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vannahfanfics · 4 years

Text

Melody of Souls

Category: Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Soul Eater

Characters: Soul Eater Evans, Maka Albarn

Requested By: Anonymous

Additional Tags: Soulmate AU

“You know, they say that you and your soulmate are born with the same song in your hearts. It’s unique to every destined pair, and when you find that person singing or humming the song, you know that you’re meant to be.”

Maka raised an eyebrow as the pair of girls rummaging through the lockers to her left giggled excitedly between their whispers of fate and romance. One of them, a bright-eyed, brunette young lady, covered her mouth with the tips of her fingers as she chuckled mirthfully. “I’ve memorized every verse of my song. It’s quite a beautiful melody! I can only imagine my soulmate is as elegant and charming as the tune!” Her friend frowned jealously.

“Really? The only way I can describe mine is… a screaming guitar riff.” The other girl snickered hysterically and patted her begrudged friend on the shoulder. The girl then leaned in to whisper enticingly into her ear.

“Oh, but you know, that could mean that your soulmate is a tough bad boy! I know someone who fits that description…” At her teasing, the girl with the rock ‘n’ roll soulmate song squeaked and slapped her hands to her reddening face. Her friend laughed playfully at her expense amidst her pleas to stop jesting. Maka clucked her tongue distastefully and shut her locker with a little more than necessary force, making the metallic clang ring through the hallway. Clutching her schoolbooks to her chest, she strode away haughtily, leaving the gossiping girls to their wishful thinking and crushing on a “bad boy.”

“Someone who fits that description…” Who else could they be talking about except Soul?

Soul Eater Evans undoubtedly embodied the “bad boy” persona to the unknowing bystander. Perpetually scowling and slouching with his hands buried in the pockets of his baggy pants, thundering into the school parking lot on a rumbling motorcycle, and more often passed out drooling in class than actually paying attention- that was Soul. Maka had to smile wryly at the utterly ridiculous notion of him being a tough bad boy. Those little first-years might dream up such ludicrous fantasies, but Maka knew better, so much better.

He was rude and uncouth, sure, but Soul had a heart of the purest gold.

Maka had known Soul since middle school. They had been paired up for a class project. Maka had wanted to rip every one of those silver hairs out of his head for the first few meetings; he was lazy and undriven, which infuriated her to no end. She presumed early on that she would shoulder the entire burden of the project upon her shoulders. However, he had surprised her. Near the end of their working period, Soul had stumbled up to her front door after spending all night slaving over an essay that was so eloquent and sophisticated that Maka wanted to weep. Yes, he had surprised her, and now six years later, in their third year of high school, they were the best of friends.

She smirked at the silver-haired boy when she slid into her desk beside him.

“What’s that grin for? Did you kick Sideburns’ ass in an exam or something?” he drawled as he rubbed his eyes, drifting into the twilight of half-sleep, though the class hadn’t even begun. “Sideburns” referred to one Ox Ford, the current leader in class rankings, and Maka’s insufferable rival. Though she had smoked him in the midterms last week, much to the prideful boy’s chagrin, that was not what had her spirits so high.

“No. I overheard some first-year girls chattering about their crushes on a bad boy third-year,” she remarked nonchalantly as she flipped her notebook open. Soul snorted with laughter and laid his head on his arm, watching her write the date in the corner of the notepaper.

“‘Bad boy.’ What a crock. I have some standards.”

“Hehe, I know. They can’t help it, though. They’re just doe-eyed girls enamored with the idea of finding their soulmates in high school.”

“Oh, Maka,” Liz chimed from the seat catty-cornered to her, leaning over the enameled chair to smirk knowingly at the bookish girl. “Don’t pretend that you’re not infatuated with the soulmate stuff too. Just yesterday, I overheard you whining to Kim and Jackie that you would love to find your soulmate before you graduate.” Maka’s face turned beet red, and she didn’t even have to look at Soul to know he was wearing that stupid grin that made her want to slap him silly.

“Liz, huuuush!” Maka hissed and swatted at the air, as if she could reach her to bop her on the head. Groaning, she buried her burning red face into her hands.

Of course she would love to find her soulmate! Even she had her romantic tendencies! Late at night, when there was nothing more to study or learn, she would lie in her bed with a piano melody tinkling in her heart and would try to envision the person to whom it must belong. Maka knew the statistics (she had quite obsessed over them), so she recognized that the chances of discovering her soulmate in high school were extraordinarily slim. Yet, yet, she harbored just the tiniest shred of hope that somewhere in her school, her classroom, even, sat the pre-ordained love of her life.

“Bah,” Soul suddenly grunted, and she looked at him in shock. His lips were drawn into a babyish pout. “Who cares about all that soulmate bull? Why should I have to let some dumb song tell me who to love, anyway?” Sniffing haughtily, he buried his face into his forearm and pulled his hoodie up over his fluffy silver hair. A few of the girls berated him for his indecency and ignorance, but Maka didn’t. It was truthfully a sobering thought that a song in one’s soul made one of the most significant decisions of one’s life without any consent or choosing at all.

Maka placed a hand over her heart, recalling the sweet thrumming of piano keys that had existed within her subconscious for as long as she could recognize it as music. Soft and sweet, full of high notes, but in the background of those blissful keys hummed deeper tones of suppressed power and emotion.

