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laketaj24 · 5 years

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The Rules IV: Triggered

Author’s Note: Thank you all soo much for your input!!! It helped me out more than you know! This was fun as hell to write and I hope you’re down for a ride! It’s about to go down. There are two songs that really hit the nail on the head for this part, they are linked below! Happy Reading my people!

Pairing: CEO!Henry Cavill X Reader

Warning: Angst. SMUT. DRAMA.

Want to catch up! Click HERE

Song Inspirations: Jhene Aiko: Triggered (First Part) Jhene Aiko: P*SSY Fairy

If your heart slowed anymore, you’d collapse. But it wasn’t just the lethargic beat of your heart that slowed down. The kiss. The fucking kiss was being replayed in your head over and over, the way she cupped him, the way his lips touched hers and he deepened it. You feel the bile rise at the helm of your throat and you step back.

“Excuse me.” You whispered to a bewildered Alex, “I need to leave.”

He noticed. You could tell by the way he looked back to Henry and then you. His tall frame went from relaxed to apathetic. “Is it him?” He gave a wave in Henry’s direction and then stepped closer to you. “Y/N?”

“I can’t talk about this right now.” You attempted to push your way through the crowd and caught an opening into the gala hall. Alex was on your feet, his long strides made it easy for him to catch you. “Hey, I can’t talk about it right now.”

Your mind raced, he took a month away from you, was it because the entire time he had her? Were you some fucking mistress, side-chick, side bitch… Homewrecker? Inwardly you taunted yourself with the unceasing line of insults to yourself. Fuck! Fuck.

“Look.” Alex cleared his throat and stepped closer to you. His presence kept you from bolting into the nearest room and destroying everything in it. You were grateful for that, maybe. “He is not worth you not enjoying this night. Do you know how beautiful you are right now? Every eye in the building was with you when we arrived. Make him mad, but don’t let him win. He did nothing to deserve a win apparently.”

The pep talk worked and more and more you were starting to understand why Alex was a friend you didn't want to lose regardless of what happened. The first dance is casual, you fight tears watching the woman touch his hand, laid her hand on his chest and laugh like he was a comedian. He wasn't that damn funny. You stay for an hour, it was required to stay an hour, you have done only what was expected of you and nothing more. Alex took you home, the car ride is silent besides the occasional murmur of a curse word under your breath.

Home is what you craved more than anything, once the door was closed and Alex's driver left you released a scream that scared you, followed by a sob as you felt your heart literally break. What a fucking feeling? Grief for someone who didn't deserve it. You didn't drink to solve your problems, so alcohol was a no. Sleep was the obvious answer. The dress felt like it burned your skin, you were certain it didn't, but the fact that it came from him made it poison. He was poison, that you willingly chugged down like a vintage wine and now the repercussions had finally made their grand entrance. And fuck them.

Why were you looking them up, they were a known couple, known to everyone but you? You typed in his name and nothing but her appeared Billionaire Henry Cavill and Olivia Tate grace the Emmy's with their presence. Will this playboy finally settle down? Olivia Tate has HC's heart around her finger. You were sick again. You throw the phone on the couch and screenshot the picture of him kissing her. Is this the future Mrs. Cavill?

You changed clothes, slipping the crop top and leggings on. You knew it wasn't the end of the night. And you were right, sleep does not come. He sends you seven messages, each of which you stared at trying to formulate a response, but they didn't merit one, until the last one.

Henry: I've been looking for you for an hour. Where are you?

Henry: You left without a word? Are you mad or something?

Henry: A response would be nice.

Henry: Y/N

Henry: Y/N. I'll find you later.

Henry: Be there in ten.

Y/N: Drive safe. Are you bringing the wife with you?

You hit send of the picture you'd saved.

Henry: Wow.

The wait for him to arrive only infuriates you more, your mother had always said your temper was like a wildfire, once it sparked it would consume everything to the ground. You knew she was right; Henry even knew your temper needed to be managed, but no one fucking managed you. This included Henry. He didn't knock. He never did really, he entered with his perfectly tailored suit and an eye roll. And the lamp crashed behind him. He ducks, but his face is shocked.

"What the fuck was that?" he hissed.

"My fucking two-hundred-dollar lamp." You picked up the shoes and hurled them across the room next and he ducked as if he knew they were coming and charged towards you. You moved from his grasp. "You have been with her for a year!" It roared out of you and then the tears followed. "Why did you even come over here? Did you think I would be okay with it? Do you think I want to be your whore? Come when you say, fuck when you say and then you go home to her. Don't touch me!!"

"You're not going to let me explain, are you?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake! Explain Henry, tell me what lie did you conjure up, while headed here. She's just a friend. I wasn't with her." you shake your head and Henry folds his arms across his chest. "Is she the reason you wouldn't let me kiss you?"

"Are you finishing acting like-."

"Say it!" You cut him off and step closer to him. You wanted to hit something, but his face was too pretty for that shit, and despite your anger, your mother raised you better than that, "Like what Henry? Get out."

"Y/N."

"I said get the fuck out!"

His jaw clenched and he pushed his hands through his thick mane of brown curls, ending the polished look he had earlier. "I'll call you later."

"Oh, no the fuck you won't." You opened the door to Alex standing there with his eyes on Henry. Why was he back? "He was just leaving." You explained to Alex. "Bye."

Alex stepped aside and held up the brown bag, you could smell the Chinese and noticed the wine bottle. "We didn't get to eat." He explained. The smug grin on his face sealed the night, he was a good guy.

You smiled and watched Henry stare at him before looking back at you. He shook his head, "Goodnight."

"Fuck you." You whispered.

In the past hearing, people say they were numb sounded foolish, of course, they felt. A human cannot simply shut it all off, but you were wrong. So wrong, it was easier to go numb than to feel. It started with work, your time invested in the company allotted you vacation three fucking weeks, paid and free.

The first week you spent with Alex, not fucking his brains out like a part of you wanted to but being a friend. He allowed you to talk, you told him everything and he listened with no judgment and that made it easier. Tia was around too, she spent the night with you when she could, in between hair appointments and makeup slots. Her career was changing fast, you were happy for her even if you barely showed it at times.

The second week you shut them both out. You told them you were out of town, but you were in your apartment with food and tear-soaked pillows. His phone calls had stopped, but you feared it was only because you changed the number. Work could contact you via email if they needed to, but no one even called you during the first two weeks. The marketing strategy you left would do well, you knew it. And besides your certainty in your program, you didn’t care what Cavill Industries did at the moment.

The third week, everything went numb, there were no more tears to cry. Every inkling of him that existed was gone, including the $6000 dollar dress. You burned it and at that final act, the night was gone from your mind. He’d broken the rules. You’d both set them and when he kissed her, he disqualified himself.

The first day back to work your anxiety had you in its grip. Every phone call and opening of your door you dreaded. But he didn’t come. He wasn’t even in the building, according to your boss and that eased everything. You could work with him not being anywhere near you, and that made you apply to the other firms that had once been interested in you. You got two calls immediately. Matheus Corporate wanted to hire you without an interview and after the offer they sent, you were taking it. You typed out your resignation letter and turned it into HR. It was the right choice.

It was a month before you saw him again, and the Cavill you saw briefly in the lobby looked nothing like the one you had grown accustomed to. His hair was wild, and he had a beard, an actual beard. His slate-blue eyes were tired as were his movements. Just seeing him triggered you, the horrid memories of that night flooded your head and the pain resurfaced. Being numb would not be possible around him. You knew it. You hid in the stairwell like an idiot and avoided him. Nine more days of work here and you would be clear.

“Look, the way I see it, we are friends now.” Alex kicked his feet up on your desk and looked to you for affirmation.

You gave it to him nodding your head and chugging down your third bottle of water. “Yes, we’re friends. So, when I call you up at midnight and you’re with your little girlfriend cuddling and things you still have to make an appearance.”

“Girlfriend?” He scoffed.

“You heard me.” You pointed at him.

“I’m hoping one day the little girlfriend, I am cuddling will be you.” He smiled. “There is no rush and no expectation for it. But I didn’t want you to leave this place, oblivious to the fact that I really like you.”

Your heart warmed and you smiled. “Nine days to go and your boldness is out the bag.”

He shrugged. “Did I get brownie points?”

“A whole cake.” You said. You were back to work an hour later, singing under your breath when the door opened.

“I told him to wait outside.” Your assistant said, trying to beat Henry in the office. She turned to you. “Ms. YLN, Mr. Cavill is here to see you.” But he was already in front of your desk.

“Get out.” He said to her.

“Whatever you have to say to me, she can hear.” For some reason, you knew if the door closed you would succumb to him, “Speak.”

“You are not leaving.” His voice was not composed, just wavering and near weak. “Y/N.”

“Gianna, you can go.” You exhaled. What the hell had happened to him? She left the room and the space that once seemed huge started to shrink. Henry walked towards you and you held your hand up when he reached your desk. “What?”

“You changed your number.”

“What did you expect?”

“For you to give me a chance to explain,” His eyes plead with yours for the opportunity. “Can I have that please?”

“You don’t owe me an explanation, I was never yours, right?”

“You’re still mine.” The slight possessiveness came back to his voice.

It made you weak for a moment, your hitched breath took over the silence. “Hurry up, Henry.”

“She is my girlfriend.” He said.

The words punch at a wound you were certain was nearly healed. You hoped he was going to say that he left her, the pathetically infatuated part of you wanted him to say, she dumped him. But he just reaffirmed what you already knew. Olivia Tate was the official girlfriend of Henry Cavill. “Thanks?” You swallowed. “Why are you here?”

“I don’t want her to be, I want you.”

“You are making no sense and I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to throw things at you here. I just wanted to leave all this in the past. Go be with her.”

“Y/N.” He said your name as if he was fighting for breath. “There are some things you do not understand about me. Things I would rather not talk about, but I don’t want her.”

“Then leave her! Damn it.” You bit out. “You are a grown man. You can make decisions on your own. If you didn’t want her then end it. End it now.”

“I can’t talk here.”

“Where else are you gonna talk?” You laughed. “My place? Hell no.”

“Mine.” He shook his head. “I’ll send a car for you after work. Don’t make them work Y/N. Just come.” He looked at you. “Please.”

“Fine.”

You didn’t fight his orders on meeting him, curiosity reared its ugly head and you were gone. His home was at the edge of town, the driveway curved up a hill and lead to the glass estate. It was incredible. Had you been here on better circumstances, you would have enjoyed the view. You stepped out and the door opened. Henry had shed the suit for a black shirt and black sweats that hung at his waist somehow accenting his frame. Fuck. Were you even going to be strong enough to say no to this god? One last fuck? Just to say goodbye fuck, it wouldn’t be frowned upon.

You argued with yourself and walked into the home, the décor was much like his office dark brown woods with a modern sense. You stood in the foyer and looked at him. The closer to the door you were, the more likely you were to say no to him without hesitation.

“I can’t shut you out of my mind.” He confessed. He had shaved, but his hair was still tucked behind his ears, longer than normal.

“Just tell me.”

“I met Olivia in college.” He sighed. “We used to date off and on, but it was never more than sex. Never.”

“That’s all it is with us.” You interrupted. “Hence the reason I don’t need this talk.”

“Then why’d you come?” Henry stared. “I have been infatuated with you for months and when I finally got the opportunity to be with you, I jumped at it.”

“Don’t feed me bullshit.” You held your hand up.

“Who do you think hired you?”

“Why can’t you just leave her?” You asked.

“She knows things about me that can ruin me.” he stopped talking. “Liv is talented at getting the things she wants. If I leave her, she’ll spill it.”

“Oh, get the fuck out of here!” You laugh. “You expect me to believe this Lifetime movie shit? You got a girlfriend and you want me too. Admit it.”

“I don’t want her.” He shook his head. “I want you.”

“You can say it until you’re blue in the face. If you don’t show me, how in the fuck am I supposed to believe that this… isn’t just a way for you to get what you want.”

Henry sunk to his knees. “I’ll beg you.”

“Dogs beg.” You spat.

“Anything.” He rasped.

“Do you know how bad I hurt? I didn’t work for weeks. I didn’t care for weeks. We’ve been together a month. Do you think my behavior was normal? Do you think yours is normal? No. We are bad for one another and I just…”

How did he get up so fast? You moved back and he was on you, his steps heavy and determined. He caged you against the wall and then you realized, his face was wet with tears.

“You have to believe me.” He whispered and the fear clawed through him. “Please.”

There was an urge pushing you to leave this place, nothing good can come from him. But his face was pained, you’d never seen this part of him. You cupped his face affectionately and your lips graze his cheek. It feels as if he shutters and then you just do it. You hesitantly kiss him. Your lips touch his and the energy that passes through you ignites a groan.

“Please.” The plea is accompanied by him responding to the kiss, tenderly. He leaned into you, his body blanketing to you and taking whatever breath you thought you had left. But you were sure that he took your breath away without a kiss. His brow furrowed as he deepened it pushing your head against the door. He wrapped his arms around you, swaddling you in his muscles while somehow it wasn’t the muscles that you felt. For the first time, he was being himself with you. He allowed you to feel what you didn’t even know was there.

He pulled back from you and he moved as if he was dizzy. The breath he had stolen from you had made it's way back to you and you inhaled. There was more than a desire that flickered between the two of you.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

His eyes flashed with a little hope. “Same.” Henry didn’t wait for permission he just scooped you up from the floor and kissed you again, this time it hurt. The hurt is so fucking good.

“I want,” the words were caught in your throat. Was this right or were you spiraling? “I want you, here. Right here.” He lowered you both down on the steps so that you were straddling him, you didn’t care for his comfort. You wanted him to feel you. “You remember the rules?” You whispered. Your tongue licks his lips and then dives in and he’s taken back, gripping your ass that is winding on his dick. You can feel him through the sweats. “Hmm…”

“I could never forget.”

“Don’t cum unless I say.” You smiled before kissing him again. You bucked your hips on and his eyes widened the lust pushing through. “You hear me, sir?” Your voice was low and filled with lust. “I want to fuck you right here.” He grew harder, flinching against you. “I want you to moan my name when you cum…”

Henry’s hands were in your hair, pulling you back so he could see your eyes. “I’ll do whatever the fuck you want me to, just fuck me.” He begged.

“Did you miss me?”

“Always.” He groaned lowering his head to your breast. He sprung the from the blouse and ripped it in two. “Always.”

You wanted to believe him, but the lingering hurt from the past month. “If you lie to me again,” You unsheathed him from his sweats and stroked your hand down the length of his cock. You swiped the precum that oozed from the tip down and pumped again. “Missing me is all you’ll know how to do, sir.”

“Fuck,” He jumped in your hand and sucked air in through his teeth.

“Understand?”

“I-,” He moaned when you increased your speed. “Oh fuck.”

“Yeah,” You were so turned on by the way you were making him feel. You now understood why he wanted to be in control of everything in the bed. It was sexy as fuck to watch what you could do to someone. You could watch them unravel, put them back together and do it again.

Henry pushed the pen skirt up and easily ripped the panties. He tossed them behind you and his fingers were in you. Prodding and working, you fucking missed him, even though you shouldn’t have. “Y/N.” He moaned. “I’m almost there.” He panted.

You stopped stroking him and began to ride his fingers, lifting yourself from them and then back on until the next time Henry pushed his cock in. He was fighting every urge he had to allow you some control in this thing. He threw his head back when he was fully inside of you and stilled.

But you wanted to fuck him. You wanted to ride him slow and draw out every fucking moment you could with him. So, if you regretted being here in the morning, the walk of shame wouldn’t have too much shame. Your walls sealed around him and he gripped your hips trying to stop you from fucking him, but you continued. Your rhythm was wild, you used his shoulders like an anchor and smiled down at him. His face was red and misted with sweat. His curls were soaked, and he was mesmerized. Your tits bounced in front of him and your eyes were rolling. “Y/N.” He warned and you felt his cock grow harder and then he growled, shuddering in your breast as if he had waited forever to cum inside of you.

“Seems you broke a rule.” You laughed and continued to fuck him. He made sounds that only made you wetter for him and the man was part machine. He had to be as his cock grew back rigid and he was still shuttering from coming the time before.

Henry licked his fingers and slapped them onto your clit before he pulled you towards him. His fingers knew how to work your pussy. Moving in circles and then another slap before he started back again, and you were about to cum. You didn’t want to. You shook your head and Henry looked up at you, “I won’t last another time. I ca-,” Your pussy shook around his and your thighs locked down as the pleasure surged through your body. “Shit!” He yelled before slamming into you and spilling his cum again. “Y/N.” He rasped.

The floor wasn’t a bad place to lay for the time being. Henry was wrapped around your naked body and there was no need for cover. He kept you warm enough.

“Was she the reason you didn’t kiss me?”

He exhaled. “She,” he paused. “I never know when she will decide to come back into my life.” He admits. “And up until you, it was easier not kissing, that way when it ended… there were no emotions in it. It was just fucking. I can’t do that with you, okay? A single glance from you could make my heart stop, a kiss would have shattered me.” Henry admitted.

It was quiet for a while. Just deep breaths and kisses all down your body. “Let’s go to bed.” You said finally. “My boss would be mad as hell if I missed tomorrow.”

“I’m throwing you resignation away, and if you’re having problems out of Mike… I’ll fire his ass.” He stood up and reached his hand out to you. “Come on, the bed is the proper place to make sure you’re so tired work isn’t an option.”

His bed was comfortable, the sheets were so soft you were tempted to ask where he got them. You slept peacefully entangled in the muscled mass that is Henry. But it was not a complaint to make, being without him for so long made you grateful you could listen to him breathe and feel his heart against your back.

“Thank God.” The unfamiliar voice came from the bottom of the bed.

Your eyes narrowed as the bright sun made its way through the windows. The blonde hair was the first take away, it was Olivia. You scrambled from under Henry’s body. “Henry!” If she wanted a fight, you were ready to fight her, you’d just prefer to not be naked while doing it.

Henry groaned and once he caught sight of her he jolted up from the bed. “Olivia. You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Don’t be rude. I was just saying thank God.” Olivia leaned over his legs and looked at you. “I hated watching him mope around here. He looked like a puppy, sad because his bitch went away.”

“Bitch? I beg your pardon, Henry if you don’t get this woman.” Henry gave an admonished look to Olivia and gripped your hand. It didn’t comfort you. It just pissed you off. You snatched your hand away from him. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” One more foul word from her and you’d fight naked.

“Excuse my manners, darling. I’m Olivia and I am so glad you are here. It seems we have some rules to introduce.” She pushed up from the bed and left the room. “Chop, chop Henry, dear. Bring your bitch, I have a plane to catch.”

#henry cavill #Henry Cavill fandom #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x y/n #laketa j writes

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euphoria-vmin7 · 4 years

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tiger flower 02 | jjk

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre/warnings: angst, hanahaki! au, non-idol! au, heartbreak, unrequited love, swearing, drinking, sad ending, implied/mentions of death

word count: 4,805

summary: the petals were supposed to be your secret.

rating: pg-15 (swearing and drinking)

– a/n: tiger flower was actually just supposed to be one part. i had no plans of writing a part two BUT since quite a few of you asked for it, I got inspired and wrote this. it turned out longer than i expected tbh. there’s a lot of angst and crying in this but honestly, that was expected with this au lol. i hope you guys like this :)

reposting this cuz i had some technical difficulties oops-

read part 1 here

Jungkook felt an odd mixture of confusion and worry. Normally, he’d be used to you acting crazy and all, but this was different. He watched with concern as you took another lazy swig from the bottle of beer in front of you. Though, the fact that you were drinking wasn’t what was concerning him. It was the way you were acting.

Jungkook had known you for years now. He had been with you on the first night the two of you had ever gotten drunk. And to this day you had always been the same while tipsy: loud, energetic, and giggly. There wasn’t a single time he could name where you had been any different. He couldn’t even count on his fingers how many times he’d have to shush you in between giggles as you shouted random words that seemed to make sense in the middle of the bar. Crazy, loud drunk had defined you for as long as he could remember.

And though sometimes it frustrated him to no end, he found it endearing all the same. In fact, tonight he had been counting on it. He had called you to come out for a drink with him in hopes of feeling a bit more cheerful after watching you get drunk. He needed to get cheered up.

Though, instead, tonight you were different.

You were hunched over and quiet and zoning out too easily. The happy, cheerful, boisterous drunk in you had disappeared and instead been replaced by this. Whatever this was.

He briefly worried that his frown lines would permanently etch themselves to his young face.

Jungkook had been having relationship problems. That had been the sole reason why he had invited you out tonight. Though he and Jieun had only been dating for roughly three and half months, they had fought one too many times already. He loved her, he really did. But the two of them were so different in personality, that when they clashed, it didn’t end up pretty.

Another more selfish reason had drawn him to pulling out his phone and dialing your number that night. He hadn’t seen you in weeks. He had been texting you, calling you, and trying to catch up with you around campus, but every time he was brushed off in a hurried manner. He wondered whether he had done something to piss you off. But then he pushed the thought away because no, you always talked out your disagreements.

Maybe something was bothering you that you couldn’t tell him about. What it was made him frustratingly curious, especially considering that most of the times, you could always tell him about it. He’d understand. He knew you better than anyone, after all.

Or maybe it was just exactly as you said: “Sorry Kook, I’ve been trying to study for finals,”

Even though for the last few years you had always studied with him.

Maybe it was Jungkook himself. He knew that getting into a relationship had significantly reduced the time he had for you. Was he himself being distant? Perhaps you had grown so detached because he hadn’t even put in the effort to keep you close to him.

Whatever the reason was, Jungkook wished it was fixed soon. It was bad enough fighting with the girl he was dating. He didn’t want to feel your absence so deeply, either.

He thought that maybe your behavior in the past few weeks was being reflected in your drinking habits, too. Because now as he watched you gloomily take another chug of beer, he felt as though he was drinking with a different person.

He was tipsy himself, but felt as though he was seeing things much more clearly than usual. There were dark circles under your eyes that were not there before and he realized that you hadn’t once smiled fully since you arrived. You were different.

“(Name),” he nudged your shoulder, a bit surprised at how clear his own voice sounded. Your eyes lethargically moved to settle on him and he felt a bit hurt at the way you moved your body away, as though he had tainted you by the one touch.

“Yes Jungkook?” you drawled.

“What’s wrong with you?”

You snorted and chuckled. “What are you talking about?”

“Well for one you’re not standing on the table trying to imitate Jimin hyung’s dancing like usual, so what the fuck is wrong?”

“Maybe I’m just tired, Jungkook. You ever think of that?” you laughed quietly as you tipped your drink past your lips. Once again, he frowned.

“I guess…” he muttered, deciding not to push you too actively. He hoped the drinks he was paying for would help loosen your tongue. Help you spill your worries to him just as he had done to you a million times before.

“So…” you spoke up after another long gulp. “What’s with the sudden call?”

“We haven’t talked in weeks, Peanut,”

He didn’t notice how the nickname made you cringe.

“So I wanted to see you. Check in, you know?” he asked, looking down at his glass and traced the rim, feeling uncharacteristically shy. “If you were…doing okay,”

You smiled at him ruefully. He was so blissfully unaware of how everything he did made your heart swell and break at the same time.

“Kook,” you muttered, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m seriously fine. I swear, I really had to study for finals and that’s why I haven’t been hanging with you as much. I’m sorry if I worried you,”

Jungkook released a breath, an unknown weight lifting from his chest. “Ah okay. Gotcha,”

You analyzed him for a solid second before leaning back a bit. “But that’s not the only reason you called me out tonight, is it Kook?”

He winced at your uncanny ability to pick his facade apart. “No…” he responded, a miserable tone overtaking his voice. “I just…Jieun and I have been fighting,”

He missed the way your shoulders sagged with utter disappointment. Though you knew deep down that his worry for you was genuine, the fact that he wanted to meet you for help with her stung in more ways than you cared to admit. You would never say that to him though.

