, to the point where he suggested a nickname. "Do you go by Will? Bill? Billy?" he'd asked, and that'd only made things worse, because it made Jackson think about that blog entry he'd written a while back where he called himself Billy. At the time, he'd done it just to distance himself from one of the stranger episodes in his shitty life, make it feel like it happened to someone else; he'd had no idea his name used to be William.) "Uh, I guess I can find somewhere," he said. "I have to be gone the whole weekend?"

"Just Friday to Sunday," said the landlord. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience. You think you'll be okay with somewhere to stay?"

Jackson rubbed at the back of his neck. "Yeah, I'll be good," he said, which might've been a lie. He couldn't stay with Mulder and Scully for obvious reasons, and he didn't want to risk staying with any of his friends. He could probably get a hotel, albeit a cheap one. "Thanks for letting me know."

---

Jackson had to work several shifts right on top of each other the next couple days, to the point where he actually forgot to book a hotel. By the time he got off at the warehouse, he was ready to just find a hotel room and watch mindless cable for hours. Maybe order a pizza. He was sitting in his car with a hastily packed bag in the backseat, googling cheap hotels, when he got the phone call. It was Scully's cell number, put in his phone as Dana, despite the fact that he only ever called the house phone.

Jackson stared at the phone mutely for a moment, helpless in not knowing what to do. He knew he shouldn't pick up, but he didn't want to alienate them suddenly without any word, as tempting as that was. They'd done a lot of nice things for him. They didn't deserve that. But he couldn't talk to them and give them the expectation that there'd be more, not when he swore he would leave them out of it. For their sake and for the kid's.

The phone lay like a lifeless thing in his hand as it rang, the blank gray square he had instead of a contact photo taunting him. He was ready to hang up, but somehow, he lifted the phone and answered it instead. "Hello?"

"Jackson?" she said on the other end. "Hi, it's Dana."

"I know," he said without thinking, and was surprised to hear her uproarious laugh on the other end. A corner of his mouth turned up unconsciously. "What's up?" he asked quickly, hoping to get the conversation to go along quickly.

"Oh, I just wanted to call and check in," she said. "See how you were doing. We haven't talked in a while."

"I guess we haven't," said Jackson. There was a long, lengthy silence before he added lamely, "I'm all right. I'm… I'm headed to a hotel, I think. My apartment is being fumigated."

"Really? A fumigation? Did they say why?"

"Roaches," he offered.

Scully made a sound of disgust on the other end. "Remind me and I'll tell you someday about a case Mulder and I had with cockroaches," she said. "Have you paid for your hotel yet?"

Taken aback, he said, "Uh, no, not yet." He didn't realize what she was going to suggest until the words left his mouth, and he immediately winced. He should've lied and said he had. He shouldn't have brought up the goddamn fumigation at all.

"Sweetie, there's no point in you getting a hotel… why don't you just come stay with us for the weekend? Do you have work?"

"No." He was beginning to regret taking the phone call. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

"Why don't you come down? There's no point in you spending all that money on a hotel," she said gently.

He was going to say no. He told himself he had to say no. He didn't think he could stand an entire weekend with them, considering the way their past interactions had gone. And he was still afraid that people were still looking for him, that they'd hurt Mulder and Scully and the kid if they found him. He had to say no. He would go to a hotel, like he said he would originally.

But he started thinking about the money. He didn't have an abundance of it in the first place to spend on a hotel and meals. And he was thinking about lunch with Dana, her face when he said that he didn't know they wanted kids. Thinking about the money they'd given him, the furniture. Thinking about what an ass they must see him as, trying to wriggle out of seeing them, spending time with them. He couldn't stay in their lives, but he couldn't cut them off completely. Not without a word.

(If they were in danger, wasn't it better that he know for sure? He could look for signs. And besides, if the kid was anything like him, than they might be in danger already. It might not matter what he did.)

"Jackson?" Scully's voice was gentle, and maybe a little worried, on the other end. "You okay?"

He cleared his throat, thumping his forehead against the steering wheel. "Um, yeah," he said with a sigh. "Yeah, I'll come down."

He was just doing it because he didn't want to sit in a shitty hotel all week. That was it. That was it. That would be the end of it.

---

Mulder had been out at the store when Scully made the phone call to their son, and when he returned, she explained what had happened, that Jackson was heading their way. "Scully, that's great!" he said, seizing her hands in his and squeezing. She managed a wobbly smile of her own, and he recognized her apprehension immediately. "Are you still worried about what happened last time?" he added gently.

"Maybe a little bit," she said softly. "I just don't want things to go badly. I don't want to hurt him again."

"I know." He leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead. "Look at it this way," he said softly. "I don't think he'd agree to come here for the weekend if things were really bad."

She sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder, a hand on her stomach. "Or he's coming so he can get more money out of us," she mumbled. "There's always that."

He shrugged. He rested his chin on the top of her head. "Whatever the reason," he told her gently, "he is coming here. And that's something, no matter what."

She smiled, just a little, her eyes fluttering closed. Their hands were still together between them, his knuckles against her stomach, and he could feel the light, light movements happening beneath the surface. "How's she doing in there?" he whispered.

She shook her head a little in disapproval, but he could see that she was still smiling. "You don't know it's a she," she told him firmly, but she squeezed his hands again. "Active. Restless. I know it's your child just because she won't relax."

"You say that as if it's a trait she's just inherited from me," he said teasingly, and she looked at him squintingly. He rubbed a hand over her lower back, which was frequently aching nowadays. "You're as bad as I am, honey. This kid is never going to relax."

"Mmm," she said in a soft, sleepy voice. She leaned into him again; he dug his fingers against her back, and she made a small sound of appreciation. "We should get some pizza," she added in a husky voice. "For Jackson."

He smiled. "You're right," he said softly. "We should."

---

Jackson arrived long after dark, the screened door swinging open with his arrival. He scanned the room in a nervous animal sort of manner before landing upon where they were sitting on the couch, Scully asleep on Mulder's shoulder. "Uh, hi," he said with a sheepish sort of smile.