Maybe… I don’t want to know who that song belongs to.

~~~~~~~~~~

After class, Soul did something he had never done before- he stormed right out of the room as soon as the bell rang, abandoning Maka to her own devices. He melted into the crowd like a wisp, while Maka struggled to breach the writhing wave of bodies and catch up.

“Soul? Soul!” He disappeared into the mass of students, and Maka ceased her struggles to follow after a few meaningless seconds. Liz clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and tossed her jacket over her shoulder.

“What’s his deal?” she huffed with a raised eyebrow. Maka pouted unsurely, but she had a hunch as to what had ruffled Soul so. He was so angry about all the talk of soulmates… He feels trapped, having to conform to a pre-ordained love. She smirked slightly. That was certainly like Soul, to rebel against such notions. Now that Maka considered it, having to search for a single person in such a vast sea of billions was frightening, and what if, what if, it was impossible to love them? “Yo. Earth to Maka,” Liz said while knocking on the side of her head. Maka frowned deeply and curled her hand over her chest.

“Liz… What if you fall in love with someone who isn’t your soulmate?” The blonde girl blinked puzzledly at her, then scratched her chin.

“I mean… Well… You’re just setting yourself up for heartbreak, I guess. What? Do you have a crush on someone, Maka?” the girl sneered teasingly, leaning in to whisper breathily into her ear. For once, Liz’s mocking failed to fluster Maka; she was much too lost in thought. Could Soul be in love with someone and afraid to find that it isn’t his soulmate? Who, though? There were several girls within their circle of friends, but Soul had never given any indication that he possessed a romantic interest for any of them. He was skilled at concealing his crush if he had one.

The hallways had emptied, as all the students had funneled into the cafeteria.

“I’m going after Soul!” Maka announced and began stalking in the direction he had vanished. She heard Liz shouting protests after her, but the pigtailed girl ignored them. Her mind was far too bent on the present conundrum: the riddle of soulmate songs and an apparent flaw in the fabric of fate.

The hallways echoed with her footsteps. The rhythmic strikes bounced off the painted brick walls and metal lockers, filling her already disordered mind with noise. Maka had always dreamed of finding her soulmate, but… It was frightening, the idea that your love was destined for a complete and utter stranger. What if they were repulsive? Maka would die if her soulmate were someone like Ox Ford- conceited, prideful, arrogant. How could she spend the rest of her life swallowing those flaws, all for the sake of some “destiny”? Maka swallowed thickly and paused in the hallway to stare down at her feet. It had only been a little thinking, but she understood why Soul hated the concept so much. The pressure was immense, the uncertainty astronomical.

The piano melody floated in her ears, bubbling up from the depths of her soul. Its tune tinkled like morning bells in the breeze, soft and sweet, with that booming undertone of raw, unbridled emotion. She never could place what kind of feeling it was. Lament? Frustration? Longing? It seemed to be all of them and none. She had always found comfort in that melody of her soul, a promise to a love to come. Now it seemed like thousands of chains shackling her to a future she may not want. Whimpering, she pawed her hands over her ears and attempted to drive the thrumming of the piano keys from her subconscious.

The melody dimmed, but not due to her internal efforts. Maka cracked an eye open when she realized the music was not in her head, but in the hallway. When she lowered her palms from her ears, the tune blazed back into its sweet fervor. Someone is… Playing my soulmate song. The epiphany rang hollowly in her chest. Just hours ago, she would have been ecstatic to know her soulmate was within these walls. Now, it filled her belly with the burdensome weight of dread. The music drifted out of the ajar door of the music club’s classroom, which was not three yards before her. In just a few steps, she could scamper over, and she would know who her heart was destined for. Or, she could turn around and run in the other direction, perhaps doomed never to know her predestined partner.

Her feet moved of their own accord, drawing her to the door. All she need do is look. She could make a decision then. Right? She was in the threshold before she made a concrete decision. With a small gulp, she peeked through the small gap and prayed, though she knew not for what.

His hands glided over the piano keys, striking them with practiced precision. Back straight, shoulders squared, he looked the epitome of a professional musician. His eyes were closed, and his head swayed to the wave of the music; he was completely immersed in the dream of love that his hands were weaving- sweet high notes, powerful low notes, all colliding together in a beautiful symphony.

Maka had never seen Soul so… liberated.

The door made no sound as she pushed it open, or perhaps its creaking was swallowed by the music swirling around the small classroom. She approached the piano from the side, watching with fascinated eyes as Soul played the instrument like an extension of himself, but he was still too absorbed in the effort to notice her. She had not even the wherewithal to recognize that this meant Soul was her soulmate. The music was just so enchanting, so mesmerizing, that she existed in a reality of only she and it.

Maka jumped when the song abruptly ended. Her eyes fluttered rapidly as she came down from the foggy high, and after a few seconds, she realized he had taken notice of her presence. He had lowered the key cover and was leaning on its black polished surface, regarding her miserably.

“I’ve known that song for as long as I can remember,” he exhaled and began drawing abstract patterns on the enameled exterior, smudging it with his fingerprints. “It’s been in my heart and soul for every day of my life… and I really didn’t care much. I figured it would become relevant when it needed to, but then… Then I met you, Maka.” With a small gasp, the girl straightened up, her cheeks brightening at the insinuations. He smiled self-loathingly. “Then my dumb ass went and fell in love with you knowing that the chances we actually belonged together were one in a trillion. Stupid, right?” He drew his hand over his face with an agonized scowl. “If we were soulmates, we’d’ve figured it out by now, right? Just… just get the painful part over with and tell me you don’t love me, or that you want to wait for your soulmate, and let me get on with my life, okay?”

“Soul.” He didn’t look at her, just kept his eyes hidden with his slightly shaking fingers. Maka closed the small distance between them to pry his fingers from his face, revealing watery red eyes. “Soul, I’m not going to tell you that.”

“Don’t pity me, Maka,” he snarled and went to shove her away. She caught him by the upper arm, squeezing the flesh there hard.

“I’m not! I’m not, because I… I know that song.” His eyes widened, and he stared at her incredulously. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she wrung the fabric of his school uniform coat nervously. “I’ve known it… for as long as I can remember, too. What you just played is my soulmate song.” He slowly lowered his arm with her hands still clinging to it. He swallowed thickly, looking down at the covered piano, then back at her.

“Maka… Do you love me?”

Her cheeks reddened, and she looked away.

“Well, you’re apparently my soulmate, so- Ah!” She yelped when he suddenly jumped up to grab her by her upper arms. His face loomed over hers, intense and adamant.

“I don’t care about that. That’s not the point. If you don’t love me, then it doesn’t change anything. Not for me. You be honest, and if you don’t love me, you turn around and walk out that door right now.” Maka’s bottom lip wobbled and her eyes flooded with tears, but not because she was scared or heartbroken. She was just so utterly relieved. The very fact that he cared more about her feelings than some pre-ordained will of the deities meant more to her than anything ever could. She sniffed and rubbed at her eyes, searching the depths of her soul for the truth- and she found it.

“Of course I do. Of course I love you. You’re my very best friend and so much more. I can’t imagine my life without you, Soul, whether we’re soulmates or not. I want to be with you forever.” His grip on her arms relaxed, and he brought a hand up to cup her cheek. His fingers pushed her hands away from her eyes, and then he swept his thumb over her cheeks to catch her falling tears. His hands were so soft and warm that she could not help but weakly smile.

“Well, that’s a relief. I didn’t want to imagine my life without you, either, Maka.” She chuckled softly. I’m glad. I’m so glad. His red eyes studied her face, like he was memorizing it though he had seen it nearly every day for the last six years. His fingertips lightly traveled her cheekbone, leaving a trail of tingling pink in their wake. “You’re the most amazing girl I’ve ever met,” he breathed. His gaze dropped to her slightly parted lips, and it didn’t take an Ox Ford to determine his next move. Maka’s eyes fluttered shut just as his face leaned in, and when his mouth met hers, she melted into him.

The only way Maka could describe the kiss later was… like she was coming home after a long time away. His lips melded into hers so perfectly, and the sensation was like fireworks exploding over the soft flesh as her nerves rejoiced. She missed him immediately when he pulled away, but in the next instant, the bell signaling the end of the lunch period blared shrilly overhead.

“Better get to class, Smarty-pants,” he smirked. Maka grinned slyly and tugged on his arm, pulling him out of the music room and into the hallway. He groaned and shoved a hand in his pocket, but obediently allowed her to tug him along. When they had rejoined the throng of students, she looped her arm with his and grinned broadly. “What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking about how disappointed those first-year girls will be to learn their ‘bad boy’ has been claimed by bookish little me.” Their laughter rang through the crowd, causing quite a few confused glances. Maka giggled and propped her head on his shoulder, jumping a little as it shook with his laughs. In the back of her mind, a piano melody played, blissful but humming with the undertones of a love powerful and pure.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork

#soul eater #soma #soulma #soul x maka #maka x soul #maka albarn #soul eater evans #soulmate au #soulmates #soul eater fanfiction #soul eater fanfic

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tanglebond-tales · 3 years

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Wake Up, Lupin (pt. 1)

Most days, it doesn't matter what time Lupin casts the spell.

But today is Thursday, and therefore, it matters.

Ding a ling a ling, says the first alarm. Ugh. That means it's 6 o'clock. Two hours til work, one hour til portal time.

Lupin goes back to sleep.

Bing bong, says the second alarm. Ugh. Six thirty.

Wake up, Lupin. Now. Says the third alarm. Okay, the first two didn't actually SAY what they said, it was onomatopaiea. Sounds that they made translated into words. But this one actually talks.

"Uh. Portal day."

The alarm clock does not respond. It only knows how to say that one thing, repeatedly, in its tinny little voice.

"Wake up, Lupin. Now."

"Fine! Ugh. Fine. Okay. Get up, Lupin." She rolls out of bed. At least it's warm.

---

"Ugh. Why is it always so warm here."

Lupin draws the final stroke of chalk to complete the circle, and before she can even look up, there is a flash of light.

"Hello, Lupin. It's been a while."

"It's been a week." Her handler's enthusiasm at this time of morning was routinely offensive.

He steps forward out of the teleportation circle, places the supply chest on the sideboard, and makes a show of brushing the dust of the conjuring chalk from his otherwise immaculate coat. "It has! I do hope things are going well with you."

Lupin yawns and stretches. "Not bad. Work is fine. Y'know, hammering steel. Over and over."

"But you are getting plenty of practise with those elementals."

"Well, yeah, it's what I do like literally all day, so yes."

"I am glad. I take it they are co-operative."

Portal successfully cast on time, Lupin has retreated to the kitchen. She is making toast. "They're okay. I mean, some more than others, some of them are rude. Some of them are lazy. But most of them are nice. And some of them are really funny."

"I actually kind of envy you. The air realm boundary here is so thin. You're really getting the best of it. It's a wonderful assignment."

"Rui, I've been here for a year. It's getting pretty boring. And why do you always have to visit so early?"

Ruiprouice Frouce sighed. "I know. It is a long time. But we all do it. And, as you know I have a lot of people to visit. This is how I like to start my Thursdays."

She cracks some eggs into the pan and smiles at him over her shoulder. "You're sweet.” From nowhere, a wooden stirrer coalesces in her hand and she prods at the sizzling eggs. “Okay, look, I know. Rite of passage as a conjurer, blah blah. I get that, and I'm grateful for the chance. But, Pelor, am I ever ready to move on."

"Yes, Lupin." Closest thing Lupin ever had to an uncle, but he never used her nicknames. "Just one more week."

Lupin sighed. "Yes. Just one more week. Have you had breakfast?"

---

Felton Blacksand sighed, stroking his long beard and looking at the chrono dial. "Where, oh where, is Lupin."

"I'm here!" hollered Lupin, her attempt at sneaking into the office foiled by her big mouth and scrabbling feet. "I'm sorry."

"It's Thursday, already?"

"Sure is! So, what needs doing?" she inquires as she catches her breath, coils up her two long braids, and stuffs them into her beret.

Felton sighed. Not that he'd been paying close attention, but he knew the year was almost up. When he'd gotten the letter from the conjurers’ guild - sorry, the Guild of Conjurers and Summoners - he hadn't expected much, a bookish nerd maybe? Certainly not someone so talented in the trade as well as the craft. The thought of Lupin moving on was heavy on his mind.

"Crew two is on the Hammer, so they'll probably need you to help get them started. Third crew is in the mines, so Pelor willing they won't need much attention, but crew four is on the mechanisms so they'll definitely need your support. And crew five is,” he consults his clipboard, “smelting, so they may need some fires put out."

"Put out? Come on." She shimmies indignantly into her company-issue grease-spattered overalls. Frowning as she spots a couple of small tears, she jabs at them with a finger and they mend instantly.

"Loops. We're training your replacements. Give them some space to make mistakes."

Lupin was losing track of the number of sighs today. Plus one. "Can I at least stoke some fire tomorrow?"

"Sure, as long as they learn a lot today."

Lupin rolled her eyes. "Thanks, I guess."

"Crew one is on bucket detail, so keep an ear on them. They're not exactly fast."

"True, that. Anything else? Roll on end of shift, right?"

"Roll on. Don't forget to eat lunch."

"Thanks, boss." Lupin left.

---

It hadn't been an eventful shift. The air elementals had been compliant, mostly, but she'd had to talk down to a fairly large firey, and he almost didn't accept her bluster. She knew the protocol for that situation - contain with a magic circle, call for the water squad - but she was proud of the fact that she hadn't had to do that in a bit over six months. She could usually get them to listen to reason, which helped a lot since her physical stature would hardly be described as intimidating. Not that she didn’t have a few other tricks up her sleeve if it really came down to it.

Anyway. The shift was over, and Lupin was heading home. The viewing platform was on the way - about the closest thing this charming hamlet had to a tourist attraction - and hey, the Hammer in action was always a sight to see after walking up that big darn hill on her short gnome legs, so Lupin often stopped there.

Today was different, though. It was Wednesday; nearly a week had passed since Rui's last visit, and tomorrow was the big day. It was tradition in the guild to time the final day of casting with a visit, do a bit of a ceremony and whatnot, and that was tomorrow.

But more immediately, today there were some actual tourists.

A bunch of weirdoes, actually, thought Lupin as she approached the platform. In a good way, an interesting way, and certainly something she hadn't seen in a while. An elf lady with a fancy-looking bow strapped to her back. A tall human man with rippling muscles and a giant sword. A robed monk, a little girl, a birdman. A lizardy guy. Lizardy? No, more dragon-y. And a peculiar boy, not so much taller than Lupin, humanish but for the pointy, swept-back horns atop his head. Lupin somehow has an impulse to just run forward and hug him.

She suppressed it, barely, and instead sidled up to the group just as the dragony man was leaving. Adventurers? What were they doing here? "Hi! I'm Lupin!" She thrust her hand out in the vague direction of the boy with the horns.

---

It seemed like the boy with the horns had a lot on his mind, but that was okay, because Lupin loved talking about her work, and had been doing so incessantly. "And then, right? We put the molten slug on the anvil. And then, the hammer smashes it flat! So flat. Keeping that hammer working is basically my day job. You know, just the other day..."

Fancy bow lady interrupts her. "So, you work here, then?"

Lupin stops. Was that sarcasm? She wasn't used to that, around here.

"Yes, I do! So where are you guys from?" Funny how the fatigue of a whole shift in the steelworks could be erased with a little bit of chitchat.

---

It turned out they were new in town, just passing through really, and looking for somewhere to eat, drink and sleep. Lupin knew just the place - and what a coincidence, was going that way. Even if she weren't, she would have said she was. She'd learned some names, including the horn-headed fella, Russell. Walking next to him, she felt like he was in need of some cheering up.

"Hey, do you like animals?"

Russell immediately perks up. "Yes! I love animals."

"Oh, well." Lupin clasps her hands together, and then opens them a crack. A tiny nose peeks out, whiskers twitching as it samples the air, followed by the face and long body of a silky white ermine, which scurries up Lupin's arm and perches on her shoulder, looking intently at Russell.

"Russell, this is Snickers."

Russell is agog. "What.. how.. did you just.. summon that?"

"Her. And yes. Well, no. Well, she's always around, just not always in material form. I think she likes you."

Lupin bumps her shoulder into Russell's and Snickers scuttles across, disappearing up Russell's sleeve and, a moment later, poking her fuzzy face out of the neck of his armour.

Russell's excited grin has turned into barely contained paroxysms of laughter. "That.. tickles!!", he exclaims between gasps of air. "Oh yes indeed," says Lupin, "this is definitely her tickliest form. Sometimes she's a cat, sometimes a rat, we didn't really like her as a snake, but birds are a lot of fun. Though, not as cuddly."

Snickers has wriggled free of Russell's armour and parked herself on his shoulder, busying herself with nuzzling him incessantly. Accordingly, Russell has regained the power of speech. "She can change forms?”, he asks, returning the affection. “Like, whenever?"

"Oh, well it takes a little bit of doing. We have to cast a spell for it, which needs some fancy ingredients, so it's a bit of a special occasion when we do, you know?"

Russell is impressed. "That is so, so cool."

Lupin blushes a little. Finding a familiar is among the most basic of basic conjuration, but it’s nice that he's impressed. And it’s nice to be chatting to someone who doesn’t tower over her. "You think that's cool? You should see what I do for a living." She starts into telling him all about a day in the life of an elemental wrangler as they walk on.

---

"So, this guild has had you living here for a year, casting the same spell every day, over and over, to - set up a portal?"

Sitting around an assortment of tables, the adventurers are exercising their elbow muscles hefting tankards of excellent ale. Blacksand's Brewery is crowded, as always after the end of a shift at the 'works, with dwarves, gnomes, and humans, far too many of whom Lupin knows by name. The elder of the Blacksand brothers, Beren, tends bar, and waitstaff sashay busily amongst the tables.

"Yep, that's right. It'll facilitate travel and trade and blah blah blah. And it'll mean I've concluded this stage of my service to the Guild, so I'll be presented with a shiny new badge and make a bunch of people real proud, but best of all, I won't have to stay in this boring excuse for a town anymore."

"Oh come on, it's not so bad. This place is nice. And the hammer is really cool!"

"Yeah, so cool! So much going on here! And I get to hear the clanging all day every day from up close AND far away!" Lupin is thrilled to be using sarcasm again. She makes a show of counting on her fingers. "You've seen the Hammer, you're eating at Blacksand's, and you've met me. I think that about covers the highlights of the Praak experience."

She pauses to sip her ale. "I will not miss this place. I will miss some of the people, though." She looks around at the interior of the Brewery. "And, well, I might miss this place. But Praak generally? I don't think so. I don't exactly have a plan yet, but I'm sure looking out for an excuse to leave." A smiling waitress deposits several plates of delicious-smelling food on the table, and Lupin nods in acknowledgement, suddenly feeling a twinge of guilt for badmouthing the small town. She picks up the smallest plate, containing a boiled egg and small cubes of various cheeses, and sets it to one side. Snickers goes straight for it and gets to nibbling.

"But you have to finish this portal first, right?"

"Oh, yes, well, that's happening tomorrow."

Russell's eyebrows raise precipitously.

"Tomorrow! And you said there's going to be a ceremony?" Had she said that? She wasn't sure, but the thoughtful look on Russell's face stilled her tongue. "Do you know anyone who could transport someone between planes? That's a conjurer thing, right?"

Lupin hesitates, unsure of what is happening. "Well - that's something I'm studying towards, but yes, I suppose I do know some people. And yes," she anticipates his next question, "it is possible some of them might be here tomorrow."

"Huh," says Russell, his eyebrows returning to their typical stance as he grabs a chicken leg and leans back in his chair. "Gaalin will want to meet you."

"Who's Gaalin?", says Lupin.

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vore-scientist · 4 years

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Bookish (safe soft willing platonic GT M/f vore)

Ok a little explanation is needed for this: IT'S NOT PART OF THE NORMAL MYSTIC WOODS.

IT'S AN AU+ CROSSOVER SILLINESS

Been talking with @vixen525 (dA, tumblr) and we’ve been talking about fun crossovers with our worlds/characters and this came out of that!

Contains: safe, soft, non-sexual, willing M/f GT vore No warnings.

To set you up: Yonah, for whatever reason it’s not important for this story, got transported to the dimension/world of TerraSyor (which belongs to @vixen525 ), but in the process suffered memory loss (bc I wanted to be cliche as fuck and it makes things so much fun!!!). Giants in TerraSyor are called Syors or Syorians which are two subspecies. Check their dA for more information. They are a LOT larger than Yonah. But anyways. That’s kinda the set up, other things you need to know are explained in the story.

---

“Can you stop pacing? It’s giving me a Syor sized headache.”

On a desk in the Office of the Giant King was a small desk! And on that desk was an even smaller one! A very odd sight. Even for a very odd King, but it had been like this for about a month now. Ever since a mysterious stranger appeared in the Ruby Isles and had been taken by King Connor to be the new personal guard to his Chief Royal Advisor of Politics. The Small desk belonged to this stranger. The smaller desk to the advisor. And she was getting a bit frustrated.

For the stranger, who’s name was Yonah HaEsh, was nervous for what she felt was a bit of a silly reason. He was pacing around his desk and stroking his dark goatee, running his hands through his long curly black hair. It was in theory, his “payday” but he refused to take any normal payment. He felt that the generosity and situation he found himself in as a new guard who had all his needs taken care of, and as someone who viewed himself in a temporary position until he found his way back to his home dimension, he had no need for money. But there were other needs. Well not needs, but wants.

And yet Yonah was still having second thoughts.

“It just feels wrong… paying someone to let me eat them!” he said for the hundredth time since being offered and him accepting said offer.

Yonah didn’t remember much, something about the trip through dimensions had rattled his head. But he knew a few things. He was half-giant. Though even that was in doubt as giants, or Syor/Syorians, were more than twice his size, much more. He was a puny 23.5ft and the taller Syor/ians were close to 100! He knew he was a wizard, which was in no doubt given the crazy outfit he had been wearing upon his violent arrival on the island. He now wore a custom royal guard uniform, but he kept on his wizard hat. He knew that his name was Yonah. He knew a few other details, like magical knowledge and… that humans tasted really good. That he liked to eat them.

He also knew that unlike Syor/ians, he didn’t have the same desire to eat humans, just that he liked to, so why shouldn’t he? He’d eaten Naomi, the aforementioned advisor, a few times, but she really belonged to the King. It felt oddly like she was cheating on her king when he ate her.

Due to the extreme fancy for humans that Syor/ians had, it turns out the castle had, on retainer, a number of humans paid to be safely eaten. Most did it for the quick coin, but a few stuck around. Apparently this was such a human. One who at least kind of enjoyed this job. That didn’t make Yonah feel any better about it. But he also hadn’t eaten that morning, in anticipation and out of courtesy to what would be his guest. So he was hungry.

“Can’t I just eat you? Or I can get a new robe!” he said.

“She’s already been paid, and some variety is good for you,” Naomi glanced up briefly and smiled at him, trying to reassure him. Her new guard was so strange. He was fiercely loyal from the start, wicked smart, and strong, but he had a strange temper and the most interesting things threw him off. Like getting to eat someone! The first time he ate her he’d fallen apart, sobbing like he’d lost a loved one. Wild, since It was perfectly safe, the king had the finest Terran Artificers craft protective amulets. She wore a very stunning one on her wrist, a large silver bracer engraved with depictions of her island, complete with a golden, magical gemstone as the sun.

A knock on the door to the office signalled the arrival of Yonah’s “payment”. Naomi snapped her fingers and the door’s protective wards momentarily lifted and a uniformed Syor came in, bowing as they did.

In their hand was a platform, upon which was a cushion, but from this distance it was hard to see the human. It still felt like being served up food, on a silver platter.

The Syor stopped at the desk and glared down at the much smaller giant. Like Yonah had stolen their treat. But yonah wasnt really paying attention to the guard trying to intimidate him. He was focused on the human.

A young woman lounged on the cushion, paying no heed to what was going on at all, and her bespectacled eyes were engrossed in a book. She had on little clothing but it was extremely fancy, and her hair was done up with golden bands. Those reeked of magic and Yonah knew those composed her protective amulet. She also had a small bowl of candied nuts and fresh berries that must be balanced with magic next to her. No, the bowl was set atop a pile of books and a few others were tucked around her.

She looked up and down at Yonah, her eyes getting wide but not in horror, but in a bit of afronted shock. After taking another candy she spoke to Naomi.

“I’m getting that first edition signed copy of The Chronicles of Percival The DragonMancer, right? Otherwise I’d rather be eaten by drooly over here” she indicated the Syor that swallowed guiltily.

Yonah couldn’t really blame her. Being eaten by a Syor or Syorian had to be much different than by him. He was so much smaller! It must be so much more confining, and being swallowed down… If it was a painful effort for him, it must be awful for the one he was eating. He imagined being swallowed by one of this world’s giants was still terrifying in it’s own way, but not so suffocating.

“Sure are!” Naomi didn’t even look up from her papers.

The woman motioned to be placed down on the desk and the Syor obliged. Then they gave her a quick sniff and even dared a lick with the tip of their tongue against her back and left without another word. She should be perfectly safe, this was the king’s office, and the only others in the room were a new but trusted guard and the king’s best friend. Ok best friend is an understatement for what Naomi truly was. She and the king were as close as two could be, they loved each other very much, though they were not romantically or sexually involved.

Stretching and putting her book down the woman stepped onto the desk to get a look at the one who was to eat her. Short and stocky, She had the build of someone who got plenty of exercise living amongst giants but also was given all the sweets she desired any time of the day. And the attitude of someone who thought nothing of being eaten, but was a little wary of the prospect for the first time in a while. She was sizing Yonah up and her calculations weren’t leading to kind results. And she was good at math. While she lived the life of Extremely luxury given to a spoiled pet, she was horrifyingly well read and used her pay for the finest tutors in the land. Some of them were Syor/ian who were more than happy to be paid with getting to eat her.

She also did not fail to notice the trepidations of the half-giant that knelt down next his desk, and waited for her to approach, which she did. But she did not climb up onto his lap, not her job to initiate, she was their snack. She literally had to do nothing and she got everything she wanted.

“Oh, I left my glasses on, I’ll be right back-” she turned but then stopped when Yonah spoke.

“Ehm, hi,” Yonah said, then decided he didn’t want to be so awkward. He wasn’t a teenager asking out a schoolyard crush. “My name is Yonah, and your name is?”

It occurred to her that not many of the Syor/ians that she was presented to asked her name. How many even knew it? She turned around to see the kind brown eyes behind glasses much thicker than her own.

“Danielle, Dani,” she said.

“So, ehm, do you like books?” he asked.

Oh, a talker. Some liked to have conversations though most just shoved her down their gullets. It was at least a nice attempt to acknowledge her personhood. Not that she really minded, she was living her best life.

“You bet! I think I’ve read more than nerdy naomi,” she said, finding herself being a bit more chatty than she thought she’d be.

“Hey! All you do it read when you’re not in a giant’s gut! I got to read documents all day long, so sue me if I dont have the time or energy for every fictional book in the damn library!” Naomi was somehow able to concentrate on her work and still give a brilliant comeback.

“Anyways,” Yonah said, getting Dani’s attention, “I also like to read! And I think I might have some books you would like.”

“I’m already paid for today,” said Dani, she was interested but was sure there was some ulterior motive. The giants loved to flatter her with gifts, hoping for extra time, but she never gave it. She knew how delicious she was.

“I’m still unsure about eating you, but I wouldn’t want you to waste your time. Here,” he took off his head and Dani looked genuinely surprised and curious when he stuck his hand in and pulled out a selection of novels.

“I don’t know if you’ve been told, but I’m from another world entirely, and apparently my hat is full of books!” Yonah held out his hand with the books to Dani who lost all her professional aura and took them all, taking in their covers, which had art styles wholly unfamiliar to her