Instead you raise your brows in surprise and show interest. “Oh? About what?”

“I’m…not really sure,” he replies, shrugging in defeat. “We just have petty fights. I don’t know where they come from but…they don’t end well at all,”

You hummed thoughtfully, finishing your drink and motioning to the bartender for another. “Did you two, have a conversation recently that ended…badly?”

Jungkook thought back to the previous week when she had casually brought up marriage and winced to himself. He hadn’t thought about the outcome of the conversation since it had happened, but with the way you were looking at him, worry swirling in your hazy eyes, he had the urge to spill.

“She was talking about the future,” he mumbled. “And I guess I couldn’t handle it,”

Your lips made an ‘O’ shape as you took in this piece of information. “What do you mean by ‘couldn’t handle it’?”

“I…” it seemed that despite you being much more drunk than he was, he was the one who was struggling to form words. “I just…couldn’t listen to it. And when I asked her to drop it…”

You hummed once again. “Well, I guess I understand why. You aren’t ready for that yet. But she’s started thinking about it, right?”

“Yeah exactly,” Jungkook nodded. “And like we’ve only been dating for a few months now. I didn’t even consider marriage when I started dating her,”

A stagnant pause took over the conversation and Jungkook quickly wondered whether he had said something unreasonable.

“Jungkook…” you asked quietly. “Do you…see yourself getting married to her in the future?”

He balked at the question, opening his mouth to respond but finding no answer. He stopped to think about it. Did he see a future with Jieun? Sure, he was crazy about her. Heck, he was pretty sure he was in love with her. But a future?

Could he see himself, years down the line, slipping a wedding ring onto her finger? Could he see himself, years down the line, holding their children by the arms and tossing them up to the sky, tiny giggles echoing in his ears?

He hadn’t even realized that he had shut his eyes, but when he had opened them, he saw you staring at him. God, why did you look so drained?

What happened to you?

Instead of posing these questions, Jungkook tried to give you an answer. “I…don’t know. I want to see a future with her. But right now…”

You nodded. You understood. Jungkook was younger than Jieun was. She had already lived through these few years that Jungkook still hadn’t reached. So perhaps he wanted to, just not yet.

“Tell her that then,” you replied with a soft smile.

“Tell her what?” he asked, confusion lacing his tone as he looked at you. You gave him a knowing look.

“Exactly what you feel. That you want to, but not yet,”

Your voice was tired, but not because of the drinks. Something was horribly wrong and Jungkook hated not knowing what it was. More than tired you sounded…broken.

“I…” he trailed off, looking at you with shiny doe eyes. You chuckled, patting him on the shoulder before placing cash on the table.

“Trust me. You guys will get over this. You need to tell her what you’re feeling though. Don’t just drop the conversation, you know?” you grinned. “Good luck, Kookie. I’m rooting for you two,”

You pulled your jacket off the barstool and slipped your arms through the sleeves. There was a pink flush in your cheeks and Jungkook watched the way your dim eyes sparkled with something new.

It wasn’t something good. It looked painful.

“I’m gonna go,” you sighed, pulling your hair out and over your shoulders. Jungkook was standing in a second, gripping your arm quickly, but gently. The touch made you stiffen.

“By yourself?” he frowned. “You’re drunk as hell, Peanut,”

“If you’re asking if I’m driving myself home, then no,” you snorted. “I’ll call a cab,”

“I’ll drive you,”

“Psh, if you think you’re in a place to drive, Kook, you’ve got another thing coming,” you giggled. “Just take a cab or call someone,”

“At least let me walk you there,” he said hurriedly. He slammed some cash down next to yours that roughly covered his expenses. Something was wrong. It was itching at his gut and bothering him to no end that you weren’t sharing your worries with him. You didn’t even remember that he had promised you he’d pay tonight. You opened your mouth to protest but he gave you a stern glare that had you sighing in defeat. You nodded mutely and turned to shakily walk out of the bar which had suddenly become far too loud for you. Your head was pounding as Jungkook’s heavy footsteps echoed in your ears when he hurried after you. He was at your side by the time you stepped out, taking a mouthful of the cold air to quell the familiar dizziness in your head.

You could faintly make out his sweet voice on the phone, calling you a nearby cab and giving the details of your location. You smiled weakly to yourself.

You found it harder than you expected to take proper steps and kicked yourself for drinking so much. Jungkook chuckled at you and felt his heart lift when you turned to smack him. He had the conscience to hold his arm out for you and the two of you walked down the street in relative silence. You mentally thanked Jungkook for letting you walk a bit before getting into a car. The nighttime air was doing wonders for your headache.

Jungkook glanced down at you, his teeth worrying his bottom lip as he struggled to find a way to speak. How was he supposed to ask if you were okay yet again and expect a different answer?

“(Name)…” he asked.

“Hm?”

You weren’t looking at him. Lights shone in your eyes and for a second he believed that they were the ones he knew, but the bright buildings around him quickly diminished his hope.

“Are you okay?”

You grinned. “You’ve been asking me that, Jeon. And I keep telling you I’m fine,”

He watched your gaze travel around the city and he was hit with this unfounded feeling of longing.

I missed you.

“But you’re not fine,” he stressed, feeling frustrated in you and himself. “There’s something else bothering you and you’re not telling me,”

Your shoulders sagged and Jungkook mentally celebrated his victory. “I…” you started. “I promise, Kook. I’m really fine. I’ve just been studying so much and sleeping late…”

You sounded genuine. But he wasn’t sure. He used to be able to tell whether you were lying in a second. What happened?

“And…” you trailed off.

“And?” he urged, leaning closer to you.

“I’ve…been getting sick,”

He frowned at that. He never considered that it would be your health that was causing your avoidances.

“Sick?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I guess it has something to do with all the stress I’ve been putting on myself lately. But I’ve gotten sick a lot in the past few months so…”

He bit his bottom lip in concern. “Are you…feeling better now?”

You shut your eyes and took a deep breath in. “Now…I’m okay,”

“But…?” he asked.

“But it might come back. I don’t know, it’s all really random,”

He rubbed your shoulder softly. “I’m sorry Peanut,” he felt guilty. “I haven’t even been checking up on you,”

“No,” you chuckled. “Not your fault, Kook. I’ve been keeping to myself. I didn’t want you to see me like that,”

The words confused him. You both had stumbled into each other’s houses countless number of times, no matter how sick you both were. The other one had always made chicken soup. It was a norm.

He worried.

“(Name)…”

You turned to look at him. He felt so empty when he looked into your dull eyes.

“Please take care of yourself,”

You grinned a bit and nodded. “I will,”

He barely believed that. Something was wrong. There was something else you were hiding.

You staggered a bit and Jungkook’s grip on your arms tightened. He was about to start scolding you for drinking past your limit but stopped himself. You laughed. The real laugh. Your eyes shut, pink flushed cheeks, and windswept hair, and yet, you looked so unreal. How long had he been away from you? Did you really have such a strong hold on him that in just a few weeks of being away from you, he had forgotten the way you laughed? He felt a surge of disappointment in himself.

“You’re crazy,” he said, shaking his head as a chuckle escaped his lips. “So fucking crazy,”

“Yeah yeah,” you brushed off, slurring a bit. “Which makes me much more entertaining than you are,”

He had it in him to chuckle. He saw the cab pull up and held his hand up to catch the driver’s attention.

“The cab’s across the street. Think you can make it without kissing the road?” he teased and you laughed once again. His heart swelled with pride and relief.

“I’ve got it,”

That was a lie. You paused a bit and blinked quickly, as though trying to get your eyes to focus.

Then you stumbled forward and Jungkook scrambled to hold you against him. Though he wasn’t prepared for the harsh cough to tumble past your lips. You wheezed in pain, clutching at your chest and his heart thudded with worry. The worry disappeared completely when he saw the petals. You hacked into your hands, repetitive coughs that sounded so painful, he felt it in his own chest. They continued to fall, bright orange against your skin. Petals turned into whole flowers.

When the coughs ceased, Jungkook was looking to your palms in shock. His heart shattered when his eyes darted to your face. You refused to look at him, instead staring at your shaking hands with one expression.

Caught.

His breath hitched, and then an influx of emotions filled his chest. Shock, then pity, sadness, and finally anger.

“What the fuck, (Name),” he uttered in a low voice. “What the fuck is this?”

He knew what it was. He knew what it meant. And the only thought running through his mind was killing the person who was causing this.

“It’s…” you started and he missed the way your voice shook.

“Is this what you meant by getting sick?”

“Listen-”

“Just how long have you been hiding this from me?!” he couldn’t control the volume of his voice. “Who is it?”

“Jungkook-”

“Who is it?!”

“Fuck,” you swore, shutting your eyes and gripping your hair. “I can’t,”

He was livid. Red hot anger burned in his throat.

“You’re protecting him?! After you’ve been suffering through all of this?! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

There was no way you actually believed you could keep this from him. You bit your lip to prevent a sob from escaping. You didn’t want it to happen this way.

“Get the surgery,” he ordered lowly and you remained quiet.

“Kook-”

“(NAME)!!” he yelled, holding your shoulders. “GET THE FUCKING SURGERY!!”

“I CAN’T!!” you shouted back, tears falling now. He stepped back a bit, though now he was even angrier.

“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?! YOU WOULD RATHER DIE FOR THIS BITCH THAN GET THE SURGERY-”

“IT’S YOU JUNGKOOK!!”

It took him a second to process what you said. He was so focused on his anger, on your tears, and on how stupid he had been for not seeing this earlier. When he repeated it once more in his head, fear swallowed him whole. His hands dropped as he looked down at you, lips parted, heart racing.

“What?”

“It’s you,” you sniffled noisily. “I’m in love with you. The petals came because you didn’t feel the same,”

What does one say to that? How does one respond to that?

I’m helpless.

For the first time in his life, Jungkook is speechless. He has no response to your words. No response that seems appropriate enough.

“I’m not getting the surgery for this, Jungkook. Anyone else, maybe. But you,” you cleared your throat and wiped your eyes. The dullness in them suddenly made sense, and Jungkook’s throat tightened. “I would never. Goodnight, Kook,”

You turn to cross the street and Jungkook is desperate to chase after you. But an unknown force keeps him rooted to the spot. His legs are heavier than any weights he has ever lifted before. And the image of your back getting further and further away from him paints itself into his mind. Petals fall from the sky and he cries.

Hundreds of texts and plenty of calls were ignored until he couldn’t take it anymore. He had always respected your privacy. He decided he was past that. His knuckles were stinging and he was sure they’d bruise with the force of his knocks. He knew you were in your apartment. There was no way you had left since the cab had dropped you off, as Jungkook arrived only minutes later.

Jungkook made a promise to wait there until you opened the door. And both of you knew exactly how stubborn he was. He was counting on it tonight.

“Open the door, (Name),” his voice was already shaking and he cursed himself. He wanted to be strong. He wanted to force you to think rationally.

His knocks were desperate. He wished you’d just give up and open the door, but he knew you were just as stubborn as he was. Memories of competitions and play fights flashed behind his eyes and his throat tightened. He swallowed thickly and knocked harder.

“What the fuck, Jungkook-”

He himself was surprised at the way you wrenched the door open but he got over it quickly and pushed his way inside. You were still dressed in the clothes you had worn to the bar, but you looked much more tired. He wondered how many more flowers you had coughed up since you left. The thought made him sick.

“Jungkook, please,” you sighed. “I’m tired I just want to-”

“How long?” he asked quietly and you sighed again.

“Kook-”

“How long?” he repeated. He already knew, but he needed to hear it from you.

“Too long,” you answered and he shut his eyes tightly. “Years, Kook,”

“Fuck,” he cursed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What good would it have done?” you turned away to walk to your couch. Memories of the two of you curled up on that couch made him wince.

“It…” he started but he had no answer. You smiled knowingly.

“Exactly. You would’ve just felt guilty for years and we probably wouldn’t have such a great friendship,”

“You should’ve told me,” he repeated, even though he knew you were right. You just shook your head to yourself as he took a seat next to you carefully, as though you’d break right then and there.

“It was my struggle. I have to deal with it,”

He took a shaky breath in, his hands clammy. “Have you told anyone else yet?”

“My parents know,” you sighed before chuckling at the pamphlets littering your center table. “As you can see they’ve been trying to persuade me to get the surgery-”

“And you should!” he shouted, though you barely flinched.

“Jungkook,” you said sternly, turning to face him. “You know what the side effects are, don’t you?”

He remained quiet, though yes, he did know.

“I’ll lose my memories. Of you. Of us. I can’t do that, Kookie,”

“Why not?” he asked, his eyes glazing over as tears pooled at his waterline. “Why can’t you?”

“Because,” you smiled ruefully. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I love you. I can’t lose that,”

He put his face in his hands and sniffled shakily. He could barely look at you. He hated that you’d given up.

“B-But I do love you,” he tried. His fingers were grasping thin air, but all they were catching were the petals of the tiger flower.

“No, Kookie,” you shook your head. “You know that’s not enough,”

Strong friendship was not enough. His friendship was not enough. He’d never be enough.

“I fell in love with you but you don’t love me in the same way,” you smiled up at him and he felt his heart break. “It’s okay,”

How could you say that? How could you pretend like everything was okay? Nothing is okay about this. He felt so useless. So upset. So angry. So helpless.

I fell in love with you but you don’t love me in the same way.

“No no,” he was crying. “No I do love you. I do,”

You shook your head sadly and he cursed you for being able to smile at him like that. Light he once knew, light that comforted him any time he needed, had completely disappeared from your eyes.

He’s helpless. He needed to do something. Anything, you persuade you. He had to show you.

I love you, I do. I’m enough, I swear. I love you, that’s enough.

When he kissed you, your heart shattered for the final time. You could taste the salt of tears but you weren’t sure whether they came from him or you. One kiss. One final kiss.

You had spent years of your life waiting for this one moment. But yet when it came, you wished it hadn’t. You wanted nothing more than for this moment to be yet another one of your wishful dreams.

Because you and he both knew that it meant nothing. It meant nothing that could save you. He was trying so hard to pull you back to him. To prove that he was being sincere. But whether he was convincing you or himself was lost in the sound of hearts breaking.

He pulled away, hands still holding your face, knowing that once he let go, he’d lose you forever. Your hair tickled his skin like the whispers of childish secrets once did, and he reveled in the feeling. He was sobbing. You had never seen him sob like this before.

“How could you do this to me?” you shut your eyes to avoid looking at him, his crumbling expression brewing yet more guilt inside of you. “How could you let me do this to you?”

“It wasn’t your fault, Kookie,” you chuckled weakly. “It was mine,”

“Stop it,” tears were dripping down his soft cheeks fast as he pushed his forehead against yours. “You’re hurting so much because of me. Stop it,”

What he was telling you to stop, even he didn’t know. A part of him wanted to shout and scream. To scold you for ever having feelings for an idiot like him. Just stop it. Stop loving me, please.

But even he knew it was easier said than done. It had happened. The damage had already been done.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered through cries. “I’m so sorry,”

“It’s not your fault,” you repeated, smiling. He loved that smile, but in that moment, he hated it more than anything. He prayed to the heavens that you would stop pretending like everything was okay. It was not okay. Nothing would ever be okay again.

“Get the surgery,” he pleaded. “Please (Name), get the surgery. I can’t…”

He choked on a sob but you knew what he wanted to say. I can’t lose you.

“Kook,” you mumbled, putting a hand on his cheek. “I never want to forget us,”

He broke then and there, legs going weak and he sobbed. He fell to his knees and cried into his hands. He knew that you had made up your mind. There was nothing he could do to change your mind.

He hated you. God, he hated you more than anything.

He hated the way you bent down to hug him the same way you had been hugging him for years. He hated the way you were the one comforting him when he should’ve been the one holding you. He hated how you were okay. You weren’t supposed to be okay. You were supposed to scream and cry and curse him for breaking your heart like this. You were supposed to hate him. Hate him so that he could feel the pain he had caused you all these years.

He quietly wished that he was the one coughing up petals instead.

Why were you so understanding?

How could you still love him after he had reduced you to this? How could you even bring yourself to hold him when every touch was killing you on the inside?

That’s when he realized that he would never be as good as you. All the playful competitions over the years that he had taken the prize for paled in comparison to this one moment. You won against him, but you lost everything, and his heart ached for you.

You were going. You were leaving him and there was nothing he could do to keep you with him. All his life, Jungkook had despised feeling helpless. But he had never known that it could feel like this. That helplessness could feel like utter destruction. He cursed fate. He cursed the universe. He cursed everything he knew because why? Why did fate have to do this to him, to you? Why did the universe create such a path for people? Why did the people who suffer meet such heartbreaking ends? Why you? Why did you fall for him? Why wouldn’t you let him go? Why you?

His arms felt like lead when they moved to wrap around you, but he held you tighter than he had ever done before. Your body was warm, and images of play fights, spontaneous knocks, and fortresses made of blankets and pillows filled his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears leaking from them. Childish laughter echoed in his ears, melding with sweet whispers, and heartfelt secrets. Somewhere in the distance, something shattered. He felt soft petals brush against his skin. They tickled his subconscious, and he choked on a sob. He opened his eyes and looked down at his arms, cursing the lies and false hope he had tried to give you earlier. He praised you for being able to see through him, just as you had always been able to. He felt bile rise up in his throat as his glossy eyes danced over his own tattoos.

He hated Tiger Flowers.

a/n: i wanted to leave the ending broad like this so you can imagine what happens afterwards!! though i think the options are pretty limited lol. i hope you enjoyed :)

#heartsforbts #btsghostie #btsguild #btswriterscollective #btsbookclub #bangtanscenery #bangtanhq #bangtanarmynet #thebtsficarchive #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts #jungkook #bts angst #jungkook one shot

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worryinglyinnocent · 3 years

Text

Fic: Forged Through Fire (9/13)

Summary: Amestris. Once democratic, now a military dictatorship. Prohibition is strict; personal freedoms curtailed. All alchemists must be state-licensed or face imprisonment. Foreigners are met with suspicion. It’s a grim place and a grim time, but there are some people able to bring a little light to the world. Behind an innocent-looking bookshop, speakeasy proprietor Chris Mustang has formed an unlikely alliance with unlicensed alchemist Van Hohenheim to provide alcohol to those who want it and medical care to those who need it. When Riza’s newly complete tattoo becomes infected, Roy brings her into this underworld, little knowing the way it will change their lives in the future – uncovering the secrets of the mythical Philosopher’s Stone and the schemes of a Fuhrer hell-bent on achieving immortality, all whilst navigating what they mean to each other.

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Rated: T

[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [Eight] [AO3]

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Content warning for this chapter: Medical abuse and implied vivisection; panic attacks.

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Forged Through Fire

Nine

The first thing that Hohenheim became aware of when he woke up was that everything was suddenly very bright, because he was staring straight up into a fluorescent ceiling light.

The second thing that he became aware of was that he couldn’t move. He tried to lift his arms, feeling the bite of metal against his wrists and hearing the clink of chain. His ankles were the same, and panic began to course through his veins as he felt cold steel against his neck as well.

Even after nearly five hundred years, he still remembered the constant fear hanging over him, the constant threat against his already limited freedom. Every slave in Xerxes knew the terror of chains if they displeased their masters.

He couldn’t breathe.

It was the night Xerxes fell all over again, except that time he could definitely breathe because he’d screamed so much he couldn’t speak for a month afterwards.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Ah, you’re awake. I was beginning to think we might have gone too far and lost you there.” A fuzzy face loomed over him, blocking out the searing light, but Hohenheim was already hyperventilating and light-headed, and the only feature he could make out was a flash of gold in the area that was presumably the mouth.

“You know, I’ve been studying your regenerative capability and it really is remarkable,” the gold-toothed voice continued. “I lost count of the number of times I tried to open you up to get a good look at the inner workings, but you always heal up before I can have a good poke around.”

Hohenheim couldn’t breathe. This was it, after four hundred and fifty years, give or take, he was finally going to die, and he was dying a slave in chains just as he’d been born; humans really didn’t change over time. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe…

“I’ve been wondering what would happen if we cut your head off. Would it just reattach itself or would you grow a new one? And would it have all the same memories as your old one?” There was a chuckle. “Don’t worry, I won’t try it. Not yet, anyway. Bradley wouldn’t be too pleased if I did end up killing the only immortal he’d ever come across by accident in the name of curiosity.”

Hohenheim blacked out.

Forgive me, Trisha.

“Twenty-Three.”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Come here.”

Slave Twenty-Three crossed the room cautiously towards his master. He didn’t think he’d done anything that warranted punishment today. He’d been extra careful not to move any of his master’s alchemy materials whilst he’d been cleaning this morning, which was no mean feat considering that his desk amassed more and more papers and jars and equipment every day.

“Give me your arm.”

Slave Twenty-Three just stared at the scalpel in his master’s hand.

“Your arm, boy.”

He held out his arm, trying to stop it trembling. His master gave a snort of laughter.

“There’s no need to be afraid, boy. This isn’t a punishment. In fact, this is a great honour for a slave. You’re assisting me in my research for the King of Xerxes. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt. Only a scratch.”

The scalpel nicked his inner elbow sharply, and blood began to ebb out of the blue vein there. His master pressed a small vial against his skin, collecting the drops, and Slave Twenty-Three looked over at all of the similar vials on the shelf. He wondered how many other slaves had had this dubious honour.

At length, the vial was full, and his master gave him a rag to press against the cut to staunch the bleeding whilst he went back over to his steaming alchemy equipment, dripping Slave Twenty-Three’s blood into one of the bubbling jars. The clear liquid inside turned a bright ruby red colour, and his master smiled.

“Now, that’s a new development.” He turned back to Slave Twenty-Three. “Your blood type is extremely rare, you know. I believe only a few others in Xerxes would have it. The alchemic potential is potent. Yes, I think that this could be the key.”

Slave Twenty-Three went back to his work, making sure that he was out of sight of his master before he shivered with fear at the implications that might bring.

Hohenheim was vaguely aware of voices above him.

“It’s slow going because I’m having to keep him sedated and the elixial healing factor means he burns through sedative quicker than a human. Every time he wakes up he starts having a panic attack and I don’t want him bringing the lab down around my ears.”

“Take your time, doctor.” That was Bradley’s voice. “It’s hardly as if he’s going to be missed. By the way, I think he’s waking up again.”

There was a curse and a needle plunged into his neck.

Slave Twenty-Three was beginning to wonder if there was actually any blood left in his body.

On the one hand, he knew that he should probably be grateful for the interest that his master had taken in him. He had been relieved of most of his heavier duties in order to spend more time in the alchemy laboratory, and he was certainly much better fed now than he had been before. He was also learning a great deal of alchemy simply by being around it so much, but he hadn’t mentioned that to anyone, just like he hadn’t mentioned the fact he was beginning to learn to read.

It was hard going trying to do it in secret, especially when he was around his master so much more these days, but he was getting there. He was desperate to know just what his blood was being used for. He knew that the King of Xerxes was attempting to achieve immortality, but Slave Twenty-Three didn’t know how he could possibly help with that.

He started to fear when his master began to despair. The experiments he was trying were becoming increasingly dangerous, and it appeared that they were not yielding any results. The more he tried, the more blood he took, and the more blood he took, the more Slave Twenty-Three feared that one day he’d take all of it and he’d die without ever having the chance to be a free man and have a family.

(His master had promised him his freedom in return for his assistance with his commission from the King of Xerxes, but Slave Twenty-Three wasn’t holding out much hope.)

It was when the King himself appeared in the laboratory one day that Slave Twenty-Three began to wonder if perhaps trying to run away was the best idea. It had never really crossed his mind before since slaves so rarely escaped from Xerxes. Even if they made it out of the country without being captured and returned to their masters, there was still the great desert on all sides to cross before they could reach the safety of Xing or Amestris.

Slave Twenty-Three decided that he was going to have to risk it and was about to inch out of the room when his master saw him.