Mulder smiled, too, a broad, involuntary one. He hadn't really realized how much he had missed his son until just now. He had just remembered that he hadn't seen Jackson in person since they helped him move in. "Hey, Jackson," he said softly. "It's good to see you. There's pizza in the oven if you're hungry."

"Thanks," Jackson said with a nervous little laugh. "I, uh, I ate something on the way here, but I'm already hungry again."

Mulder laughed at that. "Help yourself," he said, rubbing a hand over Scully's arm. He was debating whether or not to just wake her up, or to try and move without waking her up.

Jackson walked past them towards the kitchen, freezing a little in his tracks near the couch. "She's okay, right?" he asked, motioning to Scully.

Mulder startled a little, looking down at his wife and then back at their son. "Yeah, s-she's fine," he said quickly. "Sleepy. The pregnancy has been kind of rough on her." He winced a little that; he hadn't meant to mention it.

"I can, uh, imagine," Jackson said quickly, his hands in his pockets. He cleared his throat loudly before continuing to the kitchen.

Mulder cleared his own throat and leaned down, brushing his fingers over Scully's cheek. "Scully," he whispered. The oven door opened and closed. "Jackson's here."

She stirred gingerly, her eyes opening foggily. "Jackson?" she whispered, and he nodded. She sat up with effort, his hand on her back as he helped her, and turned to Jackson as he reentered the room, a droopy slice of pizza in hand. "Hey," she said warmly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Hi, Dana." He offered an awkward little wave with the pizza-free hand. "Thank you for offering me a place to stay."

"Of course, sweetie." She rubbed at her eyes sleepily as she got to her feet. "You're always welcome here."

"Do you want anything to drink?" Mulder added, heading for the kitchen himself to get Scully a glass of water. "We've got some soda, some juice… water…"

His eyebrows raised a bit. "Soda would be good," he said with a stifled yawn. "I'm pretty exhausted, actually. Long day. Long drive."

"Do you want us to show you the guest room?" Scully asked gently, with a yawn of her own. "You should make yourself at home."

He shrugged sleepily, opening the fridge and taking out a can of Dr. Pepper. "Yeah, sure. I've gotten into the habit of sleeping on the couch, I need to work on breaking it."

Mulder felt, rather than heard, Scully's intake of breath, and knew she was thinking of him years and years ago. He'd been thinking of that himself. He gave a little laugh and said, "I've been in that habit, kid. Not a bad one to break."

"For sure." He rubbed at the back of his neck, taking a sip of his soda.

Scully cleared her throat, taking the water cup Mulder offered. "The room's upstairs, whenever you're ready," she said, taking a sip, bumping her arm against Mulder's in thanks.

"We can go right now." Jackson retrieved a plate from the cabinet as if he'd been living there for years, piling a couple slices on and grabbing the soda can before turning to them expectantly. It wasn't the healthiest bedtime snack, but Mulder didn't feel as if he had the paternal authority to say anything. (And he knew his eating habits weren't much better anyway.)

Scully led the two of them upstairs, up the book-laden stairs and down the hall. Over his shoulder, Mulder saw Jackson taking everything out in interest, and realized suddenly that he had never been upstairs before. Only in the downstairs. They went past the baby's room, which Jackson glanced at with a hint of apprehension, and into the room they'd been putting together for him.

Scully flipped on the light when they entered, and Daggoo, who had pretty strange habits for a dog and loved to sleep in there, rose from his favorite perch on the bed and yipped excitedly. Jackson grinned.

"Sorry about him," Scully said with an absent wave. "He loves it in here, but you can kick him out if you want."

"No, no, that's cool. I love dogs." Jackson flopped down on the bed and scratched Daggoo's head as he wriggled and whimpered with excitement. "My mom was allergic," he said wistfully, "so we weren't ever able to have a dog."

Scully smiled, too. Mulder offered, "Scully here has always been a big fan of dogs. She actually stole this one."

Scully chuckled low in her throat and shook her head disapprovingly. Jackson looked up in surprise. "Seriously?"

"We were on a case," Scully explained in a deadpan. "I caught a serial killer who worked in an animal shelter. I just fell in love with Daggoo, and the whole place was in disarray. I didn't think we had time to stay in town so I could go through the adoption process."

"That's what she wants you to think," Mulder told Jackson. "Secretly, I think she's just a ruthless dog thief."

He snorted with quiet laughter as Scully elbowed him lightly in the side. Daggoo, perhaps sensing he was the subject of discussion, came over to greet Scully. Jackson began to survey the room, his eyes lingering over the books and movies on the shelf, the little TV adjacent to the bed. To the dresser, where they paused on a floppy stuffed bunny sitting on the dresser. Mulder froze a little when he saw it himself; he recognized that bunny. He hadn't known that they'd still had that bunny. He hadn't known that Scully had put it in here.

"What's that?" Jackson asked, his voice sounding purposefully light. "Something for the kid?"

Scully took a deep, gentle breath. "Actually, it was yours."

Jackson jolted, just a little, his shoulders tight. "Really?" he said quietly.

"Really," she said. "My mother—your grandmother—she bought it for you. You loved it; you wanted to take it everywhere." She laughed softly, fondly. "You loved to chew on its ears," she added. "You slept with it every night."

Her words hit Mulder square in the chest; he hadn't seen any of that, and it still ached to this day. He had missed out on so much. He'd seen Scully sleep with the rabbit curled under one arm when they were on the run, desperate and grieving, but he had never seen it with their son. And now here it was again, when Jackson was too old for anything like that and clearly didn't have any interest in it. He forced a smile, pretending that his chest wasn't tight with grief.

Jackson was still looking at the blue rabbit, his face unreadable. "That's cool," he said in a husky voice. "Cool bunny." He looked over at them, halfway curious. "W-where does your mom live? Do you see her a lot?"

Scully smiled sadly. "No, unfortunately she passed away a couple years ago."

"Oh. I'm really sorry," he said immediately, solemnly. He looked down at his hands, at Daggoo on the bed, looking between them with interest. Mulder wasn't sure what to do, to say.