They were completely unfamiliar to her, in fact the titles were half nonsense.

‘Stars Without Number, The Tetremalin Time Bomb. A Captain Alfred and the Mystery of the Sigma Quadrant Adventure’ and ‘The Fantastic Romantic Escapades of The Fantabulous Darington and The One that Got Away’ and ‘MythAdventures: The Awakened Automaton, a Gaslamp Steamfantasy for All Ages’ and one that was not a book but bound with twine titled ‘The Ice Princess, The Official Scripts by the Silken Breath Order, episodes 1-10, with hand-written edits’

“I can have these!?” she couldn’t believe, books no one else had! Books from another world with brand new stories and possibly new genres. Her heart could barely contain itself in her chest.

Yonah looked at Naomi who gave him a knowing glance. He should really reel it in on the gifts. “You can have one, for now,” he said. A few memories trickled in. “I personally loved MythAdventures, it’s got a fantastic twist.”

Dani smiled, and returned the other books into his hand, but with a big smile she hugged the MythAdventures, she sniffed it deeply. It even smelled like far away.

Without another word she returned to her cushion, but instead of settling down she took her bowl of candies and returned to Yonah, clambering onto his knees, settling down. It was very adorable and Yonah couldn’t help but smile.

“Why dont I read it to you?” he asked, adjusting to sit criss cross, so she was a bit sprawled out on his skirt. Then without warning he took something from a pouch at his side and dabbed it on his tongue and said words in a language she didn’t know. Which was frustrating, she knew a lot of languages

Woah! A burst of grey smoke spread around her, sourced from the half-giant. Only he was not giant any longer. He was human sized. Or nearly, and she was still in his lap. She knew shrinking spells existed but this was not any she had read about. Also, up until now she was certain he had been humoring her about not eating her and just feeling sorry for her and so giving her extra books. But he definitely couldn’t eat her at this size. She also loved to be read to.

“Yes please!” she handed him back the book. He adjusted his glasses and got more comfortable, with Dani laying across his legs. Even shrunk, he was still a comfy spot, he was chubby, very soft and warm.

“Would you like a honey nut?” she held up the bowl, “they are almost as tasty as me!”

Yoanh laughed and took a few. They were indeed tasty. The honey stuck to his teeth and Dani giggled as he licked it from his fangs like a dog licking peanut butter from the roof of its mouth. Finally his mouth was candy free and he opened the book.

“Oh shoot, this is book 3, I’m so sorry,” he said, “I think I have the first two but,” he reached into his hat again and winced. Then he dismissed his reduction and pulled out two giant sized books. Giant sized for Yonah, so a bit oversized. Dani looked amused, as if she thought this was his plan all along.

“That’s alright! Why don’t you eat me and read to me, the Syorians have done that a few times, and it was nice.”

Eat her and read to her? Why did that stir a memory? Why was he sure he’d done that for someone else. Someone important to him. The thought was so tempting, even though he kinda planned to just let her continue to sit in his lap. Then His stomach grumbled a bit.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“It’s my job silly! And if you read to me it would be much less like a job!” she hopped off his lap and returned her new book, her bowl of candy, and her glasses to her cushion. This time when she returned it was to climb back onto him. “Alright! Ready to be eaten!”

If not for her eagerness Yonah might not have proceeded to pick her up and after giving her a playful sniff, shove her into his mouth.

While a Syor/ian could fit an entire human in their mouth, Yonah couldn’t. Not even close. Most of her body was dangling out. With her minimal amount of clothing yonah got a massive amount of flavor and she had been right. She was delicious. And Yonah did not want to torture her for so long so He worked her to the back of his mouth and tipped his head back to begin swallowing. Next time… next time he would spend more time tasting her.

Despite not having all his memories, Yonah knew he was proud to be half-giant, though as his throat stretched and the human’s form pressed against his windpipe as he forced her down into his esophagus, he kinda wished he was fully giant. It was painful, in kind of a good way, and he kept swallowing. Eventually her feet disappeared into his throat, and with that her hands entered his stomach, then the rest of her! She was super filling. And that was one reason he was glad to be half-giant, surely for whatever a full giant was, and he was certain his mother was one, eating a single human couldn’t be so satisfying. He slumped with a content sigh and rubbed his belly.

This just felt... right. He was full and so so so happy.

“Hey! Aren't you gonna read? If im gonna be so squished I'd like you to keep your word”

Yonah snapped back and also looked at Naomi. He was on duty! He was on guard! Yes this office was extremely secure but he couldn’t completely slack off. And a full belly seemed to lull him a bit. This alarmed him and most of his sleepiness went away.

Naomi had watched the entire thing, for she was curious as to how such a small giant could swallow a human, but he did. It looked uncomfortable for him but clearly enjoyable. And seeing his stomach become pleasantly full… very different from when Syor/ians ate folks. Except for how pleased Yonah was with himself, that was exactly like a Syor/ian.

“Yes yes, I… you taste delightful Dani!” he said, back to being a bit awkward with compliments.

He looked down at his middle and saw the slight signs of a human being trapped inside his gut. The small occasional tremors as she tried to find a comfortable position, and a few times little dents that corresponded to when he could feel her stretch out. He was just tickled peachy watching, feeling. Until he figured that was enough time and he reached for the book.

As he read he felt Dani relax, but not to the point where she was going to fall asleep. Oh no, she stayed wide awake as Yonah read to her. He did at some point get some water, as his throat got extremely dry, telling Dani what was about to happen so she wouldn’t freak out. She said the cool water felt refreshing! So that was nice.

There was a notable moment when he took a break to talk to Naomi. She needed a bit of a break too, her eyes were starting to get tired from looking at documents for so long. First she just summarized in words a few of the documents, good practice to tell Connor later. In the month since Yonah’s arrival she had started to go over things briefly with her guard before Connor, to organize things in her head a bit better. Even if Yonah didn’t understand their politics it was very helpful.

Plus she was super curious about Dani. Or rather, about Yonah having eaten Dani. Naomi knew how weird and different it was to be eaten by Yonah, and Yonah had been very descriptive about how it felt, that he could very acutely tell even minor movements. That he could place his hand on his stomach and feel whoever was inside! This was something Syor/ians could not do, simply because of their size.

“I don’t mind you touching, but Dani might,” he said, poking himself a bit, causing Dani to stir.

He had been poking and rubbing his stomach at fairly regular intervals while he read but Dani was still not used to such intrusions upon her space. Syor/ian stomachs were much more cavernous, no such effects at all. Naomi was entranced, and then a bit horrified upon a tremor, and the slightest of movements, especially since before seeing it, yonah just seemed like he’d eaten a good meal, not a person. You could not tell if a Syor/rian had eaten someone, not at all.

“Naomi’s gonna, em, examine me, and you might feel her pressing into my stomach, if that’s ok!” Yonah asked. Naomi was sitting on his thigh as Yonah sat crossed legged, but she stood up now.

“Hmmm, yeah that’s fine!” Dani said, shifting again. Hmmm. Maybe. She pressed a hand to what she knew was the “front” of the stomach.

Naomi gasped as she saw the movement and with only a little hesitation placed her hands at the spot and leaned in.

By the guards of the underworld That felt wrong! That had to be an elbow or a hand. It was obviously a person trapped underneath the layers of fat and flesh. And she could feel as Dani shifted even a little. The best way to describe it is like feeling floating ribs. It was unnerving so she stopped after only a short time.

“I’m, going to get a snack and get back to work.” she said.

“Not without my escort!” Yonah picked her up and climbed down the desk. They could easily call a servant but Yonah needed to stretch his legs. He couldn’t have a snack since Dani was his snack, but a walk to the kitchens was very much needed.

Once they got back Naomi dived into her paperwork again. Yonah sat back down at his desk and continued to read.

And when his time with her was up, he poked at Dani again, and she let out a long groan.

“But you’re not done!!!” she pounded against his stomach in frustration. “You’re so good at reading!!”

That made Yonah feel good! This little human had enjoyed her time being eaten. He almost started crying again, as wonderful as this had been it still made him sad? But in a good way.

Also she was very correct, they weren’t even halfway through the book. But really, it was time for a late lunch, and since Yonah had skipped breakfast, he shouldn’t skip another meal. Not very responsible for a guard to go hungry. And he wasn’t gonna eat with her sitting in there. No way. Even if Syor/ians did that, he felt like due to his size it would be incredibly unpleasant, and he was already so full he couldn't eat a proper meal without becoming overstuffed, and burying his occupant.

Guess he would just have to eat her again soon.

Once he spat her up and cleaned her off, she turned to Naomi.

“Can he eat me again? Like! tomorrow!?” She practically squealed at Naomi who looked at them both with her knowing gaze - like she had her suspicions this might happen, that she might have requested Dani be his treat for this specific reason.

“Perhaps,” she said, and smiled so deviously. And Yonah’s face turned a little red.

That might be a bit too soon! That felt like exploitation to Yonah, But he’d love to read to her again so they could progress in the story without her having to be in his gut. And with his lost memories, he knew he was getting to read his favorite books like they were new! Or at least, sort of new.

And it was something to do while Naomi did her mountains of paperwork.

[FIN] if you liked PLEASE REBLOG!

REBLOGS HELP SPREAD MY WORK! I also love knowing that people read my stories! My askbox and DMs are OPEN!!! let me know!!!

[Thanks for reading! please reblog! Or message me telling me what you think! I crave feedback! For more mystic woods go to vore-scientist.tumblr.com/tagged/mystic+woods+story or search ‘mystic woods story’]

#safe vore #soft vore #g/t vore #extreme cuddling #willing vore #vore writing #you're on avenue queue

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blueandgoldoffice · 5 years

Note

any good soulmate fics? i’ve read a few but i love them x

Soulmates are my JAM, friend. There are lots and lots and lots of good ones. Make sure you read and review. Happy Reading! Thanks! ❤ Jandy

This is a gigantic list - so it’s going under a Keep Reading Tag. Enjoy!

@bughead4days has written several: Black and White - Tattoo - Bruises - I Feel You - Mind Reader - Necklace - Half Tattoo - TiMer

Your Eyes Look Like Coming Home (series) by @lana-luthor (2 fics - T)

Summary: People spend their whole lives waiting until the day they can see the world in color; the day they finally meet their soulmate. Sometimes it takes years, decades, nearly lifetimes until you meet that one special person. Unless, of course, you’re Betty Cooper and Jughead Jones who have both seen the world in color since they met each other when they were two years old. Everyone always says that they’re so lucky to have met when they were so young, that they have their whole lives to be together and in love. There’s just one teeny tiny problem. Betty and Jughead hate each other.

I’m half doomed (you’re semi-sweet) (series) by @juggydunes (2 fics - T)

Summary: “Every person has two dates on their wrist. One is when they die and the other is when they find their soulmate. What happens if both dates are the same?”

What Does Shakespeare Know by @typing123 (3 fics - T)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Summary: AU where you can hear the songs your soulmate listens to.

Call Me A Safe Bet by @anactualcaseofthetruth (14/? - M)

Summary: “Even though scientists are still quite baffled after multiple millennia of medical and technological advances of exactly how the soulmarks work, there has been enough research and study that we now know when and how to expect them… There has yet to be one soulmate coupling occur before the female has experienced a menstrual cycle and the male to begin producing sperm. In short, soulmarks have never appeared before entering puberty…There are many, many more cases in which two people have insisted they are soulmates only to not mark with one another. All in all, only about 3% of couplings are correct in predicting they are soulmates before marks form.”

***Betty Cooper is four years old when she meets Jughead Jones. She knows he is her soulmate, he’s not so sure.***

if i told you who i am (can i call you baby?) by @thetaoofbetty (10/10 - M)

Summary: Gasping, Jughead Jones sits up in his bed, blindly reaching for his phone, trying to silence the blaring alarm that had jolted him out of his dream. Frustrated and running a hand through his hair, he turns off his alarm, flopping back on his bed with his arms behind his head as he stares at the ceiling and exhaling slowly. He knew the possibility of the dreams would start after he turned eighteen but he’d never thought they’d be starting on the morning of his birthday. Great, he thinks, gritting his teeth, I already hate my birthday and now I’m getting prophetic dreams about my soulmate, a girl I’ve never met and may never find. Or, in other words, Jughead knows he’s got a soulmate and he’s going to do whatever it takes to find her and win her heart.

Meet Me In the Sky by @curlsandcrown (2/? M)

Summary: Betty and Jughead meet on a flight as seat partners heading to a convention but it turns out they’ll have a life changing discovery instead of just a trip to Australia.

Crowns and Ponytails by @alexintheskyy (2/2 - G)

Summary: Soulmate: your other half, the one who inspires you to be the best version of yourself and embraces all of your flaws just the same. The one person you can’t live without that you will carry with you forever. But how does one know who their soulmate is and how can you know for sure? Luckily, there are soulmarks. Little ever-evolving hints appearing on one’s body at random times, disappearing and being replaced by new every once in a while. If you follow your hints correctly and fall in love with the right person, your soulmate’s name will appear on your body and remain there permanently. Betty Cooper was determined to follow each of her soulmark hints down the correct roads and that, one day, those roads would lead to the boy next door. Jughead Jones, the boy from the wrong side of the tracks, definitely thinks that fate has made a mistake in pairing him with the perfect girl next door.

What a Catch by @bugggghead (2/2 - NR)

Summary: Veronica pushes Betty to put herself out there, so when a cute stranger spills coffee on her, she agrees to a date. Little did she know, that fateful decision would change the course of her life.

Black Light by @darknessaroundus (1/1 - G)

Summary: William H. Baylor invented the black light in 1932. At the time he wasn’t sure what purpose it would serve. He speculated that it might help authenticate paintings, but beyond that he wasn’t sure.

It Doesn't have to be a Scary Situation by @typing123 (1/1 - T)

Summary: In a world where the first thought your soulmate thinks about you is written on your skin on your fifteenth birthday...Betty Cooper freaks out.

Colors of the Heart by This_is_my_canoe (1/1 - G)

Summary: “I love you, Betty Cooper.” The words are whispered like a prayer, and Betty feels them warm her skin. She thinks back on all the times he was there for her, even when she pushed him away, even when she was in love with Archie. So, she replies. “I think I love you too.” And that’s enough, at least for now. or “Colors represent the people that mean the most to you. Betty recollects on how she found hers, and how she eventually admits to loving Jughead.”

*Note - this one is just a giant block of text - but it’s really great. Give it a try. It’s really great.

Skin to Skin by @burgerheadjones (12/? - T)

Summary: Jughead Jones doesn’t know how the crimson crescents ended up on his palms.Betty Cooper is clueless when it comes to the messages on her arms. Soulmate AU where all the little marks and injuries belonging to Betty and Jughead start finding themselves on each other’s skin.

The Girl From the Journal by @juggieheadcoopers (6/?)

Summary:Jughead Jones has been writing about a girl he has never met before, but when he leaves his journal at his favorite coffee shop one day, an unsuspecting young woman finds it without knowing that the stranger who wrote it was actually writing about her

I Found You (chapter 3) by Jodygoroar (1/1)

Her by BabyAce is a great story that plays on the part of the trope that has a phrase your soulmate says to you tattooed on your body. It’s really great. More like a Jughead stream of consciousness.

The Exception Not the Rule by pressdbtwnpages (1/1 - G)

Summary: Betty Cooper doesn't believe in soulmates.

Crescent Palmed Girl by @tory-b (1/1 - M)

Summary:Betty Cooper is a nurse at a Psychiatric Hospital. Jughead Jones is one of her patients. He disappears without a word and she ends up with the journal he's been writing to his soulmate.

eyes wide open by @aswellingstorm (1/1 - T)

Summary: “when you can’t sleep, your soul mate can’t either. so the next time you’re laying awake, know that somewhere, someone else is laying awake too.” an au where once you turn 17, you can’t get a wink of sleep unless you’re with your soulmate. the system is pretty flawed, so jughead jones is adamant that there’s no way on earth he’s lucky enough to have betty cooper as his soulmate.

simmer down and pucker up by @santiagone (2/2 - T)

Summary: “Betty,” Jughead interrupts. His voice is lower now, and the resignation might even be scarier than the yelling. “We’re not soulmates. We can't.” And therein lies the crux of the problem.

Just Like Broken Glass by @aswellingstorm (3/3 - M)

Summary: Soulmate AU (inspired by silentpeaches): Where you have the name of your soulmate can appear on your body randomly, at any point in your life. Jughead Jones swears he doesn’t have a soulmate and Betty Cooper for the life of her, cannot think of a single person in her life named “Forsythe”.

Written on My Arm by @typing123 (1/1 - G)

Summary: The first words his soulmate are ever going to say have been scrawled on his arm since the moment he was born. He's had practically his entire life to prepare. And he's still blown out of the water.

save that heart for me by @elizabethbettscooper (1/1 - G)

Summary: But Betty’s mark is small, black and white on her wrist, just over the thin skin where her pulse thrums. It looks like an old, circular typewriter key, and the letter in the middle is a lowercase ‘j’. She isn’t actually sure how she feels about soulmates, but she’s pretty fond of the mark. She imagines it probably belongs to someone bookish, someone who will understand her. Actually, she knows exactly who she thinks it belongs to, but it doesn’t matter.

You're Ingrained In My Skin by @curlsandcrown (1/1 - T)

Summary: In the middle of a major war, Betty meets a pilot who will change her life forever.

Behind The Mask by @futureheartswithbooks (34/40 - M)

Summary: Starting Sixth Year was meant to be the same as starting any other year a part from the apprehensive of discovering your soul mate, but with the disappearance of Jason Blossom looming overhead, this year would not be like any other. Yet, for Betty Cooper, she also had the complication of sifting through the lies of Archie Andrews and attempting to work out just what was going on between her and Jughead Jones, the Serpent Prince.

Snakes and Crowns by @cooperandjonesinc (13/13 - E)

Summary: Betty Cooper just can't seem to fit in at Southside High. It's run down, everyone seems to hate her just on principle, and the people who are running the Red and Black don't want her help at all. To make matters worse her recently divorced mother is trying to find her 'soulmate' by going to conventions and touching as many hands as possible. Betty doesn't even believe in soulmates anyway. Just because some people's nervous systems happen to sync up when they touch for the first time doesn't mean they're soulmates destined to fall in love. Right?

When the Moon hits your Eye by @typing123 (1/1 - G)

Summary: Betty and Jughead find out they're soulmates when they're five years old.

#bughead #bughead fanfiction #genre: soulmates #genre: au

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catgluue · 5 years

Text

The Price of Life Chapter Three

So I’ve sent this to be Beta’d but I’m frankly too excited to wait so happy birthday to you, tumblr. I reserve the right to make changes, such as when I discover tumblr formatting has eaten all my italics.

Anyway this was fun to write and I hope you all enjoy it.

Read on A03

----

“I'm bored.”

“Well that makes two of us,” Havoc deadpanned, scrubbing at his eyes with one hand. It was a little after three in the morning and they were situated outside Rebecca's hospital room. It was a fairly unconventional birth plan, with he and Riza taking it in turns to sit with Rebecca, ostensibly so they each could rest but realistically so they could switch out before she got too annoyed with either of them. Their five year old, Marcus, was at Mustang's for the night, but wherever Riza went her shadow was sure to follow. And her shadow happened to be twelve and mouthy.

“Did I take this long to be born?” Mae wanted to know, yawning hugely. She had, of course, been given the choice to stay home but true to form she wanted to be where the action was. Havoc loved the kid to death but he'd forgotten how abysmally obnoxious tweens could be. A while back he'd joked to Mustang that Mae was now the same age that Edward Elric has been when he'd been recruited into the military. Far from finding this funny, the General had gone white as a sheet and spent half an hour locked in his office on the phone with his head in his hands and Riza glaring daggers at Jean.

It had not been a pleasant afternoon.

“No idea,” he said. “I mean, I wasn't there. I know you also decided to show up sometime after midnight and your Aunt Rebecca was up all night waiting for you, so you definitely owe her one.”

“What about-” she began, sitting straighter in her chair, before pausing as though thinking through what she was about to say. “Was anyone else there apart from Aunt Becca?”

He grinned tiredly. “Oh I think someone else might have showed up,” he said, a hand on his chin. “What was that guy's name? Troy?”

“Ha ha.”

“I think you maybe met him once or twice. Dark-haired fellow, lots of stars on his jacket? Thinks you're cool for some reason?”

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes. “Forget I asked.”

They were quiet for a moment under the fluorescent lights of the hallway. Havoc knew well that hospitals were places apart from time; the lights and people were unchanging. Well, mostly unchanging, he thought, as he spied Breda walking up the hall juggling three styrofoam cups.

“I told you to stay home,” Jean said, accepting the cup which turned out to be full of coffee.

“Yeah well,” Breda said with a shrug. “There was nothing good on the radio.” He handed a cup to Mae, who sniffed it suspiciously. “Black coffee's your drink, right?”

“Yeah but hot chocolate is fine too,” Mae told him, taking a sip. “Uncle Breda were you there when I was born?” Breda shook his head no, settling into a chair on her other side.

“Nah we missed the action. I got to see you a little while after though, you were all pink and tiny and cute. I wonder what happened?” Mae made a face at him, and he nudged her with an elbow playfully. She wasn’t spoiled exactly - Hawkeye would never let that happen - but she had grown up with an abundance of Uncles who were inclined to indulge her every whim until such a time as they’d been sat down by their commanding officer and ordered to desist. (Mae’s Aunt Becca flatly refused a similar order.)

Mustang, for all that he clearly loved the little girl, could be surprisingly stern when he had to, a surprising aspect of their odd arrangement that Jean found made him respect the man even more. It was easy to be a kid’s pal, to take them to the zoo and buy them gifts. It was harder to make them do their homework, or their chores, or eat their vegetables.

“Uncle Breda was almost as afraid of you as he is of dogs,” Havoc confided. “Remember when we sat you down with a pillow and made you hold her?”

“One of the more terrifying experiences of my life, and I helped stage a coup,” Haymans remarked. “You hated me, wouldn't stop screaming until Havoc here took you back. Same thing with Fuery. I think babies can smell fear or something.”

“Maybe you just took some getting used to,” Mae remarked primly, setting her cup down and stretching. The door opened and a tired-looking Riza emerged, amid what sounded like Rebecca threatening the doctor with surprising vigor and creativity for a woman who had been in labor for something like six hours already.

“You're up, Jean,” Hawkeye told him, hauling him to his feet before he had the chance to process what she meant. “I think it's finally time for the big event.” he froze, unbelieving that their long wait was about to pay off and he was about to become a father for the second time. Hawkeye saw his dazed expression and chuckled softly.

“It helps if you open the door,” Mae supplied helpfully, reaching over to pluck the coffee from his hands before he spilled it.

“Can it, squirt,” he said without any real venom, and walked past Riza into the delivery room.

Rebecca looked beautiful: even sweaty and frizzy and tired as she was, Jean didn’t think he’d ever seen someone so radiant. Of course she was also screaming a string of curses so apart from being beautiful she was also terrifying . Like a vengeful goddess or something, he mused. She caught him looking and beckoned him over with the hand not clutching one of the nurses’ arms.

“JEAN HAVOC STOP STARING AT ME AND GET OVER HERE SO I CAN BREAK ALL THE BONES IN YOUR FING-AAAGH!!”

He did as he was told, offering a hand that she clung to painfully.

“You’re doing so well,” he said in what he hoped was a soothing voice.

“I,” she panted, “am doing a FANTASTIC job.”

“That’s what I meant to say,” he told her. “Can’t be long now right?” He directed this at the doctor, though Rebecca’s ensuing yell of expletives let him know she’d taken it personally.

“All right, Rebecca,” the nurse said after a glance under the sheet that covered her. “It’s time to push.” Havoc felt himself go clammy at the thought, and he brushed a hand across Rebecca’s forehead tenderly.

“You,” he told her, “Are the best baby-haver in history. Nobody pops em out like you can. You’re crushing it.” She grinned wearily, and despite her myriad of threats he could see the genuine affection in her eyes as she squeezed his hand more gently this time.

“This kind of blind adoration is exactly why I keep you around. Now don’t you dare look away, if I have to witness this then so do you.”

It was a boy.

-x-

“Good boy, Taisa! Here, you throw it this time, Mae, you can throw further than I can.” The bushy-haired boy handed the frisbee to the dark-haired girl, who turned, aimed, and threw in one smooth motion.

Jean watched them fondly. He’d been out with Marcus, since Riza and Rebecca had a standing appointment to have lunch together on Saturday afternoons, and Becca had brought the baby. They’d gotten ice cream and were walking through the park when they’d run into Mustang and Mae, who coincidentally alsohad a standing appointment to have lunch together on Saturday afternoons. He’d just assumed she tagged along with her mom and Becca on those occasions but he had to admit it was the perfect opportunity for Mustang to have some quality time with his bodyguard’s kid. It had been Marcus to point them out first, and Havoc had looked to see the General seated on a park bench, chuckling at normally reserved Mae animatedly telling a story that seemed to involve an explosion.

Seeing them side by side really highlighted the passing of time; he remembered when Mae was seven and would play in this same park with Black Hayate, before he passed on to Good Boy Heaven. Mae and Riza had both been inconsolable, and the General had made sure that Hayate was promoted two ranks posthumously and given a proper sendoff befitting his station. Now Mae was fourteen, long-limbed and getting taller almost by the minute.

“I can't believe how big they're getting,” Havoc remarked, watching Mae and Marcus take turns throwing the frisbee for Taisa, one of the late great Black Hayate’s children.

“Do you know she came to me the other day and asked me how to get a boy in her class to notice her?” Roy said, pushing his hair off his face in an exasperated gesture while Havoc barked out a laugh.

“Oh man, I'm guessing you weren't ready for that kind of a talk, huh boss?”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“So what did you tell her?” Now he thought about it, Jean realized that even in his capacity as favorite uncle (or so he liked to believe) he wasn't ready for Mae to start dating either. She’d always been the bookish type, on the quiet side with people she didn’t know well. He had just assumed they wouldn’t have to worry about boys for years yet. Mustang shrugged.

“I was so surprised I just told her to be herself and that any boy who didn't notice her wasn't worth her time.”

“Well that seems like solid advice to me,” Jean told him. A little boring, but he doubted he’d have been able to come up with anything better when put on the spot like that.

“I'm glad you think so; Mae rolled her eyes and said never mind, she'd just go look through Aunt Becca's magazines for actual advice and thanks for nothing,” Roy said bitterly, though he was clearly amused.

Now that he thought about it, Havoc could recall a day last week when Mae had come over and talked to her aunt in hushed tones. At a certain point there had been a peal of laughter and his wife crowing that finally a Hawkeye wanted to look through trashy periodicals with her. He had avoided the kitchen after that and so didn’t hear anything else.

“Ouch. Did you tell Hawkeye?” Roy looked at him in surprise.

“Well no, Mae asked me not to.”

“So you're more afraid of the wrath of a teenage girl than the wrath of Riza Hawkeye, your trusted adjutant and infamous sharpshooter,” he said flatly. “Interesting perspective.”

“It's not like that. If I want Mae to continue trusting me, I need to prove myself worthy of that trust. She should be able to come to me with questions, or things she might not want to talk to her mother about. The Captain understands this.” Of course , Havoc thought. As usual, he was three steps and a nonverbal conversation behind Mustang and Hawkeye. They would have talked about this, probably years ago – probably before Mae herself was even able to talk. They were as much of one mind about Mae's upbringing as they were about anything else.

“Sounds like solid reasoning to me.”

“Besides, if I told Hawkeye there was a boy at school not giving her daughter the time of day you know she’d find a way to show up and ‘accidentally’ let slip how many guns she keeps on her person,” he said cheerfully and Havoc had to admit that he was probably not all that far from the truth.

-x-

The office was filled with the sound of last minute paperwork being gathered up, and Mae's soft begging at the General's desk. It was almost quitting time on a Friday and Hawkeye was delivering some documents while her daughter did her best to cajole her mother's senior officer.

“Please, please please please,

“I can't sign this; I'm not your legal guardian,” Mustang deadpanned, glancing at the final paper she had placed on his desk.