“Ah, Twenty-Three. Come here.”

He could not disobey his master with the King in the room, so he crossed the floor with his heart in his mouth, bowing low and averting his eyes before the sovereign.

“I have good news, Twenty-Three. Tonight all of my research will pay off, and you will help the King achieve his goal of immortality.”

Slave Twenty-Three was shrewd enough to know that helping the king achieve immortality would definitely come at the expense of his own life.

“Don’t you feel it an honour to be a part of this great process?”

Slave Twenty-Three didn’t feel it was an honour. Slave Twenty-Three just felt sick.

Slave Twenty-Three bolted and made it all of five steps out of the alchemy laboratory before the royal guards knocked him out.

“I’m having trouble with the alchemical potential. If we could just try and transmute…”

“No. Remember what happened in Xerxes. I’m not having you accidentally killing us.”

Hohenheim kept his eyes closed. The metal was still close around his neck. He tried to ignore it and breathe evenly.

He felt the soft sparks of alchemy crackle over his fingertips, but he was still so light-headed and lethargic, his brain felt like it was made of cheese. There was nothing doing. The elixir that was his blood was humming actively through his veins, the electric feeling of automatic healing, but this time on a constant loop.

He was so, so tired.

Slave Twenty-Three knew the transmutation circle for what it was as the royal guards dragged him in and tied him down in the centre.

Human transmutation had always been forbidden in Xerxes, but since the King made the laws and it was the King that this transmutation was being performed for, Slave Twenty-Three didn’t think that his master would be punished for it.

He didn’t fight against the heavy chains holding him down. What point was there?

“Do you really think that this will work, Master Atticus?”

“Your Majesty, my research shows that this process will use the alchemic potential of Twenty-Three’s blood and transmute it into the elixir of life. Once this is transfused into you, you will have gained immortality.”

“And if the alchemy rebounds?”

“The alchemy will not rebound. There is equivalent exchange – the slave for the Philosopher’s Stone.”

“Very well. Proceed, Master Atticus.”

Bright white alchemic lightning flew around the array as his master put his hands to it, and Slave Twenty-Three screamed.

He didn’t know how long he screamed for, as every fibre of his being was pulled apart and put back together again what felt like a hundred times over.

He could feel the alchemy in his veins as his blood boiled. It was more powerful than anything he’d ever known.

He kept screaming. Red lightning flashed in front of his eyes.

That was new. Alchemic lightning was always white or blue.

He kept screaming.

When Slave Twenty-Three woke up, everything was dark and deathly quiet. He craned his head to try and see what was going on.

He could see his master slumped at the edge of the circle. He could see the King of Xerxes in his throne, his eyes wide open and glassy, and extremely, undeniably dead.

He turned as much as the chains and collar would allow to look over at the guards, sprawled on the floor as well.

Slave Twenty-Three screamed again, feeling the alchemy in his veins rush into life and red lightning sparkling over his skin as the chains melted away to dust.

Equivalent exchange. The slave for the Philosopher’s Stone. The elixir of life.

Slave Twenty-Three kept screaming.

Riza stared up at the ceiling in the dark. She didn’t even know why she’d even gone to bed, she knew that trying to sleep was going to be a completely futile endeavour until she knew for herself what was going on and whether Hohenheim had been found. Even though she knew that she probably wouldn’t get any news until morning, she still felt that she ought to be on hand the moment something happened. Time was of the essence, after all.

She pulled on her robe over her pyjamas and crept down from her apartment, through the dark shop and into the bar. The lights were down apart from a few of the back lights over the bar rail itself, and Roy was sitting on one of the stools, chin resting on his arms on the polished wood as he stared at the whiskey tumbler in front of him.

He looked over as he heard her footsteps coming towards him.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Is there any news?”

Roy shook his head. “Nothing yet. Everyone’s still on it. Armstrong and I went to Central Command to see if we could find out where Bradley is at the moment. They would have let him know as soon as they realised Hohenheim isn’t normal, and they would have worked that out pretty quickly; they’re not exactly gentle when they bag someone, and he wouldn’t have any marks to show for it.”

“So where is Bradley?”

“No one knows, but he left Central Command in a hurry on a timescale that fits in with Hohenheim’s arrest.” Roy sighed. “Armstrong’s still there; he’s laying the groundwork for tomorrow.”

“What happens tomorrow?”

“We break into the armoury. There’s no way we’re taking on the secret police without as much firepower as we can get our hands on.”

“You know I’m happy to add my firepower to that.”

Roy shook his head. “Riza, I can’t ask you to get involved with this.”

“Why not? This isn’t just a military thing, Roy. Whatever the Fuhrer’s doing, it’ll affect all of Amestris. It’ll affect me as well as you. And Hohenheim isn’t just your friend. He’s mine too. He’s all of ours. He’s part of this little family that we’ve made for ourselves here. I want to help him just as much as anyone else does. You can’t deny that I can.”

“Well, you were the first person that Chris gave her rifle to earlier, so no, I can’t really deny that.”

“Besides, you’re not asking me to get involved in it. I am saying that I want to get involved in it. I know it’s going to be dangerous, Roy, I’m not stupid. You’re going to need to have someone watching your back though, aren’t you?”

“Honestly, Riza, I don’t think I’d ever be more grateful to have you watching my back.”

Riza perched on the bar stool next to him, putting an arm around him.

“I know you’re blaming yourself. I can tell. This isn’t your fault. This isn’t Hughes’s fault. This isn’t Hohenheim’s fault. Lay the blame at Bradley’s door. This all comes down to him. You can’t keep beating yourself up about things that you have no control over, Roy. Life just doesn’t work like that.”

“I know.” Roy groaned, planting his face into the bar. “I should probably go home. It took a while, but I think that all the adrenaline’s finally wearing off. Part of me just wants to stay here and take a leaf out of Fuery’s book.” He gestured over his shoulder towards one of the booths where Fuery was curled up under a blanket, dead to the world. “Breda dragged him out of the office about twenty minutes ago and threatened to sit on him until he agreed to get some sleep.”

“You know, I have a couch upstairs,” Riza pointed out. “You don’t need to sleep in the bar.”

“Oh.” Roy raised his head an inch or so off the bar and looked at her. “Are you sure?”

In all the time that Riza had been living above the shop and frequenting the bar with Roy, since helping her move in, he had never been up into her apartment before. It was as if that part of her life had always been kept separate and self-contained, and now she was inviting him into it. It felt like a big step to be taking in their relationship, allowing him into her home, and Riza didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if they were going to do anything once they were there; Roy looked like he might pass out before he even got up the two flights of stairs to the couch, but all the same, she was going to be sharing her private domain with him.

“Yes, I’m sure. Come on up. I’ve got cocoa up there, and no offence to Madam Christmas but I think it’s probably best if she sticks to coffee when it comes to non-alcoholic beverages.”

That raised a smile, and Roy pushed himself away from the bar, sliding gracelessly off his stool and following her up through the shop again. Once they were back in the apartment, Riza busied herself with finding a spare blanket and puffing up the cushions whilst she waited for the milk to warm. Roy just settled on the couch, kicking off his boots.

“It’s certainly a lot cosier than when I was last in here,” he said, looking around at the living room and kitchenette. “Where did you put the crates of vodka in the end?”

Riza lifted the tablecloth to show that the table was not in fact a table but a plank resting on several crates, and Roy snorted.

“Nice.”

They fell into silence with their cocoa. It felt like something really ought to be said, but Riza was all out of reassurances and was feeling just as wretched about the whole thing as Roy obviously was. Her thoughts kept coming back to Hohenheim and what might be happening to him now, and what might have happened to him before all those centuries ago.

Suddenly her first meeting with him fell into a different light.

“My father’s licensed, but he experiments.”

“On you?”

Of course she hadn’t known that he was coming from a place of personal experience then, but she understood the sympathy in his eyes now.

He’d done so much good, and he’d helped so many people, turning the strange gift or curse of life that he’d been given to a higher calling, and Riza couldn’t bear to think of what might be happening to him now and of him being experimented on again, turned into a lab rat through circumstances he had no control over.

She wiped her eyes before Roy could notice her tears and took a sip of her cocoa to cover the action.

“It’s real now,” Roy muttered suddenly.

“Sorry?”

“It’s real now. It’s really happening. Before, when we were all just sitting around with all these books and papers trying to work out what was going on, it still felt like we were detached from it in a way. We knew that something was going on and we knew that it was bad, but there wasn’t the same sense of urgency that there is now. It had already affected us – Hughes had almost died for the secret, so we knew that they were serious about it. But we’d got Hughes back and he was safe, and maybe that lulled us into a false sense of security. All the talk of the Philosopher’s Stone and Bradley trying to be immortal, it still felt so fantastical and unreal. Now we know that the Philosopher’s Stone exists, and immortality is real and achievable, and suddenly it seems like Bradley might succeed.”

“He won’t,” Riza said, although she could hear the lack of conviction behind her own words. “I’ve spent enough time reading novels in that shop downstairs to know that this is all part of the journey. This is the part where the intrepid hero encounters just one obstacle too many and begins to doubt himself, and then we’ll have a great climactic finale where he saves the world, gets the girl and makes it home in time for dinner.”

Roy looked up from his cocoa mug and smiled. “I think I’m doing the hero’s journey out of order in that case. I’ve already got the girl.”

“Yes. You have.” Riza leaned in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere, Roy. No matter what happens, you will always have me at your back. Just like I know you’ve always got my back.”

It really was a fitting description, considering that it was her back that had forged the deep bond of trust between them in the first place. Roy knew the secret of her back, and he had kept it faithfully all these years; he truly had her back in all senses of the word.

“Thank you.”

They finished their cocoa in silence, and Riza dumped the mugs in the sink. She didn’t know that she would be able to get to sleep any better than she had done before, especially not with the knowledge that Roy would be just a few steps away on the couch, but Roy himself looked ready to drop with exhaustion, so she decided it would be best to leave him to get what rest he could, especially if he was on a mission to the armoury in the morning.

“Good night, Roy.”

“Good night, Riza.”

She closed her bedroom door behind her and leaned back against it, closing her eyes.

Maybe the next time Roy ended up in her apartment, all of this would have come to a happy conclusion, and he would be coming into this room with her. It certainly wasn’t the first time she had thought about it, but this time she pushed it to the side. It wasn’t the time or place, and as much as she craved the comfort that such intimacy would bring her, they were both too emotional to be sure of no regrets in the morning.

Soon though. Hopefully soon.

#FMA:Brotherhood #FMA Fanfiction #Royai #Riza Hawkeye #Roy Mustang #Van Hohenheim #Fic: Forged Through Fire

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nikibogwater · 4 years

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“Feline Paralysis”--a Tales of Arcadia fanfiction

Feline Paralysis (def): A state of immobility caused by the presence of a cat on top of one's person.

Archie's boy has been working himself too hard ever since Merlin took them in, and Archie is determined to put a stop to it by any means necessary.

It is Soft Douxie-Archie Friendship Hours, my dears. @poetryinmotion-author gave me the prompt, and I think I may have taken it way further than even she was expecting, so....yeah, buckle up, it’s time for some Feels. 🙃

Read on AO3

Or below the cut:

Archibald was on the hunt.

It was actually a rather nice change of pace, truth be told. Archie hadn’t needed to hunt even once since Merlin took them in two weeks ago, and while he certainly appreciated having immediate access to food at all times, he had been growing a bit stiff and lethargic as a result. A cat (and a dragon too, for that matter) simply had to spend a little time stalking and chasing, or else they would lose their edge. Today’s hunt was a bit different, however. This hunt was not about obtaining food, or even just keeping his claws sharp. No, this hunt was about something a little more dear to Archie’s heart.

Today, Archie was hunting Douxie.

Something strange had come over the boy in the last two weeks. He had been uncannily industrious, jumping at every opportunity to do even the most menial of tasks, slaving away in Merlin’s study long after the Master had retired, even badgering the old wizard for more chores to do. Douxie was no stranger to hard work, that was true. He may have been an excellent con artist, but he still had to earn his bread the old-fashioned way from time to time. But he also relished what downtime he and Archie were able to get. Douxie had a mind that liked to wander, and a great affinity for sleep. And he was still a growing boy on top of that. He needed his rest. Yet ever since they had come to live with Merlin, Douxie had hardly stopped moving, except to collapse into bed at any ungodly hour of the night, only to rise again with the sun a few hours later. It was beginning to take its toll on the young wizard’s health. He somehow looked more gaunt and malnourished here than he did in the gutters of Camelot, and his normally brilliant mind was a jumbled mess of task lists, potion ingredients, and whatever new spells Merlin was managing to teach him in between his frantic bursts of labor.

Archie intended to put an end to this nonsense. This just wasn’t like Douxie. Whatever was going on with his Familiar, he intended to suss it out and squash it like a bug. And so, the hunt had begun. He had been stalking his quarry since breakfast, and had yet to see him so much as pause to breathe. In just four hours, Douxie had gathered and prepared thirteen different varieties of herb for potion brewing, tidied and swept the study, memorized seven new spells, milked the Slorr, done the laundry, tidied and swept the study again, and now he was occupied in reorganizing the bookshelves (which he had already done just yesterday). Archie prowled in the shadows nearby, tail flicking back and forth as he watched for the opportunity to strike.

Douxie’s arms were full of heavy tomes, and he had a quill pen stuck between his teeth as he glanced between a roll of parchment on a nearby lectern and the half-empty bookshelf. He fumbled with the books for a moment, managing to slip one back into its proper place on the shelf before the other three went tumbling out of his arms and landed with a soft thud on the floor.

“Oh, fuzzbuckets,” Douxie groaned, taking the quill out of his mouth and crossing something off of the parchment. He set the pen down and knelt to gather up the fallen books. He wobbled a bit as he stood up, and had to brace himself against the bookshelf for a moment. Archie flexed his claws impatiently. Douxie shoved the other three books into place and checked his list again, crossing off a few more lines. He stopped for a moment, eyes darting between the parchment and the bookshelf once again, and his brow furrowed. He looked over at his Familiar, who immediately pretended he had been washing his face the entire time. “Archie, you haven’t seen Merlock’s Grimoire of First-Level Spellcasting, have you?”

“You left it in your quarters last night,” Archie replied, lifting his glasses with one paw so that he could wash around his eyes with the other. “Though why you were studying it is beyond me. You already know all of your first-level spells.”

“Fuzzbuckets,” Douxie said yet again, dragging his hand across his weary face. “I don’t suppose you’d go get it for me? I don’t want Master Merlin to miss it if he needs it.”

“What, and break my spine trying to lug it all the way back here? No thank you. This is your job, Douxie. You do it.” The boy shot Archie an irritated look that was only intensified by the evident exhaustion in his face. A lesser cat would have broken. But Archie had seen an opportunity here, and he intended to exploit it. He held his ground and stared back with blatant defiance. A moment later, Douxie heaved a sigh and shuffled out of the room, unaware that Archie had stood up to follow him the moment he turned away.

Douxie’s chambers were far less orderly than the study, which was rather impressive, considering they hadn’t been living there for very long. But the floor was already a mess of open spellbooks, hastily-scribbled notes, and various magical bits and bobs to study and observe at a future date. It was almost too easy for Archie to slink into the room at Douxie’s heels and conceal himself amongst the chaos. He crouched behind a stack of books, golden eyes fixed unblinkingly upon his target, waiting for the perfect moment. Douxie rifled around the mess on the floor for a moment, checked inside the writing desk he hardly ever used, then finally noticed the object of his search sitting innocently on the bed, half-covered by a fold of the blanket. Archie tucked his paws beneath him and coiled up like a spring as Douxie approached the bedside. The boy bent down to pick up the book, and that’s when the dragon attacked.

Launching himself into the air at full speed, Archie shifted into his larger reptilian form and slammed into Douxie’s back with his full weight. Weakened and unaware as he was, the young wizard toppled onto the bed with a startled yelp. There was a moment of confused flailing and scuffling, and for one terrifying heartbeat, Archie could feel the tension of defensive magic in the air, as Douxie’s powers flared instinctively. But it was gone a second later, as the boy managed to roll over and see his Familiar perched on his chest, grinning down at him smugly.

“Really, Arch?!” Douxie barked. “I could have killed you!”

“Don’t make me laugh,” Archie scoffed. “The worst you could do in this state would be to ruffle my fur.” He settled down on Douxie’s chest and began to knead.

“Arch, stop it. You’re being an ass.”

“And you are digging yourself into an early grave,” Archie shot back, never wavering in his kneading. “Do you know how many hours of sleep a boy your age needs?” Douxie opened his mouth to argue, but Archie cut him off. “Nine to eleven hours, on average. Do you know how much sleep you’ve been getting every night since you came here?” Once again, the boy tried to speak, but Archie wouldn’t hear it. “Four to six. You spend all day running around after Merlin, and even when he dismisses you, you won’t keep still, you just go hunting around for more work to do. Your head is so jammed up with magic incantations, it’s a wonder you even remember to breathe sometimes. You are killing yourself, Douxie. And as your Familiar, it is my duty to put an end to it. You are going to lie here in this bed until I say you can get up, and you are going to think of nothing related to Merlin or your apprenticeship while you do.”

“Archie!” Douxie protested.

“No arguing. Now keep still.”

“Archie, you don’t understand!” Douxie’s voice had shifted from annoyed to pleading. “I have to finish my chores. I have to study. I need to do a good job!” There was a moment’s silence as the cat regarded his boy, taking note of the desperation swimming in his sunken hazel eyes.

“...Why do you feel that way, Douxie?” he asked softly. “Why do you feel like you’re not allowed to rest?”

“...I....I don’t...” The young wizard fumbled for an answer, eyes darting around the room to avoid meeting Archie’s gaze.

“Hisirdoux,” he said gently, using a tone of voice that Douxie hadn’t heard from him since he was a small child. “Please talk to me.” Archie felt his boy give in beneath his paws as Douxie let out a long, tired sigh.

“...I don’t want to go back on the streets, Arch,” he whispered. “I don’t want to go back to hiding who I am.”

“Well, of course not. But what does that have to do with the late nights and the obsessive cleaning?”

“...I guess....I don’t want Merlin to regret taking me in. Living here in the castle, learning magic from a real Master Wizard, having a real home...It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of. I don’t want to screw this up. But I do screw things up, all the time. I’ve mislabeled ingredients, spilled ink on one of Merlin’s books--you know, he won’t even let me practice real spells yet because even my magic is full of mistakes. I need to do better. If I can’t do this right, then....what good am I to him?” He paused and took a deep breath. “...I just want to be worth something to him.”

A long, heavy silence followed. Archie had stopped kneading and was staring sadly at Douxie, who looked uncomfortably close to tears after that admission. His poor boy, thrust out of his home and family when he was only eight for something he couldn’t control, rejected by the world, beaten down by poverty, and his only source of love was a little black cat searching for a purpose. And though Douxie put on a brave front, laughed in the face of misfortune, and did his best to carry himself with all the dignity of a true wizard, he was still just a child; a child who had suffered terribly from the unfairness of a cruel world, and was somehow convinced that it was his own fault.

“Douxie...” Archie began softly. “...I can’t speak for Merlin. I still don’t know what motivated him to rescue you from the knights that day. But I do know that, with as many mistakes as you make, you are good enough for me. I’ve met a great many humans in my time, Hisirdoux, but you were the only one I chose to be mine. And if you are good enough for a dragon-turned-Familiar, then you are certainly good enough for that crusty old windbag. He won’t turn you out simply for being human and making a few mistakes.” Archie laid his head down and tucked it beneath Douxie’s chin. “...I won’t let him.”

He felt the boy’s breath stutter and heard him swallow thickly. Two scarred, gentle hands came up around Archie and held him close. Douxie’s thumbs stroked absently across his Familiar’s fur as he spoke in a quivering whisper:

“Thanks, Arch.” Archie purred and pushed against Douxie’s chin, his paws resuming their methodical kneading against his chest. Another silence fell upon them, this time a warm and comfortable one. Douxie sniffled once or twice, but his hands were steady as they ran up and down Archie’s back. “...I really should finish organizing the books, though,” he murmured. “I left the study in such a mess.”

“Now, now, Hisirdoux.” Archie dug his claws into Douxie’s shirt--not enough to hurt, but enough to make his point. “You wouldn’t be cruel enough to turn away a poor, wretched cat that has come to rest upon you, would you?” He shrank back down into his feline form and squinted his golden eyes fondly.

“No, no, don’t look at me like that. Archie...!” Archie snuggled down against his boy and gave a contented purr that he knew could never be resisted. Douxie gave up with another sigh and closed his eyes in defeat. “Fine. Just for a little bit.”

*****

“Hisirdoux!”

Merlin Ambrosius had had many apprentices in the past, but none of them had ever mystified and bewildered him as much as the grubby lad he’d pulled off the streets two weeks ago. The boy was a whirlwind of energy and untempered magic, always hovering at Merlin’s side or bustling around the castle. The old wizard had even resorted to asking some of the castle servants to abandon a few of their chores, just so he would have something to keep the lad occupied and out of his rapidly thinning hair for a few hours. And now after all that, he had returned to his study after a long morning of attending to a very irate Arthur only to find half of his library strewn across the floor, and his newest apprentice nowhere to be seen.

With an exasperated sigh, Merlin magicked all of the books back into their rightful places (Why were they even out to begin with? Didn’t Hisirdoux reorganize them just yesterday?) and stormed out of the study, already preparing an extensive lecture on the dangers of carelessness and lack of focus for when he found his young ward. A brief scan of the nearby area for magical signatures told him that the boy was currently holed up in his chambers. That was a bit odd. Hisirdoux usually didn’t spend much time there. No matter. Merlin swept down the stairs and through the hallways with the great sense of purpose that only a Master Wizard can achieve, and burst into his pupil’s room without even bothering to knock.

He was immediately greeted by a blast of fire.

Fortunately, he was able to fling up a magical shield just in time to save himself from what would have been a very nasty burn, but to say that Merlin was displeased by this greeting would have been an understatement. He turned his furious gaze onto the culprit, who was hovering in midair and baring his fangs like a wild beast.

“Archibald, what is the meaning of--!”

“Shh!” The ungrateful little creature cut him off with a growl. “If you wake him, I swear I will end you.” Merlin looked past him to see Hisirdoux curled up on his bed, sound asleep.

“What in the name of all things magic is going on here?” Merlin hissed. “Why was my study left in complete disarray, and what is my apprentice doing lazing about in bed in the middle of the afternoon?!”

“Your apprentice,” Archie spat the words out like poison. “is a child. A child who has been working himself to the bone trying to please you. He has been dead on his feet for the last fifteen days, and I was only able to get him to rest through brute force and manipulation, two things which I would rather avoid using on my own Familiar when at all possible. We are grateful for your kindness, but I will not allow you to disturb him now, regardless of the state of your study!”

Archie had been prepared to drag the Master Wizard from the room by his hair if necessary, so he was rather surprised when Merlin reacted, not with anger, but genuine surprise.

“...Hisirdoux hasn’t been sleeping?” he queried softly.

“No,” Archie replied shortly, landing on the floor and staring up at Merlin disdainfully. “He hasn’t.”

“But why on earth not? I did tell the servants to provide him with a comfortable mattress.”

“The mattress isn’t the issue. Douxie believes that if he does not make himself useful at all times and do everything perfectly, he will be cast out of the castle.”

“Who put such madness into his head?” Merlin demanded. “Of course I expect him to earn his keep here, but I never told him to expend himself to the point of exhaustion. And as for perfection, if I had been looking for that, I certainly wouldn’t have gone searching for it in the gutters of Camelot.”

“...Then may I ask what exactly are your intentions regarding my Familiar?” Archie inquired, narrowing his gaze.