"Thank you," Scully said softly, her voice faltering a little. "She… I miss her a lot, but she lived a good life."

Jackson nodded, stiffly. He yawned again, in a purposeful manner, and said, "I, uh, I think I'm going to bed."

"Okay," Mulder said, offering what was meant to be a reassuring shrug. "There's food in the fridge, and the bathroom is at the bottom of the stairs. First door to the left in the downstairs hall."

"We can take Daggoo if you want," Scully offered.

"Nah, he can stay." Jackson reached out to scratch the underside of Daggoo's belly, who panted happily. "The room looks good, by the way," he added. "Really cool." As if he'd known that they fixed it up for him—which, Mulder realized, he probably had.

"We're glad you like it," Scully replied. Her hand was against Mulder's wrist, as if she wanted to take his hand, but didn't want to do so in front of Jackson. "Good night," she added warmly.

"We'll be down the hall if you need us," Mulder added, as if he was a small child who might have nightmares. As if it was a normal night, and they were tucking him into bed, and they'd see him in the morning. (And they would; they would see him in the morning, unless he snuck out during the night for some reason.)

"Okay." Jackson was focused on the dog, semi-wrestling with him. He didn't look up as they exited, but he called up a muted, "Thanks."

Back in their bedroom, Mulder suddenly felt weak, limp and small, and he pulled Scully to him in a fierce hug. Her arms went around him immediately, unable to envelop him completely, but still holding tightly, clutching at the back of his shirt. "Hey," she whispered softly. "You okay?"

He nodded, his throat thick. He had missed out on so much. He had missed out on so much, and here was an opportunity to not miss out on things, but he would still never get that time with William. He had left them, and he had lost so much.

He was saying it before he could really even think about it: "I'm so sorry I left."

Scully shook her head immediately. She let go of him and stepped back, tipping up his chin slightly so he'd meet her eyes. "Mulder," she whispered gently, "you didn't have a choice. It was the only way to save yourself."

They'd fought about this a thousand times, each taking different perspectives and going back and forth on different things, but Mulder was sure in this moment that it was his fault and solely his fault. He tried to apologize again, and Scully shook her head. "Mulder, we have to stop living in the past and digging up these old issues," she said. "What's done is done. We can't do anything about it now." She reached up to touch the side of his face gently. "He's here now," she whispered. "We have a chance to get to know him. It's not exactly starting over, but it is something."

He nodded, his eyes growing wet. He engulfed her in his arms again, kissing the top of her head. "You're right," he said softly. "It's just… hard not to linger over the things I've done wrong. My regrets."

"Believe me, I know." She kissed the underside of his jaw. "It's going to be okay," she told him, and she sounded a little uncertain, but he could feel the reassurance in her voice.

He nodded against the top of her head. He felt the baby kicking and smiled absently. "You think you'll be able to sleep with the kiddo being restless in there?" he joked.

She poked him firmly in the arm. "I do it every night, Mulder." She kissed him softly, giving his elbow a small tug. "C'mon," she said with a yawn, "let's go to bed, okay?"

They climbed into bed together, her curling at his front so he could provide some support for her back. He put his lips to the back of her head, his hand to her belly, and tried to relax. But his mind kept returning to their son, in the bedroom down the hall. Wondering if he was okay, if he had nightmares the way they did. He heard footsteps on the stairs, he heard the bathroom door creak. He hoped that he would still be there when they woke up. He wanted more than anything to get to know his son.

---

Jackson slept until noon on Saturday. Not even on purpose, or as an avoidance tactic; he was exhausted. He hadn't been getting many chances to sleep in until noon lately, what with work and being on the run. He slept like a rock, after admittedly staying up half the night watching cable, and when he woke up to sunlight streaming into the unfamiliar room, he briefly forgot where he was.

He panicked, briefly, kicking at the covers as he instinctively bolted up in bed, but his eyes fell on the blue rabbit on the dresser as they jerked frantically around the room, and that snapped him out of it. He let out a heavy sigh, flopping limply back on the bed.

After a few minutes (and after he realized both what time it was and how hungry it was), it seemed silly to just lie here and pretend he was anywhere else. It's not like he could do that all weekend, hide upstairs and only come out at night like some bastardized vampire. If he was going to do this, and make this the last time, he had to do it right.

So he forced himself out of bed and staggered downstairs, realizing just as he hit the bottom stair that he'd forgotten to pack anything sensible, like a hairbrush or a toothbrush or a change of clothes. Dana was on the couch, a book in hand, but she had looked up when she heard him coming down. "Good morning," she said with a calm sort of pleasantness. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Uh huh," Jackson said, his voice wavering a little bit. His eyes jerked around the room, from the couch to the kitchen table, where Mulder was sitting with a laptop, to the front door, where he had kicked off his sneakers the night before. "I'm, uh, I'm going for a run," he said. He needed to breathe for a moment, needed to clear his head. He went for the door and yanked them on, pulling open the door and blinking in the bright sunlight. He inhale deeply and took off, dust road from the driveway stirred up by his shoes.

The run felt good. His birth parents lived out in the middle of fucking nowhere, and it was the perfect place to just run. He ran harder, harder than he probably should, until his chest ached with the strain of running and he was gasping for air.

Running did clear his head. It gave him time to think. Reminded him what he needed to do, the reason why it was good that Sarah dumped him. People might still be looking for him. People might come for Mulder and Scully and their kid. He'd told himself that he was going to try and last the weekend, but being alone out in the country made him too tense, gave him too much time to get paranoid about all the shitty stuff that could happen. He tensed up every time a car went by.

He was honestly ready to leave just on the basis of it seeming too dangerous for him to be there (and also, honestly, because it was awkward as hell, and he didn't want to be in that house, surrounded by reminders of the childhood he didn't have and the family that wasn't his). But when he got back to the house, he was out of breath and coated in sweat. He felt a little like collapsing on the spot. He thought to himself, vaguely, as he leaned against a pillar on the porch, Okay, so I won't leave this exact second.