“But you're practically the most important man in Amestris, after the Fuhrer,” Mae reasoned, trying to hand him a pen as he crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow at her.

“Go try this on him, then: you'll probably have better luck.” Mae rolled her eyes at the suggestion.

“He'll make me play him for it and I can never beat him.”

“Well, I can't help you either. Have you even asked your mother?” the General asked with a shrug.

“You know she'll never say yes, she always changes the subject when I ask about alchemy. It's just a short term course and I'm doing really well in school this year,” she explained. “I thought you'd understand.” This child of the military really was getting to be a master manipulator, Havoc thought, watching as she batted large amber eyes at Mustang. Sure she lacked subtlety but she knew how to play Roy like a fiddle. She could ask for the moon and he'd find a way to bring it down for her.

“Look Mae,” he said slowly, as though choosing his words carefully, “I know you might think that alchemy is a glamorous profession, but it's not easy. It's a lot of hard work. Most alchemists aren't up to the task of working for the state and there's not much money without government funding.” This was, apparently, the wrong thing to say. Mae's eyes flashed and she squared her shoulders.

“I know I'm not some kind of prodigy like you or Uncle Ed but I don't want to do anything flashy. I want to go to Xing and study with Uncle Al and Aunt May,” she explained. “I've been reading through some of your books and medical alchemy is really cool.”

“When the hell did you read any of my books?” he demanded, and she shrugged, looking slightly guilty.

“Sometimes I borrow them. I always bring them back though. I've been looking through them for years, and I've done a few transmutations. Little ones,” she admitted. Mustang leaned his chin on his hand lazily, regarding Mae as he might look at a fascinating equation.

“Have you? That's actually pretty advanced, you know.”

She blinked, obviously not expecting praise. “Really?”

“You must have an aptitude for it.”

“I know,” she looked around before lowering her voice. “I know mom's father was an alchemist. I think that's maybe why she doesn't want me learning it.”

“Could be,” he said in his most bland, I-know-nothing-whatsoever-about-this-matter voice.

“But I thought you might understand why... why I'm so interested in it.”

“I can't sign the permission slip for you,” he repeated. “Do you know what would happen to me if your mom found out? Terrible things, unspeakable things. Remember the time I got you roller skates before she thought you were ready?” Havoc winced – he was sure none of them would ever forget the roller skate incident.

“Will you – will you talk to her then?”

“And what makes you think that would help?” Mae rolled her eyes.

“She listens to you, Sir. She might not act like it but you should hear her sometimes, it's all “General this” and “General that”, I think she really respects your opinion.” Flattery would get her everywhere, it seemed, as Mustang sat up straighter and ran a hand through his hair, as the Captain reentered the room.

“Follow my lead,” he muttered, and she nodded. “Evening Major, what do you have planned on this beautiful Friday night?” Riza lifted an eyebrow at his flowery tone, a smile playing around her mouth.

“Well it’s Mae’s turn to cook, so I thought I might do some reading,” she answered lightly.

“Oh that's unfortunate, you see I was planning on sweeping her off her feet for a night on the town. Since you seem to be delighted by the prospect of not cooking I suppose you could join us, if that's all right with you of course madam,” this was directed at Mae, who pretended to consider. Havoc started slowly gathering his things, interested to see how this would play out.

“I guess she can come, if she promises not to talk too much.”

“Yes of course, leave those chatterbox tendencies at home and we've got a deal,” Roy said, gazing at Riza evenly over his hands, steepled before him on the desk.

“I think I can agree to that,” Riza said, with another of her barely perceivable smiles that nonetheless seemed to light up her whole face.

“Great,” the General said. “It's a date.”

“Oh shoot!” Mae exclaimed, snatching up her school book - without the form, which she swept into the General's lap seemingly by accident. “I forgot I told Aunt Rebecca I would babysit for her tonight! Oh how terrible, I suppose you'll have to just go without me.” Jean thought that should he want to, he could have knocked Roy over with a feather, while Riza just gave her daughter a small wave, face almost suspiciously bland.

“Well if you promised. We'll miss you though.”

“You'll manage. By mom, bye Sir,” Mae chirped, turning to fall into step with Havoc, who had paused after donning his jacket.

“You realize we're not actually going anywhere,” he said quietly as she took one of his massive binders filled with cases he needed to review before Monday without being asked.

“Keep walking, Uncle Havoc,” she hissed.

“What's in it for me?”

“Free babysitting for a month.”

“Two.”

“One and I'll throw in an overnight trip.”

“Deal,” he said. They'd been wanting to take a weekend off to see Falman in Briggs for a while. “And well played,” he added with a nod.

“Thank you, I learn from the best. What's for dinner?” Hardened con artist and all, she was still a teenager who was somehow constantly hungry. He reached out and ruffled her shoulder length black hair and she responded by ducking away from him and smoothing it back down with a motion that he’d seen his superior officer make a million times.

-x-

BANG BANG BANG

Havoc almost jumped out of his seat at the knocking at the door. It was sometime after eight and dark outside. He picked up his sidearm off the mantle and inched towards the door carefully, before snatching the handle and wrenching it open. Springing back, he brought the gun up and then back down almost as quickly when he saw who it was. Mae Hawkeye, face red and wet with tears, was standing on his doorstep with wide eyes on his gun.

“You scared me,” he explained, dropping his weapon and clicking the safety back on. “What's up, kiddo? Everything ok?” Everything was clearly not okay but everything he knew about teenagers and this teenager in particularly told him to tread lightly. She looked like a frightened animal, and he kept his distance lest she bolt.

“Hey,” she sniffed, looking around him into the empty living room. “Is Aunt Rebecca here?” Great, he thought, girl stuff. Perfect. This was much better than the quiet hour alone with a book and a scotch he'd been anticipating. He poured the scotch anyway, thinking he'd need it.

“She took the boys for ice cream,” he said. “Can, uh, can I make you some tea?” Mae swept by him, dropping a suspiciously large bag on the floor near the coat rack with a thunk . Sounded like a couple changes of clothes and about five books, he estimated. This was serious.

“Sure,” she said, sinking into one of the armchairs and putting her head in her hands. Jean closed the door and headed to the kitchen to switch the kettle on, and by the time he came back she was sitting upright, having dried her face and smoothed her hair back. She looked young, and she was wearing an expression he knew all too well.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked, and she gave him a withering stare that was ironically all Hawkeye, considering what she was probably mad about.

“I can't,” she said in a long-suffering tone. “I mean, I just, I had a fight with mom and I needed to get out.”

“Right,” he said, leaning back and taking a sip of scotch. “Let me guess, girl stuff?” Mae snorted.

“You couldn't even begin to imagine.”

“Right, of course not,” he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose in exasperation. When did she get so needlessly dramatic? She certainly didn't get that particular trait from her mother.

She sat on the edge of the couch, arms tightly crossed. He sat next to her and playfully bumped her elbow with one of his.

“Hey come on, you guys usually get along great. Whatever you were fighting about can’t have been that bad.”

“Oh yes it can,” Mae hissed.

“Did she return a book to the library you weren’t finished with yet?” He asked, recalling the source of a previous rift. Mae had a habit of not using bookmarks, claiming to always remember her page, and Riza had a habit of fastidiously following rules, such as the rule that library books could only be borrowed for a fortnight at a time. It was surprising the mistake didn’t happen more often, when you thought about it.

“She’s a liar,” Mae said softly and Havoc blinked at this. Riza Hawkeye was honest to the point of (always tactful) bluntness at times. Sure she could keep a secret when she had to but usually only … when she had to…

He kept his expression carefully neutral.

“It’s not my business,” he told her, hoping this would discourage her from fully revealing the cause of their argument, “But if you caught her in a fib it was probably for good reason.”

“It wasn’t a fib, she’s been lying to me since I was born,” Mae spat bitterly. “And I gave her the chance to finally come clean but she just kept up the lie, like I’m stupid —“

“No one could ever accuse you of being stupid,” he told her. And it was true, she had taken to her alchemy lessons like a fish to water. At fifteen she was at the top of her class and rapidly outpacing the curriculum available. He’d once heard Mustang quietly say to Hawkeye that he’d been looking into finding a private tutor in Central, but he had been immediately shut down by one of her withering stares that seemed to speak volumes to Roy. Havoc couldn’t see why - the girl was a natural, let her do the thing she was clearly great at. “You know how protective your mom can be. Maybe this lie, that I have no knowledge of and is not my business, was for your own good when you were younger. She doesn’t realize how fast you’ve grown up.”

“She still should tell me the truth.”

“You know, your mom’s a person too,” he told her gently, well aware that he was divulging one of the biggest secrets of parentkind. “Have you considered that maybe, uh, whatever it is, is a sensitive topic for her too? It’s probably not a fun secret to keep. I bet you she wishes she doesn’t have to.”

Mae scrubbed the back of her hand across her eyes.

“Thank you, Uncle Havoc. I’m gonna go wash my face.” She headed off down the hall and he breathed a sigh of relief, glad that playing dumb had worked. He reached for his scotch and took a long drink.

Another knock, and Havoc set down his glass in annoyance, before opening the door. It was Riza, of course, looking world-weary and almost like she'd been crying. Jean had known Riza for, geez, at least twenty years now. He didn't think he'd ever seen her cry.

“Hey. Is my daughter here?”

Wordlessly, Havoc opened the door and she walked past him, setting her purse on the coffee table heavily. The tea kettle started to sing in the kitchen and he hastened to take if off the heat, bringing Riza a cup of chamomile without asking.

“Just wait until yours are teenagers,” she said wryly, accepting the mug from him.

“Well when they are, and they run out during an argument, I'll know to go look for them at your place,” he said, and found that despite his joking tone he meant it. This earned him a sad little smile.

“It'll be nice to be the fun aunt for once,” she said softly. “People always say parenting is hard, but no one ever tells you it can be so heartbreaking.” She shook her head slowly. “I didn't mean that. Not exactly.”

“I know what you mean,” Havoc assured her. He hated having arguments with his kids, even if it was just little stuff right now, like whether or not one should jump on the bed. Mae hadn't come out with it, but he could guess what they'd been fighting about.

“I'm the one who ran out,” she confessed. Havoc inched closer to the couch and put what he hoped was a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Not now, but this morning. I was going in to work early and she kept asking me about – well it doesn't matter what. I owe her an answer but I brushed her off.”

“Whatever it is, I'm sure it's ...complicated,” Jean said delicately. Her hand came up briefly to rest on his.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Mom?” came a small voice from the hallway. It was of course Mae, face freshly scrubbed, looking remorseful, yet with a familiar glint of determination in her eyes. “Let's go home,” she said. Riza took a deep breath, and stood up.

“Good idea.”

He’d thought about using Rebecca as a go between to find out the result of this argument, but in the end decided against it. As he’d told Mae, it really wasn’t his business, even though he was desperately curious to find out whether she’d been told of her true parentage. But as it happened, there was no espionage necessary; Hawkeye approached him the next day while he was making coffee in the office.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For whatever you said to Mae about me.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” he said. “I just ah, told her that whatever it was, the situation isn’t ideal for you either.”

“She said that whenever I was ready to … discuss the subject we were arguing over, she would like to hear it.” Riza shrugged. “Sometimes being a parent is a wretch, but then they do something mature and it was all worth it.”

“She’s a great kid,” Jean told Riza solemnly. “You did a good job there.” She smiled a little sadly and he thought he saw her eyes flick to the front of the room, just for a second.

“Oh, you know,” she said softly. “It takes a village.”

-x-

With Grumman retiring and General Mustang moving into his old office, their team was all but disbanded. It meant promotions and pay raises all around, of course, and Havoc was pleased to finally be given his own unit, but this last afternoon lazily packing up the office was bittersweet. He, Breda, and Fuery lingered, chatting and arguing over pens, while Roy finished some paperwork. Colonel Hawkeye had been conspicuously absent, a fact none of them had mentioned due to the stormclouds that had immediately gathered over the Flame Alchemist’s head when one of the subordinates had asked.

The door flew open, and sixteen-year-old Mae stormed in and directly up to the large desk, the spitting image of her mother in a rage. Roy looked up, did a double take, and sighed.

“Oh hell,” he began. “Mae-”

“Don’t you even-” she spat, crossing her arms over her chest. “You fired my mother - how could you possibly-”

Jean exchanged panicked glances with Breda and Fuery. This was a situation he could never have foreseen - even in his paperwork-induced stress dreams he was the one being fired, never Hawkeye. He couldn’t say he really blamed Mae for being upset; he personally was going to be having a word with his superior officer the moment the kid left, insubordination be damned. Fire Hawkeye? Had the General lost his mind, he wouldn’t last two weeks without her watching his back! Mustang was massaging his temples as though he felt a headache coming on.

“She shouldn’t be telling you that kind of thing,” he muttered, which was of course the wrong thing to say.

“She didn’t tell me anything, I know what termination paperwork is, and I know your signature!”

Havoc found himself in the unique position of both wanting to stay and see the pending Fuhrer of Amestris be torn a new one by a teenaged girl and simultaneously wanting to be nowhere near the impending firestorm that was undoubtedly going to take place. From Fuery and Breda’s shell-shocked expressions they were also frozen to where they stood.

“You know believe it or not I do have my reasons,” the General said, voice quiet. “And I am planning to enlighten you, despite the fact that I do not have to, but this is neither the time nor the place.”

“Oh save it,” Mae snapped, though the shaking in her voice told Jean that she was close to tears. He had no idea how Roy was still staring at her levelly; he would have crumbled if she’d used that tone on him. “You’re just a snake - all this time you’ve been pretending to care about us but now you’re getting promoted you’re suddenly too good-”

Behind the desk, Mustang’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, young lady,” he said carefully.

“Well then tell me!” She demanded, fists clenched at her side. None of them had ever seen her this upset with Roy before, and Havoc suddenly recalled Mustang, holding a baby while Edward Elric angrily asked him what Mae would think of him when she was older. He had never given it a second thought, assuming that Mae’s affection for the General meant that she didn’t harbor any resentment.

The tears in her eyes told him he’d been wrong.

From across the room Havoc noticed a few MPs peering into the office, looking for the source of the yelling, and he locked eyes with Fuery, who casually picked up one of his boxes and headed for the door, closing it behind him. Neither of the two at the desk seemed to notice.

“Look,” he said, changing tacks, “I’m almost done here, go wait outside and I’ll-”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Mae hissed, “You’re not my father, remember?” The dam broke. She dropped her head into her hands, shoulders shaking with sobs. Roy reached out in what seemed to be an automatic gesture, pulling her into a hug, rubbing small circles into her back while she cried on his epaulets. When she finally pulled away, sniffling, he handed her a handkerchief and regarded her seriously.

“There’s a set of rules the military has in place,” he began, and Havoc and Breda were suddenly both very busy placing stacks of documents and books into the boxes, “that forbids romantic relationships between officers.”

“Oh,” was all Mae said.

“If evidence of fraternization is discovered, then depending on the rank of the officers involved and the seriousness of the infraction, then at the very least those officers don’t remain stationed in the same city. At worst they could be court-martialed.”

“I didn’t think-“

“I meant to discuss this with you,” he told her, rifling around in his desk. “Clearly I didn’t think you would find out when you did.” Whatever he’d pulled out of his desk elicited a gasp from Mae, and her whole demeanor suddenly shifted. Havoc was too busy minding his own business to catch a glimpse of the object, but he had a guess at what it could be, and why it meant Hawkeye couldn’t continue to work in the military.

“You know most people would start by asking someone on a date first,” Mae told him shakily. “How do you even know if she likes you?” she teased. Mustang had the grace to keep his expression neutral.

“I think she does. I could be wrong.”

Mae had taken the small box and was turning it over in her hands. “She’s pretty upset right now. Even if she didn’t tell me why, I could tell she was mad.”

“I jumped the gun,” he explained. “I was supposed to wait until after the inauguration. She’ll forgive me though. Will you?” Havoc fought the strong urge to run out of the large office, but he couldn’t bring himself to move, or do anything else to break the spell of the moment. He just continued to crouch, rifling aimlessly through the open drawer of his desk. Roy was clearly not asking for forgiveness for what had happened today and Mae, ever the clever one, could tell. It was a tense few moments before she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, choking back a sob.

“Of course,” she murmured, and pulled away with a grin. “You know if mom says yes then you’ll be my stepfather.”

There’s a long moment where Havoc realized he’d somehow gotten dust in his eye and it was wildly uncomfortable.

“No,” Roy said, considering. “I’ll be your dad.”

#royai #price of life #Fullmetal Alchemist #aaaaaaaaa

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saint-jaeger · 6 years

Text

sympathique

a jearmin fic

Jean is forced to move from france and transfer to an american high school, but he sucks at english. Armin has the hots for the enigmatic new student. i can't do summaries

Transferring to a new school in the middle of Junior year was hard enough, made much harder by the fact that Jean had only just moved to the States a few weeks prior, with less than a moments notice. He had a good life in France, a great life in fact, but having to drop everything for his Dads fancy new job left a bitter sting of resentment. America was stuffy, the people were abrasive, the cities were muggy, he desperately longed for the cool sea air of the French countryside, but it was all irrelevant now.

He was lingering outside the school building, smoking his 3rd cigarette since he had arrived, maybe it was his 4th? Who cares. It was an attempt to soothe his anxiety, but he was only left with nausea in the pit of his stomach, unsure if it was due to the nicotine or nerves. With a melodramatic sigh, he stomped out the cigarette and resigned himself to his new life at Trost High.

Thankfully the halls had cleared out by then, most students had already found their way to homeroom, Jean wasn't sure he could handle the chaos of hundreds of teenagers just yet. he fished out a crumpled bit of paper from his satchel and looked for his first period: Ms. Ral, room 104, English. Fan-fucking- tastic. He couldn't help but scoff at the irony. He had learned the basics of conversational English in primary school but never bothered to become proficient. If he could time travel, he’d kick his own ass. His grasp of the language already had proved less than sufficient and inwardly cringed at the vulnerable position he was in.

This was nothing like home. At home he went to a small school with kids he’d known his whole life, he’d made friends easily, he was charming even, now he could hardly get through a sentence without some stupid comment about his accent. Well, there wasn't shit he could do about it now.

Jean had hoped he could slip into the back of the class without being noticed, but this quickly proved to be in vain.

“Ah Jean, is it? We’ve been expected you!”

“Merde” he cursed under his breath before turned towards his teacher, doing his best to give a genuine smile. (it ended up more like an awkward grimace.)

His teacher was a petite redhead with large kind eyes, he might have found her to be a comforting presence until she asked what he’d dreaded since he’d arrived.

“Why don’t you come up and introduce yourself to the class?”

He shot her a pleading look, but she only returned a small smile and reassuring nod.

“Euh, hello. My name is Jean Kirschtein, and I moved here from France....it is nice to meet you.”

Real fucking smooth.

“Well we’re happy to have you here Jean, go ahead sit down we’ll start class in a moment.”

Jean did his best to ignore the curious stares and whispers as he made his way to the back of the classroom. The only available seat was next to a girl with a messy brown ponytail and soft brown eyes to match.

Before he even got the chance to pull out his notebook she leaned over, ogling him like he was some rare species.

“So France huh? I've always wanted to go to Paris!” he barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes at that.

“You know I think the French have the best food in the whole world, no one does it like you guys, and oh man the pastries!”

With that she seemed to get lost in her own thoughts, Jean could swear he could see her starting to drool a bit. Gross.

“Anyways I'm Sasha, nice to meet ya Frenchie!”

Oh hell no. Here's hoping that one doesn't stick.

Jean gave up pretty quickly trying to follow the lesson, English confused him enough without trying to decipher Shakespearian prose. Instead, he busied himself with his sketchbook. It was one of the few things that he was able to comfort himself with, art didn't need a language. the pictures spoke for themselves.

The rest of the morning continued the same way. More invasive stares, more fragmented sentences. He couldn’t help but sigh in relief when the bell rang for the lunch. There was no way in hell he was going to attempt navigating cafeteria, sitting alone would be another embarrassment he couldn't suffer that day. After wandering aimlessly around the halls for a bit, he came across the library. A quick look around and no one seemed to be in there. Perfect.

Armin

The first time Armin saw him it was a dreary Monday in November. Now, he was smart enough to know that your heart couldn’t actually stop beating, but God, if he wasn't the most beautiful boy Armin had ever seen.

He was leaning up against the brick wall of the school building, his long neck and sharp jaw exposed as he breathed out a cloud of smoke. Armin was also smart enough to know that smoking would kill you, but God if it wasn't sexy.

There was just something about him, the way that his grey turtleneck clung to his broad shoulders, his long legs in jeans so tight it should be a sin. He felt as if his gay little heart might combust.

He nudged his best friend, “Hey Eren... who is that? I’ve never seen him before.”

“Huh?” Erens bright green eyes whipped around obviously before spotting the boy. “Pshhh, I don't know, he looks like a prick though.”

Armin sighed, deciding it not worth it to respond. His gaze lingered though, his mind swimming with curiosity.

The second time Armin saw him was later that day. He didn't share lunch with Eren or Mikasa, so the library had become his usual hangout. The last thing he expected to see was those same broad shoulders hunched over a desk in the otherwise deserted library.

His breath hitched when he saw him, this mystery boy that had filled Armin's head without so much as a word spoken. He made his way towards an empty chair, far enough away to not seem creepy, but close enough to get a better glimpse at his face. If he noticed Armin come in, he didn't react, his brows furrowed in concentration at whatever he was doing in his notebook. If only he had the courage to say hello, he was just a person right? But no, he wasn't just anyone. He’d managed to steal the air from Armin's lungs without even acknowledging he existed.

So he resigned himself to admire from afar. He could see his face more clearly know, he had sharp features that seemed to be fixed in a scowl, hazel eyes that bore down on the page with characteristic intensity. What was it that held him so deep thought? He assumed it wasn’t homework, he didn’t seem the bookish type like Armin. What was he doing alone in the library anyway? Who was he? The sharp sound of the bell ringing brought him out of his thoughts and then the boy was gone, all of his questions still unanswered.

Gathering his books he headed towards his next class, Chemistry. Normally one of his favorite subjects, but he couldn't bring himself to pay attention to the lecture, his thoughts consumed with the boy. He didn't realize how distracted he was until Eren leaned over and started snapping in his face.

“Hellooo? Earth to Armin. You in there?”

“Mmm? Oh yeah what?” he responded still recovering from his daze.

“Geez, what's gotten into you? Have you heard anything I just said?”

Armin felt his cheeks getting warm, flushed with embarrassment. “Oh sorry, I was just thinking. I saw that guy from the morning again.”

At that Eren snorted. “Oh yeah, he was in my second period. His names John or something, apparently he's new, fresh of the boat from France. Definitely a prick though. why do you care?”

“Huh? I don't care. I mean, I just- um, I-” Armin babbled in a poor attempt to seem nonchalant.

Erens eyes widened with understanding, “Oh, ooooh, you’ve got the hots from the new kid.” he sniggered.

Armin cheeks were definitely red now.

“Look, he seems like a jerk, don’t get your hopes up.”

Armin sighed at that, Eren always trying to intervene so he wouldn't get his feelings hurt. Could that be true? Was he actually just a jerk? He didn't want to believe it. Perhaps he was a loner, a little intense maybe, but Armin couldn’t help but think there was more to him than that, and he desperately wanted to find out.

#jearmin #armin arlert #jean kirschstein #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #fanfic #ive literally never written fanfic?? i just #okay #fic:sympathique #symp1 #mine

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svtskneecaps · 6 years

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See You When I Fall Asleep

Jeon Wonwoo x reader; Soulmate AU

So this is a little different to the other soulmate au stories I’ve written, and it also explains the reason why I’m postponing updates on Stop Loving to an unspecified date, and why i’m on the verge of a mental breakdown. Sorry for the inconvenience, hope this makes up for it! I haven’t got anything up for Wonwoo yet, and honestly writing this really helped my stress. Ya know, I felt productive and all that. Anyway, hope you enjoy~!

((this is not part of my main soulmate au series))

Soulmark: when your soulmate sleeps, they appear near you looking like the person who’s on your mind. you can interact with them, but nobody but you can see them, and they’re not allowed to give you anything that would hasten your meeting (I like to call this a Guardian Angel Mark)

Main Masterlist

“You’re up late.”

“And you’re asleep early.” You glanced up at your soulmate. “Or late, depending on who you ask. What brings you here?”

“Driving. Decided I’d take a quick nap.” He sat on your bed (you’d asked his pronouns long ago). “Who do I look like today?”

“Tony Stark. But young, so not Robert Downey Jr Tony Stark. Like, imagine him, but as a young, acne faced, awkward, too skinny for his height teenager. Minus the beard.”

“Specific.” He laughed. “Any reason why?”

You shrugged with a soft smile tugging at your lips. “ ‘S for my essay.”

“Oh right.” He leaned against the wall. “How’s that going, anyway?”

“Not well, let me tell you.” You sighed, fighting the urge to slam your laptop shut. “Actually don’t, I won’t shut up.”

“Made any progress since I was here last?”

“Unfortunately, not much.” You rubbed a distracted hand across your forehead, smearing the foundation you’d forgotten to take off that evening. “Maybe another hundred words, before I started looking for better examples.”

“Five hundred isn’t bad,” he encouraged.

“On a four thousand word essay?” You shot him a wry smile, turning back to your computer screen. “I don’t think so.”

He watched you work in silence for a second, before scooting closer. “You know working in the dark like this and staring at that screen isn’t good for your eyesight.”

“I’ll wake the people in the next room if I turn on the light, and they’ll be upset.” Your eyes didn’t leave the screen as you scrolled down the page. “You know how they get.”

“You know how I get,” he insisted, leaning into your side. The hair on your arms stood up. You still couldn’t get used to seeing that, where his ghostly figure leaned on you but you didn’t feel a thing. “You’ve at least been eating well, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” you said, unconvincingly.

“Y/N, you know your health is important.” He sounded disapproving, and worried.

“I’m not going to die because I didn’t eat breakfast.” You successfully avoided rolling your eyes like a petulant teenager. “I did that for the past two years and look, I’m still alive aren’t I?”

He just stared at you. Damnit. You hated that he knew that worked on you. “Alright fine, I’ll try to eat better.”

“And sleep at a more decent hour,” he scolded, checking the clock across the room, reading a time well past midnight. You just sighed, long and low, resting your head on his phantom shoulder.

He stared at your computer, seeming curious. “What are you looking at now?”

“Fan fiction. I’m trying to figure out a way to back up my argument.” You straightened back up, and now you rolled your eyes. “Or, you know, make one.” You sighed again and pulled a makeup wipe out of the box on the table next to your bed, rubbing the foundation from your hand and face. “I hit the same damn block, for the millionth fucking time.”

“Language,” he chided.

You snorted, reappearing from behind the wipe. “Sorry, it’s just hilarious for me to hear teenaged Tony Stark saying that.”

He pouted, but moved past your comment quickly. “Maybe if you went to sleep, it’d make more sense in the morning. You’d get a fresh perspective.”

“Oh, probably.” You tossed the makeup wipe in the trash and grabbed another one. “But I’d lose time, and that’s what I really, really need.”

“No, you need ideas.” He closed your computer, an action you knew took immense amounts of energy, so you were shocked that he’d even bothered. “And you’re not going to get them from staring at a computer screen.”

You trashed the last makeup wipe. “Okay, but it’s only because I love you.”

“Good.” You couldn’t see his face anymore, since your computer screen had been the only source of light in the room, but you knew he was smiling. “Now get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“Okay.”