“I simply wish to help him, Archibald. Nothing more or less.” The cat opened his mouth to reply, but froze as Douxie gave a muffled grunt and shifted in his sleep. The wizard and the Familiar both silently regarded the boy for a moment. “...I suppose the life of a street urchin can dull one’s belief in basic human kindness,” Merlin sighed, a gentle look coming into his normally stern eyes. He looked back at Archie. “When he awakens, please tell him that I have decreed in no uncertain terms that he is in no danger of losing his home here.”

“I...” Archie fumbled for a response for a moment. “...Yes, of course.” Merlin gave him a curt nod, then looked back at Douxie. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then he raised his hand and, with a soft pulse of green light, pulled the rumpled blanket across Douxie’s slumbering form. Then he left without another word, closing the door softly behind him. Archie sat where he was for a minute, staring at the closed door as though he could still see the wizard who had disappeared behind it. Then, shifting back into his cat form, he rejoined Douxie on the bed, curling up against the boy’s back.

Good enough, indeed, he thought. You are more than good enough, Hisirdoux.

#tales of arcadia #toa #wizards: tales of arcadia #wizards: toa #douxie #tales of arcadia archie #fanfiction #archie is a therapy cat #and douxie is a precious moppet #merlin is just a tired dad

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coeurdastronaute · 5 years

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Essays in Existentialism: Nerd 12

Previously on Nerd

The sun hung, shy of noon but still late in the morning, bright against the blinds, burning bright white and glaring despite the insistence that waking wasn’t an option by the inhabitants of the bed. From the late night, the tired hung heavier than normal for the morning person in bed as she slowly woke and shifted, yawning and burying her face in the pillow again to try to grasp at the last semblances of sleep.

It took a while for Lexa to realize that she was in Clarke’s bed and not her own. The memory of the previous night slowly swirled around her consciousness as she remembered the dance, and the moments where Clarke tugged her along to the dance floor and kissed her sweetly. The memory of arriving at an empty house and feeling Clarke in bed, pushing her limits as far as she could before she imploded.

Lexa was afraid to move too much when she realized what was happening. She opened her eyes and surveyed the room in the morning light, and felt the body beside her shift and sigh in her sleep. Only after she was certain Clarke was asleep did she chance rolling over and facing the blonde.

On her back and quite a large sleeper, Clarke’s arm hung off the bed with the other around Lexa’s shoulder. The blankets hung low and her stomach showed beneath the old shirt while her hair was a mess on the pillow, covering everything. Lexa inhaled the smell of Clarke’s sheets and felt her dip in the mattress and felt where their legs touched and she tentatively slid her hand around Clarke’s hip, running her thumb across skin there.

Not ever had she allowed herself to imagine this moment, that she would share her bed with someone and want to touch them so badly, or that it felt good to feel the bed move. She hadn’t even thought about what a life worth sharing would look like, but it wasn’t the worst. It was something that made her feel very normal and warm.

The head cheerleader was pretty. She was kind and funny and sometimes stubborn to the point of obstinate. But she slept freely, arms and body open and eager for life, not at all defensive or cuddled up tiny. There was hope for her, Lexa realized, beneath the stress and the front she put up for the rest of the world.

Slowly, Clarke stirred, Lexa’s thumb on her hip making her wake. She tugged at the body that was warm and beside her, smiling as she oke and humming along with the sound of the morning.

“Hey,” Clarke whispered, still not opening her eyes.

“Morning.”

“Sleep okay?”

“Really well.”

“You’re kind of a blanket thief.”

“You kick in your sleep.”

“That doesn’t sound like me,” Clarke shook her head, rolling into her girlfriend embrace.

She had a girlfriend now. She had one of those things that she wasn’t quite sure what it meant except that if it was anything like dating Bellamy it would be somewhat nice. In such a short amount of time, she realized she hadn’t even thought about her ex at all. Gone was the apathetic notion of occasionally hanging out. Now, she found someone who blushed just to look at her, and there was something insanely wonderful about being liked.

“Good morning,” Lexa whispered again. She ran toes along bare calf and hooked herself closer to Clarke.

Still without opening her eyes, lethargic and quiet, Clarke kissed Lexa. She felt her lips and her body warmed with the feeling of it all. Lexa was a deceptively good kisser, even if she’d never think about something like that. She moved with a kind of ownership. There wasn’t a sensitivity or apprehension despite the inevitable overthinking, but rather a solid level of taking the reins and taking what she wanted.

Clarke dug her hand into Lexa’s messy hair and felt hands on her hips slip up her back and hips shift. She hadn’t meant to kiss that hard or that long, but she couldn’t stop and she wasn’t about to if Lexa was doing that thing with her teeth and tongue.

“So, girlfriend huh?”

“If you think you’re up to the job,” Clarke grinned and adjusted, tugging at the hem of Lexa’s old shift. “It comes with perks.”

“I’m kind of serious about a rule book.”

“There aren’t rules, you goober.”

“There have to be.”

“Nah, just good things. Like maybe spending a little time waking up together.”

“I like it so far,” Lexa conceded as her shirt rose and she watched Clarke’s fingers move up her torso.

“It means we get to keep picking up wherever we left off.”

There was a hand that slid up her chest and Lexa felt her knees go weak even though she was laying down. She felt a hand squeeze her, and fingertips run over her chest beneath her shirt, and she shifted despite herself. Clarke’s lips moved to her neck and her chin.

Eyes rolled back and dangerously flushed, Lexa swallowed and let Clarke move even more, rolling on top of her so her weight pinned her to the bed. It was just a good thing that Clarke was pressing against her chest, because Lexa was certain her limbs would pop.

For some reason, there was no hesitation in pushing back. Lexa moved without thinking, spreading her legs and slipping her hand low on Clarke’s hip. She didn’t hesitate to chase lips and clumsily chase any feeling of skin she could find. She sought the moan and the sigh and the noises that plagued her every thought.

But Clarke stopped, bolting up suddenly, her hands still rooted under Lexa’s shirt, palms warm and heavenly. She cocked her head, waiting for another sound before jolting out of the bed quickly and pulling clothes off of the floor to put on.

“You have to hide.”

“Hide? Why? What happened?”

“I thought my parents wouldn’t be home until this afternoon--”

“It’s…” Lexa squinted and looked at her phone as she leaned over the bed and grabbed it from the night stand. “It’s almost noon.”

“Clarke, honey, we’re home!” her mother’s voice rang through the halls.

Clarke froze and stared at her girlfriend, wide-eyed and hair an absolute messy mane, tossed about haphazardly, her lips somewhat puffy from their excursion.

“I’ll be grounded for life if she finds you in here.”

“I thought I was allowed over.”

“I don’t think I ever said that,” Clarke shook her head, looking for clothes as she pushed her hair out of her face. “I said that my parents wouldn’t be here and you should come over.”

“Clarke, this isn’t the time for semantics.”

“You’re impinging on my honor. Now will you please get under my bed?”

“Are you kidding me?”

The look Lexa got in return was clearly showing that it wasn’t a joke, and with a sigh, she got to the ground and slid under the bed easy, careful to make sure she wasn’t visible at all. It wasn’t a second too soon. Just as Clarke kicked the remnants of Lexa’s outfit under the bed, the bedroom door opened.

“You’re still not up? Clarke, it’s nearly lunch time.”

“I’m getting up,” Clarke defended herself, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as she slipped on socks. “I’m going to go grab lunch with Lexa.”

“You just went to the dance, do you have to go out every day, Clarke? Don’t you have to study for the SAT and your History exam?”

“I’m fine for both.”

“Between work and this, this, this new girl, I don’t know how you get any studying done. It’s not good to be so wrapped up--”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re young, and you have to understand--”

“Do we have to do this lecture again? Can’t I just read the footnotes of the last dozen or so that you’ve given me?”

“If you’re going to talk like that, you can forget leaving this house.”

Lexa held her breath and closed her eyes, pressing herself against the floor as hard as she could, desperate to be away from the situation as best she could.

“I’ll be back around six,” Clarke muttered, picking up her coat and making her way toward the door.

The impending fow leaked out into the hall, and Lexa felt herself breathe when the bedroom door slammed and Abby followed her daughter through the house. Only when everything was centered down in the living room did she slip out from under the bed, goofy grin on her face at the narrow escape she’d made and how absolutely fascinating it’d already been to date Clarke Griffin.

With a few quick movements and still barefoot but with her clothes in hand, Lexa lifted Clarke’s window, tossed them down, and jumped down to the ground.

When she turned around, she met the eyes of the man she assumed to be Clarke’s father, or at least the same eyes of the man in all of the pictures that hung on the wall and that Clarke had scattered about her room.

Frozen, she didn’t move for a solid minute, but it felt much longer. She was certain there was a mark on her neck. She knew that there was lipstick on the white shirt she wore. She knew what it looked like and she gulped before leaning down to pick up her pile of clothes and bolting through the yard as fast as her feet would carry her.

“Your daughter is absolutely impossible. You have to deal with her because I’m at the end of my rope,” Abby muttered as she stomped her way into the kitchen, beat again by a teenagers innate way of pushing the soft, mushy bruises of one’s person with inherent ease. “She’s out of control, no thought for the future, sleeps all day, works at that shitty diner, obsessing over school girl crushes, and for what? To cheer? To just settle for drawing pictures?”

Without moving, Jacob Griffin braced himself against the counter in the kitchen as he struggled to finish getting a glass of water from the sink. But he chuckled to himself and shook his head.

“What’s so funny?” his wife furrowed, crossing her arms.

“I just saw the weirdest looking deer in the yard.”

“You aren’t even listening to--”

Off on another tangent, his wife tossed up her hands and ranted through the house while he stood there and shook his head, once again in awe of his daughter’s antics.

XXXXXXXXXX

“So you jumped out of her bedroom window?”

“Yup.”

“And her dad saw?”

“Yeah.”

“And you didn’t hook up with her?”

“No.”

“But you’re her girlfriend.”

“Yeah. That’s what she said.”

Lexa balanced the phone against her ear as she half listened to her sister and half fret over a piece of footage that didn’t feel quite right. She went back and watched the clip a few times, debating the edit Luna had made. Half hunched over her computer desk, her headphones half hung on an ear while the other was tugged to the side so she could hear her sister. She used a pencil to itch her shoulder before jotting a few notes in the often sloppy notebook that spread out across her desk.

A mug of tea was half-sipped and cooling past the point of enjoyable. Rain tapped against the window, and Lexa could ear the nagging in her sister’s voice.

“So how do you feel now?”

“About what?” Lexa furrowed, going back and pressing play again.

“About dating someone.”

“Well, it feels pretty much like not dating someone, except now I get to make out sometimes.”

“You’re not like, you know,” Anya ventured, surprisingly walking around the point as gently as she, a human cannonball, was capable. “You’re not like getting too into it, right?”

“I mean, I’m kind of into it. Clarke’s great.”

“You can’t get in over your head, Lex. Be careful.”

“What do you mean?” she furrowed, confused enough to step back from focusing on the computer. She had a pretty firm deadline and a script to write. Her script. Her submission for college. She had a lot to do as well as study for a physics test, write a history paper, and put together the video for AV club and the championship game.

“You’ve never done this before,” the eldest cautioned. “Don’t get so wrapped up in someone that you lose yourself.”

“No, I couldn’t.”

“You could. It happens.”

“Not to you.”

“Because I’m a heartbreaker, not a heartbroken sap.”

“I’m not a sap.”

“You are.”

“How?”

“Just. Shut up. Listen,” Anya sighed. Across the country she stopped walking in the middle of the sidewalk in the busy city on the college side of town. Hidden beneath a thick beanie her hair was fighting against her ears. Streetlights were already on, and she imagined her sister in a similar position to what she could be found, tucked up at her desk and half listening.

But she was a big sister who failed to protect Aden, and failed to help her sister most of the time, who failed to keep her parents from hiding, who let everyone shrink, and somehow, the self-appointed patriarch of the family was prepared to off some caution.

“You let someone be part of our life, and you don’t give any of yourself away for them. You feel things different, and it’s not a bad thing. But you are good Lexa. You have to be careful not to give yourself up.”

“I don’t know what any of that means. I really just felt Clarke’s boobs for the first time last night.”

“I’m trying to teach you something important, moron.”

“Well, I don’t know what that means and I’m busy.”

“I need you to please understand at least part of the way.”

“Can I call you back?”

“No, just listen. Just. Okay, focus,” Anya sighed again, heavier than before. “Do you remember when you made me watch that movie where the husband and wife are getting a divorce, but they weren’t good at it? Like they kept fighting and by the end, you were confused how they ever loved each other and she yells at him, something about giving herself up.”

“Yeah, yeah, that movie was overacted and not edited well.”

“That’s not the point.”

“I’m not getting married or giving up my acting career for my husband’s success.”

It wasn’t quite the point, but Anya closed her eyes and shook her head, her cheeks tinted with the chill left in the not-quite-spring air. Maybe something seeped in, and as happy as she was for her sister doing something normal, like making out with a girl, Anya was still apprehensive because who else would be for her sister?

“Good.”

“That was a very good reference point.”

“You touched her boobs, huh?”

“Oh yeah,” Lexa smiled and nodded.

“How was it?”

“I’m definitely gay.”

It was a bark of a laugh, but Anya couldn’t help it. Lexa smiled and blushed slightly at the confession. It felt painfully real and honest.

“Fine, tell me about whatever you’re working on now.”

In an instant, Lexa was rambling about the problems with her new project and brainstorming aloud about her script and fretting over if her ideas were stupid or whatever. From the hallway, her father paused by her cracked door, and listened as his daughters talked as they did almost every other day, chatting about everything, even things he wished he hadn’t heard. But he loved them immensely in that moment.

Before he walked away, he made a mental note to have another sex talk with his daughter.

XXXXXXXXX

“I’m announcing myself so you don’t hurt yourself again!”

The voice came down the hall toward the garage as Lexa smiled and carefully extricated herself from beneath the Bronco’s body, grease covering her shoulder and neck. Hair up in a pony tail and old jeans covered in streaks.

It was not late in the evening, and part of Lexa knew she still had a bunch of stuff to do for the upcoming week, but she couldn’t bring herself to waste a Sunday without putting a little more work into her future car and escaping to the quiet of the garage to commune with the dead for a little while, mulling over her script while she took apart a transmission.

“You’re right on time to help me.”

“I don’t really do cars or anything, but I brought you a burger.”

Holding up a bag, Clarke appeared, grinning and waiting. Lexa accepted the bag and then leaned in for a kiss which was eagerly accepted and added to.

“How long have you been down here?” Clarke asked, taking a seat on the hood of the old SUV.

“Um,” Lexa looked at her watch and furrowed again. “Maybe a few hours.”

She took out her food and smiled before taking a bite, knowing enough to earn a disapproving glance because she disappeared into the garage. There was a bit of worry beneath it, something that Clarke didn’t quite understand, but that she was certainly almost getting, about communing and finding peace.

For a long while the two chatted about nothing and everything in particular, something Lexa was never really known to do. She didn’t usually have much to say, but sh always seemed to with Clarke. And there were moments of quiet, where she worked on something, consulting the giant manual like her father showed her, jotting notes in the pages as she went to work on heavy metal parts.

Clarke slipped inside the cab, onto the unfinished and torn seats, reclining on the uncomfortable chair. She put her feet up on the dashboard and mused about the upcoming week, and after digging through the engine well, Lexa looked at her and then her mind went blank as her hands moved.

“You should be the actor in my movie.”

“That is the worst suggestion I’ve ever heard from you,” Clarke rolled her eyes and adjusted the seat, fiddling with the visor, flipping it a few times.

“Wait,” Lexa stopped and furrowed, twirling the wrench in her hand for a second. “Maybe not. Anya made a very strong parable with this exact situation.”

Hip half cocked, Lexa stood and stared at the engine under the hood, unsure of what she said, though she spent a good portion of time truly believing that it was important and that Clarke would be perfect. The disonnence didn’t make sense.

“I’m not an actor.”

“It’ll work. Very Linklater-esque, I think.”

“His movies are too long.”

“It’ll be easy.”

“I don’t want to interrupt your art or whatever.”

“I think I really mean it,” Lexa decided, wiping her hands on an old cloth as she surveyed the workbench, afraid to turn around.

“Why don’t you actually really mean it, and then we can talk numbers.”

“Oh, I can’t pay you anything.”

“You’ll have to talk to my agent to negotiate.”

Lexa just rolled her eyes and hopped into the passenger side of her own shell of a car. Clarke greeted her with a big smile as some music played from her phone in the middle of the cup holder. She leaned forward and earned another kiss, this one deeper than the first, content and slightly tired and in need of a shower. But it didn’t stop Clarke from tugging her across the middle.

“I didn’t get to see you much this week.”

“Cross country kicked my ass, and finishing this script. This is the first time I’ve made it to the garage. My dad’s going to come down and help me on a few things after dinner.”

“He just got back, yeah?”

“Mhm. Stockholm.”

Clarke pulled back.

“I shouldn’t mount you, I guess.”

“I mean, I’m okay with it.”

The cheerleader just laughed and shook her head.

“Thank you for distracting me.”

“I didn’t know I was.”

“You are. I needed it today.”

“I think that’s part of my job, honestly.”

“I call you my girlfriend once, and you already have a list of job responsibilities.”

“You’re a full-time job,” Lexa smiled, earning a pretty face and eyes and all of it, even though she was absolutely caked in dirt and had been unresponsive for hours.

“I know.”

188 notes · View notes

sevngmin · 5 years

Text

dreams of dreams

synopsis: what happens when two broke college students live together, out of their own will?

a/n: a spinoff from @changbeanie ‘s hyunjin au, do give it a read<3 also, this took quite a while as i had school too,,, rip

genre: fluff, lowkey enemies-to-lovers!au but not rlly, college!au based off The Last Summer on Netflix

listen to: Bloom-Troye Sivan

member: jisung

word count: 3,554

[0830]

College.

You were prepared for the monotonous lecturers, back-to-back assignment deadlines and dreaded 9am classes. Even better, your best friend introduced you(or rather, helped you to find) an apartment right beside hers and a cute roommate. Everything seemed so well planned out. You were a broke media and communications major, and you basically blew almost all of your life savings on the latest MacBook Pro your school made you buy before you started the school term.

Luckily, your parents offered to pay your school fees and rent, on top of giving you a weekly allowance. You couldn’t ask for more, in fact, you had more than what you asked for. You were grateful, to say the least.

However, you wished you had more patience for untidy people, especially your roommate, Han Jisung.

You didn’t expect much from Jisung, in fact, you did not even expect anything from a friend of a friend. You thought he was just a shy, cute, introverted music production major that would at least, have the courtesy to clean up his dirty clothes strewn on the floor for whatever reason.

You weren’t that much of a clean freak, to be honest. You yourself wasn’t the cleanest of people but you’d at least clean up once every 2 days or so.

Jisung... not really.

You have lived with him for about 2 months or so and became good friends with him. You would be damned, Jisung was almost the embodiment of boyfriend, kind eyes, soft, plump lips, not very tall but still tall enough to tower over you, a good sense of humour, good at his major, probably enough life savings to last him till the workforce, and more traits you couldn’t think of because he was that perfect.

Almost, you would stress. Because of his untidiness, which was the cause of 80% of the accidents you encountered ever since you moved into the apartment with him. You have screeched at the boy countless times for his untidiness, which, your friend had warned you about but didn’t take into consideration as you had more than what you can ask for.

You really didn’t expect Jisung to be that messy.

“Han Jisung!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, as you picked up the what seemed like the 5th article of clothing that wasn’t yours.

“Ah, so there it was!” Jisung’s face lightened up as he saw the t-shirt you were holding, only to be disappointed when you tossed it into the laundry basket before he could even reach for it.

“You have no idea,” You seethed, “How many times I nearly fell to my death because of your clothes, Han Jisung.”

“I told you I’ll clean it up!” Jisung argued, now picking up his own clothes, “It wasn’t that long anyway.”

You sighed in exasperation, pinching your nose bridge, “Yeah, a week wasn’t that long for me to fall on my butt countless times.”

“Then why are you wearing my clothes?” Jisung retorted, pointing at the dark purple hoodie that was indeed, way too oversized for your petite figure.

Your face reddens, then you cleared your throat, “I might have stolen it but-- that’s not the point! You should clean up like, once every two days or something.”

“I’m busy!”

“So am I!”

“I’ll treat you to fried dumplings later.” Jisung proposed, which made your eyes light up with excitement.

“At the one near our school?” You nearly drooled at the thought of your favourite fried dumplings, blinking your eyes.

“Yes, now eat your breakfast, we’re almost late.” Jisung pushed you to the breakfast table which had two bowls of cereal, ready to eat.

You could never get angry at Jisung for long, especially when he knew the way to forgiveness was through your stomach.

[1630]

you: hey

messy brat: what’s up

messy brat: i swear if you ditch on us again im not buying you food anymore

you: yeah but this time i really have a project to complete,,, like actually

messy brat: what project is it

you: come over to the video editing studio then

messy brat: aight

“Thanks for helping me out,” you thanked Hyunjin as you took off your headphones, hanging them on the video camera, “media and communications isn’t that fun after all, huh.”

“You learn a little bit of everything so I guess that would be helpful in the future,” Hyunjin smoothened out his shirt, slouching into the seat, “I guess that’s a more stable future than dancing.”

Just then, the heavy door of the video editing room opened, revealing a lethargic Jisung, auburn hair messily covered with a bucket hat, airpods snugly stuck into his ears. Today was one of the days he decided to dress up, with a white button up short sleeved shirt and black bermudas. You have seen this many times; in the apartment where he would lazily throw off his shoes somewhere in the nirvana of the shoe closet, then plopping himself face-first on the sofa. Then you would nag at him to shower before he falls asleep on the couch and then forgets to do his assignments. But he always manages to hustle his work right before class starts and get an A. You didn’t know how, but he still does.

Weirdly, today your heart raced fast, aching a little at the sight of your tired roommate. He must’ve sat through a 3-hour lecture which he had absolutely no interest in, and then rush over to you, looking forward to eating dumplings but instead ending up at the most desolate end of the campus.

“That was fast,” You noted, ignoring your racing heart, “and yeah, I’m doing some video thing for my project.”

“Hey,” Jisung greeted Hyunjin, who suspiciously eyed the both of you but left the studio quietly, “When is it due?”

“Next week,” You sighed as you leaned onto the creaky revolving chair your school never replaced at the editing station, “I even have to use two software for this. Premiere Pro and ProTools. Premiere Pro is fine but ProTools’ such a pain, like, I accidentally keep deleting parts that I need, then record them again.”

Jisung took his seat beside you on another creaky revolving chair, then with a few clicks of the mouse, your audio track was in one beautiful piece, running smoothly with no awkward cuts or dead air.

“H-how...” You scratched your head, still in awe of how Jisung could get your job done in supposedly 3 minutes when you couldn’t even get it properly done in 3 hours.

“ProTools can be pretty intimidating if you’re not using it regularly,” Jisung explains, helping you add in more of the audio tracks that you were going to get to, “Once you get the hang of it, it’s almost like your best friend.”

You nodded mindlessly, only registering half of whatever Jisung was saying. You just didn’t get it, some people are naturally talented, cute, good talkers, or all of them. Jisung was one of them, (annoyingly)talented at seemingly everything he touches. You shook your head, getting those thoughts out of your head. Crushing on your roommate was not going to do you any good, in fact, it will only make it more awkward when both of you practically live in the same space.

“I kinda need an intro, outro and background song for the video...” You bit your lip, “Could you help me with that?”

“I do have a few tracks I made when I was bored, but I need to make one more suitable one for your background music.” Jisung tapped his chin, slightly immersing himself in his thoughts, “Give me two days, tops. I’ll bring it over here and help you edit it in.”

“Really?” You really didn’t expect Jisung to help, sending him a sincere smile, “Thanks Jisung, it means a lot.”

“Woah, where did the dorm y/n go?” Jisung joked, raising his eyebrows, “You’re really different when you’re in school.”

“That’s only because you don’t clean up.” You stuck your tongue out, walking over to the video recorder. “I need you in my interview too. You’re the one person I need to complete the video and I’m good to edit the whole thing.”