When he staggered through the door, he found Mulder and Scully on the couch, watching some movie. It sounded sci-fi esque, with lots of hissing sounds and canned screams coming from the television. Something Jackson might've liked years ago. When Mulder saw him come in, he tossed him a water bottle, damp with condensation from the freezer. "I'm guessing you'll need this," he said.

Jackson caught it, a little stunned and not sure why. "Thanks," he said.

"Don't drink too fast," Dana offered mildly, and it was then that Jackson remembered that she was a doctor. It was the thing he had known about her before he'd known almost anything else: Ginger was a doctor. It'd been strangely comforting as a child, in that dinky little hospital where he'd essentially been kept prisoner as a child; he had lain in bed, curled up under the covers, sucking his thumb like a baby for comfort, and he'd closed his eyes and seen her. Ginger, helping children like him, being kind and caring and everything the doctors there weren't, and he'd thought, She wouldn't do this to me. She'd take care of me for real. She'd get me out of here.

(His own mom had been the one to get him out. He'd been in for six months, and they'd been unable to tell his parents what was even wrong with him. He was scared to tell his parents what the doctors were doing to him; one of the nurses whispered that if he wasn't good and didn't kept things a secret, he might not ever get to go home. When the doctors tried to stop his mom and dad from visiting, that was the final straw. His mom had gotten lawyers and threatened a lawsuit, and gotten him out, and they'd moved to the East Coast, far away from the people who had done this to him. Ginger had never come, no matter how much he hoped she would.)

"Okay," Jackson mumbled, unscrewing the lid and taking several grateful gulps. He flopped down in a chair, exhausted, turning his face vaguely towards the TV. It was some kind of monster movie, incredibly cheesy-looking.

He didn't mean to stay and watch it, but he did. He just did. He didn't move from the chair, and the three of them watched three movies without even thinking about it.

Towards the end of the third movie, Jackson went into the kitchen to retrieve a soda. Almost as soon as he stood up, he was thinking about leaving. Wondering if he was wondering out of time to save them all. Wondering if he was being overly paranoid, jumpy and ridiculous. Wondering about the kid, if it didn't matter what he did because they'd come for the kid if they didn't come for him. Wondering if there was even anyone out there to come for either of them.

On the front of the fridge, there was an ultrasound picture. The same one that was there last night. Beside it, one he hadn't noticed: a younger Mulder and Scully, lying sprawled out on a bed asleep. A baby between them, cradled on Mulder's chest, Scully's hand on his back, fingers in his mouth, wearing a little blue onesie. Him, he realized, and bit his lip. He yanked open the fridge too hard and grabbed a Coke. As the door closed back, he caught a glimpse of the ultrasound all over again. My sibling, he thought involuntarily, and was stunned to feel something at the back of his mind. A little push, a presence.

"Find everything okay?" Scully asked when he re-entered. They were trying so hard to be casual—she was pretending to watch the TV, but she was watching him. He could tell.

"Yeah," he said, clearing his throat awkwardly and flopping back in his chair. It was an impulse, what he said next; he was thinking about the little push he'd felt, and the picture, and the conversation he and Dana had last time, and he just said it. "You guys got any name ideas for the kid?"

They both looked up in surprise, like it was the last thing they expected him to say. On the screen, a werewolf growled ominously.

Mulder was the first to recover. "We don't know," he said. "We've had some ideas, but nothing feels right."

"Do you, uh…" Jackson cleared his throat awkwardly. "Do you know the sex yet?"

"Not yet," said Ginger, and she had a small, absent smile on her face. "Mulder insists it's a girl, though." Mulder shrugged sheepishly.

Jackson swallowed awkwardly. "Well, either way, you can't go wrong with Fox, right?" he joked, trying to keep his voice light.

It worked. Mulder and Scully both burst into laughter at that, Scully laughing so hard he could hardly believe it. "Low blow, kid," Mulder said, wrapping an arm around Scully's shoulders. "Low blow. But thanks for the suggestion."

Jackson gave a little chuckle of his own. He felt a rush of relief, at just not saying something wrong for once. "Or Lily," he offered, speaking before he could think again. "Lily's cool. If you're digging for options."

He didn't know why he said that. He didn't know why he said that, except for that it was the name he and his mother had liked when his parents were trying to adopt when he was eight. His mom had suggested it, and it'd been his favorite option for a girl, insisting on it even after they'd moved onto other names. But he didn't know why he'd said that now. He hadn't thought about having a little sister named Lily in years, and he didn't know why he was suggesting it now. It felt like his parents' name to use, not theirs. But he had said it, for whatever reason.

Mulder and Scully exchanged a look, a loaded look. "That's pretty," Scully offered. "I like it."

"Yeah," Jackson said, flopping back in his chair. He'd intended to make some more name suggestions, more jokes, but he found he couldn't. He popped open his soda, turned his attention back to the TV. "Fox might be the better option, though," he threw out gingerly. They chuckled from behind him, again, but he could barely hear it. He watched the werewolf tear through the woods, claws drawn.

---

After dinner, Jackson retreated out to the porch. He seemed jittery while they ate, which was more than expected, but the speedy retreat still stung a little. Scully bit her lip when the door shut hard behind him; Mulder saw it, even across the table.

"We could go out with him," Mulder offered as they loaded the dishwasher. It was a nice night, not too hot, the sky streaked pink and orange from the setting sun.

Scully shook her head, her hands buried in soapy water. "I don't want to put pressure on him," she said, which he knew she'd been trying hard not to do all day. "I want to leave him be. We've had time with him today."

He slipped a plate into the bottom drawer, stepped behind her and engulfed her in his arms. He felt the baby moving under his fingers. "I love you," he said into the back of her neck.

She slipped her sudsy hands down to intertwine her fingers with his. "I love you," she whispered, and he squeezed her tight. She rubbed the back of his left hand with her damp thumb. "We're gonna be okay," she said quietly. They'd been saying that a lot since this all ended, but this was possibly the most confident he'd heard her about it. She turned in his arms and kissed him, her wet palms on his cheeks. They stood together in the midst of their kitchen, pressed together before the sink and the sinking sun.