~~~

It was always disorienting to fall asleep with your soulmate by your side and wake up to have him gone. You knew he’d show up soon, though, and besides, you had an essay to work on.

“You didn’t forget what I said, did you?”

You didn’t look up. “Which part?”

“The part about eating.” Your soulmate found a seat on the arm of the chair next to you.

“I did get breakfast, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Good.” He seemed satisfied. “Any luck?”

You closed your laptop. “Not much. I’m probably going to give up for the morning. Clean my room or something.”

He followed along beside you. “So who am I today?”

You turned to look at him. “Jeon Wonwoo, from Seventeen. You know who he is or do you want me to describe him?”

“Describe him.”

You weren’t sure what that look on his face meant, but you shrugged it off. Your soulmate could be mischievous. Who knew, maybe he knew the guy. He mentioned at one point that he was an idol.

You studied him for a second. “Light brown-ish hair- I’m not sure which promotion this is from. He’s wearing glasses, actually, those cute thin wire framed ones that kinda remind one of Harry Potter. Kinda got the bookish nerd vibe going on if we’re being real. Umm... kind of a square jaw. Actually he has a really strong jaw. It’s nice. Never noticed that.” You shrugged. “He tends to be rated among the top visuals by fans, so take that however you will. I’m sure you know Korean beauty standards better than I do.”

“Yeah.” You could see him side eyeing you. “But do you find him attractive?”

You tried to keep your voice casual as your responded. “I mean I guess, I understand the physical appeal. And he’s got a lovely personality to go with it, which I can appreciate.”

He hummed in response.

You glanced back over at him. “What’s that big smile for?”

“Nothing.” He turned his head away slightly. You could tell the smile never dropped.

“Let me guess, you’re a Wonwoo stan? Don’t worry, once we meet in person I’ll describe you with all the care I do everyone else.”