“Don’t forget to thank me when you get a 4.0 on this module,” Jisung nudged you playfully, taking his seat behind the camera. “I’m ready.”

“Ready, 3, 2, 1, action!”

Hello Jisung, thank you for agreeing to this interview. For the viewers of this programme, can you introduce yourself briefly?

Hello, I am Han Jisung, a music production major.

So Jisung, have you had any childhood crushes?

I did, there was this girl who was my partner in kindergarten and we would always sit together at lunch. We would hold hands and make our way to the canteen, and play with toys together during playtime. I never saw her again after kindergarten though, we went to different schools after that.

Have you dated before?

Yes, I have, but it was only with 1-2 girls. We barely dated for a week and then we broke up. Our interests didn’t align I guess. I studied pretty hard back in high school to be a music production major in this college, hence I had no time to date around or develop a crush on anyone at that point in time. So far in college, I haven’t dated though.

Do you have a crush right now? If so, do describe her briefly.

I do. She’s nice, pretty and caring. She’s also very hard working and very driven. Sometimes she does tell me off too much but that’s for my own good so I can’t really fault her with that. She’s also good at her major, even though sometimes she stresses herself out too much over it. I wished she feels the same though because it would be really awkward for us if I made the move and she doesn’t reciprocate.

Care to explain?

We... are in this point of friendship where it can either end badly or well. By ending well I mean, we would end up dating or eventually being a thing. By ending bad... she might not talk to me for the rest of the time we’re friends or.. not even friends anymore.

Thank you for agreeing to this interview. Would you like to leave a few words for your crush and the viewers?

For the viewers, don’t be afraid to like someone. It’s normal and people have feelings. Don’t be a home wrecker though. That’s bad. As for my crush... I’m not sure if she’ll see this but I hope that she’s eating well and sleeping well. Assignment deadlines are coming and I don’t want her to stress out so much. Also, I’m not sure when I’ll confess to her about my feelings but I’ll accept whatever choice she makes.

[2230]

“Who’s that lucky girl?” You teased Jisung, taking out your airpods momentarily, “Your crush.”

Jisung shrugged, tapping away on his laptop, “I could be lying for all you know.”

You threw a pillow at Jisung, “You’re not supposed to lie! I’ll make you record the whole thing again if you really lied.”

“Okay, I didn’t” Jisung defended himself with his arms in the air in defeat, “I’m not telling you. Crushes are supposed to be a secret.”

You threw your head backwards in laughter, “What are you? 8? We don’t pull this kind of crap anymore.”

“Just focus on editing, miss y/n,” Jisung mock glared at you, “It’s due next week and all you care about is the identity of my crush? How boring must’ve my interview been.”

“It’s actually one of the more interesting ones,” You commented, trimming the unwanted parts of the interview, like Jisung mocking you, putting his face too close to the camera for no reason, and him tripping over his words. Cute, but your lecturer would think of it as unprofessional. “I just need to cut out your stupid antics. What a waste of my memory on my hard drive.”

“You could’ve just put it in the bloopers,” Jisung muttered, “Also, I’m done with your music.”

You scooted over to sit beside Jisung, sharing one of his airpods as the music played, he somehow knew what you wanted, just the perfect vibe of the song that fitted your interviews. Your cheeks blushed slightly at the proximity of the both of you, laptops on your laps and old comforter draped lazily over your legs. You were so close, you could smell the remnants of cologne Jisung sprayed on this morning. He smelled of warm cotton, in addition to the calming music Jisung made for the background music, lulling you to slumber within a few minutes.

“How is it? Do you--” Jisung sat up excitedly, expecting a response from you, but only to see your eyes shut, head nestled ever so slightly on his chest. He smiled to himself, then gently draping over the comforter over your body. Jisung tucked a stray hair behind your ear, taking in your peaceful and steady breathing.

As he inched closer, he wanted to know how your lips still remained pink even after removing your makeup(not like you needed any, he thought to himself, you were even more beautiful without it), and how they would feel on his.

Before he could place his lips on yours, he snapped out of his sleepy reverie and shifted to a more comfortable position for you, sighing to himself,

“Goodnight and sweet dreams, my dear crush.”

[1130]

There you were, seated in the video editing studio again, trying to add a few finishing touches to your assignment. Everything was going well, until Protools decided to crash on you, letting all your efforts thus far of editing audio go to waste.

You buried your face in your palm for what seemed like the 10th time, trying to compose yourself. At times like this, you would very much appreciate Jisung’s help.

As if Jisung heard your thoughts, the boy busted through the door, this time with two cups of iced coffee, “I ended early, so I figured if I could help out before you submit your assignment.”

“Thanks, Jisung,” You accepted the iced coffee gratefully, giving your roommate a side hug, “Protools crashed on me again. Also, I have some problem with the mic. The levels don’t seem to be right and I have to submit this in 4 hours please help me I’m panicking.”

“Woah okay, chill,” Jisung settled his drink and backpack down, taking his seat beside you and putting his arm on the back of your seat, “Before you start recording, check the gain and buttons on the console. Maybe someone was trying to be a bitch and messed with them. Also, how many times did I tell you to save your session after every change? Protools isn’t always ‘healthy’ you know? Protools will crash at times too.”

Jisung started to notice the worry traced on your face, then scooted closer to you and held your hands in his, “I know the deadline’s in a few days, but I just wanted to tell you that you’re actually doing so so good? Even for someone who doesn’t major in music production. I’m sure your file isn’t lost somewhere, we can retrieve it. And I’m here to help you too, hmm? I’m pretty sure your classmates don’t have a ‘music major friend’ privilege.”

Your face started to redden, not only at Jisung’s words but also the proximity, he was so close, if you were a little closer you would kiss him right there and then. The video editing studio didn’t seem so cold anymore, but rather warm with the body heat the both of you were radiating at this very moment.

Too close... to remain friends?

You pulled away from Jisung, eyes avoiding his, “Y-yeah... sure. The stress just got to my head so I kinda took it out on you, sorry.”

“It’s fine, we all get stressed sometimes.” Jisung grabs the mouse and like before, your work was recovered in just a few clicks, “I got it back. Your clip seems fine, I think it’s good to go.”

“Wow um, thanks Jisung.” You really had no idea what to say other than “thank you” to Jisung, he had been more than of what you could ask for throughout your editing process, also being especially nice and patient when explaining technical terms to you. Now all that’s left to do is to confess to him, but you were scared to ruin the precious friendship the both of you shared thus far.

Too close... to ruin it all.

“Don’t you have some showcase thing?” Jisung comments as he saves the project, dropping it into your hard drive, “I heard from Felix that you guys have it.”

“I was just about to ask you,” You crossed your legs on the chair, facing Jisung, “I’d want you to come to the showcase.”

Jisung pauses, as light pink dusted his cheeks, “M-me?”

“Who else?” You smiled, looking around, “Unless there’s another Jisung that I don’t know about...”

“H-hey don’t scare me like that,” Jisung stutters, bringing his attention back to the desktop, “It’s not funny.”

“I’m kidding, friend.” You joked, taking a sip of the slightly diluted iced coffee.

“Friend?” Jisung turned his head, tilting to one side, hurt ever so slightly cast in his eyes.

You couldn’t read that expression, confused, tilting your head like his, “What about it?”

“Nothing.” Jisung shook his head, removing the hard drive, handing it to you.

Little did you know, hidden inside Jisung’s backpack was a mini bouquet of your favourite dried flowers.

[2145]

As the end credits rolled around, you sensed an invisible weight being lifted off your shoulders, many sleepless nights worth of edits was indeed, worth it. Not to mention that Jisung probably pulled those all-nighters with you too, alongside completing his own work or even music for your project.

You were complimented with many praises from your classmates, some grumbling that they wouldn’t get their 4.0 thanks to you, also from the other tutors in the lecture theatre. You were so glad that your efforts paid off, and you would score a decent grade in at least one of the modules, for the first time in a while.

Your eyes followed Jisung despite being overwhelmed with people after the showcase, the boy patiently waiting at the foot of the podium for you. He changed out of his usual t-shirt you saw him this morning, to a ralph lauren plain sky blue dress shirt and dark blue calvin klein jeans. You knew Jisung owned a few dress shirts and saw him in them multiple times, but you knew exactly what it was that made him look extra handsome this time around.

It wasn’t the brand, but rather your crush on him that painted him in a very different light as compared to the past.

And you were prepared to tell him.

“I think you’re ready for Hollywood,” Jisung joked as he made shy strides towards you, hands snugly tucked in his pockets, “that video was really well made.”

‘Thank you, J.One,” You teased back, him grimacing at your joke, “your music made the video a whole lot better. I really do owe you one, Jisung.”

“Well, then before we go for fried dumplings,” Jisung reached into his backpack, handing you a small bouquet of your favourite dried flowers, “Here’s for my roommate, future filmmaker extraordinaire.”

You gasped, taking the bouquet in your hands, “Jisung! You really shouldn’t have. Thank you so much.”

“It was meant to be for something else,” Jisung eyed the bouquet warily, “but since you wanted to stay friends, it's a congratulation gift now.”

“What? Stay friends?” You stared at your roommate in confusion.

“I like you, y/n.” Jisung confessed, “I wanted to confess with that bouquet of flowers back in the editing studio but you called me a friend so I thought... you wanted to stay friends and nothing more.”

Jisung smiles sadly to himself, then looking back at you, “I just thought I would make myself clear before... you potentially hate me. I’ll respect your decision! If you don’t like me back... I’m fine with it. As long as you are happy--”

You interrupted Jisung by gently placing your lips on his, your hands ever so slightly crumpling the dress shirt he actually bothered to wash this morning. You pulled away, only to be pulled back by Jisung, lips now moving to deepen the kiss he waited for so long. You nearly melted in his arms, head dizzy with euphoria as your lips locked with his every fleeting moment. The boy gently pulled away, tucking a stray hair behind your ear, “Does this mean you like me too?”

You planted a kiss on Jisung’s slightly swollen lips again, smiling to your new boyfriend, “Yes, I like you too, Jisung.”

#stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids #han jisung #jisung #han #han scenarios #han imagines #jisung scenarios #jisung imagines #jisung fluff #kpop fluff

269 notes · View notes

fuwafuwamedb · 5 years

Text

A Church Visit (GilHaku)

“Christianity…” Hakuno stared at the requested topic for her report, her mind running over her options for getting the paper done.

To be fair, she’d had time. There was no reason that she hadn’t been able to do it except for the fact that she had made an elective decision to not succumb to the great narcolepsy that consumed her as soon as she cracked open the Bible. She’d gone to train with a handful of mages instead, staying up late into the night and going to school and even earning an extension on the paper she needed to turn in because of “family reasons”.

Her self-created family wasn’t going to be able to avoid a visit in the future if she tried that again. She’d need to get the paper done.

Reading was no longer an option though. Even if she did manage to break that bad boy open, there was no way she was going to be devouring hymns and stories enough by dawn to even begin the paper. She’d be writing all the way to the classroom and being caught finishing up her paper by the teacher.

Playing sick wouldn’t work either.

Which left- She was going to have to go and talk to a priest.

A one on one interview.

She’d ask questions about a few stories that had seemed at least semi-interesting and then she’d book it for the door to crank out a half-assed paper. It got turned in, she got her good grade.

Her continuation in a decent class continued.

Entering the church, she eyed the perspectives.

A couple members of the place were scrubbing the floors, interesting people to interview. She had no doubt that they’d be more than happy to stop their work…

The tattoos had her hesitating though. The scars that zigzagged over their hands and the way they seemed to move had her hesitating as well. There was something going on with that. They looked more like they were hiding out.

The red on one’s arm, which the other quickly pointed out and began to help him quickly clean up had her moving away quickly.

Very unsavory.

Another was standing at the front of the church, his back turned.

Vibes alone had her avoiding that man.

He seemed to almost radiate an aura of, ‘if you get close, you will realize I am nothing more than a snake in the guise of a man.’ Or maybe he just said, ‘remember the snake in the garden of Eden? Welcome Eve, come have a visit with me. Apples available on request.’

Again, she skirted that man.

The blond that came up the stairs had her relieved.

True, he looked out of place, but he was wearing priest robes.

Foreigner by looks alone, she could probably get a good spiel about Christianity and God and be on her merry way with this guy thinking he had possibly made a new Christian out of her.

It was perfect.

“Excuse me!”

She was going to use the most basic Japanese that she knew with this guy.

The man glanced back at her, stopping as he caught sight of her.

She didn’t even pause.

“Hello, Father.” She told him. “I am here to ask about Christianity. Can I ask you questions?”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

She pointed at his cross. “You’re Christian. Can I ask about Jesus?”

That was like the main god in Christianity, right?

The man smirked a little, motioning her along with him. “What is your name?”

Oh, he sounded fluent.

Perhaps she had judged him too quickly.

“My name is Kishinami Hakuno,” Hakuno told him. She smiled a little more, following him down further and further into the depths of the church. “Have you been a priest long?”

“You could say I have only just begun to learn about it.”

Not good, but-

“So you’ve read the stories,” Hakuno offered.

“From the first to the last page.”

This man was her ticket to success. Her arm went around his, a relieved smile coming to her face as she held onto him.

“You have no idea how nice that is to hear. I have to write a report for school and get it in to my teacher and I haven’t managed to learn a thing about the religion.”

He seemed offputting, but it was probably just the fact that she was going into the bowels of what felt like a big hole with him.

“What do you need to know?”

“Anything interesting. The writing was…” Boring. Awful. Written by someone impossibly longwinded. “Ambiguous.”

“You mean boring.”

This man was amazing.

Hakuno stumbled a bit on the last few stairs, being caught by the blond.

“Sorry,” she told him.

“Let me make something for you and I to drink and we can discuss your questions and perhaps get your report finished.”

He would help with the paper?!

Oh man.

Hakuno couldn’t help but beam at him.

Her hand was in his, squeezing it a little as they moved to a sitting room and the man began to make some tea in the countered area of the room.

A cup of wine for himself, a cup of tea before her; they began.

He was patient. He was elaborate in his explanations. She typed his answers in and slowly built in some transitional nonsense here and there as the man brewed her a second cup of tea and excused himself to keep others from the room.

The paper was actually done.

She stared at the finished product, feeling a little dizzy from the relief.

Actually, she forwarded the report to her teacher in an email to be safe.

She wasn’t going to miss points just because she forgot to print it at home or anything. No, if the paper was with her teacher, then she would be fine.

“Is it done?”

“It is.” Hakuno smiled at him, finishing that second cup of tea and smiling his way. “Thank you so much… Um…”

“Gilgamesh.”

Gilgamesh?

His parents must have hated him to name him a mouthload like that.

“Ah, I see.” The man set his wineglass down, grinning a little. “You are before all of it. You are the original, without the pains or the stress. I had been curious as to why you had not recognized me from the start. Actually inquiring with me about something as mundane as religion.”

He was snorting.

Why did she feel lethargic?

“What?”

“Naturally, you are tired,” Gilgamesh comforted, moving over to her side and wrapping an arm around her waist. “You came just when you were needed. Impeccable timing.”

She could feel her vision blurring a little.

“Rest a moment,” he told her. “I can prepare things.”

Prepare…

She could feel herself being carried, voices murmuring in the distance.

For a time, all she could hear was the sound of a heart pounding near her ear. She could hear her breathing and feel movement around her.

What had happened?

Had it been the tea that had had something in it?

Was she even safe?

Opening her eyes, she looked around at the room, finding herself in the sitting area from before.

Perhaps, she’d dozed off?

That would have been awkward. Maybe she’d just been set off by the people upstairs and had dozed off at one point while the man had been getting her something more to drink.

She was probably just-

Her mind stopped at the feel of the fabrics against her person. There was so much satin, the skirts thick and with golden markings near the bottom. The sleeves were billowy, with the same markings of gold along the hem of the sleeves. She reached up, feeling the lace veil.

Was…

Was she in a wedding dress?

It was time to go.

Grabbing the skirts, she hoisted them up enough and found her feet wobbling a bit in the heels underneath. She could feel the slight tug of a set of hooks holding up stockings. A pair of white and gold heels poking out from beneath her dress.

This was not a place to be.

She had class tomorrow, for starters.

She had class tomorrow, as a main point.

Her feet were wobbling a little more as she tried to hurry up the stairs.

She had to go, she needed to-

A wave of exhaustion took over again as she felt an arm wrap around her waist.

“Would you look at that?” The blond from before purred, “a runaway bride.”

She wasn’t a runaway anything. She was a student who-

The man leaned himself close, his hand going to her cheek.

Data streams.

Labyrinths and monsters.

The mocking laugh of an enemy in the distance.

Deletion.

She pressed closer to the man holding her, trying to breathe through what she was seeing. She wasn’t sure what was going on and she didn’t like it.

“It confuses me too,” the blond confessed. “Do you see us though? You are important. It must be from when I win the grail,” he murmured. “You are the one that I decided upon. I did not think that you would simply stroll into the church to find me so soon.”

She wasn’t…

Why had she reached out to him in those visions?

“You will be a fine bride,” the man purred, pulling her along with him. She felt like she was being pulled into the tides of a great river, further and further away from the shore and land that she knew so well. She could feel him pulling her through a selection of rooms, taking her by the hand and calling forth to another in the church.

The man she’d avoided on pure aura alone was before her, frowning at her.

“King Gilgamesh,” the man started.

“If you will not, I will find another.”

“…It is not that.”

A hand was around her waist still as she felt the man open his book and begin to recite the passage.

The jargon was always so long. Why was the nonsense so long? She couldn’t pay attention to this to save her life, especially right now. She had seen things, memories of a sort. It had felt like a whisper of mana that had gone through her mind. Had the man really transferred memory to her?

Her eyes drifted over to the blond, finding herself leaning against him more for support.

He glanced over at her, agreeing to something.

The priest called her name out.

She stared at him, listening to the words but thinking only about how disturbing the man looked. He was someone that she really didn’t want to be around right now.

He was just plain creepy.

“Hakuno?”

“Hmm?” She blinked.

“Do you agree?”

“Ah- Yes, I do.”

Leaving, right?

No, that must not have been it. He was prattling on again. A sermon of a thing going on now as she felt her mind drifting off again.

Her eyes drifted back over to the blond at her side only to find his arm around her pulling her closer.

“You may kiss your bride and take her from my church, Gilgamesh.”

Bride?

Wait!

A pair of lips pressed against hers, the taste of wine and bitter things on his lips. The air was gone, her mind was too weak for this right now.

Her hand pressed against his chest, but she was trapped.

There was so little air that her head was spinning when he pulled back.

“I am taking my woman home.”

“I will expect a better explanation than threats tomorrow.”

“I will be busy,” the blond told him.

“Explain within a week.”

The man waved the priest off, leaving Hakuno to gasp as she was lifted up into Gilgamesh’s arms. Then there was cold air against her face. There was a world of night around her and the stairs in the heavens above all but hiding away.

“Ah, this will be ours soon,” the king told her. “Everything you see before you will be wiped away, leaving the survivors of my plans to rebuild Uruk.”

She had no idea what he was talking about.

Her face pressed against his chest as she closed her eyes once more.

“Hakuno?”

No, she didn’t want to move.

Enough confusion.

“I’m surprised. I expected your accommodations to be smaller,” a voice told her from the depths of the darkness around her.

She could feel herself laid down on a soft mattress.

She could feel a pair of lips pressing to hers again, gentler this time.

“Tomorrow I will partake in what is mine. For tonight, you need to sleep off the priest’s tea.”

Tea?

Right. The tea…

Her eyes closed a moment.

They opened to the sun streaming through her window. Her moved quietly, wiping at her eyes a little before she glanced down.

The white dress from before was still in place.

Her eyes drifted back to the man slumbering away in her bed, wearing a suit without a tie. His blond hair was in disarray. His body was stretched out, inching a little in her direction as though he had sensed her leave.

She couldn’t really get up.

The dress was heavier than she remembered. Well, that and she was just plain tired.

“Hakuno?”

She looked over at him, finding the blond reaching over and pulling her slowly to himself. His lips teased kisses with her.

“Rest. You will need your strength.”

“What happened to my clothes?”

“They were pitiful and I had a woman to secure. Thankfully you had an interest in Christianity already and were more than happy to willingly say ‘I do’ to me last night.”

Oh no.

She hadn’t-

Her body was pulled closer, a gentle shushing coming from the man as she felt a kiss against her neck.

“You will be a fine queen for the future. I shall groom you to be so myself.

God help her.

If he did exist.

#drabble #drabbles #so we should not trust fsn gil is what I sense here

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eldritchsurveys · 4 years

Text

766.

What is your initials backwards? >> DSM. Pffft.

What's your favourite fairground ride? >> ---

When was the last time you opened a jar? >> I don’t remember. The only jar we have that I can even think of is a pickle jar, and I haven’t opened that in a while.

Do you text with one hand or with both? >> Usually both, it’s smoother that way.

Are your parents left or right handed? >> ---

What was the last photo you took of? >> I don’t remember.

It's your birthday - what would you like me to buy you? >> A pair of headphones. Got $300?

Do you like any songs by Moby? >> I don’t really remember any Moby songs.

How about Keane? >> I like Everything’s Changing.

What colour is your home phone? >> ---

When was the last time you had cake? What type was it? >> I don’t remember.

Have you ever been to a movie premiere? >> I might have seen a film or two on opening night, but I don’t remember which ones.

What topic always interests you and you will never tire of? >> Mythology.

Are you more or less tolerant than the average person? >> Tolerant of what, is the question?

If someone were to rate your life, what film certificate would it recieve? >> I mean, R or whatever I guess.

Do you mind eating cold fries or are they disgusting? >> I do mind eating cold fries.

Would you rather name your dog Chasey or Charlie? >> ---

How about your pet horse Biscuit or Destiny? >> Why on earth would I ever want a pet horse. I don’t even want to take care of a cat.

What makes you angry about the world? >> Nothing about the world really angers me.

Would you rather play basketball, watch football or do a martial art? >> I’d rather none of these things, actually.

Which martial art would you rather do, anyway? >> ---

Do you feel closer to content, anxious, agitated, jovial or lethargic? >> Right now? A bit agitated, a bit lethargic.

What were you doing 2.30pm yesterday? >> Hmm. Playing Skyrim, maybe.

The next time 5pm comes around, what will you be doing? >> I don’t know.

What is your opinion on Pierres Morgan (Americas/Britains Got Talent)? >> I don’t know who that is.

What song makes you cry? What about it makes you cry? >> I Know It’s Gonna Happen Someday by David Bowie is one. It just does.

If you could remake a movie, which movie would it be? >> I’d really rather not.

How about if you could rewrite a books ending, which one? Why? >> I don’t want to rewrite a book’s ending.

What colour hair does your sibling(s) have? >> ---

What gemstone would you like on your wedding ring? >> My wedding ring doesn’t have a gemstone in it.

Do you believe in Angels? How about Demons? >> Angels and demons are fun to read about.

Would you class yourself as materialistic? >> No.

Which piece of technology could you not live without? >> Well, definitely my computer. (Obviously I ~technically~ could live without it, I’m not stupid. But I really don’t fucking want to, and that’s that.)

Do you have a family member who takes you for granted? >> ---

What are you looking forward to in the near future? >> Ha!

How is life going for you, anyway? Be honest. >> It’s... going.

What time did you get changed this morning? >> I showered at around 9 or so, so then.

Do you wear more trousers/pants or skirts? >> Pants.

Do you listen in to other peoples private conversations? >> Not on purpose. Sometimes people have supposedly private conversations in really public places, for whatever reason, and I do have annoyingly sharp hearing.

When you hear the word freak do you think of someone odd or kinky? >> I... would need context in order to have a thought about what definition was being used.

What's the best song to dance to? >> *shrug*

What type of music will you never listen to? Example of artists in genre? >> Maybe bluegrass? I just never heard any that I liked, but there’s always a chance that that will change someday.