Later, after Scully had gone upstairs to bed, Jackson was still outside. Mulder could hear the creak of the porch swing through the open windows. He'd been planning to have a beer inside, at the table, but in the split second of hearing that swing creak, he changed his mind. He wanted a few minutes alone with his son. And besides, he did usually have a beer outside rather than in, so he had a good excuse if Jackson asked.

(He considered, briefly, taking a beer out for Jackson, but then decided that it would be nothing but a blatant bribe, and probably not a very paternal move. And Scully would be furious, anyway.)

He took his beer bottle and went outside, towards one of the chairs adjacent to the swing. "Mind if I join you?" he asked his son, who shrugged and continued moving the swing with the toe of his ratty tennis shoes. Mulder sunk into a chair, popping the bottle open. He saw Jackson eyeing the beer wistfully, and pretended he didn't notice, taking a long sip. The swing rocked back and forth.

"Nice night," Mulder said after a few moments. He could hear the crickets chirping in the dusk, feel a slight breeze blowing. It was the kind of night he used to love to sit outside with Scully during, the kind of night he hoped he could look forward to for the rest of his life.

"It is," Jackson said softly, pushing off the porch again. He took a deep breath. "I've missed quiet nights like this. When I was little, we used to live on a farm in Wyoming. I don't remember it too well, but I remember I liked it. And I loved going to visit my grandmother."

"Not a lot of quiet nights in Norfolk?"

"Definitely not." He sighed quietly, leaning back on the slatted swing. "It's nice out here," he said quietly.

Mulder watched him in the dimming light. He couldn't help it. Every moment with him felt like a blessing. Scully kept saying that Jackson looked like him, but he couldn't see it. Looking at Jackson, he just saw his own family, his mother and his sister and Scully. It was hard to look away, to not linger over all of the things they had missed out on. He could imagine a multitude of nights like this with his son, instead of acknowledging that this was the first one. But it might not be the last. He took a swig of his beer and sighed himself, looking out over the fields instead of at his son. "We're glad you're here," he said quietly. "Your mother… Dana and I… we're both so glad you're here, and that you're safe." They'd been so close to losing him; he remembered his horror clearly, his grief, when he thought they'd lost him. He chewed at his lower lip, unsure of what to say, but knowing that he couldn't not say it. It was the same reason Scully told him how much she'd missed him and regretted giving him up every time she saw him: he needed him to know.

The swing squeaked abruptly, harshly to a stop. "Right," Jackson said in a strangled voice.

Mulder tipped the bottle up with a clammy palm and looked at his son. His head was dipped forward, his hair hanging in his face. He couldn't read his expression in the dimming light. "Mulder?" he said softly, rubbing at his mouth hard with one hand.

It threw Mulder off; he couldn't remember if his son had ever addressed him directly. It was overwhelming to hear Jackson say his name, as much as he wished he'd said Dad instead. "Yeah?" he replied, biting back the urge to tack son on the end.

"Do you… do you think…" He broke off mid-sentence. "Those people, the ones chasing me… they came after your family, right?"

The question took Mulder aback, but it wasn't necessarily unexpected. He wasn't surprised that Jackson was shaken after his months on the run, after being pursued for months and having his parents murdered and being shot in the goddamn head. He should've expected Jackson to have questions about where this bullshit originated. "I… yes," he said quietly. "They… they were involved with my father. The one who raised me, not the smoker. They made a deal to take my sister when she was eight years old." He bit the inside of his cheek hard; no matter how many years it had been, the memories still hurt. And the hurt was not lessened any by the fact that his son had suffered from similar things, the fact that he looked a little bit like Samantha. "They killed my father," he added. "They came after Scully, and after me…" After you, he added silently.

Jackson was quiet. The swing moved back and forth. "When did they stop?" he whispered.

Mulder didn't have a good answer to that. He'd come so close to losing Jackson, and though he mostly thought that all of this was over, a part of him thought that they would never stop coming. It was one of his greatest fears with the baby, although he would never leave her or lose her for anything in the world. But it'd been months since anything had happened, months since he'd noticed any kind of Syndicate activity. He and Scully were trying their best to believe that it had ended, that they were safe.

He went with the optimistic answer. "I suppose a few months ago," he said. "I don't know exactly… what happened… but I'm inclined to believe this is all over."

He looked at Jackson, who wasn't looking back at him. He had his forehead balanced in his palm, his head still bent forward. "Why do you ask?" Mulder added tentatively, halfway pressing for an answer, and halfway hoping he wouldn't get it. He wanted to know if Jackson was still being pursued, but he was praying that this wasn't the case.

Jackson sighed heavily, and sat up straight. "No reason," he said, and Mulder bit back an exhale of relief. Before he could ask another question, Jackson got to his feet and turned to the door. "I'm going up," he said bluntly, reaching for the handle.

"Oh," Mulder said, a little surprised, but knowing better than to say anything. "Okay. Goodnight, Jackson. Scully and I will be down the hall if you need anything."

It was probably a babyish thing to say to a seventeen-year-old, but if Jackson minded, he didn't let Mulder know. He didn't say anything at all; he just grabbed the screen door and whipped it open. It slammed hard behind him as he went inside.

---

Early the next morning, Jackson left. He slipped out before it got light, while Mulder and Scully and even the dog were still asleep. He didn't want to have to go through the motions of saying goodbye, and he felt as if leaving was the only thing he had left to do. The only right thing to do.

He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't be around them. He didn't know if these people would ever stop coming.

And besides that, they weren't his family anymore. Once upon a time, they'd raised him and named him and napped with him and given him a little blue stuffed bunny that he carried everywhere, but then they gave him up. They weren't his family, and he couldn't be theirs. He couldn't be a brother to a little baby if he'd only be putting her in danger.

He had to leave. He didn't have a choice.

#sorry for the sarah scene at the beginning it was necessary for plot #xf rewatch #xf fanfic #i wrote this

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sevenfactorial · 5 years ago

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How I Write Class Notes

First of all, I totally forgot that I said I’d do this and I’m really sorry about that.