“I’d love that,” he said, “more than anything else.”

~~~

He hadn’t shown up.

You’d known this was coming, of course; he’d said that his group would be touring in your country, but you didn’t think you’d feel his absence so keenly. Desperate to escape the lonely feeling, you spent a lot of your time in coffee shops. There was one downtown that you really loved, since it was in a non-sketchy neighborhood and the barista was kind of cute. She also didn’t mind when you accidentally fell asleep in the shop, which tended to happen quite often. Like today.

Your soulmate was wandering around in a downtown area not unlike yours when you showed up. He was obviously filming, so he didn’t acknowledge your presence, but you knew he was aware that you were there. He managed to slip away from the cameras for a brief second in a park as his members split off into various directions.

“Seems kind of early for you to be sleeping,” he teased.

“You know me.” You laughed. “Always falling asleep in random places.”

“I just hope this ‘random place’ is safe.”

“It is.”

You didn’t get much more than that quick exchange, since the cameras returned. The members went back to wandering around town (unfortunately, you couldn’t see what they looked like either, and although you weren’t sure why you figured it was because they were idols, and it would make your soulmate too easy to find). You narrated some of the things you saw, although you tried to keep it at a minimum. Despite your unending well of witty commentary, if your soulmate was caught smiling at nothing too many times the fans would catch on. His career meant a lot to the both of you and you didn’t want to mess that up.

Despite your unspoken commitment to staying quiet, you were getting confused, and with that came the desire to voice that confusion, because you knew a music shop with that name and you could’ve sworn that woman walking across the street from them was Mrs. Perkins from the nice clothing shop a few blocks down the street from the café you were dead asleep in, and you thought for a second that the friendly looking man switching the sign on the laundromat door to ‘open’ looked a lot like the grandfather of your best friend from childhood. And then you couldn’t keep quiet. “I think I’m around here.”

He looked over at you, then immediately jerked his attention back, but you knew he was listening. “I think I’m around here,” you repeated. “I know that shop, and I know him- and I recognize her- I might be right down the street.”

He said something in a low voice to his PD, who listened for a second, then said something to one of the staff members. Your soulmate looked back at you, and said one thing.

“Show me.”

After all those years an ocean apart, it was laughably simple to navigate through the streets to find the café, and seeing the look on his face when you pointed at your sleeping form, passed out on your computer keyboard, was simultaneously priceless and the sweetest thing you’d ever seen. As he pushed through the coffee shop door and moved over to wake you, you were suddenly struck by the realization that, this was it. You’d finally get to see what he looked like, to put a face and a name and a voice behind that personality you’d fallen for a million times over.

He placed his hand on your shoulder, and you were gone.

“Hey,” a familiar voice said. “Wake up~”

You pulled your face off your keyboard, rubbing the impression the ‘f’ key had made on your cheek. The face of the stranger who’d woken you blurred in your sleepy vision. But it wasn’t a stranger, you remembered, it was your soulmate. You couldn’t rub the sleep from your eyes fast enough, eager to see who it was you were destined to be with.

Your jaw dropped.

And of course, your first reaction upon regaining your senses was to smack him on the arm. “You told me you didn’t know who Jeon Wonwoo was!”

“I never said that!” he defended, grinning at you. “I just said I wanted you to describe what he looked like.”

“Well he looks like you, you dumb nugget!” You huffed. “Did you even try to tell me that you looked like yourself?”

“Well no,” he admitted, “but I wanted us to be in the same position, you know? Makes this moment sweeter.”

“But it would’ve been sooner.” You pouted, although you both knew there wasn’t any real emotion behind it. You were elated, and so was he.

“It’s better like this.”

You looked back up at him, smiling. “You’re right.”

“I always am,” he said calmly. You leaned your head against his arm, your smile growing as you felt him there, as more than just a ghostly presence. It was comforting.

He smirked. “So, about that essay...”

“No! I just met my soulmate, I’m not gonna think about some stupid essay!”

#in case you couldn’t tell i have a huge essay due soon that i’m not done with so writing will have to take a backseat for the time being #seventeen #seventeen soulmate au #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen au #jeon wonwoo #jeon wonwoo scenarios #jeon wonwoo imagines #jeon wonwoo au #jeon wonwoo soulmate au #in a flash of erratic genius or sometin i pulled the title from a song #it’s crap i just couldn’t title it ‘soulmate wonwoo’ bc it would look too much like the series and it’s not that

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bookblogbake · 6 years

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The annual end-of-the-year survey is hosted by Jamie at The Perpetual Page-Turner. I’m so glad she puts the work into making this every year because it’s always a highlight to look back over my reading and blogging for the past year!

**2018 READING STATS**

Number Of Books You Read: 94 Number of Re-Reads: One. Wow. I thought it was more than that, but apparently not. My one re-read was THE GENTLEMAN’S GUIDE TO VICE AND VIRTUE, which I re-read twice. Genre You Read The Most From: YA contemporary. That wouldn’t be surprising normally, but especially considering I judged round 1 of the YA Fiction category this year for Cybils.

1. Best Book You Read In 2018?

Overall favorite 2018 release: Girl Made of Stars by Ashley Herring Blake

Best middle grade: Ivy Aberdeen’s Letter to the World by Ashley Herring Blake (. . . sensing a pattern here?)

Best adult fiction: The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo

Best Comic/Graphic Novel: Check Please! Book 1: Hockey

Best Middle Grade

Best adult fiction

Best 2018 Book Overall

2. Book You Were Excited About & Thought You Were Going To Love More But Didn’t?

Allegedly by Tiffany Jackson. To be fair, this came out in 2017, and I read Jackson’s 2018 release, Monday’s Not Coming, first. Allegedly was a let down though because I loved Monday’s Not Coming so much, and Allegedly didn’t quite stack up for me.

3. Most surprising (in a good way or bad way) book you read?

Darius the Great is Not Okay by Adib Khorram. Based on the summary, it didn’t look like my typical kind of book, but I thought it was beautifully written and I loved it. A rare five star read for me.

4. Book You “Pushed” The Most People To Read (And They Did)?

Sadie by Courtney Summers. I tend to push Courtney Summers books anyway but Sadie seems to be an easy sell (and for good reason–it’s FANTASTIC).

5. Best series you started in 2018? Best Sequel of 2018? Best Series Ender of 2018?

Best series started-Check Please!

Best sequel/companion – Beneath the Sugar Sky by Seanan McGuire

Best series ender– The Way I Finally Won by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley

6. Favorite new author you discovered in 2018?

Well, considering she wrote my overall favorite book AND my favorite middle grade of the year, it’s safe to say that’s Ashley Herring Blake.

7. Best book from a genre you don’t typically read/was out of your comfort zone?

Blood Water Paint by Joy McCullough. I don’t typically like novels in verse, but this was FANTASTIC and fierce and moving and emotional and ugh, I loved it.

8. Most action-packed/thrilling/unputdownable book of the year?

I stayed up waaaaay into the night to finish Monday’s Not Coming.

9. Book You Read In 2018 That You Would Be MOST Likely To Re-Read Next Year?

Well I always like to start a new year by re-reading my favorite book of the previous year (that’s why The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue was my one re-read of the year), so clearly that would be made Girl Made of Stars. But just so I don’t answer this book for every single question, I’ll also mention I’m very likely to re-read The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo.

10. Favorite cover of a book you read in 2018?

I’m sure some people would find this one off-putting because of the bright yellow, but I love the cover of Pulp by Robin Talley and how vintage it looks!

11. Most memorable character of 2018?

I have to go with Sadie from well, Sadie. I just found her fascinating.

12. Most beautifully written book read in 2018?

Oh man, this one is hard. I think I have to go with Darius the Great is Not Okay by Adib Khorram.

13. Most Thought-Provoking/ Life-Changing Book of 2018?

Ghost Boys by Jewel Parker Rhodes

14. Book you can’t believe you waited UNTIL 2018 to finally read?

The Paying Guests by Sarah Waters. I only read one Sarah Waters book this year, but more will definitely come in 2019 because this book was excellent.

15. Favorite Passage/Quote From A Book You Read In 2018?

Even girls made of stars are captives, bound at the wrists and traded like property. Even girls made of stars aren’t asked, aren’t believed, aren’t considered worth the effort unless they can offer something in return. Even girls made of stars buy into those lies sometimes.

Yes, it’s from Girl Made of Stars by Ashley Herring Blake, aka the book that has been my response to at least 50% of these questions.

16.Shortest & Longest Book You Read In 2018?

longest– Green River, Running Red by Ann Rule

shortest- The Tea Dragon Society by Katie O’Neill

17. Book That Shocked You The Most

I think it’d have to be I Stop Somewhere by TE Carter (a completely underrated book, by the way)

18. OTP OF THE YEAR (you will go down with this ship!)

(OTP = one true pairing if you aren’t familiar)

Jack/Bitty from Check Please!

And then, not quite OTP status but romantic relationships I rooted for in books this year: Alice/Takumi from Let’s Talk About Love and and Steffi/Rhys from A Quiet Kind of Thunder.

19. Favorite Non-Romantic Relationship Of The Year

I really loved the relationship between Clara and her dad in The Way You Make Me Feel by Maurene Goo.

20. Favorite Book You Read in 2018 From An Author You’ve Read Previously

I have a couple: Beneath the Sugar Sky by Seanan McGuire, Ghost Boys by Jewel Parker Rhodes, The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid, and Leah on the Offbeat by Becky Albertalli.

Best adult fiction

21. Best Book You Read In 2018 That You Read Based SOLELY On A Recommendation From Somebody Else/Peer Pressure/Bookstagram, Etc.:

Well, I would have never read it for it not been for Cybils judging, so I’m going with Darius the Great is Not Okay by Adib Khorram.

22. Newest fictional crush from a book you read in 2018?

Don’t have any! Maybe if I had read more adult romance. . .

23. Best 2018 debut you read?

I’m going with Blood Water Paint by Joy McCullough for this, but just know Darius the Great Is Not Okay by Adib Khorram was a very close second.

24. Best Worldbuilding/Most Vivid Setting You Read This Year?

I’m going to say the old-school Hollywood glam setting in The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo was very vivid.

25. Book That Put A Smile On Your Face/Was The Most FUN To Read?

So for me I think graphic novels really took the cake here this year. Yes, Check Please! which I’ve mentioned several times, but also The Tea Dragon’s Society by Katie O’Neill and Moonstruck volume 1 by Grace Ellis.

26. Book That Made You Cry Or Nearly Cry in 2018?

I have two, both of which have featured heavily on this survey so far, not surprisingly! Those are Girl Made of Stars by Ashley Herring Blake and Darius the Great is Not Okay by Adib Khorram.

27. Hidden Gem Of The Year?

Okay, since I don’t want to say Girl Made of Stars yet again, I’ll have to go with. . . Ivy Aberdeen’s Letter to the World. Yes, by the same author as Girl Made of Stars. I had favorites this year, y’all.

28. Book That Crushed Your Soul?

Darius the Great is Not Okay by Adib Khorram. I know, I know, it appears once again!

29. Most Unique Book You Read In 2018?

All of This is True by Lygia Day Penaflor. I did not necessarily enjoy it, but I can say it was very unique.

30. Book That Made You The Most Mad (doesn’t necessarily mean you didn’t like it)?

Okay, so first I was going to say The Perfect Sister by Jessica Knoll, which I did NOT enjoy one bit, but then I thought about it, and. . . The Universe is Expanding and So Am I by Carolyn Mackler. I’m particularly mad about that one because parts of the books are good, but I find the entire premise flaw and really upsetting. Also, it deals with a sister coming to terms with the fact that her brother committed a rape, and it’s hard when my favorite book of the year had a similar premise and dealt with it SO MUCH BETTER.

1. New favorite book blog/Bookstagram/Youtube channel you discovered in 2018?

I’m ashamed to say that going back over my subscriptions, none of them were new this year.

2. Favorite post you wrote in 2018?

I mostly wrote reviews (and I really want to get back into doing discussions and other features!), but I’m really proud of my review for Blood Water Paint.

3. Favorite bookish related photo you took in 2018:?

Again, something else I didn’t do very much of this year!

4. Best bookish event that you participated in (author signings, festivals, virtual events, etc.)?

I didn’t really get to participate in any bookish events this year, but hopefully 2019 will change that!

5. Best moment of bookish/blogging life in 2018?

I have to say being a round 1 Cybils judge! It was a lot of work and reading, but it was such a worthwhile endeavor.

6. Most challenging thing about blogging or your reading life this year?

Just finding time! I haven’t been nearly as active as I wanted because I graduated grad school, which I THOUGHT would give me more time, but then I moved from one end of Texas to another, started a new job, got settled in, etc. It’s just been a LOT.

7. Most Popular Post This Year On Your Blog (whether it be by comments or views)?

Well, my most popular post was from a few years ago: What do Do with Books You Don’t Want Anymore. My most popular post actually written this year was my review of Girl Made of Stars, which is not surprising since I’ve basically been yelling about this book for months.

8. Post You Wished Got A Little More Love?

I posted one Saturday morning cup post this year, and I definitely wish that one had got more loved.

9. Best bookish discover (book related sites, book stores, etc.)?

Hmm, well, I got to visit The Strand in New York City for the first time so that was definitely a fun bookish discovery/adventure!

10. Did you complete any reading challenges or goals that you had set for yourself at the beginning of this year?

I didn’t really set any challenges or goals, and I’m glad because this year was busy enough without those!

1. One Book You Didn’t Get To In 2018 But Will Be Your Number 1 Priority in 2019?

The Book of Essie by Meghan MacLean Weir. Not because I’m super excited about it (I mean, I want to read it, but it’s not a book I was anticipating), but because it’s due back to the library in eight days.

2. Book You Are Most Anticipating For 2019 (non-debut)?

Well, considering two of her books were two of my favorites this year, I’m gonna have to say The Mighty Heart of Sunny St James by Ashley Herring Blake.

3. 2019 Debut You Are Most Anticipating?

I have two: I Wish You All the Best by Mason Deaver and These Witches Don’t Burn by Isabel Sterling.

4. Series Ending/A Sequel You Are Most Anticipating in 2019?

In A Wayward Dream by Seanan McGuire. I’ve loved every installment in the Wayward Children series, so I expect this to be no different (and perhaps one of my goals this year will to be re-read the series).

5. One Thing You Hope To Accomplish Or Do In Your Reading/Blogging Life In 2019?

Blog more! I’ve missed it.

6. A 2019 Release You’ve Already Read & Recommend To Everyone (if applicable):

I’ve only read an ARC of one 2019 release, but I do recommend it! I read We Set the Dark on Fire by Tehlor Kay Mejia and was enthralled.

2018 End of the Year Survey! The annual end-of-the-year survey is hosted by Jamie at The Perpetual Page-Turner. I'm so glad she puts the work into making this every year because it's always a highlight to look back over my reading and blogging for the past year!

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writernotwaiting · 6 years

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Mis-Matched, Part 3

Oh my God! An update and it’s only been a couple of weeks! Sometimes miracles do occur.

Title: Mis-Matched Rating: M (this is subject to change at the whim of the author’s muses) Characters: Loki, Sigyn, Frigga, Theoric, and various supporting OCs Description: This is an attempt to fill the propmt requested by @someillplanetreigns (and now I can’t even tag you!): “you asked for prompts and pairings - I would like to humbly beg for more Logyn? I don’t have a great prompt, but this odd thought is in my head about a way to make the comic plot about Theoric and the marriage into something about marriage by proxy? Maybe something like Loki has the duty of proxy-marrying Sigyn cos Theoric’s in the army, and totally plays everyone by going the whole hog and appearing as Theoric, but then Sigyn, who thought Theoric was dull as ditchwater and Loki is… well, y’know, Loki.” I’m not sure this is precisely what you wanted, so I apologize in advance for my wayward muses – Loki does what he wants. Chapter: 3 of 4? Acknowledgements: thank you @icybluepenguin for serving as one of my favorite institgaors and sounding boards – you rock!

Part 1 Part 2 On Ao3

_______________________________

The morning was bright and clear as Frigga led her entourage out to the garden. Once there, the women divided themselves into little groups—one set going to sit in a shady arbor with their needlework while they took turns reading aloud to those who worked, another fanned out to care for the various plants, another group sat with sketch books taking botanical studies of rare plants.

Sigyn stood by and watched the women move with perfect assurance toward their tasks, then looked over at the queen inquisitively. “What would you prefer I do, your majesty?”

Frigga turned a smile onto the newest addition to her court. “What would you prefer, my dear?”

Sigyn balked at the question and felt her face flush. “I’m afraid I’m not altogether suited for any of these pursuits, ma’am. I never learned the finer points of needlework, or drawing—Herr Bragisson is a bachelor and hired no female tutor for me.”

“And gardening? The study of magic often involves the study of living things—herbology, and growing things.”

Sigyn’s blush grew darker and she began worrying at her cuticles. “I’ve never shown any affinity for live plants. Don’t misunderstand me—I know what to do with the plants after they’re harvested. I’ve read many books on the healing arts, and on potions. It’s just the growing of them that seems to elude me.” [read more cut below]

Frigga’s brows drew together. “I wonder how that could be. Your sensitivity seems very strong. What sort of magic seems to come most naturally, Sigyn? What were the first spells you could cast?”

Now Sigyn looked decidedly nervous, and Frigga placed a hand on her arm to soothe her. “It’s quite fine, dear. No one’s talent is ever exactly like anyone else’s—there no shame if yours is a little different than most.”

“Um, actually, I probably have the most ease with small pyrotechnics—you know, fireworks and light spells.”

“I see.” Frigga’s smile became a little sly. “Perhaps one of the reasons Herr Bragisson was so eager to see you placed with a spouse so soon.”

Sigyn laughed, a bit relieved to have the conversation turn. “Yes, undoubtedly! Prince Loki might have told you about the first time we met—I was actually wreaking havoc on one of the greenhouses. I certainly was never able to grow anything out there, so I took to using it as target practice.”

Frigga laughed. “I think he did mention something of the sort. Loki is always up for a bit of mischief himself.”

Sigyn rolled her eyes—she remembered his reaction vividly. “Yes, he certainly seemed to find it amusing.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not sure I have a need for anyone to redecorate my own greenhouses. We shall have to figure out something else for you to do. In the meanwhile, why don’t I show you around the gardens, and perhaps in the afternoon you could do a bit of searching in the library for me.”

Sigyn’s eyes lit up. “The library? Oh yes, I would very much enjoy that sort of errand!”

“Excellent, I’ll give you a list of things I would like you to hunt down for me, and you can let me know what you found out this evening after supper.”

It was a lie, of course--not a hugeone—fireworks were most definitely Sigyn’s secondfavorite spells, but there was no doubt that her greatest affinity was for fire magic. She could easily call flames out of anything, set fire to the wettest, greenest wood, make flames dance intricate patterns, hold white hot fireballs in her cupped palms. To admit this, however, was to admit who she was—what she was—and that was something she could never do, not if she wished to remain in Asgard. Her father and guardian had always made it quite clear—her mother had not been a citizen and Sigyn would not be welcome if that secret came out.

For her part, Frigga had detected a lie, she just didn’t know what it was covering over. It made no sense—they were just spells. Frigga, however, was nothing if not good at digging out the truth—it was a survival trait; her second son was Loki, after all. In fact, perhaps another discussion with him was in order, since he had spent over a week out in the country with Sigyn. Frigga liked her temporary charge, but there could be no secrets in cases like this. Not if a family alliance were a possibility.

Despite this little hitch, the queen really had meant it about the research, and drew up a list of topics for Sigyn to look into for her. After lunch, she gave her a data recorder, asked Gudren to show her to the library and introduce her to the archivist.

Early that afternoon, Loki came to check in with his mother, just to chat—what other motivation could he have? “Father’s locked in his office with the auditors this afternoon, and gave me permission to ‘follow my own pursuits,’” he intoned, imitating his father’s sonorous baritone.

Frigga pretended not to notice the sarcasm, nor to notice as his eyes scanned over the clusters of women at work. Instead, she took his arm and led him away from prying ears for a short turn through the arboretum. Once out of earshot, she patted his arm. “While you were out in the country, did you notice anything odd about Sigyn’s magic?”

“Her magic? No, why?”

“There were no spells that she seemed to have particular difficulty with? Things that went awry or got out of control?”

“No. If anything I’d have to say it was the opposite. It’s hard to believe she’s self taught. In fact, one morning she started to show me a fantastic fire spell, which is something I’ve never quite mastered. I was hoping to have her show me how, but she got called away.”

“Hmm. I was just curious. She tells me that she hasn’t quite mastered spells for growing plants and I just wondered if maybe she was just being modest.”

“I guess I couldn’t say. We never went into a garden.”

“Well, no matter.” Frigga smiled. “I sent her to the library this afternoon to collect some notes for me since there didn’t seem to be anything for her to help with here. She’s a bookish girl,” Frigga’s tone approving rather than dismissive, “I thought she might be able to ferret out a few obscure references for me. The archivist can point her toward the right texts.”

“Really? That should be something she would like.”

If his mother noticed that her son’s visit was a tiny bit shorter than usual, she was diplomatic enough not to say.

Loki found Sigyn easily enough at a large table toward the back of a side room, sun streaming through a window onto the text in front of her. Every competitive bone in his body suddenly came to life—he would not let Theoric take her home with him. It was unthinkable.

He sidled up to the table, and pulled a chair around. “So what sort of wild bilgesnipe has mother sent you after?”

Sigyn’s eyes went wide when she saw who her visitor was, then she smiled brightly, “oh it’s not that bad. She just wanted notes on these new herbs that some ambassador had brought from Alfheim, so the archivist pulled a couple of botanical references for me. I should be done long before supper. In fact I think I’ve got most of what I need already—I just need to do some cross-checking.”

“Hmmmm . . . just the sort of thing Theoric would enjoy talking about I’m sure.”

She snorted before she could catch herself, but then she schooled her face into neutrality and took a long look at Loki before she replied cautiously, “I’m sure he’ll appreciate that I can supervise the health of the household without consulting him on every detail.”

Loki could see the battle in her countenance, so he licked his lips and decided to gamble. “Especially since he wouldn’t know the answers, anyway.”

This threw Sigyn farther off balance, and she opted to deflect, “Yes, well, it’s good that I’ll be able to fill that role. I’ll be able to make myself useful.”

Loki barely contained a snort and tried hard not to roll his eyes, there’s a lofty goal for a marriage.

Instead, he drew his chair closer so he could get a better look at her text. “Which book is this, anyway?” He reached across Sigyn to pull the book closer and look at the title pages, brushing her arm in the process.

“Alfric’s herbology — I hadn’t seen it before. He’s very thorough.” She relaxes at the change in subject, and he hid a little smile.

“Did you already look at Sumerson?

“No, but the librarian pulled it for me. I was going to look at it next.” She pointed to the stack on the far end of the table.

“Good idea—they don’t always agree with one another.”

“Really?”

“No. They used to get in tremendous rows at guild meetings.”

Her eyes brightened again. “No! How do you know about that?”

“My tutor told me—both of them meticulous to a fault but with egos the size of Yggdrasil itself, apparently.”

“Oh gods, I would pay to see that!” She smiled openly now, catching his mischief.

“He said it was quite entertaining, as long as you could avoid getting dragged into the debate.”

“Oh, do tell.”

“Apparently they once went at it for a week about the classifications of square-stemmed plants and whether they constituted a family unto themselves, or should be divided into three separate ones.”

“Why that’s completely illogical—how could you divide mints into more than one family?”

“There you are! But they went at it for days. Sumerson went on and on about the chemical composition of the oils and the intoxicant effects of certain species on various species of felis, insisting that this set them apart from the rest of the group.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Well, obviously, but he very much sticks to detail, so it’s good you have both books.”

“So good of you to approve.” Sigyn’s eyes fairly danced now, and Loki was stopped cold by it, his gaze magnetized by her own for a long moment before it flitted over the rest of her face—forehead, cheeks, nose, lips. It was all Loki could do to keep himself from leaning in for a kiss.

Sigyn blushed hard, turning away to pull the book back in front of her and try to find her place again, all while trying desperately to ignore the fire in her skin that somehow made her painfully aware of the fabric of her clothing shifting over her skin, made her swallow hard and her heart beat fast.

She flinched when Loki’s hand covered her own, but didn’t pull away.

They sat in silence for several long minutes as his fingers roamed over the back of her hand, carefully outlining each knuckle and tracing the tendons down toward her wrist, while Sigyn’s face remained fixed on the far page. Once his fingers slid to the underside of her wrist, though, Sigyn balled up her fist and shook her head. Her voice came out small as her throat constricted, “I can’t.”

Loki kept his touch light over her skin, tried to keep his voice just as light, “Modal verbs are tricky things, don’t you think? Such small things—can’t, won’t.”

Sigyn’s other hand felt unsteady as it covered her mouth briefly and she squeezed her eyes shut. When her hand came back down, she forced a smile. “Those little words cause so much trouble.” She kept her eyes focused on the book, but he saw her fight for control, saw the tears that she blinked back before she next spoke in a quiet, bitter tone, “Little words like ‘I do’—they get in the way.”

She pulled her hand away from his to hide it in her lap.

“Sigyn.”

“I think you need to go now so I can finish my work.”

Loki leaned in. “We’ll talk later, then.” As he walked behind her, he squeezed her shoulder and trailed his hand across her back.

#loki #sigyn #logyn #fan fiction #my fan fiction

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theimaginesyouneveraskedfor · 6 years

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Relic ~ 23

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen Part Fourteen Part Fifteen Part Sixteen Part Seventeen Part Eighteen Part Nineteen Part Twenty Part Twenty-One Part Twenty-Two

Tags: @omgcupquak3stuff @dora3374 @the-butterfly21 @oakenshieldgisborneandwinchester @everyjourneylove @russian-empress @cd1242 @the-lupine-sojourner @ara-toa-min @teenageclarisse @ghostqueenofeverything @cutie-bug @monachopsistime

(sorry to those who I can’t tag for some reason. If you like, you can message me and I’ll just start sending you the link to the chapters as they come out)

Add yourself to the taglist here

You had excused yourself after breakfast. So enthralled by your unending thoughts that you couldn’t sit and drink another ounce of coffee. That morning had been tense; quiet.

Bucky had resumed the frustration which had overcome after his conversation with Steve the day before. He had barely said anything as you ate and you needed to escape suffocating silence Steve would be back that day and you were due to leave. The realization had set a weight in your chest and you had spent most of the night awake.

You wanted to explore before you said goodbye. You hadn’t done more than chase after the goats during your stay in Wakanda and you would hate to return home without basking in the splendour of the land.

You had set off outside the fence, walking towards the cluster of trees at the edge of the farmland. The trunks were thick and crowded. The leaves a cluster of greens; jade, emerald, and viridian. You could hear the symphony of animals within; the song of birds, the chatter of critters, and the rustle of those predators hidden in the shadows.

You mindlessly followed the path overgrown with roots and fallen vines. You took in every inch of jungle, having left your phone behind for the sake of the moment. You didn’t want pictures, you wanted to remember it. You leaned against a tree, crossing your arms with a heavy sigh.

You thought of returning home. Of going back the life you had left behind. There hadn’t been much of one and all desire to return to the museum had dwindled away. You were tired of being the mousy curator; the bookish nerd.

In the last week, you had met so many who had spent their lives being brave and all despite their fears. At times, against their will. You had lived less of a life than even Oscar. Here, you were detached from civilization but you didn’t feel so lost.

You didn’t want to continue on in recounting the span of history which you would never be a part of. Was it not human instinct to want to change the turning of the earth? To leave your footprint in the sands of time? All you had done was hide behind books.

But you had to go. You weren’t like Bucky or Steve; you weren’t strong. Nor were you like T’Challa or Shuri; chosen to lead. You were the one who told their stories; who futilely dreamed of being like them. You would go home, sit at your desk, and once more become the scribe.

Who had ever said the pen was mightier than the sword?

You knew you could not brood in the forest all day. Even though you had spent your night packing, you still had much to do. You had to say goodbye to Bucky but how? The week had gone so quickly and it felt as if you were being torn apart.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out the letter he had written you when he had only been James.

‘To you I owe my life; what I have left of it anyways.’

It felt now as if you were beholden to him. You lacked purpose after you had left the museum and he had returned it to you. Even if it was only minding goats and digging in the dirt, it had awoken you from the obscurity which had come before. To go back only meant to lose all you had gained. You didn’t want to start over again. Not so soon.

You folded up the letter and pushed yourself from the tree. You dragged your feet back the way you had come, trying to hide the melancholy which had come over you. You wanted to leave Bucky with a smile, not tears. He had enough grief in his life.

As you reached the farm, you saw two vehicles waiting outside the house. You had been gone longer than you planned. You kicked the dirt off your boots at the foot of the door and entered without fanfare. T’Challa and Steve sat on the couch talking, Shuri in the chair enthralled in her phone. Bucky was nowhere to be seen.

“Uh, hey,” You greeted awkwardly, “Where’s Bucky?”

“He yelled at a goat and stormed out,” T’Challa shrugged.

“He’s probably fighting it right now,” Shuri chuckled, tucking her phone away as she stood, “More importantly, where have you been?”

“I went for a walk,” You answered flatly, “I figured it was my last chance before I go.”

“Well, thank Wakanda you’re back,” Shuri said, “The broken white boy is in quite a mood today. I thought he had chased you away.”

“No, not exactly.”

“He’s mad at me,” Steve chimed in, “He has been since we talked yesterday... Sometimes, you can’t tell him what’s good for him.”

“Oh,” It explained the night before, though you wondered what exactly had set Bucky off.

“In Wakanda, we say what we mean,” T’Challa added, “Not like you. Too stubborn to say what’s in your heart.”

“Okay?” You were slightly confused but didn’t have much patience for any of it. You hated when you were suppose to leave; you grew impatient even when you didn’t want to go.

“Goddamn, Oscar!” The screen door slammed and Bucky entered from the kitchen, “Do Wakandans eat goat because I have one I’d happily send to slaughter.”

His knees and shirt were grass-stained and mud streaked his clothing. His hair was messy with sweat and he looked ready to fight someone. You had never seen him so riled and Steve stood, approaching his old friend.

“Buck, calm down,” He seemed afraid, as if he would have to fight his old friend, “It’s just a goat.”

“Ugh, would you stop telling me what to do?” He shoved Steve, “I’m tired of being treated like a child.”

“Look, you don’t have to take my advice, you seem just fine doing your own thing but don’t take your cowardice out on me,” Steve returned, “I don’t think you want to have this argument here.”

Bucky frowned as he glanced over Steve’s shoulder, blanching as he caught sight of you. A slight flush came to his cheeks and he attempted a weak smile.

“You make your own decisions, Buck,” Steve clapped his shoulder, “And you live with the consequences. You best get used to it.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning sharply as he stomped back into the kitchen. Steve followed and it wasn’t long before you heard there voices start to rise again.

“It’s your fault.”

“Buck.”

“No, I told you I wasn’t ready.”

“Please.”

“I can’t. I just can’t.”

“You don’t have to.”

“You don’t understand though…”

“Really, it’s okay, Buck. It’s not forever.”

“Not everything turns out. I’m not you, Steve. Nothing ever turns out for me.”

“This isn’t about me, Buck. You’re not mad at me, you’re mad at yourself and only you can fix this. I’m done arguing and we’re due to leave in the next hour, so you best sort this out.”

Steve reappeared and you had never expected the golden super soldier to look so distraught. He stopped by the door, just beside you, turning to you with restrained irritation, “When you get a chance, I’d like to talk to you.”

He pulled the door open and snapped it shut behind him, leaving the room in a ghastly silence. All were stunned by the spat but none knew what to say. Bucky huffed as he stood the doorway, his anger dissipating as he looked to you, guilt softening his features. T’Challa and Shuri stared at him but averted their eyes before he could glare at them.

His lips parted as his fingers twitched and he swallowed the words he could not find. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, his blue eyes flashing as his jaw tensed. He seemed to resign himself to some grim fate and finally spoke.

“Y/N, would you help me feed the goats?”

“Um, sure,” You were confused. T’Challa and Shuri were now staring at you and you felt as if you were missing some obvious clue.

You followed Bucky into the kitchen and out into the yard. In the barn, the goats were already chewing oats from the trough and you flinched in bewilderment.

“You already--?”

“Look, Y/N, I...I’m sorry I’ve been an ass today. And yesterday. I’ve just been--” He began to pace, his face contorted as he chose his words carefully, “Seventy-five years ago, I was the smoothest guy on the block but being frozen for the better part of the century has really fucked me up.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine,” He was frustrated, sliding to a halt before you, “It’s not fine because after being brainwashed to not be afraid for so long, I’m terrified of everything. And it makes me act like a complete idiot.”

You watched him calmly, realizing he was trying to understand his thoughts as he spoke them. He needed to vent and you needed to listen. It was your last favour to him before your departure.

“Steve’s right. I should get over myself. You’re leaving today and, if I’m being honest, I don’t want you to leave, but I don’t want you to stay because you feel sorry for me. You’ve done so much already and...well, I’m going to ask, even if the answer is no, I have to.”

He nodded, as if to encourage himself before he continued. He stilled his fidgeting and looked you in the eyes, ignoring the teeth chewing at the hem of his pants as Oscar found his usual timing.

“I know you have a home waiting for you but would you stay? Just a little longer? A week?”

You cocked your head with surprise. You hadn’t expected that. You had thought of staying, wished for it even, but that was just hopeful thinking. You were silent as you processed the question.

You thought of your mom and the next tense call you would make to her but the answer was clear. Bucky looked back at you anxiously, his expression grim as if you had already said no.

“Yes,” You said, “Of course.”

“What?” He sounded as shocked as you felt.

“Yeah,” You gave a nervous chuckle, “I haven’t that much to return to and whatever comes next can wait.”

“Oh…” His eyes widened as he thought, his lips trembling between joy and disbelief, “Well, um, thanks.” His brows lowered all too suddenly as he was struck with an epiphany, “Fuck. I gotta apologize to Steve now.”

#oscar the goat #bucky barnes #relic #fic #series #part 23 #mcu #marvel

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nakamotoyutakemybreathaway · 6 years

Text

Fireboy and Waterboy Chapter 2: On thin ice.

Avatar!Mark and the dream team go on a quest to save the world from an evil entrepreneur and some salty spirits.