When did you last have a blood test? >> I don’t remember.

#surveys #survey #random survey

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all-my-novels · 5 years

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send me a prompt + a ship and i’ll write something

it might be a drabble, a snippet, or even a full on oneshot, who knows? but it’ll be something. i really wanna write family/pregnancy stuff so that’s what we’re doing tonight. fandoms i’ll do this for are danganronpa only right now because that’s what i’m craving. send any ship from trigger happy havoc, sdr2, ndrv3, or dr3 the anime. doing as many as i can! there’s a shit ton of prompts so click the read more. i’ll do any ship as long as it isn’t tenko with men, cis mpreg (trans mpreg is fine), incest, or pedophilia. also no haiji ew.

prompts

Person A is lounging on the couch on Father’s Day when Person B approaches and hands them a card. A is confused, as they don’t have kids yet, until they open it and see a picture of B holding a positive pregnancy test/adoption papers/etc. How they react is up to you!

Person A and B are engaged to be married and have decided that they want children in the future but want to wait for a while until after the wedding to try for them. They have a night alone before the big day and forget about it until their honeymoon when Person B is extremely tired the whole time and discovers that they’re expecting on the last day to the surprise of them and Person A.

Person A and B are trying for a child with no success and begin to lose hope. One day Person B, after feeling dizziness coupled with a headache at work, visits their doctor and discovers that they are finally expecting, much to the joy of both them and Person A.

Imagine person A of your OTP telling person B they are pregnant in the form of a baby-themed Christmas ornament.

Imagine your OTP recently had a baby (Person A being the bearer) and they finally have some time to be intimate. Person A is very insecure about the way their body has changed from the pregnancy, and Person B shows them through slow, passionate sex how they’re still beautiful.

Person A and Person B are getting married/renewing their vows. They’ve written their own vows. When it’s B’s turn, Person B admits that B is pregnant.

Imagine your OTP is living in a cheap studio apartment, struggling to get by, and then Person A finds out they’re pregnant…

Imagine Person A of your OTP is lightly pregnant. They’re terrified of telling B for some reason. Then when they finally tell B, B hugs and coddles them, saying how happy they are.

Seven months later, A is lethargically laying on the couch eating. Nothing but their cravings for a loooooong month until B gets sick and tired of A’s crap, and forces them to eat one of each food group.

Imagine your OTP has recently gotten married, but are not ready for kids. Around the same time, a close friend of theirs announces they’re pregnant. Nine months later, when said friend gives birth, your OTP is there with them. After the baby is born and they go home, Person A says, “Wow. That was intense. I’m glad we aren’t having kids for a while.” Person B (awkwardly) has to announce that they just found out that they’re pregnant. How Person A reacts is up to you.

Person A goes to Person B’s older sibling and tells them that they are pregnant and they are afraid of what Person B will think once their pregnancy progresses. During their conversation, Person B eavesdrops. What happens after is entirely up to you.

Imagine your OTP as high schoolers. Person A finding out they’ve impregnated Person B.

Imagine Person A and Person B are in Person A’s bedroom alone together. Person A admits that they are pregnant and Person B is overjoyed, while Person A’s family is secretly listening on the other side of the door.

Imagine Person B of your OTP noticing that person A seems very distracted/down/perhaps even a little sick looking lately but person A keeps brushing off B’s questions and concerns until they are dancing at some fancy event and suddenly A comes clean about being pregnant with B’s baby and the dance just freezes as the reality of being parents sink in. Further reactions are up to you.

Both A and B of your OT3 are pregnant. They lie on C as a pillow.

Imagine person A of your OTP is really sick suddenly. Person B then drives them to the doctor and the doctor diagnosis it as morning sickness, because A is pregnant.

Person A is sitting in a dim hospital room with their newborn. Person B [and C] comes in after getting rid of all the visitors, and they have their first peaceful moment as a family.

Imagine your OTP arguing over whose hair color they think their baby will get.

Imagine Person A of your OTP finding out they’re pregnant on them and Person B’s wedding night.

Imagine Person A finds out they’re expecting Person B’s child. They’re afraid to tell B, not really sure how they’ll react to the news. When they do finally work up the courage to break the news, Person B freaks out–but not in the negative way that Person A was worried about. Instead, a dazed A finds themself being smothered in hugs and kisses, and bombarded with excited questions about the baby.

Imagine one of your OTP+s with at least one male member. Now imagine that your OTP+ is about to have a baby (through whatever means), and the male member(s) start freaking out about the idea of raising a little girl.

Imagine Person A putting their head on Person B’s very pregnant belly, overjoyed at how they’re going to become a parent. Then the baby kicks A in the face.

Imagine person A is pregnant and grumpy. Person B offers to let A use them as a pillow.

Imagine person A of your OTP is 6 months pregnant and they’re craving cake, so they wake up person B (and C if OT3) at 2 am and force them to bake with/for them.

Imagine that Person A is heavily pregnant and is laying on the couch. Person B comes and gives A a smooch on their belly, but at the exact spot and time where they kiss, the baby gives a huge kick. B is a little thrown off but they laugh and say, “That little shit just kicked me in the mouth!”

Imagine person A giving birth, and squeezing B’s hand so hard they actually break it. Afterwards, your OTP’s friends all want to see the baby, but B insists that someone signs their cast. Person C gives in and affectionately writes, “God made the river, God made the lakes, God made person B, well we all make mistakes.”, which person A finds hilarious.

Imagine your OT3. A & B have had a child together, and so have A & C. Now B & C want to have a baby, and they argue about who should carry it.

Person A is pregnant and is trying to get Person B to talk to the baby; Person B feels self-conscious, silly, ridiculous, etc. talking to A’s belly, and at first begins speaking jokingly, but soon gets very involved. Bonus points if A gets emotional.

Imagine Person A of your OTP is pregnant and hasn’t yet told Person B. One day, A and B are doing something together, when B suddenly says “I know about the baby”. You choose what happens next.

Imagine Person A of your OTP is pregnant, and Person B has begun a habit of talking to A’s stomach, from telling stories to bad jokes. A lot. Whether Person A finds it cute or is incredibly annoyed is up to you.

Imagine your OTP/OT3 having recently had their first child. Person A was the one to carry and give birth to the baby, and they are self-conscious about their stretchmarks, loose skin, extra weight etc. Person B (and C) try to cheer Person A up and make them love their body again.

Imagine person A of your OTP is pregnant and having to put up with some kicks and squirms from the baby which are rather bothersome to A. B then sings to the baby which seems to calm it down or rather lull it to sleep.

Imagine Person A of your OTP just found out they’re pregnant. Now imagine them coming up with a creative way to tell Person B (like putting a hot dog bun in their oven). Bonus: B misunderstands hilariously.

Imagine your OTP/OT3 has just started trying to have children. They’ve been unsuccessful so far but then one day in the mail they start getting ads for baby supplies. It turns out person A is indeed pregnant.

Imagine Muse A of your OTP is pregant. Muse A complains to Muse B that they can’t get any sleep because the baby has been kicking Muse A nonstop since last night. So, Muse B gathers Muse A in their arms, sits them on their lap, and rubs Muse A’s stomach to help them feel better.

Imagine your OTP had a baby, and decide to try for another. They’re happy to discover they’re pregnant, but then later find out it’s not just one baby or two. It’s triplets!

Imagine your OTP running a bakery. Muse A starts to put on weight and assumes its down to eating the cakes/things they sell in the bakery. They start to lay off of the sweet things and work out regularly. However nothing happens. One day whilst talking about the situation, Muse B jokes ‘Maybe you’re pregnant’ and realisation hits Muse A.

Imagine that Person A is pregnant, but they aren’t sure how to tell Person B. Then, when the two of them are having a cute/romantic moment, Person A hugs B and buries their face into B’s chest and whispers “You’re going to be a great parent.”

Imagine your OTP trying to figure out a fun way to break the news that they’re pregnant to their families.

Imagine Person A of your OTP being the absolute last in their social circle to find out that B is several months pregnant.

Imagine Person A of your OTP is pregnant and showing a lot more than they thought they would - Perhaps thinking they dated the pregnancy wrong. Next ultrasound, they find out the reason: They’re not having one, not two, but three! Person A is shocked, wondering how they’re going to tell Person B. (OT3 Bonus: Person C is with them on the visit and is just plain excited.)

Imagine Person A refuses alcohol at some sort of party, leading to the other party goers to speculate that they’re pregnant. However, person A denies that, saying that they’re B’s (and more, if you’ve got an OTP+) designated driver.

Bonus: A later reveals to B that they are indeed pregnant.

Imagine your OTP’s first child being born on their anniversary.

Imagine your OTP(+)’s reaction to them finding out they’re pregnant with twins.

Imagine one of your OT3 gets pregnant after a drunken threesome. They decide to have the baby and raise it together. A year or two later, after many ups and downs, one of them has the idea of having a second child. The one who had the baby says “That’s a terrible idea. Let’s do it.”

Imagine that Person B of your OT3 is expecting. The three have decided to keep the other parent’s identity a surprise for after the birth. In the meantime, Persons A and C make a bet: the one who turns out to be the other parent will receive a certain amount of money (or whatever else you want) from the other person. Person B is either annoyed or amused by their antics.

Imagine your OTP painting the nursery for their first child, and then getting into a mini paint fight that includes painting a cute picture on the baby bump.

Imagine that Person A of your OT3 is pregnant by Person B. Person A is getting ridiculous morning sickness and being ridiculously clingy towards Person C yet not remotely towards Person B, because it’s Person B’s fault that they can hardly keep a meal down or lie down comfortably, and so Person B needs to be punished accordingly.

Imagine person A of your OTP has a very overprotective older brother. So when person A starts dating B, person A has to assure their brother that nothing is going to go wrong. Unfortunately, person B gets person A pregnant, and then they get a mandatory shotgun wedding.

Imagine Person A (and Person C) going out shopping. They find cute tops/bottoms and begin looking through the stacks. Person B comes along to find Person A (and C) looking at the clothes and they ask something along the lines of “Are you trying to tell me something?” Turns out, Person A (and C) were looking maternity clothes! Continue from here.

Imagine your OTP(3) out shopping for maternity clothes for a pregnant Person A. Eventually, they realize that they’re not overly impressed with the clothing options available at whatever stores they’ve been in, and so B (and C) decide to put their sewing skills to work and make some homemade maternity clothes for A.

Bonus points if they argue over things like colors, prints, materials, etc. when fitting and measuring for the new clothes.

Your OTP has been trying for months to get pregnant. Imagine person A finding out they’re pregnant while person B is at work. They want to share the news with person B in a fun and creative way.

Imagine person A of your OTP/3 asking their partner(s) questions like if they have enough money, room, or time for a baby. When they get told no, Person A hesitates, then reveals a positive pregnancy test. How the other(s) react is up to you.

Imagine Person A is pregnant and playing with Person B’s hair as Person B kisses their tummy.

Imagine your OT3 deciding to have a baby. How will they do it?

Imagine your OT3 trying to figure out if B is expecting A or C’s child.

Your OTP have a baby, and after much discussion and research decide to breastfeed. The new family go out somewhere together, and at some point, the baby needs to be fed. A bystander begins to yell at Person A for being indecent, and Person B/C proceed to defend Person A and put the bystander in their place.

Imagine your OTP is either expecting or adopting an infant, and a baby shower is thrown for them. Person A’s favorite gift is a large diaper bang printed with little ducks.

Person A of your OTP finds out they’re pregnant, and they (and the other member/s) are absolutely thrilled… until their doctor gives them a laundry list of things they cannot eat or drink for the duration of the pregnancy. The other member/s of the pairing decide to forgo everything on that list as a display of solidarity with Person A because, hey, it’s their kid, too.

Imagine your OTP has a little banter about the look of their future child.

Imagine your OTP’s first attempt at feeding their child baby food, and the gigantic mess that results.

Imagine Person A of your OTP getting pregnant even though they were on the pill (or some other form of birth control.) They and the (un?)lucky other parent take a look at the container it comes in and find that it has expired! How do they react?

Imagine that person A of your OTP is heavily pregnant and feels awkward and insecure. It completely puzzles them that person B seems to find them sexier than ever and can’t keep their hands off them.

Imagine your OTP painting the nursery room together.

Imagine your OTP being the Tooth Fairy for the first time for their child.

Imagine Person A of your OTP being heavily pregnant and in constant need of Person B’s help to stand up from sitting or lying down. Person A is disgruntled at their helplessness, while Person B just smiles and is always ready to help.

Imagine that Person A is pregnant and ends up giving birth in the most awkward place/time you can think up.

Imagine that Person A is having morning sickness. What does Person B do about it?

Imagine your OTP playfully fighting over baby names.

Imagine that Person B is holding Person A’s hand during childbirth, and Person A nearly (or does) break Person B’s hand.

Imagine your OTP teaching their daughters that they are strong, capable, deserving, and more than objects to be used.

Imagine that somehow, both Person A and Person B are pregnant. At the same time. (And they have the babies at the same time.) OT3: Person C now has to look after both of their hormonal partners. (Hilarity ensues.)

Imagine your OTP finding out that the condom broke.

Imagine your OTP teaching their young child or children to catch fireflies on a summer evening.

Imagine that Person A is in labor and for whatever reason is having the baby at home. The midwife/doctor/whatever won’t arrive for a while, so Person B stays right beside Person A and holds their hand. OT3 Bonus: Person C rubs Person A’s back.

Imagine your OTP finding out they’re going to be parents for the first time.

Imagine Person A of your OTP getting married to Person B. Person A’s baby bump is noticeable through the dress (or tuxedo if you’re into M-preg) and after Person A and B have their kiss, Person B kisses the baby bump.

Imagine that both people of your OTP (or all three if OT3) are pregnant. Hilarity ensues.

Imagine your OTP looking at baby names, in books or websites. Person A chooses some of the most ridiculous names they could find (either to make Person B laugh, or they seriously like them?).

Imagine that Person A of your OTP is pregnant and isn’t sure whether or not Person B will be happy about the news.

However, when Person B is told about it, they start to get excited about the baby and immediately hug Person A, and the rest of the day is just the two of them discussing baby names all while Person B is rubbing and talking to Person A’s stomach.

Imagine person A of your OTP finding out they’re expecting. They try to think of all these adorably clever ways to let person B know but, when they try to drop the hint, it flies right over person B’s head. Person A tries a few more times before basically giving up and coming right out about it.

Imagine your OTP finding out they are having a baby, and fighting over what to name it. When they find out the sex of the baby, they look at each other and instantly know what the name will be.

Imagine Person A of your OTP is pregnant and goes into labor at a very inopportune place or moment.

Imagine Person A is pregnant and has the pregnant symptoms of mood swings, odd cravings, and an extra dose of hornyness. How does Person B keep up with A’s changes and keep them satisfied?

Imagine Person A of your OTP very, very pregnant and quite uncomfortable all the time, bossing around Person B.

Imagine Person A of your OTP noticing what might be pregnancy signs in Person B, but B’s completely oblivious to their own changes. Meanwhile, Person A enjoys teasing them until they start to catch on that there might be a bun in their oven!

“Let’s make a baby”

“I’d be a terrible mother”

“You’re on the pill, right?”

“I need to buy a pregnancy test”

“It’s positive”

“I’m going to be a father/mother?”

“Who’s the father/other mother?”

“But we used a condom”

“Are you going to find out the sex?”

“I can’t see my feet”

“That’s my baby in there”

“Have you thought about names yet?”

“Are you planning on raising this baby on your own?”

“It’s twins”

“The baby’s kicking”

“The baby’s coming”

“Push”

“So I took six tests… they’re all (positive/negative).”

“You took six tests and they’re all (positive/negative).”

“I’m pregnant… and I haven’t told (father’s/other mother’s name).”

“I know your pregnant, have you told (father’s/other mother’s name).”

“Ever since we found out about the baby, our sex life has died.”

“Ever since we found out about the baby our sex life has increased.”

“I swear if I could stay pregnant all the time I would.”

“I swear if I could have you stay pregnant all the time I would.”

“(I’ve/you’ve) gotten so horny ever since (I/you) got pregnant…”

“Baby, I know you’re pregnant, but can you please leave some pillows for me?”

“Do you even know who the father/other mother is?”

“I don’t want to know who the father/other mother is.”

1. “We’re going to be parents!“

 2. “Did you feel him/her/them kick!?”

 3. “Do you want to feel the baby?”

 4. “I’m pregnant…and it’s yours.”

 5. “Do you think I’ll make a good mother/father?“

 6. “What are you hoping for?”

 7. “I feel so nauseous today…”

 8. “What should we name him/her/them?”

 9. “How many diapers do you think we’ll need?”

 10. “No I’m not crying over a puppy.”

 11. “Is just strawberry okay? They didn’t have strawberries and cream.”

12. “I’ve read this book four times I’m basically an expert by now.”

 13. “Boy or girl?”

 14. “Wait, do we have everything on this list I found?”

 15. “Can you put the crib together? I’m so tired.”

 16. “This kid can come out anytime it’s ready.”

 17. “Do you think I’m glowing?”

 18. “How long till I’m due?”

 19. “Please don’t freak out…but I’m pregnant. I SAID DON’T FREAK OUT.”

 20. “Hospital. Now!”

 21. “I think that was a contraction…”

 22. “The due date’s not until next week!”

23. “I’m scared something bad will happen.”

24. “So I’ve been to the doctors recently and I’m pregnant.”

25. “Do we have any bacon left? I want bacon.”

26. “Why do I cry over everything?”

27. “I can’t wait for this baby to be born, then I can have a relax and we will have our baby.”

28. “I have to go for some maternity wear.”

29. “I’m too big. I have a massive bump.”

30. “You think I look beautiful?”

31. “This backache hurts.”

32. “I’ll be on the toilet for hours don’t let anyone come in.”

33. “People keep touching my bump. I don’t like it.”

34. “Do I repulse you? You haven’t touched me in weeks.”

35. “When can I have sex again?”

36. “Why can’t I walk properly? I have to walk with this pregnant waddle it’s not so satisfying.”

37. “I’m seriously considering strangling you for this but I’m in too much pain.”

38. “I’m having trouble sleeping, I don’t need you snoring which keeps me awake and makes me want to hit you.”

39. “I can’t see my feet, so you will have to wash my feet.”

40. “I’m eating for two, so don’t complain that I eat loads of food.”

41. “People keep saying rude things and I hate it.”

42. “I’m going to be breastfeeding.”

43. “My excuse for eating more food is that I am pregnant. What’s yours?”

44. “Did I ask for your comment?”

45. “Are you an authority on pregnant women and size?”

46. “Well, obviously you haven’t been around many pregnant women or you’d know much more about pregnancy etiquette.”

47. “Yeah, and I’m about to have a cow because you have so much insensitivity.”

48. “That’s rude, and it hurts my feelings. I’d rather you just sit there in silence than slam my self-esteem.”

49. “I hope we are having a boy/girl.”

50. “This baby is overdue, I need a curry or sex to get the baby out.”

51. “I want pickles, bacon and cheese. I want them now.”

52. “Can I get some ice cream please?”

53. “Did you by some more ginger ale?”

54. “Yes, I’m huge but if you remind me one more time, I’m going to eat you!”

55. “I’m posting my ultrasound on Facebook whether you like it or not!”

56. “My sweat pants are the only thing that fit me and they make me comfortable!”

57. “Honey, please fix me an M&M cookie and peanut butter and bacon sandwich!”

58. “I have to pee. I don’t care, I’m going again!”

59. “Yes I am still pregnant.”

“I’ve looked up things about your symptoms.. Are you pregnant?”

“You.. You’re pregnant?!”

“I’m gonna be a dad/mama.. I’m going to be a dad/mama!”

“I would never leave you.. I’m so excited for this baby.”

“As the aunt/uncle of this baby, it is my right to spoil it.”

“___ You two are not ready to have a baby, I can’t believe it.”

“Who’s the spawn of satan? You are!”

“Either that was a really bad cramp, or I’m having contractions.”

“Don’t be mad at me but… I think I might be pregnant..”

“You know how you said you’ve always wanted a family? Well.. now we have that chance. I’m pregnant!”

“The protection didn’t work, okay?! Now we’re having a baby!”

“We.. We can’t have a baby! Are you kidding me?!”

“Look at him/her.. She’s perfect.”

“If that stupid doctor tells me one more hour, i’m going to kill them!”

“Well I think you just broke my hand..”

“He left me when I told him…”

“What about adoption?”

“I went to the doctor.. and… well.. I don’t know how to say this..”

“That one night stand was the biggest mistake of our lives..”

“I’m pregnant and I have no idea who the father/mother is.”

“I’m scared, ____! I don’t know how to raise a baby!”

“The baby kicked!”

“It’s really hard to cuddle with you when i’m this fat..”

“I’m so helpless and fat, I hate being pregnant.”

“For the last time, you’re not fat. You’re pregnant.”

“I hate you for doing this to me..”

“You’re in labor?!”

“You alright? Is something wrong with the baby?”

“Shit.. hospital.. hospital now..!”

“It’s a boy/girl.”

“I want to name them ______”

i’m pregnant. ”

“ i’m pregnant and it’s yours. ”

“ why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant. ”

“ are you pregnant? ”

“ i need to tell you something. ”

“ i have money for abortion. ”

“ how much is an abortion? ”

“ maybe we can put it up for adoption? ”

“ i didn’t ask for this to happen. ”

“ what are we going to do? ”

“ i think i’m pregnant. ”

“ didn’t you use a condom? ”

“ i’m not on birth control. ”

“ it’s definitely yours, i’m not like that. ”

“ i don’t know who’s it is! ”

“ are you really pregnant? ”

“ congratulations on your pregnancy! ”

“ how far long are you? ”

“ it’s too late for abortion, i’m sorry. ”

“ so who is the babydaddy? ”

“ how does it feel to you know be pregnant and all? ”

“ are you going to keep it? ”

“ do you want to keep it? ”

“ did you tell anyone else about it? ”

“ we can raise it. ”

“ we can keep it. ”

“ i am not going through with this. ”

“ what are the options? ”

“ what did the pregnancy test come back as? ”

“ i need a pregnancy test. ”

“ i took a test. a pregnancy test. ”

“ did you get the test yet? ”

“ get more than one test, too. ”

“ it is yours! just as much as it is mine! ”

“ i’m pregnant and your going to help me. ”

“ i don’t want to tell anyone until i’m twelve weeks. past the risk for miscarriage. ”

“ i’m so sorry this happened. ”

“ this pregnancy is going to kill me. ”

“ i’m ready to give birth already. ”

“ how much does a pregnancy test cost? ”

“ can you still get pregnant on the pill? ”

“I’ve always wanted to be a mother/father!”

“We’ve waited a long time for this.”

“Do you want to feel the baby kick?”

“Give me your hand so you can feel it, too”

“We have to finish the nursery. There’s only two weeks left.”

“Have we bought everything on the baby list?”

“I can’t wait to finally hold it”

“You’re glowing!”

“There is something I have to tell you…”

“Hello little one, this is your daddy speaking..”

“I think it likes me touching your belly.”

“I can feel it kick!”

“My back aches and I want ice cream.”

“I can’t hide my bump any longer. I think we need to tell people.”

“I heard the heart beat for the first time.”

“Do you want to see an ultrasound picture?”

“You’re going to be an amazing mom/dad!”

“What would you say about adding one more? The house is big enough.”

“I think my water just broke…”

“Do you think it’s contractions?”

“Call the midwife, this is not a false alarm.”

“I think it’s too late to drive to the hospital, the baby is coming NOW.”

“I’m not ready for a baby.”

“How are we going to keep our family safe?”

“I don’t know how to be a mother/father.”

“I can’t even keep a cactus alive, let alone a human baby.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“You’re what now?”

“You’ve been having some weird cravings lately..”

“You’re going to me a father.”