So my note taking is specifically designed for upper-level math classes since that’s what I do the most but my notes for CS and many other classes still take a similar form, just with less things labeled theorems (also with more bulleted lists. I love bulleted lists but I use them way less in math notes than any other class). This also works for reading textbooks or papers independently. If you want info specifically for lower level math classes (high school up through calc 3), I can see what I can do too.

Here’s a very basic summary of what I think is most important for note taking

Feasible (ie simple and fast enough for you). You want to be able to keep up your system even at points where your class is going absurdly fast or when you’re exhausted/having trouble focusing/etc

Easy to skim. Just writing things down at all is good for retention but if you’re taking notes, you probably want to be able to read them later easily. So it needs to be easy to pick out key definitions/theorems/etc.

In that vein, include necessary assumptions even if it does feel repetitive.

Don’t cram things together. Allow for white space (again, so skimming is possible)

Label things. Major topics, definitions, theorems, key ideas especially. Also make it obvious that a proof or example is a proof/example.

All of it is together one way or another, whether that’s a digital file, paper in a folder/binder/etc, or a notebook. Keeping it together is extremely important to me.

A detailed description and more thoughts are under the cut.

I’m very basic about my notes and am not always fully consistent (I have an indentation problem which occasionally irritates me but I’ve decided it’s not worth it to obsess over), but I try to be and generally have a structure for my notes. If you were to flip through even my recent notebooks you’ll find deviations but that’s just how it goes.

I don’t actually have any of my old class notes with me right now so I wrote the following to give a sense of what my notes tend to actually look like. I wrote it on loose leaf but normally I take notes in a composite notebook. I find I consistently take 30-45 pages (1 page = front and back) per class per semester (I’ve also taken less) so I find the halfway point and do two classes per notebook to decrease number of notebooks I’m carrying around. If you have two semester long classes, account for that so that you don’t end up having alg I and II in different notebooks like I do.

(I typed more or less what I wrote afterwards but there’s really no way I’m recreating the formatting on a tumblr post)

First of all, this is a fair bit neater than my actual notes are. One of my best friends can barely read my normal handwriting at all and this is a bit neater than that. But if you can’t read it still, I don’t blame you at all so,

Date goes in the top right column at the beginning of every single class. It helps when you’re flipping through to find something later and also forces me to be somewhat aware of the date from day to day (further discussion on dates later)

I underline chapter/section titles/topics and include the the relevant textbook section numbers if given. This varies according to how my professors introduce topics generally.

Also I will generally just skip two or three lines between sections but will start at the top of a new page for chapters.

Some of my professors start off topics by giving an overview of what we’re looking at and motivations and the like so I just write “Idea:” and follow it up with whatever the professor is giving me.

Definitions: Typical in most subjects, I shorten it to “def” on the left of the margin line and start writing on the same line

I used to like starting out with the word itself but I often find it awkward in math notes so I just underline it in the statement (and highlight later)

Even though it’s a pain, I make a point of restating assumptions pretty constantly because it’s really useful if you’re studying from notes later.

Some typical things to follow up definitions include notation, warnings, and sometimes an intuitive way of thinking about it that may not completely capture all the details of the statement. I just do “thing:” for everything except the later, which I just write in quotes

Don’t forget, definitions are always if and only if statements. This is something you’re generally vaguely aware of from early on but perhaps don’t actually fully realize until some random point (I did that and heard of several others doing it too)

Theorems: The other mainstay of math. Honestly, I’m pretty sure everything’s ultimately a theorem, definition, axiom, or example

I give theorems a label of “THM” on the left. I can’t really explain why I write it in capital letters here but if I write theorem within a statement or example or something, I’ll use a lowercase “thm”

Like for definitions, make a point of rewriting assumptions.

Just overall, I try to keep my “paragraphs” short, one to three lines, before leaving the rest of the line blank and indenting the next one in order to increase whitespace

Lemmas/Corollaries/Other words which exist: I tend to put their label on the right side of the red margin line and indent their content more. I’m not super consistent with them, though make sure to indicate end of lemmas if your theorem goes “theorem - start proof - lemma - proof of lemma - finish proof of theorem”

If a diagram is useful, I tend to stick them to the right and write around it best I can. I’ll generally wait until after class to add color if it’s useful but occasionally, if class is going relatively slow or the colors REALLY matter then I’ll grab colored pens as quickly as possible

Also, my professors tend to not shy away from longer proofs and are not always the best of keeping track of time so that means we end class in the middle of proofs more often than ideal

I will just continue right along with the proof but shove the date at the right of the first line on the next day.

When we end at more reasonable places, I tend to skip a line, date on the right, resume on the next line

Unless I end within the last 8ish lines, then I’ll often start on the next page

Some things to consider that I didn’t write in the example:

I converted to writing in pen at the beginning of the summer (I’ve had a few lectures at the beginning of my REU but it’s not quite the same as class). Don’t be worried about scribbling out if you’re using pen. If you want prettier notes, rewrite them later. It’s a good way of studying anyways.

Also consider typing them up (tex for math) to have a searchable reference for later (studying/future classes).

I write up definitions and theorems before exams in colorful pen to study. Usually just on copy paper. The color is mostly just for fun since i’m probably stressed at the time.

I feel like a lot of math students do use pen exclusviely? idk. Use whatever you feel most comfortable with. When I used pencil, I did a combo of erasing and scribbling out, depending on the pace of the class.

If you are in the market for pens, G2 pens seem to have a bit of a following and honestly, I get it. They’re really good and within typical prices for disposable pens (you can order refills online and it makes them even cheaper). I also love papermate’s felt tips (they’re what I use for colored pens) but you can see them from the other side of the paper far more so I don’t find them appropriate for note taking.

Don’t be afraid to write notes in the margins (I usually use the left margin at an angle but like, wherever it fits works too). Often these are comments to myself.

Having a way to indicate things you want to look up later or exercises your professor suggested is good. I usually put a star on the red margin line at those points.

I try to keep a def/thm/proof on the same page but it’s really hard to always anticipate the length of things so I try but don’t worry about it too much.