“Hurry up, loser.” Jaemin panted, “If we don’t get to the ship on time, we’ll miss the sunrise.”

“What do you mean? The ships not about to go anywhere” Mark reasoned, looking at his cousin confusedly. Before he could even take his next step, Jaemin pelted his face with a small snowball.

“No, but the sun is. It only rises once a day and I am not waking up early twice in a row just because you made us late the first time.” Sometimes, Mark wondered why he chose to hang out with this loser outside of family gatherings. Oh right, it was because no one else lived in their village.They continued walking as the old, abandoned ship came into view.

About 80 years ago, a bunch of fire nation merchants got lost on their way to Kyoshi Island, bypassing the southern air temple and ended up in a small bay in the southern water tribe, where their ship froze into the icy water. The elders don’t let children come here because the ice on the lake is thin, but also because they believe that the crew still haunts the ship. If the elders knew they were out here, they’d be sentenced to spend the rest of their lives shearing buffalo yaks. Jaemin stopped short just in front of the ship, and Mark thought it was the perfect opportunity to return the favour, using his foot to hurl a snowball into Jaemin’s butt.

“Hey! I swear next time your clumsy arse slides across the ice, I won’t even heal you” Jaemin threatened. Mark felt small pulse of regret, because usually when he got hurt, Jaemin would heal him and their parents would never find out what they got up to. He couldn’t just go and ask his dad to get rid of the bruises and not explain to him how they got there.

The pair walked up the gangplank and around the cabin to the other side, being careful not to lean over the crumbling handrails. Mark breathed a sigh of awe as the morning sun gently rose over the ocean, giving off a pale golden glow which reflected majestically off the ice. Nowhere else in the southern lands could a sunrise be observed with such a breathtaking view, and mark believed that the fire benders that lost their lives on this very ship were the reason why the sun was attracted to it. He recalls when he and Jaemin would be sat around the table for family dinners, listening to his uncles stories of the time he spent as a hunter in the isolated villages of the true pole, where it was dark for half of the year, and light for the other. Lucky we live here, he thought. Their village was on the coast of the southern water tribe, far enough north for sunrises and some seasonal difference in temperature, about 3 degrees warmer in summer.

“You know, I’d never thought of it as lucky that we live here, but this view is one good thing to come out of this place” Mark said to Jaemin, still lost in thought. Its not like the south pole was a bad place to live, there just wasn’t much going on. It was snow upon snow upon ice, and if you’ve seen a bit, you’ve seen it all. Only because the village was so boring were they up here now, on a dangerous ship- the one place they were forbidden to go- longing to go somewhere with lush forests, sandy beaches, rugged mountains; they craved adventure.

Mark absentmindedly shifted where he stood, leaning to grab hold of the guard rails around the stern of the ship. That was a bigmistake. The rail he was gripping suddenly gave way, the rusted bolts freeing it from where it was once firmly planted, falling with a crack onto the thin sheet of ice below. Without Mark even knowing what he was doing, he extended his arms as if to cushion the fall that was sure to kill him anyway, but instead his back slammed against the cabin of the ship behind him. It was as if a strong gust of wind had propelled him backwards and prevented him from falling.

“I’m not sure if this cold is making me hallucinate that I saw what I just saw,” Said Jaemin, looking concernedly at Mark, “but we should get back to the village before the elders notice we’re here. This ship isn’t safe for your clumsy arse”. Jaemin gripped Marks wrist firmly and started back towards the gangplank, pulling Mark who was still too in shock to make a move on his own along with him.

After having regained his equilibrium, Mark started to feel a sort of negative energy seeping out from the ice. This had always been a talent of Mark’s, when they were ten years old he had told Jaemin that he felt like he had some kind of connection to the spirits; he always got strange feelings when in close proximity to spiritual activity. Of course, Jaemin had told Mark to stop being silly, the spirits never involved themselves with humans. Over the years however it became harder to deny, Mark always got butterflies when an unseasonal blizzard hit the area, and after having spent a summer in the northern tribe learning advanced healing techniques Jaemin learnt that some injuries just couldn’t be caused by natural means.

Over a mound of snow that barricaded the view of the village from the ship, they observed what looked like a regular penguin waddling toward them, only that it couldn’t be. The creature was twice the size of a regular penguin, and a soft blue glow emanated off its otherwise translucent body. Just as Mark and Jaemin were about to ask each other if they knew what it was, it spotted them. The negative feeling in Mark’s stomach amplified tenfold, and a streak of pale blue light shot rapidly in their direction. This was definitely not a regular penguin. It had 4 eyes and housed rows of sharp teeth between its small but sharp looking beak. It was flapping wildly and aiming right at Jaemin. He luckily reacted quickly enough, and a jet of water shot up out of the ice to form a kind of shield between himself and the ghost penguin. It was not enough however to repel the full force of the creature, and Jaemin was flung sideways, skidding to lay limply on the ice ten metres away. It immediately turned its attention to Mark.

Now Mark’s immediate reaction would normally be to try and restrain it with water tendrils or something of the sort, but his instincts unconsciously told him that this thing probably didn’t like fire. The penguin was a mere few feet away when Mark was finally able to snap out of his thoughts and act. He raised his fists and pushed them outwards from his chest and, much to Mark’s surprise, bursts of white hot flames shot out. By the time the flames subsided, the creature was thoroughly disgruntled and had clearly decide to retreat, zipping away from the boys to slide away on its burnt belly.

“I think it’s time we discussed something I’ve suspected for a long time now” stated Taeyong, the village elder and Mark’s father, as he held his skilled hands over Jaemin’s body on the table. Following the fight with the penguin creature, Jaemin was left rather bruised and weak and Mark had to support him over his shoulder to walk back to visit their parents. When they’d entered the council building, Taeyong was immediately up with a worried expression on his face, coming to attend to his nephew. Thankfully, Taeyong was the best healer in the south pole, except for maybe Jaemin who showed a lot of promise, and managed to have him back in commission within minutes. Mark on the other hand could barely mend a paper cut within an hour. As Taeyong was working on Jaemin, Mark explained all about their early morning adventure to the ship, the terrifying ghost penguin, and Mark’s strange abilities, ready to face the consequences of breaking the rules, but the guilt of disappointing his father still weighed heavily on Mark’s mind.

“Thanks, uncle Taeyong” Jaemin thanked, standing up to stretch his long limbs. Even now, at only 17 and 18 years old they were both significantly taller than Taeyong. “but more important than me, I think Mark might be the next avatar”.

“Don’t be silly! The avatar is supposed to protect the world, I can’t even protect you from a silly penguin…it can’t be me!” Mark cried, riddled with doubt despite all of the evidence.

“Come on think about it Mark! Avatar Taeil the air nomad died 18 years ago and no one’s heard from the new one since. Going by the avatar cycle, the new one should be an 18 year old boy from the water tribes, and there aren’t too many of those”. Jaemin was right, the world had been without an avatar for 18 years too long.

“You may not remember this Mark, but when you were 4 years old, when you were told to blow the candles off your cake, you blew so hard you took out the fire burning in the hearth on the other side of the room.” Taeyong informed him. “The other elders and I had suspected you would be the next avatar ever since then. I also have reason to believe there is an imbalance in the spirit world. Something is causing them to stir, and if the issue isn’t rectified they could wreak some serious havoc”. So he knew. Both Mark and Jaemin’s parents, Taeyong and Jaemin’s mother being brother and sister, and a quiet, bookish man named Jungwoo who was the youngest of the elders had known all this time.

“But if I’m the avatar, why would my other powers only surface now? Don’t most avatars start training when they’re still children?” Mark questioned his father, as if he could possibly know the answer.

“I expect it is because the world needs you now. You must go to it.” Taeyong breathed a sigh as though this statement physically hurt him. “You two should go collect any personal belongings you will need for your journey. I will inform the other elders and have some of the villagers prepare a ship and supplies. You will set off for the earth kingdom this afternoon. When you arrive you should head to the great city of Ba Sing Sei to find an earth bending master. Only once you have mastered all the elements can you put the spirits at ease, as is your duty as the avatar.”

“Wait. The two of us? Why does Jaemin have to be involved in this?”

“Well, you’re not about to travel the world alone. Jaemin is a skilled bender and healer, you still have much to learn about your native element from him. Besides, he’d go insane here alone. So long as you are together, you will both survive.” Taeyong said with a sense of finality, and ushered them out of the council building and towards their houses.

They stepped into Mark’s house first, gathering a few extra clothes and some animal skins for sleeping. Mark didn’t normally carry any personal effects, but as he turned to leave his room something caught his eye. Glistening from a shelf above his bed was a small silver ring, engraved with the emblem of the water tribe. It had been his grandfathers, who had then passed it on to Taeyong, who had gifted it to Mark after he’d learnt the water whip. Mark slipped it onto his finger and left, collecting Jaemin from the kitchen where’d he’d been talking to his aunt and heading next door.

At Jaemin’s they also didn’t grab much, only some clothes and Jaemin’s spear. That was Jaemin’s prized possession. At first glance it looks like an unsuspecting staff, but a latch near the top allows Jaemin to flick it forward, and about 5 extra inches and a sharp spearhead emerges. A year ago it was taller than Jaemin, but now it only reaches up to his chin, seeing as the tip is hardly ever extended. It was carved with delicate images of flowing waves and fish swimming beneath them, in the middle was a depiction of two koi fish, swimming at each others tails in a circle around a round, full moon. It was also a gift, from Jaemin’s extended family (his father hails from the northern tribe) whom he stayed with when he went North for a while. That had been the most boring few months of Mark’s life, but at least Jaemin had fun and extended his skills far beyond what he could here in the village. Jaemin never usually went anywhere without it, and perhaps if he had had it this morning’s events may not have happened. After collecting the essentials, the pair said emotional goodbyes to their mothers, who couldn’t bear to see them off on a ship and would rather pretend they were just going outside to throw snow at each other as they had when they were children. It was midday by the time they finally headed off towards the bay to board their ship.

As they approached the jetty where their ship had been docked, they seen both their fathers come in to view, along with Jungwoo and some other villagers that they recognised. They were met with several hand shakes and claps on the shoulder, as the men took their stuff and put it on the ship with the other supplies, a series of “good luck”s and “congratulations” being hurled their way. They walked to the edge where their fathers stood. Jungwoo stepped forward first, holding a large book out to Mark.

“This book has complete maps of every region and details the types of flora and fauna native to each area, including which ones are edible or have other uses. I think you would find it quite useful” Jungwoo explained shyly, stepping back and looking down as soon as the book was securely in Mark’s hands.

“Thank you”, he responded “I will use it well”.

At last he turned to look at his father, who was trying and failing to conceal the tears threatening to burst out of his eyes. All at once he was swept up in a tight hug, with Jaemin being pulled in beside him, and Jaemin’s dad coming to surround them all in his vast arms. For a moment, Mark stayed, wishing it could last longer, before they finally broke away and jumped onto the deck of their boat.

“Please… just be safe, and do what is right” was Taeyong’s final statement as they pushed away from the jetty with a bit of a water bending boost and started northeast, towards the earth kingdom.

At a glance, they had enough food to last them about 4 days, and according to his uncle, it should take them 3 days to get there, so long as they stayed on course. After that they will either have to hunt and forage for food as shown in Jungwoo’s book, or try to make money somehow, probably by doing odd jobs for little old ladies. After about 4 hours of travel, they were in the middle of the ocean with no land in sight in any direction and exhausted from the effort of speeding up their trip using water bending, so they decided to tie down the sails and go to rest in the small cabin in the centre of the ship. Mark fell asleep to thoughts of both home and what lay before him, anticipating the moment when they touch land and their adventure truly begins.

#markhyuck #nct #nct dream #mark lee #sparklee #lee donghyuck #hellchan #na jaemin #lee jeno #huang renjun #zhong chenle #park jisung #hyungs communal tag #it's dinnertime

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starshua · 6 years

Text

fixation

k.sy x l.jh

word count; 2.4k

synopsis; Soonyoung spends a lot of time staring at Jihoon. Jihoon spends even more time pretending like he isn't doing the same thing.

✎ i started writing this on a whim without any clue as to its contents, characters, or conclusion. i hope you enjoy the mess that i came up with. big thanks to emmy @shuvee and kura @caratvocals for going over this before posting. you can also find this on ao3.

Soonyoung often wonders if meeting Jihoon was more destiny than chance.

Jihoon is everything Soonyoung has ever dreamed of. He may be less than five and a half feet of thinly veiled irritation, but he is more incredible than anyone can possibly understand. He’s kind, though he would never admit it, and cares so strongly it almost stuns Soonyoung. He’s passionate, overwhelmingly so, and pushes himself to do better than his best. He has so little regard for himself it would be almost damning if not for Soonyoung's watchful eye.

If you ask him, Soonyoung will deny the amount of time he spends staring at Jihoon. No, he claims, he hasn't noticed the disappearance of Jihoon's formerly bleached hair, nor has he ever paid any attention to the way Jihoon's laugh has grown less and less restrained as the years have progressed. He’ll feign ignorance even if one mentions the time Soonyoung sprinted down a flight of stairs just to catch the jacket that was about to fall from Jihoon’s grasp, or the time Soonyoung drove to Jihoon’s house at two in the morning to make sure the boy was actually asleep instead of pulling his fourth all-nighter in a row (and he was, which made Soonyoung just about lose what little sanity he still had left). No, he always says, I don’t pay particular attention to him. I do this for all of my friends.

To an extent, that’s true. Soonyoung is incredibly devoted to all the people he holds dear. Seokmin can’t even count on one hand the times that Soonyoung has caught Seokmin to hand him his forgotten backpack after class; Chan couldn’t even imagine a dance session without Soonyoung’s helpful advice; Wonwoo isn’t sure he would even have so many friends if it weren’t for Soonyoung’s friendly openness to the awkward, bookish new kid that couldn’t figure out how to say hello to anyone.

For most people, Soonyoung is a tremendously positive force. He recognizes this to an extent, but whenever anyone mentions that maybe, just maybe, he’s good for Jihoon, too, he rejects the idea before it’s even fully formed.

Maybe it's because Soonyoung doesn't know that Jihoon is fixated on him, too.

All of Jihoon's friends know—it'd be hard not to, really. Jihoon spends just about every day gazing off toward Soonyoung, trying (and failing) to be subtle about the direction his thoughts are drifting.

The boy they know now is hardly anything like the one that they met all those months ago. That change in him, they think, is because of Soonyoung.

In the beginning, Jihoon was decidedly antisocial. At first, they thought that he was just sort of an asshole, but after about a week of Soonyoung’s observation, he was labeled as “painfully awkward,” and the group made an effort to be more welcoming. Still, his introversion persisted, and the group had nearly given up on the boy. Soonyoung, though, had already decided that there was something in him worth pursuing.

His methods were not imitable. The others were gentler with Jihoon, but Soonyoung had apparently decided that going easy on the boy was not going to do much good. So, in typical Soonyoung fashion, he walked right up to Jihoon, stared the shorter male in the eye, and announced in a booming voice, “You’re an asshole.”

Jihoon had stared at Soonyoung incredulously before sputtering out, “I-I am not??”

Soonyoung had grinned at Jihoon and shrugged. “Prove it,” he had told the smaller, who appeared ready to punch Soonyoung right in the nose.

“How the hell am I supposed to do that?” he had asked, irritation written all over his face.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Soonyoung had drawled. “Maybe be my friend?”

Jihoon had blinked once. Twice. Thrice. Soonyoung had held his hand out to Jihoon, who still couldn’t quite believe that this was really happening.

“…Why would I do that?” Jihoon had asked. It was a valid question, really, considering Soonyoung’s rudeness. Still, Soonyoung had smiled unabashedly and gestured to his friends, who were watching the scene with varying degrees of embarrassment written across their faces.

“Because I think all of my friends would also like to befriend a certain grumpy new classmate, but they lack the shamelessness that I possess, so progress has been slow and I’ve grown sick of waiting,” he had begun.

Jihoon had looked around at the sheepish faces of Soonyoung’s friends and remembered all of their attempts to talk to him over the past week or so.

“Oh,” he had said stupidly, because what else was he supposed to say? He had thought that they were just pitying the new kid.

Jihoon, as Soonyoung would discover, lacked a considerable amount of self-worth. He couldn’t fathom why, but he also couldn’t understand a word of what came out of their math teacher’s mouth, so the incomprehensibility didn’t surprise him. Still, he swore to do everything in his power to get Jihoon to see himself how Soonyoung did.

Soonyoung, Jihoon would discover, was relentlessly persistent. Their friendship, despite its odd foundations, quickly blossomed. They were an unlikely pair, really—Soonyoung was so outgoing, so reckless, and seemed altogether too chaotic. Jihoon was quite the opposite—he was quiet, thoughtful, and managed to put all of his feelings into the music he produced rather than in his actions. Now the music—that was something they were equally passionate about. They were creators, albeit with different mediums, and they were able to understand each other in ways they likely never would have without music.

Jihoon likes to watch Soonyoung dance. It’s mesmerizing, really; the way that boy moves should be considered an art form all on its own. Soonyoung is an art form, Jihoon thinks, though he’d deny it if anyone asked. No one will ask though. Despite his warming up, he’s still a force to be reckoned with, and he will undoubtedly kick anyone in the shin if they cross him. No one needs to ask anyway. The way Jihoon feels—it’s so evident it’s almost painful. The way Jihoon stares at Soonyoung when he’s really lost in the music—if love had a definite look, well, that’d be it.

Love is not something either boy is familiar with. This, too, is painfully obvious to just about anyone and everyone. Soonyoung is much better at expressing his affection through his actions, but when it comes to words…well, Chan would (and has) called the sight pathetic. Jihoon, as good as he is with words, can’t ever seem to get them past his throat. It’s gotten bad enough that, upon seeing the two together, Jeonghan will occasionally just sort of…scream. It’s incoherent and, honestly, a little concerning, but Seungcheol always tells them to pay it no mind as he gingerly pats his anguished friend’s back.

For all of Soonyoung’s rowdiness and energy, he thinks he could sit and watch Jihoon make music forever. At first, their friends tried to stop him from tagging along with Jihoon when he went to record something. How could Soonyoung, who can’t even sit still for more than five minutes, possibly be anything but a distraction?

They were surprised when Jihoon stopped them. They didn’t know, of course, that it wasn’t the first time Soonyoung had accompanied Jihoon to his studio. The first time had been an accident, really. Soonyoung had been tasked with bringing something or other to Jihoon after the latter had forgotten it at school and Mrs. Lee, who had been preoccupied, requested that Soonyoung bring it down to Jihoon himself.

What he saw there was something he’ll likely never forget. The sight was ordinary, sure, but with Soonyoung’s rose-colored vision, it was anything but. Jihoon, scribbling strings of artful phrases and mouthing countless more, bent over and so focused that, for a moment, Soonyoung could do nothing but stare. The younger had been so absorbed by his work that he hadn’t even been aware of Soonyoung’s presence, and Soonyoung, not willing to snap Jihoon out of his trance, closed the door and waited. He must have sat there for thirty minutes before Jihoon even bothered to look up. (It was worth it, he thinks, because Jihoon screeched in surprise and it was adorable hilarious.)

Since that time, Soonyoung has often found himself in Jihoon’s studio. He watches his friend silently pour out his heart and soul onto crinkled pages, unable to focus on anything but the way the younger looks as he worries his lip between his teeth and hums a tune all his own. It’s there that he starts to wonder if this is what love feels like. He hopes not because, gosh, is his heart supposed to sting? Is he supposed to feel so lonely as he sits just a few paces away? No, he decides, this isn’t what love should feel like.

Love, he imagines, feels like Jihoon’s lips on his, hands intertwined, and hearts beating as one.

He wonders if Jihoon feels the same. All of their friends think so (yes, all of them, even Chan, who deems the concept of Soonyoung being in love to be gross), but that’s not enough to ease Soonyoung’s nervous heart. He tries to figure it out on his own, but Jihoon is unreadable. Soonyoung can feel the discomfort his outrageous displays of affection bring, so he stops. He can’t tell if Jihoon is thankful or not.

Jihoon doesn’t know what to do, what to think, what to feel. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to fall in love with someone, though he supposes that doesn’t really matter since he’s already fallen. But can he express it? He doesn’t think so. Neither does Joshua, who has tried his utmost to help Jihoon express affection without a grimace. Seokmin is more optimistic, but he also still believes that fairies are real, so Jihoon takes his friend’s hopefulness with a grain of salt.

Soonyoung’s feelings are another thing that Jihoon just can’t quite believe in. Wonwoo has told Jihoon about a million times that Soonyoung is painfully infatuated with him, but Jihoon can’t trust it. Why would anyone like him, much less love him? He can’t even begin to fathom why, but when he glances up and catches Soonyoung staring for the sixth time that afternoon, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, the fondness in his gaze is real.

It’s going to take a lot for Soonyoung to confess to Jihoon. Minghao, for one, is exasperated and would love nothing more than for the two to get together so he can stop being greeted with lovesick eyes every time he asks his friend for a pen. He devises a plan (though Junhui begs him not to) and suddenly Soonyoung and Jihoon are locked in a closet during a stupid party and, thankfully, it’s too dark for either boy to see the other’s cheeks flushing increasingly red.

Soonyoung is the first to speak. He’s nervous and stuttering and, god, have his hands ever been this clammy before? He rambles for a long time about how lame the party is and how dumb their friends are for not noticing that they’re stuck in this cramped closet. The chatter is starting to annoy Jihoon, who can’t for the life of him focus on anything else besides how soft Soonyoung’s lips look and how he wants nothing more than to just reach over and—

No, he tells himself, he is not going to kiss Soonyoung—not until that stupid idiot shuts the hell up so Jihoon can actually focus on what he wants to say when he confesses. But Soonyoung doesn’t shut up—of course he doesn’t, Jihoon grumbles—and with each meaningless, stuttered addition Jihoon loses a bit more of his cool.

“You know what?” he interrupts. Soonyoung, mouth still open mid-complaint, shakes his head. “Fuck this.”

Against his better judgment, Jihoon kisses Soonyoung. He throws all caution out the window and grabs the older by the collar of his stupid shirt and presses their mouths together and Soonyoung groans in surprise (oh christ, Jihoon thinks, that’s hot, why is he so attractive) before responding eagerly.

The kiss is a mess, Jihoon thinks, and a closet in Minghao’s house during a trashy high school party is just about the farthest place from where he wanted his first kiss with Soonyoung to be, but it’s already happening and the sounds Soonyoung is making are enough to make everything feel better than okay.

Soonyoung pours his heart out—how he feels about Jihoon, what he wants them to become, how beautiful and irreplaceable Jihoon is to him, how fast his heart is beating right now (and it’s true; Jihoon can feel it)—as he holds Jihoon’s face between his hands in that dingy closet, the taste of Jihoon’s lips still on his tongue.

When their friends finally open that closet door, they’re almost reluctant to leave. They do, though, because Seungkwan convinced everybody to chip in for a pizza, and because Minghao has been waggling his eyebrows at Soonyoung for an uncomfortable amount of time.

They leave early (though not before each boy is whisked away by their respective closest friends and begged for details), hand in hand, and spend the night on Soonyoung’s roof, hearts bared open and chests heaving. They talk about everything and nothing under the cover of night; it feels like eternity and infinity and destiny all wrapped into one. It’s overwhelming, Soonyoung thinks, but it feels fantastic.

Eventually, the night turns chilly and neither boy thinks that freezing to death under the beautiful sky is worth more than the other’s embrace, they climb into Soonyoung’s room and try to calm their rapidly beating hearts.

They explore each other that night. Jihoon discovers Soonyoung tastes like hope and green tea; Soonyoung discovers that Jihoon tends to whine and grasp weakly at Soonyoung’s wrists when the younger is about to reach his limit. Jihoon learns that Soonyoung likes to bury his face in Jihoon’s neck because he relishes in the sound of the smaller’s moans in his ear; Soonyoung figures out that his (and Jihoon’s) favorite place to leave hickeys is Jihoon’s inner thigh because, god, is he sensitive there.

They fall asleep with limbs tangled and skin flush against skin. The feeling is new, but neither is willing to shy away from it—not when it feels so good.

Waking up with Jihoon in his arms is something Soonyoung didn’t know he’d love so much. Nothing has ever felt more right to Soonyoung than the way Jihoon fits in his embrace. He tries not to get sappy all by himself, but with the boy he loves more than anything curled up against him, how could he be anything other than emotional?

Soonyoung doesn’t have to wonder anymore. As Jihoon’s gentle breaths fan against his bare chest, Soonyoung decides that meeting Jihoon was much more than just chance. Their initial encounter, the undeniable mutual fixation, their falling in love—that, Soonyoung believes, was destiny.

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jungnoir · 7 years

Text

three’s company;

⇢ summary: the basketball team captain and the bookish loner both have crushes on you. this sounds an awful lot like a movie you’ve seen before. a birthday present for this beautiful woman aging like fine wine, @yongceo.

⇢ relationship: choi seungcheol/reader/jeon wonwoo.

⇢ genre: high school!au, romance, humor.

⇢ words: 9.1k

⇢ warnings: reads like a cliche romantic comedy and that’s exactly what I was going for.

a/n: this wound up as the theme song for this heh

In your defense, there was virtually no way you could have avoided this fate of yours, and just as equally no way you could have known that you’d be caught in a terrifyingly familiar love triangle between your best friend, Jeon Wonwoo, and his best friend and captain of the basketball team, Choi Seungcheol. But I mean, when had life ever given you a head’s up about anything? Let alone what could potentially be a disaster of rom-com proportions?

“I’m in pain for you, I really am,” the sound of Wonwoo’s deep but nevertheless mocking voice catches your dazed attention the minute he makes himself known behind your open locker door, cat like eyes turned up into small smiles of their own as he watched your face fall into a pout, “I’ve known the dude almost as long as I’ve known you, and he’s absolutely terrible at history. You’re basically going to be doing like 90% of the project.”

“What about the other 10%?” You ask, picking out your books for the next period with quiet mourning. Really, anyone would kill to be Choi Seungcheol’s partner in anything, for anything, and it wasn’t like you wouldn’t either. Despite the boy being close childhood friends with your own, your paths had never really crossed enough for you to avoid getting a little starry-eyed at the mention of his name. In fact, had you both had such a relationship, you probably would have fallen much harder.

Your sullen attitude was more so directed at the fact that 1). you had the envious attention of every other admirer of his in school and 2). there was no way in hell you were ever going to focus with him in the midst. You might as well have marched up to your teacher and demanded he stamp a bright red “F” on your forehead to get it over with.

“He’ll present it all and look really handsome and intelligent while doing so.” Wonwoo explains, shaking his head as if he’d suffered a similar situation. He had, in all actuality, and it was still a soft spot for the boy.

You don’t mean to but your mind instantly wanders to a visual of Seungcheol doing just as Wonwoo had said, and you can’t help but melt a little, “Is that so bad?” You dreamily sigh.

Seconds later, you’re met with a sharp pinch to the side that has you cowering into the metal lockers for safety from your offending best friend, his eyes narrowed into stern slits that make you sober up quick, “Seriously, (Y/N)? You remember how heartbroken I was about the chem project from-” “-ninth grade, you never let me forget. But I really don’t think it’s Seungcheol’s fault that you chickened out so bad before your presentation.”

His eyes narrow more, if it was even possible, and then he lets out a heavy sigh that tells you something else is on its way, and if you knew Wonwoo as well as you thought you did, it was probably going to be a- “Just... don’t get too lovestruck, okay? I know you like Cheol and all, but don’t be afraid to force him to work. He needs a little prodding every now and then.”

Wonwoo was never void of concern for you, and while at times you honestly wished the boy would lighten up, it made you oddly grateful for his caring nature. He had always been the one to check your bruises when you got pushed around on the playground, always the one who would take the blame for you in a heartbeat if it meant you got out of trouble unscathed. He was a little uptight and a little hesitant, but he always meant well, and you knew you could trust him. After all, he was the closest person to you in life.

For a while, where you stood with Wonwoo was certain in your eyes. You two were best friends, inseparable. Even after nearly ten years of friendship, the two of you had always been funnily close. Both of your parents had found it endearing how close you were, how easy it was for you two to melt into each other; words, actions, mannerisms and all. You had always seen him as the one that would be your maid of honor (because god damn it, dudes could be maids of honor too in your book), the one who would send his kids to playdates with your kids, the one that your husband would be terrified of getting on the wrong side of if he wanted your approval. Wonwoo was attached to your hip, and for a while, that was all well and good and platonic.

But with the start of high school came many changes. You were growing, as was he, and your bodies were telling you new, exciting things about everyone around you. But more in particular, they were telling you that Wonwoo was actually a pretty great guy, and despite his squeaky voice at the beginning of high school, he’d matured into a pretty attractive contender in the sea of boys at your school. You hated to admit it, but you had slowly and surely began to see him in a much, much different light.

But along with your feelings toward Wonwoo came your inevitable attraction toward Seungcheol, his best friend and Mr. Popular from preschool well into senior year. You had seen him in a pretty apathetic light up until he’d sprouted in height and packed on a few muscles from his endless basketball games with his friends, one of which happened to include Wonwoo. On the days Wonwoo could get you to come cheer him on, you’d often find yourself enthralled with the specimen that was Seungcheol. You blamed it on science; you could do that, right? It was just... hormones.

But it continued on for several years until you were pretty damn sure this was an irreversible love.

If Wonwoo could hear your thoughts now, he might’ve choked. “You listening?” He asks, looking a little annoyed at your vacant expression.

You’re about to reply, mouth already forming some excuse as to why you were so spaced out (”It’s just the upcoming algebra quiz”) when something about the atmosphere changes. Had you been new to the school or maybe not as fine-tuned to your surroundings you’d have missed it, but there was no mistaking why heads were turning all around you.

Speaking of the devil, there he was.

Seungcheol strutted down the hallway, high-fiving his many, many entourages of friends as he made his way through the school. It almost looked cliche how well liked and popular he was, but you didn’t exactly blame him for having the favor of everyone in school. He had the personality worth the love.

Seungcheol was never stuck up or cocky, never the beefy jock with no brain cells or a lack of kindness for those unlike himself. He knew that he could be loud and a little too friendly for the quieter majority, but he was kind and his intentions were always pure. If you had to ever fall for someone the complete opposite of you, Seungcheol was your best decision.

“Good morning to my two favorite nerds.” he jokes as he rounds up to you and Woo, slinging an arm around either of your shoulders and pulling you both in to his blue letterman jacket.

While Wonwoo fights the affection and pushes Seungcheol away chagrined, you found yourself leaning into the warmth of Seungcheol a little more the more you were allowed, and it seemed he didn’t mind. In fact, he pulled you infinitesimally closer when he realized only one of you was keen on accepting his attention, “Very well,” he turns to look down at you with a pleased smirk, “good morning, (Y/N).”

You try not to lose your breath even as he steals it with no remorse, round brown eyes looking so painfully doe-eyed that his rougher edges almost melt away out of your peripheral view. “...morning, Seungcheol.”

His smirk softens into a smile when you answer back with a much quieter voice, and you feel his arm loosen a bit around your shoulders. It annoys you how a big part of you wishes to pull him back once again. But then again, it also doesn’t.

Wonwoo watches with a small sneer, eyes flicking between the two of you with barely masked distaste, “Cheol, let her go. You’re going to squeeze the living daylights out of her with those arms.”

Seungcheol just raises an eyebrow in question, “You checking me out, Jeon?” You can’t help but laugh when Wonwoo is forced into an embarrassed splutter of words he can barely get out.

It turns out that he has to release you anyway, the bell ringing as if to tease you for thinking the moment with Seungcheol could last, and the bigger boy sighs before pulling away, though his hand lingers on your shoulder when he remembers something, “When are we meeting up for the project? I’ve already got a few articles I’d like you to look at. I’m not totally good with this academic stuff, but I think it’d come in handy?”

Both you and Wonwoo are surprised at the mention of Seungcheol looking up his own material for the project, though Wonwoo more so. The once worrying weight of having to carry the entire project on your shoulders fell flat off your back in seconds. You knew you could trust Seungcheol to treat you right, “Yes! Absolutely, Cheol. I don’t know when I’m free, but I can text you later?” All Wonwoo can think is when did you start calling him Cheol?

Seungcheol nods, and Wonwoo is almost about to make a joke about how you don’t even have Seungcheol’s number, when the first boy pulls out his phone and asks for your number instead. You rattle off the ten digits like a practiced prayer, and he diligently keeps up with you, tapping speedily away at his phone before pocketing it and waving the two of you a goodbye. You feel your back pocket vibrate and you pull out your phone in a hurry, a flurry of butterflies tickling your stomach when you see what he had sent.

(1) Unread Message(s)

received: 8:32 a.m., october 16th, 2017

+82-1-452-5336: text me soon, my lady :)

“My lady?” Wonwoo reads over your shoulder in disbelief, but even his negative attitude can’t dampen your mood now. You were positively untouchable. “How are you not cringing, right now?”

“Imagine it in his voice, Woo.”

“I am. It’s making me sick.”

“You’re probably just jealous. I’ll see you in class, okay?” You tell the peeved boy, his eyes saying he had more to argue about but his mouth remaining stubbornly shut. You wait a second longer just in case, but know you can’t hold up for much longer before your teacher would mark you absent.