“Uh babe, what’s with all of those pregnancy tests?”

“No way.. this test has to be wrong. Let me try another one.”

“The baby is yours.”

“What do you mean the baby is mine!?”

“The baby isn’t yours.”

“What do you mean the baby isn’t mine?!”

“You’re having someone else’s baby?! You’ve been cheating on me?”

“Surprise! I’m having a baby!”

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

“Oh my gosh! You’re pregnant? I’m so happy!”

“I’m going to be a father!”

“I’m going to be a mother!”

“I thought you would be happier to hear the news..”

“It’s our baby not just mine! You can’t leave me like this!”

“Our baby needs you too.”

“Come feel, the baby’s kicking.”

“Congratulations!”

“Do you want to come with me to the ultrasound?”

“We’re going to be parents. This is amazing!”

“Are you crying?”

“I am, it’s just that.. I’m just so happy! We’re going to have a child”

“We have so much to do! So much to plan.”

“I’m having twins/triplets/quadruplets/etc.”

“This was so unplanned. How are we going to do this?”

“Surprise baby shower!”

“I think the baby is coming.”

“My water broke.”

“What?! Now?”

“I wanna hold my baby!”

“Is the baby okay?”

“He/she has your eyes, _”

“He’s/She’s beautiful.”

“I can’t believe it. We’re parents of this little bundle of joy.”

little things (fluffy)

“You’re glowing.”

“Am I showing yet?”

“Is it too early to pick names?”

“Turn to the side, I think your belly popped out.”

“No one is going to judge you for wearing Uggs all day.”

“Was that a kick?”

“Should we find out the gender or wait?”

“It’s a (boy/girl/twins/etc)”

uncomfortable situations (clean)

“I pray for the day the morning sickness passes.”

“Are you sure you need two gallons of ice cream?”

“I don’t even like jalapenos.”

“You just be glad I don’t mind rubbing feet.

“I know the body pillow is bulky but it’s the only way I can sleep.”

“No, sweetheart, I don’t think you can still fit in your favorite jeans.”

“Stop laughing and help me off the toilet/out of the bathtub/put on my shoes/etc.”

“I slept on the couch because you and junior took up the whole bed.”

“Listen, when you have a tiny human being kicking you in the bladder, you can decide when we stop to pee. Now pull over.”

really uncomfortable situations (dirty)

“I need you right now. I blame the hormones.”

“You look so sexy since your belly popped out.”

“Look, I’m just gonna lie on my side and you can do whatever.”

“Fuck, I don’t know if it’s the increased bloodflow but that feels good.”

“No, you can’t poke the baby in the head if we have sex.”

“It turns me on so much knowing that’s my kid in there.”

“They say sex induces labor you know.”

the big event (mix)

“I think that was a contraction.”

“No, we are not stopping at the drive-thru on the way to the hospital.”

“I don’t care how much I scream, I want to do this naturally.”

“That was the midwife, she’s on her way.”

“I think you broke my hand…”

“I don’t think we have time to get to the hospital…”

“This is happening right now.”

“My/your water just broke.”

“I’m scared to push!”

“There’s nothing to be scared of, now PUSH!”

the reward (fluffy)

“I thought we were having a (boy/girl) but he/she had other plans.”

“He/she has your nose…”

“I always thought babies were ugly, but ours is beautiful.”

“Look what we made…”

“You just rest, I’ll make sure everything’s ready for when we get home.”

“You’d be pissed too if you just got forcibly evicted in such a fashion.”

“I’m/you’re/we’re pregnant!”

“I took six tests, and they all came out positive.”

“This isn’t a stomach flu, I/you ought to take a test.”

“I only took the test as a joke! I didn’t think it would turn out positive!”

“Okay, I know we both took the test, but now I don’t remember which one is which. One of us is pregnant.”

“Dude I bet you $50 you’re pregnant.”

“You’ve been too nice for too long, I think you’re pregnant.”

“You’re right, I am pregnant!”

“I can’t believe you knew I’m pregnant before I did!”

“Are you sure you’re only having one baby?”

“The Doctor said we’re having ______.”

“I found this pregnancy test in the trash.. Somebody we know is pregnant!”

the mother’s pov :

❝Do you want to feel the baby kick?❞

❝I’m eating for two, so let’s go grab some grub.❞

❝I’m… pregnant… and it’s yours.❞

❝We need to talk, I need to tell you something..❞

❝I’m too far along for an abortion.❞

❝I need to know… if you love me, if you love us..❞

❝It’s your baby I’m carrying…❞

❝I want to find out the gender with you there.❞

❝I’m so lucky to have you by side during this pregnancy.❞

❝I wouldn’t want anyone else by side during this pregnancy.❞

❝Do you feel that? It’s the baby… it’s kicking.❞

❝I’m pregnant, I can’t act like a child anymore.❞

❝I’m pregnant, not incapable.❞

❝I’m sorry you’ve had deal with my pregnancy hormones lately…❞

❝I just wanted to wait to tell you, I wanted to know for sure I was keeping it.❞

❝I’m not sure what to do anymore but it is your baby…❞

❝This is just as much as your baby as it is mine.❞

❝People have told me I’m glowing lately and I know why…❞

❝I’m ready to be mom! More than what you think!❞

❝I will be a great mother to my child, unlike you!❞

❝This is my decision! Not yours!❞

the father’s pov :

❝How far along are you? When did you find out?❞

❝Well, that’s great news! Isn’t it? I think so.❞

❝Wait, are you telling me, its my baby?❞

❝Well, how do you know its my baby?❞

❝You’re carrying my child?! That’s great news!❞

❝I love you and I’m ready to be a parent with you.❞

❝I wouldn’t want a baby with anyone else other than you.❞

❝How long have you known? Have you told anyone else yet?❞

❝Well, I’ll get a job and help support you and our baby.❞

❝Hey… don’t worry so much, okay? We can raise it.❞

❝It’s going to be okay, we can do this.❞

❝I have the perfect plan for you, me and our baby… a good plan.❞

❝I was thinking… since you’re pregnant and all, would you marry me?❞

❝I love you so much, that’s great news after the day I had.❞

❝As long as we’re happy, as long as the baby is happy.❞

❝I’m not abandoning you or my baby!❞

❝I’m not walking out on my kid like my parents did.❞

❝I’m going to be here for you and our baby.❞

❝Why would you want that for our baby? You’re talking nonsense.❞

❝I’m ready to be a father and you’ll make the best mother.❞

❝I have never felt so lucky!❞

❝This baby is a blessing and probably saved my life.❞

❝Did you hear? I’m going to be a dad!❞

❝I’m going to officially be a dad in a few months!❞

❝I’ll be a much better dad than you ever were to me that’s for sure.❞

❝My girlfriend is pregnant and she’s keeping it and I want her to keep it.❞

❝Don’t tell me anything about being a dad when you never were one for me!❞

❝Are you serious?! You’re pregnant?! That’s amazing, baby!❞

❝Well, do you need anything? Anything at all?❞

❝What? Something wrong with the baby?❞

❝I just want to keep you and our babt safe and happy.❞

❝I’m the luckiest guy in the world right now!❞

“I’ve never had a child before…”

“How about ______ for a name?”

“Does it hurt?”

“You need to rest.”

“Let me look after you!”

“You’re huge!”

“I want to feel it kick.”

“Can I feel the bump?”

“Come quick! The baby’s kicking!”

“How many months along are you?”

“Y-You’re pregnant?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“I think I’m pregnant.”

“The baby is yours.”

“You’re beautiful, stretchmarks and all.”

“We’ll be okay, all three of us.”

“I’m so scared…”

“I love you more than I ever thought possible. Both of you.”

“These cravings of yours are getting out of hand…”

“I’m pregnant. What’s your excuse?”

“I don’t… I don’t feel well.”

“Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”

“If you hold my hand any tighter, it’s gonna break!”

“I hate you for doing this to me!”

“I look like a whale.”

“So I guess it’s true. Pregnancy does make you horny.”

“We’re having twins!”

“Oh God, what if the baby is like us?”

“It’s a surprise, but it’s a happy surprise, right?”

“I thought birth was only suppose to be painful for the mother!”

“How could I be a good parent when the only example I could learn from were my own?”

“Will you be my baby’s Godmother/Godfather?”

“I know nothing about parenting.”

“I can’t wait for the baby shower!”

“We need to marry before the baby is born. You know how traditional my family is.”

“…Your list of baby names is physically painful to listen to.”

“It’s kicking, it’s kicking!”

“Well? Is it a boy or a girl?”

“I could really do with a massage right about now…”

“Why don’t you want me at the birth?”

“I never thought you of all people would be the mother/father of my child.”

“Oh My God, my/your waters broken!”

“This world, this horrible, horrible world…Why would anyone in their right mind want to bring a child into it?”

“Stop pestering me about its gender. I’m keeping it a surprise!”

“Will you be with me for the birth?”

“Oh. I was hoping for a boy/girl…”

“What do you think of the name [insert name here]?”

“Morning sickness. I hate it.”

"I'm pregnant.."

"I'll just be in the bathroom throwing my fucking guts up because our unborn kid wants to be a dick.."

"You're pregnant?! How did this happen?! No, no, no, wait, don't tell me how it happened, never mind.."

"Happy Father's Day, babe!"

"Wait... you're having a what?!"

"There's someone I'd like you to meet.."

"Shh... he/she's sleeping.."

"Why couldn't YOU have been the one to get pregnant?! Why me?! The bad shit always happens to ME!"

"I have a special surprise for you. Close your eyes and follow me."

"He/She's killin' me, dude! When's he/she gonna come out?!"

"Oh, gosh, I felt it! I felt a kick!"

"Either what I just felt was a contraction or just a cramp... not really sure.."

"I am not getting rid of another life! How dare you even suggest that!"

"No, no, no, no, no, we aren't ready... we aren't ready for kids yet!"

“I wanna record the delivery.”

“I’m really scared of needles.”

“Since I’m due so close to [insert holiday], we should paint my belly like that.”

“Let’s do that belly cast thing!”

“The baby always moves when they hear your voice.”

“Little one’s getting cramped in there. Almost time to come out.”

“I’m excited to see my feet again.”

“I’m huge!”

“Come rub my belly!”

“The baby is moving, come and feel!”

“I think that was a real contraction.”

“It’s just more Braxton Hicks, don’t worry.”

“They don’t hurt, they’re just uncomfortable.”

“If you’re full term at 37 weeks, then why is pregnancy 40 weeks?”

“It is midnight on my due date and I am still pregnant.”

“You know due dates aren’t always right.”

“I don’t want the baby to be born on my birthday.”

“Come out, kid!”

“I’ve tried everything and they won’t come.”

“I can see it when the baby/ies moves! Wow!”

“Let’s get this stubborn little kid(s) out the same way we made him/her/them.”

“The baby/babies moving hurts now, it’s not cute anymore.”

“I am almost two weeks overdue. Proceed with caution.”

LABOR

“I can’t believe it’s already time.”

“Did you remember the bag?”

“My water didn’t break yet, don’t freak out.”

“I’ve been timing them and they’re consistent enough. Just gotta wait for them to get closer.”

“This is not as bad as I thought it would be.”

“I’m pretty sure my water broke.”

“I am not accountable for anything I say, but I do apologize beforehand.”

“Transition is the worst part.”

“I’m gonna miss everything.”

“One last bump shot before the big event.”

“I made a birth plan.”

“Babies laugh at birth plans.”

“This is so boring. I thought labor was supposed to be nerve-wracking.”

“I’m sorry I’m so loud, but it helps.”

“You make as much noise as you want. It’s perfectly normal.”

“Ohhh! OOOOOOHHH! SHIIIIT!”

“Just breathe, you’re okay.”

“Is it too late to get an epidural?”

“Is the midwife on her way?”

“Can you set up the pool, please?”

“Fuck, it hurts!”

“I don’t wanna push on my back.”

“Hoo-hoo-hoo…”

“Make it stop!”

“I feel like I’m in a vice, but between them I’m fine.”

“I just want the baby safe.”

“Fuck breathing, you have the baby!”

BIRTH

“I feel so much pressure…”

“Oh, I think it’s go time.”

“I really need to push!”

“Get the camera, get the camera!”

“Don’t push yet, the doctor isn’t here.”

“What position do you wanna do this in?”

“I scared I won’t know how to push.”

“It’s instinct. You’ll know. I promise.”

“Only push when you have a contraction.”

“Grab behind your knees and bear down.”

“Don’t you dare laugh at the faces I make when I push.”

“Let gravity help, you’re doing great.”

“This position isn’t working. Let’s try something new.”

“Come on, push your baby out.”

“I’ve been pushing for [x amount of time], why isn’t it coming out?”

“My head feels like it’s gonna explode!”

“NNGH! HHNNNGGHH!”

“It burns!”

“Just a few more pushes, good job.”

“FUUUCCKK!”

“If you tell me ‘good job’ one more time, I will wring your neck!”

“Push, babe, push!”

“Shut up, I’m pushing!”

“I’m too tired, I can’t do it.”

“I have something to tell you…”

“I think I’m pregnant.”

“I’m pregnant!”

“When were you going to tell me that you’re pregnant?”

“You’re smart and successful with an adorable belly.”

“$50 bucks says it’s a girl/boy.”

“Pregnancy suits you…”

“Hello little one. We can’t wait to meet you…”

#danganronpa #dangan ronpa #pregnancy #pregnancy meme #pregnancy prompts #send me asks #please #i beg of you #ask meme #prompt #fic prompt #fanfiction #specify fandom #specify ship #specify character

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walkerduchess · 5 years

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A Game of Hearts - Chapter Ten: Split (The Royal Romance AU)

Pairing: Drake x MC [Liam x MC]

Notes: Again I took too long whith this chapter, sorry. The next should be out faster since I’m off from work for the next 10 days. No flashbacks in this one because SO MUCH HAPPENS. I hope you like it, and if you read, please tell me what you think!

I do not own these characters, they belong to Pixelberry.

Summary: Princess Sapphire’s secrets still hangs between her and Drake, while tensions are rising in the kingdom she’s left.

Word Count: 4579

Tagging: I’m tagging everyone who asked me to. If you want in or out the list just let me know! @confessionsofabrokegirl, @museofbooks, @stopforamoment, @annekebbphotography, @queenodysseia , @drakewalkerisreal

Chapter Ten: Split

His eyes search hers, his lips slightly parted, awaiting for her to say something.

It is a foreign feeling, at least for the princess, to look into someone’s eyes and finding oneself recognized in them. It’s a sentiment similar to that she had upon meeting Hana again, after all those years. It’s alluring and overwhelming at the same time. Her breathing is uneven, and she gives him a small, careful nod.

“How?” He breathes out, “why-- what are you doing here?” His rushed words register the turmoil inside his brain, where a multitude of questions scream at the same time.

She opens her mouth but she doesn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have dropped all of these questions on you.” Drake says, uncharacteristically soft. “It’s just…” he seems to search for the right words, “you were gone.” His voice doesn’t sound accusing, but rather pained.

Elia doesn’t have to ask to know what he means. She used to see him every morning at sword class and then her father decided she didn’t need further lessons. Without even a chance to say goodbye, she simply never went back.

“I know,” when she finally speaks, her voice is weak, “I was forced to--”

“I asked Max about you,” he blurts out before she can end her sentence, “he… he never gave me direct answers and kept changing the subject, so one day I... stopped asking.” His gaze shifted from her to the ground in front of him.

“I’m sorry, it’s just,” the woman begins, but she knows she cannot give him the truth. She tries to dismiss the thought, a futile attempt in waving away the irrefutable conclusion - a decision, made deep in her conscience, to disclose to this man only the part of her that is easy to accept, the part of her he used to like once, that doesn’t involve any title with a bigger meaning such as Promised Princess or Builder, instead is simple as… Elia. Her face falls and her features turn somber as she speaks words that, despite being true, don’t really give anything away, “some very complicated family things.”

“I gathered it was something like that,” he looks up at her, eyes sympathetic yet clearly waiting for further explanation.

She can only look away, biting her lower lip. It’s not that she doesn’t want to trust him, she simply can’t. Instead, she chooses to change the focus, just a little bit. “I asked about you, too,” she speaks truthfully. At the beginning, every time she’d see Liam, the princess would ask about Drake. Of course she asked as if it was nothing, for she had way too much pride in her pre-teen years - not that it has ever gone away - to admit how much she cared. And she cared a lot. As the years went by, time took him away from her mind for days, then turned it into weeks and even months and years in a row. But she never truly forgot him. And, she realizes now, she also never really stopped caring.

He gives her a small smile, that don’t reach his eyes. She responds with a similar one. They gaze at each other for a while, only the crackling sounds of the fire breaking the silence between them. It’s comfortable, however Elia starts to fear he may ask more questions if they stay there longer, or worse, she fears she might spill it all out just from staring into the abyss held within his dark eyes.

“I better go to sleep,” she gestures at the tent behind them, her voice breaking the moment, “you can wake me or Jonah when you’re tired.”

Drake watches her make her way into her tent and mutters a quiet “good night.”

The Council room is large, yet right now it’s almost claustrophobic, with the voices inside higher than usual, most of them resonating at the same time. Liam closes his eyes and rubs his temples, his elbows resting on the big wooden table. He is exhausted. Even in the few nights he was able to get a good sleep, he’d still wake up feeling drained.

The prince spent the past month in a lethargic state. For the first time in his life, his future isn’t laid out in front of him. He doesn’t know what to do really. He repeats to himself, day after day, that he needs to stay strong for his people. That he can do. He chooses to focus on that, instead of thinking Sophie is gone, and now Drake, too. He couldn’t even tell his best friend he didn’t need to go searching for someone who doesn’t want to be found - again, Liam remembers with a pang of guilt - because Sophie asked him not to tell anyone.

Council meetings have been held daily since Sophie left, to no avail. The Promised Princess was still missing, the war was still happening and everyone in the kingdom seemed to be distressed. The holders clearly don’t know what to do, only repeating the same questions, concerns, search parties’ updates and any other futile idea to solve the situation. At the beginning, Liam felt bad. He knew the princess wasn’t kidnapped but he had to respect her wishes. He can’t say he hasn’t entertained the idea of telling the truth, many times. But something in his heart keeps telling him Sophie must have a very good reason for not wanting people to know she left willingly. She must have a marvelous reason for leaving. Liam is afraid to let himself think otherwise.

“Prince William?” The voice makes him open his eyes to find Lord Hakim glaring at him through his glasses.

“Yes?” He forces a casual tone, straightening up in his chair.

“I just said,” the man’s large shoulders tense and he exhales before continuing, “there is word of a traitor in the South’s army. Other than the Builder, that is.”

“The Builder is likely out of the picture,” Lady Olivia speaks up, “it’s been about a year since their army last showed new weaponry.”

“That does not mean--” Lord Bertrand tries to cut in but Liv is not having any of it.

“Besides,” the red haired woman speaks the word louder, shooting daggers at Bertrand with her eyes, “the odds shifted in our favour again. I say it’s time to attack with full force. I could send resources--”

“Thank you for your assessment, Lady Olivia.” King Brandon stops her war talk, to which she frowns but shortly lets go. “But we are, in no way, attacking our enemy while they have Princess Sapphire.”

The king’s words are cold, but there’s a hint of new moisture in his eyes that doesn’t get past Liam. King Brandon was never the same after Queen Aurora died, everybody knows that. He became somewhat smaller and grimmer. Now, after Sophie left, he only leaves his chambers to go to Council meetings. And even then, it’s as if he’s lost his strength.

“Please, Lord Hakim,” the prince decides to get to the point, at last, “tell us what you know about this traitor.”

Lord Hakim clears his throat then, “My spies reported they heard some talk from the South’s soldiers. They call their commander ‘The Cordonian’ and also mentioned that he is ‘no stranger to castle life’.”

“That could be anyone,” Olivia speaks again, “a guard, a servant…”

“Or a holder,” Hakim adds cautiously.

“What are you implying, Lord Hakim?” King Brandon asks in what seems an unpretentious manner, yet his full attention is turned to the man.

Hakim brings one of his hands to adjust the glasses in his face, “I am just saying,” he speaks hesitantly, “we should take into consideration that Prince Leonard has been gone for eight years, and we are all familiar with his rebellious attitude--”

“Not this again!” Former king Constantine exhales, letting his annoyance show. “We have absolutely no evidence of Prince Leonard’s whereabouts, and therefore no reason to make these assumptions.” The tinge of worry in his voice probably goes unnoticed by every other person in the room, but not to Liam. He knows his father all too well and he knows that, despite all the criticism and dismissiveness when it comes to his eldest son, Constantine loves and misses Leo. Entertaining the idea that Leo could betray his kingdom is painless compared to an infinitely more terrifying one - the idea that Leo could betray his own family. Liam can’t believe this either. He won’t.

“Well,” Lord Landon is the one to speak this time, “Prince Leonard has had exceptional war training his whole life, so it would not be a stretch to say he could become the command--”

“No.” Liam’s voice comes out strong and even, and before he can realize it. The prince is often quiet during the council’s meetings, especially lately, so all eyes turn to him after he speaks. After a brief moment, he sighs, standing up. “My brother has always been… impulsive. But he is a good man. I will not have we defining him a traitor,” his voice is commanding, in that tone the prince knows very well how to but almost never uses. The holders will acquiesce to whatever he says, yet they will be very much aware of how biased he is, so he adds, “not without clear evidence.” He sits down again, closing the matter.

Elia wakes with a light tap on her shoulder. The sky is already lightning up and Jonah is mumbling something to her about going to sleep before he disappears to his tent.

The young woman sits up and stretches, quietly so not to wake the girl sleeping next to her. They’ve been putting up three improvised tents every evening now: one for her and Nora, one for Jonah and Elliot and one for Drake. The sheets she brought aren’t big, so they don’t have much space in the tents, but since Elliot and Nora are small, they can share with someone else without preventing a good sleep.

Stepping outside, Elia proceeds to inspect the leftovers of their meal from the past evening - boiled potatoes and chicken - to see if they can still have it for breakfast. They’re cold, so she manages to light up some branches that have fallen out of the fire the night before to heat the food.

She sits while she waits, humming some made-up melody to herself in an attempt to push Drake-thoughts out of her brain. She focuses on the bright side of things: the Device is finished - thankfully she did it before Drake arrived, with the help of the children -, they have no shortage of food and water, and they’re advancing South.

As if she can’t get the man out of her mind for five minutes, Drake emerges out of his tent and promptly joins her. “Good morning,” he declares, voice hoarse from sleep.

Before her mind can make sense of it, she catches herself smiling at him.

“So you can finally light a fire,” he gives her a side look, the ends of his mouth perking up, “if I keep successfully teaching you things, soon enough I’m going to be sparring you in the field instead of Jonah.”

Elia smiles, joining his tone, “yeah, and I might even beat you.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, now.”

“Hey!” She gives him a light punch in the shoulder, “I did beat you.”

“Once. Over a decade ago. It doesn’t count,” his voice sounds different somehow, lighter. His smile isn’t big, yet it’s contagious nonetheless, and she can’t help but smile too.

Soon enough her smile changes into a wistful one. He remembers too. She hugs both her legs in front of her, resting her head in her knees, face turned to Drake. She wants to say how much she misses those simpler times, however she keeps the thought to herself.

Drake’s smile slowly fades and the princess sees one of his hands twitch slightly towards her, as if he is struggling with himself whether to touch her or not. “Why did you leave?” He finally asks, voice a little lower than before.

His eyebrows are knitted together and his face looks somewhat troubled, in a way that makes it almost physically painful to deny him the answer. But she won’t tell him, so she shifts her head, positioning her forehead in her knees so that she doesn’t have to look at him.

Elia swallows, searching her mind for the right words, but there are none.

“You don’t have to tell me what happened but,” he speaks again and she feels his hand settling on top of hers, between them, “I’m here.”