Use shortenings when you can but make sure you remember them and that you’re not actually spending more time recalling the abbreviation than you would just writing it out

I find the most common abbreviations in math are first three letter of the word, first four letters, or first three and last letter

I don’t think flat out trying to use someone else’s note taking system is really the best. You’ll have to take more time than you probably have to remember the formatting. However, getting ideas from others is often useful. I don’t know why I started doing most things I do but I know that some of my habits came from seeing my friends or professors do it.

I think I mostly just use typical organization methods and nothing particularly interesting/novel but I hope it was still useful to some people.

#university tips #school tips #study tips #seven's study tips #university life #math class tips #also sorry that the cut didn't work idk technology is hard #long post

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jadekitty777 · 5 years ago

Text

Cram Session

Alright, the final day is here – and you better believe I’m ready to burst with excitement! I have not been able to calm down all week!

So, to cap things off, let’s go for a ‘feel good’ one, yeah? This one’s all about friendship and teamwork.

Rating: K

Word Count: 2200

Summary: With the looming threat of his entire team being failed if he does, Tai finds himself desperately trying to absorb every bit of knowledge he can before the big test. Unsurprisingly, it’s not going well – but at least Qrow’s there to offer some moral support.

Ao3 Link: Cram Session

The fluctuation of hormone levels from pure dust injection in the human body was found to have different effects depending on many factors including the following: Age, weight, aura level,…

The tapping of his pencil kept time with the ticking clock as Tai read through the scientific journal, trying to absorb as much as he could. He needed to get a good grade on this test; he was doing horribly in his Analytical Dust Chemical Bonding class. Just the name of it was daunting – but the actual lessons were brutal. He’d never gotten so many bad marks in his life. One more and he was going to fail the class. While that wouldn’t be the end of the world on its own, there was just one teensy-weensy, itty-bitty little problem:

If he failed, the rest of his team did as well.

No pressure there or anything.

He believed that the dire consequences was all about promoting teamwork – some philosophical mumbo-jumbo about how if they let a partner fall behind in class, they’d let them fall behind on the field too. He wouldn’t even say he disagreed with the idea, but it certainly didn’t account for people like Qrow and Raven, who had virtually no prior schooling experience. Not to say they were dunces – put them on the field and they’d ace nearly any training exercise. But the minute a pen was in their hand and a book in their lap, they suddenly seemed like the stupidest people in all of Beacon.

It was Summer who had figured it out. Their history teacher had called on Qrow to answer a question on the board. He had squinted for a few moments, before saying, “I can’t.”

“You don’t know the answer?”

“Nah, just can’t read your handwriting.”

At the time, Tai hadn’t thought anything of it; but as the teacher read off the question, Summer sat up straight in her seat, looking as if she’d just solved an enigma. Later that day, she called for an impromptu ‘team meeting’.

He remembered how she paced, looking troubled, before finally whirling on the twins. “Look, I’m just going to be direct about this. You two can’t read, can you?”

Tai was so caught off guard by the announcement his mind was struggling to catch up. The siblings, however, had no such issue, going from bored to alert in a blink. “What nonsense are you spouting? How do you think we filled out our transcripts?” Raven counterargued.

“Bribery.” Summer replied without missing a beat. “Just like you’re doing with Oobleck.”

“It’s called working smarter, not harder.” Qrow quipped.

“No, it’s called cheating.” She retorted. “And it’s not going to carry you through the next four years.”

“Don’t know if you don’t try.”

“And anyways, last I checked, we were here to fight Grimm.” Raven added. “Who cares about the written stuff?”

Summer started ticking off points on her fingers. “How are you guys going to write the papers? Do the presentations? Take the finals?”

That seemed to knock out some of their bluster as they shared an uncertain glance. It seemed the exact scale of what they needed to worry about had never occurred to them – but how could it of? They couldn’t read the lesson plan. “We’ll figure it out.” Raven finally said, shrugging it off.

Summer looked between them, huffing like a bull about to charge.

Tai was the one who found his voice first. “Are you sure that’s the decision you want to make?”

“Oh great, now you have something to say?” Qrow snipped, his casual tone shifting to something more caustic.

Deliberately avoiding the obvious goad, he continued, “Look, there’s no shame if you don’t know how to read or write. There’s only shame in not being willing to learn.”

“You’re a regular ol’ walking proverb, you know that?”

“I have a book filled with them. I’ll let you read it when you can.” He finally shot back, getting to his feet. “But you’re not going to get anywhere if you don’t try. So, either you lower your pride and ask us for help, or you fail. Your choice.”

Summer intervened, gentle yet firm. “You guys must have come to this school for a reason. You have to decide if that reason is worth working hard for.”

Nothing had happened right away, and after a few days, Tai was pretty sure the twins were going to stick it out on their own. Then, one day, while he and Summer were studying in the library, the two had walked right up to their table and demanded their ‘supplementary lessons’ (Raven absolutely refused to call it help).

As it turned out, neither of them were completely illiterate, but their handwriting was atrocious and the level they could read at was on par with a seven-year old’s. So, Summer got them comprehensive reading books to strengthen their vocabulary and stencils to help them with their letters. It was torturously slow-going at times, and he had worried the whole process would be agonizingly painful, as he’d expected every lesson would be nothing but their attitude dialed to eleven – and it had been. At least, at first.

But as the weeks passed, the twins seemed to be less focused on irritating their teammates and more focused on actually learning. Qrow had an insanely good memory, so he was picking up new words and how to apply and spell them by the buckets nearly every week. For Raven, what she lacked in memory she made up for in pure fortitude as she rewrote and reread until she got it right. And though he’d never dare tell them, it was kind of adorable seeing one of Raven’s little smiles or hearing Qrow’s soft ‘Oh’ whenever they understood something.

To his own surprise, Tai discovered he had a bit of a fondness for teaching. There was just something so uplifting about helping the twins work through a problem and see them get it and realizing it was him who helped get them there. It made him really look forward to their time together. It was nice, just being able to sit down together, just the four of them, laughing and helping one another. It finally felt like they were a team.