And he has to watch you go, practically floating down the hallway just from a simple text from a guy he’d seen pick out his boogers and eat them way back in middle school on a dare. He has to think it was funny how things had played out, where he had ended up, the best friend in love with the best friend in love with the most popular guy in school (who just so happened to be his other best friend). He had to laugh when you said he was “probably just jealous” because, really, you might’ve meant it in regards to you snatching the attention of Seungcheol, but that really wasn’t the case at all.

Not by a long shot.

It’s two days later that you’re sitting across a table from Seungcheol in you and Wonwoo’s favorite diner with textbooks open between the both of you, one opened to the right page (yours) and the other not (his).

“What is it about history you don’t understand?” You ask, hands folded under your chin as you survey his expression. While the boy was trying his damnedest to look understanding with what you were saying the minute you started talking to him about the articles he’d found, you quickly noticed the deterioration of his grasp on the subject. He was trying his best, really, but you could see right through him, unfortunately for him.

“Well, it’s... there’s lots of things that need to be remembered. Important things, sure, but they just... kinda don’t make sense to me. I think it’s better to focus on the future in lieu of the past sometimes, you know? Remembering all these dates and rotting old dudes who “discovered” these different countries and continents gets tiring for me. Is that bad?” He asks, in no way attempting to sound condescending. Even if you severely don’t agree, you couldn’t find it in you to be annoyed.

“No,” you say softly, and you can’t help your smile when his expression melts into one of relief, “that’s just how you feel, Seungcheol. But have you ever thought about how differently the world would work if we ignored the past? I mean, even in our own lives, we don’t make better decisions at random. It comes from experiencing the bad things and learning from them. Sure, the surface of learning history seems like studying old dudes and remembering big wars, but there’s more to it. Imagine all the things we could accomplish if we studied how we came to be, and learned how we should continue on.”

Seungcheol stares you in the eye, thoroughly stumped by you. “Wow,” he says after a moment, “you... you kinda got me there... but I still don’t like it.”

You burst into a fit of giggles that Seungcheol finds so incredibly endearing and shrug, “I’ll make it fun for you then.”

Just as you say so, the waitress who had come to take your orders earlier saunters over with a metallic tray, your sweet treats atop it and looking rather tempting. While Seungcheol had ordered a classic chocolate milkshake, you’d gone for a strawberry with whipped cream and a cherry on top. The diner was pretty lovely with aesthetics too because inside each milkshake was a white and red striped straw, bringing you back to the time period the diner tried to emulate.

Seungcheol’s eyes light up and he thanks the waitress with a giddy smile, hands reaching for his glass and immediately drinking his shake so fast you’re surprised he doesn’t get a brain freeze. You, slower, take your time to drink your milkshake and even you can’t help but want to inhale it like your table mate was.

“This is the best thing, Woo’s been holding out on me,” Seungcheol says with a childishly annoyed expression on his face, “Wanna try mine?”

You pull away from your straw to look at the chocolate milkshake and shrug, dragging his glass to the middle of the table and cleaning your straw off the side of your own before inserting it into his milkshake. You look at Seungcheol who looks weirdly excited for some reason, his hands clasped in front of him and settled in his lap. You reach forward toward your straw and start sipping.

A gust of air brushes against your face, and one minute your eyes are closed and you’re focused solely on the milkshake, and then the next... Seungcheol is inches away from your face, doing the same thing.

You practically choke on what ice cream is already in your mouth, the sight of Seungcheol so close driving you to inhale a breath way too fast. His eyelids are shut, enviably long eyelashes resting at the rise of his cheekbones and equally as desired red lips wrapped around his straw. His mouth is settled into a faint smile, as if threatening to widen and break into one of his enchanting grins the longer you’d stare. Yet, all you can do is stare. You can’t pull away from your drink against your better judgment.

After an agonizing few seconds, Seungcheol opens his eyes and pulls away, locking eyes with you and having the audacity to lick his lips while your cheeks warm. “Pretty good, right?”

You blank for a few moments, heart hammering uncomfortably behind your rib cage. You swear you can hear him chuckle when you turn to your history textbook and flip it to the right page, slamming the thing open almost, “Let’s start at section forty-two... p-please.”

You really shouldn’t be that surprised when you find yourself that same night, unable to concentrate on your Chem homework no matter how hard you tried. Every time you’d focus on a formula, your mind would inevitably drift to Seungcheol and that vision of him, seconds away from brushing noses with you, seconds from brushing lips with you...

And neither happened.

You let out a groan that sounds ugly when muffled by your pillow, your hands tossing your homework to the floor to the side of your bed in defeat. It was clear you’d never get a chance to think if you kept this up, but it wasn’t like your mind was exactly letting anything else happen otherwise.

You stare longingly at the wall across from you and wonder quietly to yourself if maybe listening to music would help get your mind off things when you hear something strange from the other side of the room. You stay still, eyes darting everywhere they could reach as your mind tries to process where the sound could possibly be coming from. When you hear it again however, you realize it’s the sound of something hitting glass. The glass of your bedroom window.

You roll over so fast you almost get whiplash, and your heart hammers when you see a dark head of hair peaking through the window of your room until you realize who it is. A quick glance at the time on your phone gives you your answer: you were so lost on Seungcheol you’d forgotten Wonwoo would be stopping by.

You walk over and raise the window with a mock-irritated expression on your face, “I’m starting to wonder why I’m getting used to you showing up at my window every other night.”

Wonwoo grins, pushing himself up off the rope ladder you’d left for him in the midst of your routine to prepare for his nightly visits into your home. He lands on the carpet of your floor with a toothy grin, “You leave the ladder out religiously. Even if I don’t plan to visit you make me want to.”

You had been asked a few times in your life why you hadn’t grown sick of your best friend, someone you saw for the majority of your day everyday. The only times you weren’t hanging out with him was when you were sleeping or in different classes, and even then he found some way to cross your path. Weekends were even worse. You guessed for people whose friends easily grew tiring to be around, it was easy to find hanging out with someone so often as you did Wonwoo exhausting. But you and Wonwoo had never shared the sentiment; in fact, you vehemently denied it.

Wonwoo complemented you well, from every bit of his personality to every bit of his life. He fit you in all the places you didn’t fit him and vice versa, like souls in the shapes of puzzle pieces. Usually, there was never one concrete thing you could say he didn’t complement for you.

Seungcheol had expressed his jealousy at how easily the two of you got along. You had always wondered what Seungcheol and Wonwoo had in common, because at first glance (and even at slightly closer inspection), they were polar opposites. Wasn’t it easier to be friends with someone you were a lot like rather than the other way around?

But Seungcheol fit Wonwoo in a different way. Where Wonwoo was too quiet to stand up for himself in elementary school, Seungcheol would command respect for his friend while you’d rather lead Wonwoo away to avoid conflict. Where Wonwoo would sulk around alone, you’d join him in his solitude yet Seungcheol would bring Wonwoo into his boisterous friend circles. Even if Wonwoo would complain, he appreciated Seungcheol would do such a thing for him. You guessed it was the matter of opposites attracting or the like.

Whatever it was, Wonwoo felt equally linked to both of you.

Said boy stands up and walks toward your bed but stops when he sees your things thrown haphazardly to the ground, “What’s this all about?”

You frown and flop on the bed, “I can’t focus for the life of me.”

“Do you want help? This stuff...” he leans down to look over what you have, “you know I’m good at science! I can help.” “No, no. I can do it, I swear... I just... my mind is everywhere, Woo.”

Wonwoo’s eyes narrow in worry, trading his hold on your homework for a hold of the sheets on your bed as he pulls himself up to sit facing you, “Something the matter? You can tell me.”

You could, theoretically, but you also knew he wouldn’t want to hear any more about it once you did.

But Wonwoo was your best friend, shouldn’t he be understanding despite the subject matter?

“It’s... Seungcheol.” You answer finally, mouth turned down into a pout. Surprisingly, Wonwoo’s expression doesn’t change, so you continue, “Today, I was tutoring him in history. Well... we kind of had a moment. And now I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s bad, Woo. This crush is ridiculous.”

You expect Wonwoo to laugh, maybe ask you to define “moment” only to classify yours as not so, and you’re already building up possible defenses that he’d take seriously for all of two seconds. You expect him to be like the doubtful voices in your head. But instead, “Then tell him you like him.”

“Wha.... what? Tell him... I’m sorry, have we met? I can’t just tell him I like him! That’s- that’s completely out of the question-” “Why? Imagine if Seungcheol liked you back, but he never told you. Wouldn’t you want him to? But because he doesn’t, you never find out, and because you never find out, he loses his chance,” Wonwoo’s voice stays serious and his expression just as such, a side of Wonwoo you’d never seen when on the topic of his other best friend, “and you go on in life wondering what might have happened if you had just said something. Don’t do that to yourself, (Y/N). Tell him.”

You stare, wide-eyed, “But... how? Do you know if he likes me back?”

At this his face twitches, if only slightly, “I can’t tell you that.”

A good part of you feels like you’re sitting on the edge of a diving board on a hot summer day, seconds from slipping into the cool water below and finding relief. Then that good part of you is suddenly being yanked off said diving board and being told the pool was closed for the day.

Wonwoo could possibly hold the key to the question you’d been wondering since freshman year, but you’d known Wonwoo long enough to know he respected his friends. He would never spill their secrets, even for the benefit of the other. He just wasn’t that kind of person, and you both admired it because he kept your crush on Seungcheol a secret, and secretly loathed it because he kept Seungcheol’s feelings for you locked up just as tight.

Still, you would hate for your secret to be spilled, probably just as much as Seungcheol would. It was only fair, after all.

Wonwoo watches you go through the varying stages of disappointment, frustration, and acceptance in what he hopes appears vague and detached. Internally however, his insides feel like they’re a mess. Here he was, giving the girl he loved advice on how to tell the boy she loved that she loved him. He was helping his best friend fall in love with his best friend, and he was the only one privy to the fact that he had feelings too, that he applied to the situation in his own way.

He couldn’t hate Seungcheol for coming to him five months ago, cheeks warm and dusted a soft pink after he’d finished a basketball game and all he could talk about was how he’d seen you in the crowd at the game next to Wonwoo, cheering the loudest in comparison the quieter boy. He couldn’t hate Seungcheol for being human and liking someone, even if that someone was you, and even if he liked you first.

“That makes sense,” it really does, but you hate that it does even as you say it, “I won’t ask you about it again.”

Wonwoo nods, the mood having effectively dropped. He almost wishes he never came over, and had he not taken the time to sneak up into your second story window, he just might have. When he had landed in your room, he had multiple things he wanted to say to you, and now all of them sounded stupid and little in comparison to your inner turbulence.

“But I will ask this. You would have never told me to confess any other day. What made today any different?” You question.

Wonwoo bites his lip hard, threatening to draw a flow of blood to the surface if his canines were just a little sharper. Logically, it’s very simple why he told you this. You yourself had said that you and Seungcheol had had a moment, and said moment did not at all seem one sided. If there was a chance there was something more there... then what was holding you back from embracing that full force?

Or maybe, what he told you was what he had been trying to tell himself. “Felt a little philosophical today,” he smiles painfully, “and I want you to be happy.”

You can’t help the small grateful smile on your face that blooms at the sight of his, even if it doesn’t look anywhere near his usual, authentic one. “I love you, Woo. Thank you for being such a good friend to me.”

Friend. Why, oh why does that word make the two of you feel so off all of a sudden?

The following Friday is a big day for you and Seungcheol. First, you two give an exceptional presentation on your project with you smiling proudly beside Seungcheol as he explains your subject to the class with a charm you doubted could be recreated by anyone else. Your teacher even applauds the two of you when you’re done, and though Seungcheol is insistent to blame it on the fact that that particular teacher just really likes him, you assure him he’d done an excellent job regardless.

That had only spurred the grinning boy to drag you into his arms and give you a bear hug that you were sure you’d never forget; his arms felt secure, leaving you with a flustered confession choking you and leaving you unable to even say goodbye when Seungcheol informed you he had practice for the big game that night. He had left the invitation open, leaving it up to you whether you’d decide to make it or not. You had promptly texted Wonwoo to meet you in the courtyard, hoping he’d give you a little more encouragement when the time came for you to tell Seungcheol how you felt. Tonight felt like a particularly good night, and you were still buzzing from the way Seungcheol has hugged you goodbye earlier that day.

Only, Wonwoo didn’t show.

He hadn’t even opened your text, the grey font under your message still reading “Delivered”. You knew that Wonwoo didn’t have class to get to at that time, which only made it weirder to you when you didn’t run into him at any other point in the day. Even the class you shared was void of your best friend, and it wasn’t like he was texting you back to let you know what was up.

By the end of the day, you had enough worries to force you into finding Seungcheol, the only other person you could guess knew where Wonwoo might be. If he was avoiding you, that didn’t necessarily mean he was avoiding Seungcheol.

You find the latter in the gym unsurprisingly, somewhere he’d often disappear to when his classes were over for the day and the team had to get ready for a game. There’s only a few of them there however, and Seungcheol is the only one really playing. “Seungcheol?” You call, your voice a little too small to reach him as he continues to play.

Pushing yourself toward the court, you call his name, but yet again he doesn’t hear. You’re seriously considering putting yourself between him and the basket to get his attention when one of his resting teammates, Soonyoung, speaks up from behind the spout of his water bottle, “Cheol! Your girlfriend is calling you.”

Your cheeks instantly redden when that gets Seungcheol’s attention, the boy turning at lightning speed with his ball bouncing away from him, a forgotten dribble as it then begins to roll into stillness. You expect Seungcheol’s next move to be correcting his presumptuous teammate, but instead, Seungcheol just whispers your name and starts making his way over.

You can hear a terribly disguised whisper by another teammate, Mingyu, tone reprimanding toward Soonyoung, “Dude, they’re not dating. She’s practically dating Wonwoo.”

Now you’re ready to correct them both, but Seungcheol has reached you by then, already covered in a light sheen of sweat, “Hey, what are you doing here?”

You feel kind of bad that Seungcheol looks so happy you’ve come to his practice where the only person you knew personally was him, only to ask him about someone else, but you remember how worried you are and that bad feeling lessens some, “I-It’s about Woo. I haven’t seen him all day and he won’t answer my calls or texts. I don’t know if I made him mad or something, but everything was fine up until yesterday.”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows furrow some, “Up until yesterday, huh? He hasn’t texted me back since Wednesday. I assumed he was just in one of his moods and didn’t feel like talking... but if he’s not talking to you, I’m a little worried.”

So he wasn’t talking to either of you?

You can’t imagine what either you or Seungcheol could have done to Wonwoo that would make him do such a thing, and you can’t lie: it hurts that you can’t talk to your best friend.

“Gyu, has Wonwoo talked to you lately?” Seungcheol calls to Mingyu, the boy’s eyes widening a bit at the sudden attention.

You’d known Mingyu because of Wonwoo. Mingyu was just as lively and friendly as Seungcheol, which baffled you when comparing him to Wonwoo, but the two of them had been friends since freshman year when they’d both ended up as reluctant friends (on Wonwoo’s part, anyway) at the same summer camp only to find each other two weeks later on the first day of high school. You remembered how shocked Wonwoo had been to find Mingyu there when he’d “just gotten rid of him”, but you knew Wonwoo cared a lot for Mingyu in a way he never quite vocalized. If Seungcheol and Wonwoo weren’t together, he was with Mingyu.

“Uh... yeah, actually. I think he’s just in a mood. Needs some time to himself.” Mingyu explains, though his answer feels extremely lackluster to you and Seungcheol.

Seungcheol frowns, “Is that it?”

The younger visibly stiffens and the action only raises suspicions, his lip caught between his teeth as if he was fabricating a lie on his tongue while the silence dragged on. You were about to reprimand him in case he was doing so, until he spit out, “Positive.”

It still felt entirely too short of an answer for the look on Mingyu’s face, and if you could, you��d hold Mingyu hostage until he gave up the real answer, but you knew Mingyu was about as loyal to Wonwoo as he was to his word. And that was very loyal.

Seungcheol sees your dejected expression and as if a switch flips on in his head, he knows what you need. He reaches out a large hand and pulls you in by the shoulder until you’re hitting his chest in a sideways hug, the sudden affection making you blush, “I’m sure he just wants to be alone, (Y/N). This isn’t the first time he’s ignored me for a few days with no reason.” “But it’s the first time for me.” You pout in response.

Seungcheol, apparently not liking the sad look on your face, gently raises his thumb to the side of your mouth and pushes upward, unconsciously making you laugh and swat his hand away. In turn, he smiles and removes his fingers, teasingly hovering over your hair, “It’s hormones! I’m sure he’ll come to his senses by tonight and realize he’s being a butt to his best friends, specifically you. And then I’ll guard the locker room when you inevitably kick his ass for making you worried.”

You scrunch up your nose in reply, to which he can’t help but melt a little at seeing. He’d like to kiss that cute nose of yours... if he could.

Instead, he peels away from you and rubs your shoulder comfortingly, “Tell him he’ll have the wrath of Choi Seungcheol upon his head if he continues to make you sad. I’m sure he’ll be here tonight, he never misses a game.”

This shifts your focus altogether, and you quickly perk up as he begins to back toward the court again, “Oh! Speaking of, I’ll be here tonight.”

Seungcheol’s smile only widens, “Good. Make sure you stay after. I have something to tell you when I win.”

And then he turns around and jumps back into playing as if he had never left, smile falling and revealing his well known poker face. You had always admired Seungcheol’s spirit and will to turn on and off his focus when he needed to; he was truly amazing in every way. As if it couldn’t get any worse, your crush grew impossibly deeper for the last few seconds you spent watching him run around the court.

Finally forcing yourself to walk away, your mind is steadily battling on what to think about: what Seungcheol possibly had to say to you tonight, and just where Wonwoo had run off to.

Unsurprisingly, the next stream of messages directed at Wonwoo go unread and unanswered, and by the time you need to leave for the game, you’ve shut off your phone and turned off your ringer. If Wonwoo was going to avoid you and Seungcheol for no good reason, then he could do so unbothered. As far as you were concerned, friends didn’t do that to each other.

Yet, despite how upset you were at the cold shoulder he was giving you, a more prevalent part of you just wanted to know he was alright. Even if you did want to punch him in the shoulder, you couldn’t ignore your instinctual worry for your best friend.

Seungcheol’s words rung in your head even as you arrived at the gym, despite the sound of students roaring from inside making it hard to focus on them. You hoped Seungcheol was right and that Wonwoo just needed time to himself. Sometimes people needed breaks; it was normal. It hurt you, but it was normal.

It seems your time at the game won’t be as cool and collected as you had hoped it would be, because once you’ve settled into the stands, your attention is caught by none other than Kim Mingyu not in his uniform. The boy limps toward the stands with a sullen look on his face, one jean-clad leg’s bottom half encased in hard plastic while Mingyu uses the help of crutches to get into a seat a few spots away from you.

“Gyu?” You call, making him swivel around in surprise at the sound of your voice. When he sees you, his eyes immediately dart to all sides around you, seemingly searching for something or... someone.

When he looks back at you, his smile is awfully strained, “Ah, hey! You came!”

“What happened to you?” You ignore his statement and focus your gaze on his wounded leg, “You were perfectly fine four hours ago.”

Mingyu blushes, “Just a minor injury I got during practice. No biggie. A few broken toes is all.”

“Broken?” The boy winces a little at your shocked voice, “how did you... Mingyu?” “I dropped... a weight on my foot... I wanted to get a little exercising in before the game and... anyway, the boys will be great without me!”

You’re not really concerned about how well the team would play without Mingyu, seeing as Seungcheol usually was the reason they managed to win so many games in the first place, but you still feel bad for the injured, clumsy boy. He really would give his future partner the most grief.

Recalling his odd search of your surrounding area earlier, you lean in around the students between you two who couldn’t care less, “Were you expecting Woo to be here with me?”

Mingyu’s eyes bug a bit, “No!” A terrible actor he was, really.

You sigh, the exhaustion of worrying over Woo starting to take its toll on you. You couldn’t even properly enjoy the game with Woo on your mind, no matter how badly Seungcheol kept stealing glances and shooting smiles at you every now and then. “I know you know what’s wrong with him, Mingyu. Can’t you just tell me where he is at least? Or if it’s something serious?”

Poor Mingyu looks absolutely torn, a firm bite into his bottom lip giving away that whatever truth he was aware of was aching to be shared. But his hesitation tells you this much: Wonwoo had asked a lot out of him to not tell, whatever it was that he wasn’t supposed to tell.

“I... I think he’s better suited to tell you that himself.” He confesses, and turns away from you to avoid having to say more. It’s just your luck that the crowd gets rowdy then, another point to the home team thanks to the rookie Lee Chan as you hear his name being cheered amongst the chaos.

You sigh and look down at your lap, even more unsettled than you had been when you had arrived here. No longer were Seungcheol’s assuring words loud and clear in your head. All you could think and feel was Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonwoo...

You turn your head to the side, and your lungs stutter on air; he stands out like a sore thumb, dressed in all black from head to toe and off to the side near the exit. Wonwoo is looking dead at you too, those familiar eyes downturned in a quiet apology. He doesn’t even have to beckon you forward before you’re slipping past others to get down and off the bleachers. Your determined walk toward Wonwoo becomes an irritated strut by the time he’s within arm’s length, and it takes all you’ve got in you not to grab him by the collar and shake some sense into him.

Before you can even think to, he’s grabbing you by the arms and pulling you further away from the madness until you’re nearing the doors to leave. Before he can pull you out of the gym though, you force him to stop with a stern glare, “No, whatever you have to say, say it here. I promised to be here for Seungcheol.” You wouldn’t tell him that while yes, that was true, he also hadn’t left your mind once the whole day.

Wonwoo frowns, “I’m... look, you have every right to be upset-” you nod to confirm and he bites his lip, “-but I had to... it was for a reason.”

“Apparently one only Mingyu was privy to?” You huff, folding your arms across your chest. At the mention of Mingyu, Wonwoo winces a bit.

You can hear the game still going in the background, and while Wonwoo tries to find his words, you turn around to catch sight of Seungcheol in the middle of the heat of the game. He’s drenched in sweat and focused on the task at hand, completely oblivious to the situation happening only fifty feet away from where he was currently standing. You hoped to god he wouldn’t notice, that he’d stay focused on the game and not get distracted.

“(Y/N),” Wonwoo calls your name and you turn back to him reluctantly, his eyes pleading for your attention, “I’m... I’m so sorry for disappearing the way I did. It came out of the blue but I have good reason... at least I believe it was a good enough reason.”

You scoff, “You couldn’t shoot me or Seungcheol a quick text to explain? But you had time to talk to Mingyu about whatever was going on? You do know what that makes your ‘good reason’ sound like, right? Clearly, you have something to say to me and Seungcheol.” “I do.” “Well, spit it out. What could we have possibly done to have warranted getting ignored like this, Wonwoo?”

Wonwoo looks exasperated with himself and you can’t help but feel the same, your patience wearing thin the longer he said nothing to you. Again, your attention was drawn back to the game, the update being that Seungcheol had stolen the ball, and the game was very close to being won soon. If all the times you’d seen these games was enough to go off on, Seungcheol would be making the winning basket with that shot he was readying across the court.

And, yet again, Wonwoo calls your attention back to him, “It’s not easy to say, can we go outside where it’s quieter?”

You glance from him back to the court, the ball getting passed around between the home team. The time on the clock seems to be running out, and Seungcheol is more engrossed than ever. “Wonwoo, whatever you have to say, just get it out now.” You find it increasingly harder to stay focused when you know the game is coming to an end soon, only a little while until Seungcheol would inevitably meet you after the game to tell you what he had been fixing to say since earlier. Your mind was being pulled in all different directions to say the least.

Wonwoo, though having the gall to look agitated with your easily swayed thought, begins to speak at the speed of light while you desperately try to keep up, “Okay, look, this isn’t easy for me to say and is even harder to say when you don’t seem to be fully present in this conversation, but believe me as your best friend when I say that me avoiding you and Seungcheol was a much better choice than what I was originally gonna shoot for,” you turn to stare at him in confusion, “and I could only tell Mingyu because he was there and he was listening. I would never pick him over you or Cheol unless I had to.”

The crowd is growing exponentially louder, and a quick look at the court tells you that Seungcheol is making his way to the hoop with his ball in hand; he’s going to win. “Wonwoo, speak up, it’s hard to hear...”

You move closer the louder the gym gets, and in turn he leans his head down to your ear, lips brushing the shell and making you shiver in spite of yourself, “This really isn’t how I pictured telling you this, but I couldn’t wait any longer. The reason why I avoided you and Seungcheol is because I-”

The crowd grows so loud all at once, near deafening in fact and you miss what Wonwoo says as Seungcheol scores the winning shot, taking the gold for your school once again. He flies around the court with excitement, team members giving him big, joyous hugs and throwing him this way and that in pride. Seungcheol is on top of the world, as he usually is when the team wins a game, only this time he’s looking for something in the crowd. He keeps searching and searching, eyes raking the bleachers even as people come up to congratulate him. You’re completely lost on who he could possibly be looking for... until his eyes land on you.

With a voice loud and strong for everyone in the gym to hear, Seungcheol throws his arms wide about himself with a grin that could tear his face in two and yells, “(Y/N)! I like you!”

“-like you a lot.” Wonwoo’s words are suddenly not lost to you, rushing to the forefront of your mind the minute you hear Seungcheol’s identical expression. If the crowd wasn’t loud enough before, they are now, and all eyes are on you.

Your heart jumps into your mouth just as you turn tail and throw yourself through the exit, sprinting down the hallway in a desperate need to breathe.

“Why the hesitation?”

You look away from the locker room doors, the place completely void of players from earlier save for one. The man of the night stands behind those very doors with Wonwoo, and you’d think that that was obvious enough to the gently smiling boy who had led you here in the first place.

Jeonghan, much like you and Wonwoo, only came to the basketball games because he was friends with the rest of the team. While you knew him much less than you knew Mingyu, he had always been kind to you when you spoke to each other on those rare occasions. He had also been the first one to find you when you had run out. After calming you down and having a small heart-to-heart, he had convinced you to face the music. In your case, the music was two clashing songs vying for your appreciation, and you could not find it in you to choose.

Instead of answering, you give Jeonghan a knowing look that has him smiling wryly, “Don’t glare at me, it’s not my fault you’re the most popular girl here tonight.”

You groan, having been inclined to try and forget that Seungcheol’s confession (and your assumed rejection of it) was seen by a good majority of the school that night. Monday would be hell, let alone tonight.

Jeonghan rests a comforting hand on your upper back and rubs the juncture between your shoulder blades to calm you, “Hey, take a breath. Remember, you know these two. They care about you. This is nothing a little talking can’t fix.”

You desperately want to protest, but Jeonghan’s voice is oddly calming you despite it. He’s making you feel a little less anxious, a little less like you’re about to run out of air.

He waits until you’ve given him the okay, and then he pushes one door open, popping his head inside and muttering something you don’t catch. Then, he pulls back and motions for you to enter. You do so, slowly.

When you enter, most of the lights are off in the locker room save for a select few, just enough to illuminate the bench where Seungcheol and Wonwoo sit next to each other. Seungcheol is still in his jersey and shorts with a towel thrown around his neck, hiding his face as his head hangs. In contrast, Wonwoo is sitting upright, looking you head on the minute you enter the locker room. The two of them look pretty worse for wear all the same.

“I asked the janitor to give you twenty more minutes in here. After that, you’re going to have to find somewhere else to talk this out, so make it count, okay?” Jeonghan says, and you and Wonwoo are the only two who nod. With a quick reassuring look thrown your way, Jeonghan nods at you and disappears from the room altogether, leaving you alone in peace.

To your surprise, Seungcheol is the first to speak, “I’m so sorry.”

You look to him with furrowed brows, but Wonwoo looks like he’s already heard it all before you even got here, “What?”

He raises his head some, his sweat drenched hair hanging in his face and making him look like a wet puppy... as if your heartstrings needed to be tugged any more tonight. “I’m sorry for embarrassing you... I should have listened when Jeonghan told me you wouldn’t like such a grand gesture. I should have... I should have taken your feelings into consideration instead of putting you on the spot like that. I’m sorry.”

“Cheol...” you whisper, and he hangs his head once more when he sees your sad look and mistakes it for pity.

Wonwoo stays completely silent, pretending that Seungcheol wasn’t even there to begin with. You turn your attention on him instead, frowning when he looks you in the eyes with something akin to annoyance, “What about you?” You say, voice a lot less soft. He winces slightly.

“What about me?” He actually sounds upset himself, and under any other circumstances, you might have understood, but if anyone deserved to feel the worst out of the three of you, it was you.

“You think telling me you like me is enough to make up for disappearing like you did?” If he had the guts to get snippy with you, by all means, you’d give him something to be snippy about. “At least Seungcheol sounds remorseful, and he didn’t even do anything wrong.”

Wonwoo opens his mouth to protest, “I told you that I ignored the both of you because I couldn’t-” “Because what? I could understand ignoring me, but Cheol? What, did you know he was planning to confess tonight and decided you’d try to beat him to it? Seriously Wonwoo, this is messed up.”

When he says nothing, your temper flares tenfold, “You did know.”

“I didn’t- I wasn’t... I never planned to tell you. Tonight or ever. At best, I was hoping my feelings would just disappear with time and you and Seungcheol could be happy with each other, just like that. But after thinking about it, and yes this was during the time I wasn’t talking to either of you... I realized the advice I gave you was pretty good advice.” You’re reminded of the night after you and Cheol’s first study date, the night he’d told you to tell Seungcheol how you felt because otherwise you’d go on in life wondering what might have happened if you had just said something.

He’d liked you even that night, and he had still tried to convince you to pursue who you wanted: someone else.

“So... so you deciding to tell me tonight was completely impulsive? You hadn’t planned this at all?” You ask, and Wonwoo nods his head in shame.

Seungcheol raises his head for the first time since you’d started talking to Wonwoo, his expression utterly defeated despite the major victory he’d brought the school that night. You felt terrible watching him have to feel that way, having to watch both of them feel so down on what was supposed to be a happy night two days ago... at least for you. “I’m sorry to you too, Wonwoo. I should have known you had feelings for (Y/N) too... what kind of best friend am I to not notice?”

“If it makes you feel better,” you start with a cautious smile, “I’m his best friend too and even I didn’t notice.”

Just like that, the three of you burst into laughter as if moments before the air wasn’t thick with tension. Suddenly, it’s just you and Seungcheol and Wonwoo and nothing more. It felt strange without that, and you’d trade anything to always feel this.

To think it ended up like this. You would have never thought something like this could happen even in your wildest dreams yet here you were, torn between your best friend and your longtime crush. This felt an awful lot like a movie you’d seen before.

“Well, you know how we feel... what about you? Do you like me?” Seungcheol’s eyes are bigger than usual, shining with that sweet comfort you’d always found so fond about the boy.

You take a deep breath, recalling Jeonghan’s comforting words from earlier, “Yes... I do like you, Seungcheol.” You watch as his face lights up and it only hurts you more when you look to Wonwoo who was already avoiding looking your way, twiddling nervous thumbs in his lap in lieu of being occupied with something else, “But I think I also like Wonwoo.”

Now both sets of eyes are on you, curious and unsure but beaming with hope that maybe you could choose one of them. Only, this was as far as you’d gotten, and you really didn’t know if you could choose.

“So, what does this mean? Do you pick me or Seungcheol?” Wonwoo asks in a tentative tone, no longer able to hide the shake in his hands.

“I... I don’t know. I like both of you, and I wouldn’t mind being with either of you, but I can’t choose. I’m sorry. I don’t know.”

The room falls back into silence, the only sounds to fill the void being the incessant buzz of the fluorescent lights above you and the sound of sneakers skidding in the hallway, no doubt belonging to that of a pacing Jeonghan. His steps are suddenly so loud, even a little louder than the running water in the back of the locker room... wait.

“Is someone else in here?” You whisper to Seungcheol, who shakes his head almost immediately.

“Jeonghan said everyone left already.”

Like he’d always been standing mere feet away, you see the silhouette of none other than Chan coming around the wall of lockers, hair damp from the supposed shower he’d just finished. There’s an earphone hanging out of one ear and a bottle of water raised to his lips as he enters your area, the younger boy looking far too nonchalant for your liking.

He looks between you, Seungcheol, and Wonwoo, eyebrow raised, “I know you guys didn’t ask, but why don’t you all just date each other and get it over with? Then you wouldn’t have to choose. It’s a win-win-win.”

The three of you are so stunned into silence that Chan decides it’s time for him to head out, and in the awkwardly loud silence, he gathers his things from his locker and into his duffle bag, shooting you all one last look before making his way into the hallway, much to Jeonghan’s muffled surprise.

You all stare disbelievingly in Chan’s wake, the door to the locker room swinging shut with a resounding click as the room resumes quietude.

And, yet again to your surprise, Seungcheol is the first to speak once more, “Well, I mean... I’m cool with it if you guys are.”

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