More than that even - like they really were friends.

He wasn’t going to mess that all up by failing this exam.

The mesolimbic dopaminergic system seems to have a habit of creating new pathways in the ventral striatum…

“The what in the what?” He groaned, letting his head thump onto his desk. How was he going to get all this by Monday?

The door opening had him shooting back up. He expected the rest of his team to walk in, but was surprised when it was just Qrow. He was polishing off the remains of a cookie – Summer’s idea. She thought a reward system would be a good motivator. The twins had rolled their eyes about it, reminding their leader they weren’t children; yet, every cookie earned was mysteriously gone by the end of the session.

“Yo.” He greeted around the mouthful.

“Hey. Done already?” Tai replied, glancing at the clock. It wasn’t even late afternoon yet.

“Nah.” Qrow said, dropping his book bag onto the desk adjacent Tai’s. “Flowerbud called for a break. So, I came back for a nap.”

“Where’d they go?”

“Where else? Training room.”

He snorted softly. From the way she behaved, anyone would have expected it to be Raven’s scheme – but it was actually Summer who loved to unwind by kicking the crap out of them. Rae was just too stubborn to back out of a challenge.

“Isn’t that the same chapter you were reading when we left?”

Tai looked down, covering part of the page. “I was just going over it again.”

Qrow hooked his ankle around the leg of his desk chair, pulling it out and plopping down. “So you know all about the transcriptional mechanisms that develop over time from dust exposure?”

He stared. “Do you?”

“I mean, I don’t actually know what I just said, but I know that basically people get addicted to the stuff.” He replied with a shrug. “So when you see those words, that’s the answer you’re looking for.”

His brow furrowed, trying to make sense of that suggestion. “Is that how you’ve been taking these tests? Just correlating words with the answers you hope will be there?”

“Well yeah. It’s not like I’m gonna be able to read at an academy level anytime soon. Gotta make do with what I got.” He stretched his legs up onto his desk, tipping his chair back. “Don’t need top marks, just passing ones, right?”

“Yeah but,” Tai tried to argue, but when he realized he really didn’t have one, he merely sighed, slumping over some. “Well, I guess it works for a guy like you. You’ve practically got a photographic memory.”

“Or just nothing’s up here.” Qrow joked, tapping his own temple. “An empty mind makes room for more genius.”

“Oh yeah you’re a real prodigy.”

He popped his collar. “Glad you noticed.” With a clack, his chair landed back on all four legs and he popped out of his seat. “And genius like this needs rest.” He put his palm against Tai’s forehead, pushing his head back. “Come on sunburn, you need some too.”

Tai shoved him away. “Maybe later.”

He shrugged, walking across the room. “You know it’s not that big of a deal if you fail, right?”

“Of course it is!” He turned, draping his arm across the back of his chair. “What if I get us all held back?”

“Oh gosh!” He exclaimed sarcastically, falling back onto his bed. “Another whole semester of free food and a bed so soft it’s like sleeping on a cloud? What ever shall I do?”

Huh.

Well, when he put it that way, Tai had no idea why he was trying so hard either.

As if he could read his thoughts, Qrow continued, “See? It’s all in the perspective.”

He couldn’t help it. “So you’re giving me the ‘bird’s-eye view’?” He rose his arm to guard from the pillow flung his way, cackling madly.

Not quite as amused, his roommate only rolled his eyes. “Whatever man, you’re stupid.”

“Don’t worry, our chemistry teacher agrees.” He joked, turning back to his textbook. He underlined the bit about transcriptional messages.

Too lazy to fetch his own, Qrow snatched the pillow off of Raven’s bed. As he got comfortable, he spoke up again, “I still think you’re stressing too much.”

He wrote a note in the margin beside the paragraph. “I just don’t want to disappoint you guys.”

“Sorry to tell ya this bud, but you’re sharing a space with me. Disappointment is guaranteed.” As if Qrow’s words were a cue, the lead on Tai’s pencil suddenly snapped.

He sighed, tossing it down. Alright, maybe a break was in order.

Tai got to his feet, stretching out some of the kinks that had settled. He fetched the pillow off the floor, nailing Qrow in the face with it. He laughed as the other squawked indignantly, turning away to pick up his scroll. He flicked off the lights and headed for his own bed, ducking under a retaliatory throw, the pillow hitting the door and flumping uselessly to the ground. “Nice try.”

Not willing to sacrifice his other, Qrow just grumbled over his failed attempt, kicking off his shoes. He twisted onto his side, facing Tai as he laid down on his own bed. The smirk he gave him was borderline lecherous. “At least I finally got you into bed.”

Tai threw his pillow. And Summer’s for good measure. “You’re the worst!” He ignored the way he laughed at him, focusing on his phone as he set an alarm for them. He placed it on his nightstand. “Alright, give it back. Alarm’s on for five-thirty.” He caught his pillow when it was tossed back at him, burying his face into it.

He heard Qrow shift around before he said, “Hey so, I can’t help you study, but if it means that much to you, I can help you cheat.”

He turned his head, “What?”

“Yeah. I’ll write you tiiiny little notes and we can slip them in the lapels of your jacket.” He pinched his forefinger and thumb together to accentuate just how tiny he meant. “They’ll never suspect a thing.”

Despite knowing it would expel him if he got caught, the fact he was legitimately considering it was probably not a good sign of where his moral compass was going. “I’ll pass, but thanks anyways.”

“Alright. If you change your mind I got plenty of ideas.”

Tai smiled, knowing just how much it said about Qrow that he was at least offering – or trying to cheer him up at all, for that matter. Six months ago, they could barely stop themselves from flinging insults if they were in the same room together; now, he merely ribbed him for fun. Things had definitely changed.

As he drifted off, he figured Qrow was right. It really didn’t matter if he failed some silly test. He’d made some good friends along the way and that was the best success he could ever have.

A/N: Prompt was “Are you sure that’s the decision you want to make?”

#taiyang xiao long #qrow branwen #Summer Rose #raven branwen #strq #rwby #fanfiction #100 Days of Taiqrow #Chase Firekitten's Tale

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