The princess brings her head up to stare at him again, “I want to, I just…” And it’s true, and she has to make a huge effort to remember why, for his touch on her skin has fogged her mind. “I can’t now.”

His gaze is almost pained, as if it hurt him to leave her alone with her burdens. She holds it, however, in a way of asserting how certain and strong she is, despite how much his eyes burn through hers right into her soul. He takes a moment before speaking again, nodding shortly, “alright.”

Lord Bertrand massages each one of his temples with two fingers with his eyes closed, trying to make his headache go away. When the car stops, he barely acknowledges the “good evening” his driver wishes him, jumping out of the car in a hurry to finally have a good bath and then sleep. He didn’t really need a car, for Thorngate Castle is hardly ten minutes by foot away from Ramsford Castle, but Bertrand isn’t one to walk as if he were a youngster.

Climbing up the stairs, he wills his mind to stop worrying with problems he cannot solve - at least for today - and, especially, wondering what consequences will come upon them all if Sapphire isn’t found soon. It’s been long years since he held a close relationship with his cousin, yet he can’t help but worry about her wellbeing. Of course, Bertrand will not show this weakness, instead he can very well put on the façade that his concern is only for the fate of his kingdom. Besides, his brother is mournful enough for both of them.

Upon remembering his brother, the older man makes his way to Max’s chambers, meaning to check how the tasks he left for him in the morning went. Bertrand usually sticks to his manners, but he doesn’t have enough patience for it tonight, and definitely not with Max. Therefore, he simply barges in through his brother’s doors, in time to see him standing by an open bag, already filled with clothes and some other belongings.

Bertrand’s expression turns confused, “where are you going?”

The younger man turns to him, a bitter look in his eyes, not unlike the one he has ever since his parents died, but this one just looks… defeated. “Away,” he snarls.

“What does that even mean, Maxwell?” Bertrand runs a hand through his face, “It’s certainly too late and it’s been a hard day, so if you could not pull one of your pranks--”

“I’m not a child!” Max interrupts, almost yelling.

It leaves Bertrand brother gaping, thinking for sure something must have snapped inside his younger brother, for he has never in his life spoken with such rage and firmness.

“And you needn’t worry,” Max continues, in a calmer tone, even though his face remains in a scowl, as he turns his attention back to the bag on the floor and begins tying it closed, “I won’t be bothering you or smearing our family’s reputation.”

Bertrand just stands there, pathetically so, while his brother puts the bag in his shoulders, brushes past him in the door and proceeds down the stairs.

The front door shutting startles him, bringing him out of his stupor, and before he knows he is running - the Lord Bertrand running, and he is glad there’s no one but a servant to see it - down the stairs and out the front doors.

“Wait!” He calls when he sees Max struggling to place his bag inside a car outside, aided by the driver, his voice above the appropriate volume, “Maxwell! Wait!”

He stops in a halt beside the car, breathing hard and placing a hand in his chest in an attempt to dull the ache in his lungs.

Max turns to him, “yes?” He’s got the same cold, bitter tone from before.

“Are you leaving? Where to? Why?”

The younger man’s expression softens a little. “Sorry, brother. I made up my mind. There’s nothing for me here.”

Bertrand still doesn’t understand. “Is this about Sophie?”

Max sighs, shaking his head. “You don’t get it. It’s not just Sophie, it’s mum and dad, it’s Leo, Sav, and even Drake now. They’re all gone!

“You have me!” Bertrand yells, not knowing where this came from. But, as he finishes saying it he realizes… it’s true. He does want Max to be with him.

“You have your duties and your council. I won’t drag you backwards anymore.” With a last, somewhat sorrowful glance, the younger brother gets in the car and shuts the door.

It feels like being slapped in the face. Before he can even say anything, the car starts to pull away. “Max!” He screams after the car, pitifully hoping it would turn back around. “Max!”

A week has passed, and Drake’s been nothing but understanding. Elia would never have guessed, in a million lifetimes, that the suspicious and stubborn boy she used to be friends with would give her space instead of pressing her to tell him everything. She doesn’t think he would act this way before he knew she is Elia. The notion of it brings a painful twinge to her heart. Drake is actively choosing to trust her, and yet she won’t do the same for him.

Which is not to say their relationship hasn’t changed. They exchange smiles often, talk more - sometimes even about people they both used to know - and of course, tease each other all the time. It's one of the times like these - when they’ve just eaten and are getting ready to resume travel, talking casually - when he asks, “have you been wandering for long?”

It catches the princess by surprise, because in this moment, in the softness of early morning, she’s let her guard down. A heavy weight settles in her gut again, yet she can’t tell if it’s from guilt or another, more primal feeling that climbs up her throat and threatens to spill from her mouth - betrayal. It causes her eyes to go wide, looking into his for ulterior motives, any hidden wickedness to show how he’s been out to get her this whole time, but the only thing she can find there is care.

He must have noticed her starting to retreat back into herself, for with one step he is close, so close to her and his hand finds hers. “Elia…” His eyes search hers, in a desperate and silent plead. “I don’t know what happened,” he uses his other hand to brush a strand of light-brown hair behind her ear and cups the exposed skin of her cheek, “but you can tell me.”

Her mind screams at her to flee, to not give in to the warm feeling spreading from where his hands touch her. For a second, she listens to it, pressing her free hand to his chest in order to push him away, but, before she can realize it, something switches inside of her and she uses no force, instead just rests her hand above his heart.

Standing close, like this, she has to bend her head up to look at him, his gaze soft and bare just inches away. Elia notes the distinctive movement of him reaching down, incredibly slowly, and she doesn’t really have to think to know what happens next. His lips are inviting, so is all of him, yet in a flash of better judgement she holds back.

“You’re right,” it comes out in a whisper since their faces are less than a breath apart.

Drake knits his eyebrows and she takes it as an opportunity to leave his embrace. Elia takes a deep breath before continuing, “I have to show you something.”

She can’t be sure whether she’s completely out of her mind or simply making a bold move. A leap of faith, like people from before would say. She has to tell Drake or she’ll go insane, she tells herself to soothe her nerves while she fetches the Device from the inside of her bag. The children watch, apprehensive and without saying a word. Maybe she is, indeed, crazy.

When she places the heavy yet compact mechanism, carefully, in the ground, Drake stares at it for a while, looking as concerned as the kids, before finally asking, “what is this?” His eyes are not soft like moments ago, they are straight back to being the cold suspicious ones he had when they first met at the abandoned building.

Elia swallows, summoning up all the courage within her. “This is a device meant for cleaning the poisoned water in Cordonia,” she explains, voice deadpan.

Drake’s expression turns even more perturbed, “and what are you doing with it?” He looks a little scared of the thing, and Elia does not miss his hand going to the hilt of his sword.

“I…” she says carefully, “I built it.” She emphasizes the word on purpose, so he can truly understand. She may be a coward for not speaking the plain truth already, but she holds his gaze throughout the seconds it took him to grasp what she just said.

“You…” he mumbles, and Elia recognizes bewilderment turning briefly into hurt before his expression hardens again. Without saying a word, he unsheathes his sword, causing her to panic a little.

“Drake, this is not a weapon,” the princess holds her hands in front of her, trying to make him listen.

He stares at her then, and there’s a fire in his eyes she has never seen before, so intense that Elia thinks he may rip her head off her body just by looking at her.

“Are you the Builder?” He asks, voice stern but somewhat composed.

“Drake--”

“Answer me!” He almost shouts, and the princess doesn’t miss the littlest of trembles in the man’s hand while holding the sword.

She gathers up her courage. It’s not as if she has much of a choice now, “I was," she chose her words carefully.

“Give me one good reason for me not to end your life right now.” His voice is almost bitter, sword pointed at her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Jonah stepping ahead, hand reaching for the hilt of his own sword.

“Jonah, stay back,” she orders. He opens his mouth to protest, but she doesn’t let him speak, “stay with Nora and Elliot. They need you.”

The boy reluctantly steps back then.

The princess has to take some quick breaths to keep her calm, but she is determined to get to the bottom of this. She started it, right? She’s imagined this scenario in her head, multiple times now, and Drake reacting like this is perfectly predictable. Only the hard part begins now.

“My name. My whole name,” she searches his eyes to make sure he is listening, “is Sapphire Aurelia.”

Realization downs upon him when he recognizes the name. He chuckles is disbelief. “Right… you’re the Promised Princess,” he speaks in a sarcastic tone.

“It’s true!”

The fire in his eyes seem to fade a little, giving way to something else… disappointment. “I trusted you, Elia. I let myself be vulnerable around you and--” he stops himself, shaking his head, “I never should have.” And just like that, the fire is back, and he steps a little closer, flawlessly sharpened blade reflecting the sunlight in a threatening gleam.

Although, Elia is not afraid, at least not of being killed. “I’m telling the truth and I’m going to prove it to you.”

He could call her bluff… but Elia sees the hesitation in his eyes even before he speaks, “how?”

Well, there is the problem of the lack of physical proof, so she proposes the only thing she can, “ask me anything! Something only Princess Sapphire would know.”

He chuckles again, shaking his head. “This means nothing.”

Elia did not foresee a moment such as this would become her newest mini-existential crisis. What makes her the Promised Princess? What makes her who she is? The prophecy may say it’s her blood, and her time of birth, and such things, but she lived in hiding for so long it would not surprise her if she came home and there was an impostor in her place. No one would know, she’s certain. So no, this is not it. What makes her the one and only Sapphire Aurelia, the Promised Princess of the Last Prophecy, true and irreplaceable if not for what she knows and what she has lived? No one can take that from her. “This means everything.”

He seems to read the certainty in her expression, because it doesn’t take long for him to decide. “Fine.” He takes a breath and straightens himself, lowering his sword a little.

She knows it’s a small victory, and her lips threaten to pull back in a small smile, yet she holds it back, not wanting to push her luck with Drake.

“Where could Liam always find you?”

It takes her by surprise, for she wasn’t expecting the interrogation to start right away. It’s an easy one, at least, “the library.”

“What game did you love playing so much you inserted you and your friends in it?” Despite Drake’s impassive tone, Elia can’t hold back her smile now. She can’t help it, she’s too fond of the memory and Drake’s wording is amusing.

“Chess.”

“What piece were you?”

“The knight.”

“And Liam?”

“The rook.” She’s impressed. Drake doesn’t even flinch nor takes time thinking of the next question. Elia wonders if he ever really interrogated someone. He must have. And he knows so many details. In her mind, she tries to picture Liam telling Drake about his day and it baffles her how much Drake kept in his mind, even what must surely be boring details for an outsider. “Did Liam tell you all of this?”

“I’m asking the questions.”He did not seem amused by her distraction. “When did you find out about the undercroft?”

She couldn’t possibly forget that day. “Right after mine and Liam’s engagement party.”

He nodded his head, as if he’s at the brink of reaching a verdict.“When did you and Liam first have sex?”

Ah, a trick question. Or - no, Liam wouldn’t have lied to his best friend, would he? “We didn’t.”

Drake purses his lips and Elia can almost burst from the anticipation of not knowing what’s in his mind.

After a moment, he nods to himself, “very well, Princess.”

Elia’s brows shoot up at his words, half of her optimistic about him believing in her, and the other half apprehensive because his threatening posture still hasn’t changed.

She should have seen it coming, she really did, but for some reason, Drake’s next words catch her flabbergasted, as he brings his sword up again and towards her, “gather your things, you’re coming back with me.”

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mallorytaylorblog · 5 years

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8th January, 2020! My first post of the year.

Wow okay, so about a month since my last blog post. Time flies when you’re having fun I guess.

I’m just gunna go ahead and get a bit word vomitty.

So. I’m going drug and alcohol free. Most likely for good. And I want to share why.

In October last year after about a 12 month break from booze - and I say break lightly because I was a rare drinker to begin with - I started drinking a little red wine with dinner for the health benefits. I mean I do love me some good anti-oxidants. However I’ve realised alcohol is just not for me and I don’t care enough for it to participate. I had my partying fun during my teens and early 20′s but never fully subscribed to the Aussie binge drinking culture. I digress...

The main reasons I decided to give up alcohol include (in no particular order): a) it’s expensive b) it doesn’t taste very nice unless it’s in something sugary c) I hate how I feel when I’m drunk (I don’t like not having control over my body) d) it provides little to no physical health benefits, and e) it used to provide me with confidence and a feeling of belonging that I just don’t need any more.

Alcohol is a central nervous system depressant. It impairs motor and cognitive function. Given its knack for being a social lubricant I had my fun with it as a young adult like most people do, but now it’s not necessary. There’s not much to it than that, really. It’s expensive, doesn’t taste great, hangovers are shit, and I’ve developed a sense of self that doesn’t require boosting with liquid courage. Also, if I’m trying to be my best and healthiest and happiest version of my self there’s just not a whole lot of room in my diet for alcohol. So, cya!

As for the drugs part of it too... that has been a work in progress. In the past two years I totally became a bit of a stoner. I wasn’t shy about it to those close to me and it was definitely something fun to socialise over/with, but the longer I indulged the more of a shameful dirty secret it became and the harder it was to just let it go. I noticed when I consumed weed regularly I became lethargic, short with my moods and snappy, and stopped caring about or chasing the things I usually loved, like gym or catching up with friends. It made me anxious at times, especially in social situations so I found I occasionally needed to smoke to relax so I could be in public.

It was a fun thing my boyfriend and I did together when we started dating, and honestly it probably made us super close, super fast - we spoke openly about so many things when we started dating and we got to know some deep parts of our personalities and histories. Also, it was just fucking fun. Watching movies and eating food and having sex and giggling your ass off is all enhanced and made better when you’re high. But the novelty wore off after a while, and the munchies became binge sessions that gave me worries my previously disordered eating patterns would be ignited again. It also didn’t feel amazing waking up super tired even though I’d just slept for 10 hours because I ate a whole pizza and some poutine 20 minutes before I promptly fell asleep on the couch. For someone as productive and ambitious and health conscious as myself it became more of a hindrance than something fun to do with my boyfriend or mates. I appreciated the social lubricant affect it had (in different ways to alcohol) but ripping daily bongs isn't conducive to the monumental life I want to live and I’ve honestly been trying to kick the habit for a few months. I also had my first ever panic attack while high on edibles. So I’m saying goodbye to weed as well.

Other drugs, well.. I was never really a fan. I’ve always said I’ll try anything twice, but after trying mushrooms and LSD for the first time in 2019 once is most definitely enough for me.

I’m also reconsidering my uni degree. Doing a psychology degree is so full on and time consuming, and although I love the subject matter I’m really struggling to maintain a quality of life with the study hours I need to commit to, especially on top of working full time, gym and my relationships. Even though I’ve tried to discourage myself from “quitting” uni because the time will pass anyway, it’s honestly super daunting to know I’ll be studying for a minimum of six years and have another minimum two years of supervised practice before I can become a registered psychologist. I’m considering looking into youth counselling and what options I have there as I’d love to work with young adults. I really just want to help people take control of their psyche and when I think of my future career I see myself talking on stage to hundreds if not thousands of people. I’m trying to get over the stigma I have surrounding using the terms “coach” or “motivational speaker” but I do believe my career choice will include me mentoring or coaching others in the area of personal development. I know this is in my path because every time I think about what excites me those images and terms come to mind instantly, and at the same time I feel terrified of being successful; the voice in my head starts to tell me I’m not worthy of or the right person for the job. Which is only serves to further fuel my fire for it. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being a personal development jUnKiE is that that voice inside your head that tells you you can’t do things or you’re not good enough is actually highlighting areas in which you lack self esteem, and therefore must be challenged and overcome so that you can experience radical growth. It tells you exactly where you need to go and what you need to work on. It’s hard to hear the message sometimes because we get caught up in listening to the self-deprecation. We buy into the stories that inner voice tells us about ourselves and our capabilities, but we get to choose what we believe and we get to choose who to listen to. I’m choosing to listen to my intuition and find all the ways the voice inside my head is wrong. I believe I am worthy of success and I believe I have the ability to help thousands of people.

In addition to the bullshit stories, I’m also giving up all the bullshit excuses I’ve made for myself thus far. I believe this wholeheartedly and I’ve said it so many times but I am the creator of my own life, and I am exactly where I am because of the choices I’ve made. And it’s actually bullshit that I don’t even take my own advice. So I’m really working hard this year on making choices that will serve me long term, instead of giving in to instant gratification. I’ll elaborate more on this in another post I think.

Amongst all the chaos going on in the world right now, I figured one way to help the world is to be on my game and my best self every day so that I can help get the best out of everyone else. A little love and kindness goes a long way.

It’s super fucking late and I’m tired. I definitely want to write more on this but it will have to wait for another day. Thanks for reading!

xoxo

#blog #blogger #blog post #personal development #goals #mindset #lifestyle #ambition #drugs #alcohol #abstinence #new year #the m word blog

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euphoria-vmin7 · 5 years

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Gnossienne Pt.2 | myg

pairing: min yoongi x reader

genre/warnings: again fluff for right now, non idol! au, future angst, future gore, mentions of blood

words: 4,505

--summary: staying away from Yoongi proves to be harder than you thought. but certain things happen at home that make you wonder if it’s a good thing that he’s away.

a/n: sorry for the wait everyone!! here’s part 2! I’ll publish part 3 asap. I hope you all like it :)

Gnossienne

gno·ssi·enne

n. a moment of awareness that someone you’ve known for years still has a private and mysterious inner life

****

| part 1 | part 2

You blinked in confusion. The words didn’t register in your mind until your eyes scanned them over multiple times.

Name Min Yoongi. Stab wound to the lower abdomen. Name Min Yoongi. Stab wound to the lower abdomen. Name Min Yoongi. Stab wound. Name Min Yoongi. Stab wound. Min Yoongi. Stab wound. Min Yoongi. Stab wound.

You ran to grab your phone, heart hammering worriedly as you tripped over yourself. You hastily began scrolling for his contact, fingers shaking, before holding up the ringing device to your ear.

You gnawed on your fingernails, terrified, as you awaited his voice.

Except it rang once, twice, three times, four times, five times.

“If you’re hearing this, it means I don’t wanna talk so stop calling m--”

You angrily ended the call before redialing his number.

It rang once, twice, three times--

“Ugh hello?”

You quieted. Pulling the phone away from your ear, you checked your screen quickly. You had indeed dialed your boyfriend’s number…

….so why was this voice one that didn’t belong to your boyfriend?

Yoongi had a pretty deep voice, but this voice could definitely compete with his. It was deep and rich like honey, a dulcet baritone that was melodious to the ears; it was a contrast you weren’t used to with Yoongi’s voice.

“Hello~?” the voice rang out, now taking on a slightly irritated tone. You gulped and steadied your voice as best as you could.

“Who is this?”

“Uhm who is this?” the voice asked sassily.

“This is Min Yoongi’s girlfriend and last I checked this was Min Yoongi’s phone number. So who the hell is this?” you were proud that you could come off more confident then you felt. The truth was, your heart was beating a million miles an hour, both out of fear and confusion.

“Oh shit….” you heard him quietly curse. “Right, sorry. I’m Yoongi’s cousin. Uh, Yoongi is kinda asleep right now. No offense, but isn’t it kinda late for you to be calling him?”

It just struck you that it was nearing 1:30 in the morning.

“R-Right,” you mentally facepalmed. “Sorry...I just---is Yoongi okay?”

“What…? Uhm yeah he’s fine? He’s a little stressed about his grandma, but we all are,”

“H-He’s not...hurt, is he?” you asked nervously.

The man quieted for a second.

“Hurt? No,” he chuckled a little awkwardly. “He’s fine,”

You breathed out a sigh of relief, before cracking a smile.

“Oh okay, thank you. Just tell Yoongi to call me in the morning please?”

“Sure,” he yawned.

“Sorry for waking you,” you chuckled sheepishly.

“It’s okay,” he smiled through the phone. “Goodnight,”

When he hung up, you realized that you didn’t ask for his name.

You were awoken by ringing.

Groaning, you pushed the disheveled strands of your hair away from your face.

“Who the hell is bothering me this early?” you complained, blindly reaching for your phone. When your eyes focused on the ID, you had a miniature seizure.

“SHIT!” you cursed, fumbling with your own fingers before picking up the phone.

“Baby?” Yoongi’s voice rang through the speaker.

“Yoongi?!” you questioned. “Oh thank God,”

“Baby, what’s wrong? Why did you call last night?”

You sighed with relief.

“I’m just so glad you’re okay. Your cousin said that you were fine but I just had to make sure for myself,”

“Yeah, he told me that you called at around 1 in the morning? What happened?” he asked, confused.

“Oh...uhm….” you suddenly felt nervous. Why did it feel like you were revealing something big to him?

Almost like something bad was bound to happen.

“....Oh I get it, you just couldn’t stay away from me for that long, huh?” you could hear his cocky smirk from the other side of the phone.

“Haha,” you chuckled, though it wasn’t very enthusiastic. Yoongi immediately picked up on it.

“(Name), sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

His tone coaxed the words out of you.

“Well, in the mail we got a letter from the hospital and it said…” you sighed. “....it said that you had a stab wound to the stomach,”

You heard his breath hitch.

“And I-I panicked. I mean I didn’t know why we got the letter now and that made me think that it happened recently but then I realized that I didn’t see you get hurt at all when you were home so it had to have been that it happened while you were there in Daegu or it could be that it happened a while ago and they just forgot to send it-”

“(Name), calm down. You’re rambling,” Yoongi interrupted. You shut your mouth quickly. “It’s some kind of mistake, alright. I’m fine. Wouldn’t I tell you if something like that happened to me?”

“Yeah,” you agreed easily, knowing that there was truth behind his question. “Yeah, sorry, I was being stupid and paranoid,”

“No baby, it’s okay you were just scared. I’ll call the hospital and clear that up. Don’t think about it anymore. Thanks for worrying about me,” he smiled through the phone.

“Don’t thank me for that,” you laughed a little. “Anyway, how are you doing? How’s your grandmother?”

You listened to him sigh as you stood up to start getting ready for the day.

“She’s okay. I think she’s getting better,”

“That’s good to hear,”

“So that means I shouldn’t be away from home for too much longer...maybe like a few days or---uh actually maybe a week?”

You frowned at the unorthodox stutter and confusion in his voice.

“Well..okay?” you said, though it came out in a more questioning manner. “Take all the time you need,”

“Are you sure you’re not just trying to keep me away so that you can invite some hot dude over?” and just like that the regular teasing was back. You snorted.

“Well maybe one,” you joked and Yoongi chuckled.

“Don’t even think about, sweetheart,” he warned playfully and you giggled.

“I won’t, I won’t. You know I only love you,” you reassured.

“You’d better,” he chuckled. “Wait...aren't you late for work?”

You paled.

“CRAP!!”

Ignoring Yoongi’s laughs on the other end, you quickly began running around your bedroom, trying to pull on something presentable.

“I gotta go, Yoongi. I’ll call you later?” you asked, stuffing some toast in your mouth.

“Okay, baby. Bye,”

“Bye Yoongi,”

And then you ran to work.

***

Your finger was getting tired of the continuous scrolling you were doing and your eyes felt overused as they lethargically scanned the screen of your laptop. Your senior had asked for your report in two days. The morning of the day after tomorrow, you’d be handing her a report all about gangsters in Seoul.

Without any solid proof.

That’s right. After more than a whole month of searching you had made no progress with finding any evidence that the gang existed. It made you feel terribly upset that all of your hard work would be thrown out the window so fast and without even a bit of consideration.

To make things worse, Yoongi was still in Daegu, so you had no one to comfort you and rant to.

You frowned at yourself.

Wasn’t that a little selfish? Here you were complaining that you needed Yoongi for a stupid work article while he was alone in Daegu suffering in fear for his grandmother’s health.

But the fact that you couldn’t fix either of those problems was annoying you.

You groaned loudly and fell back on your bed. Might as well accept your fate early and go do something else useful. You shut the screen of your laptop closed and stood up from the bed before making your way to the kitchen to make something edible. You turned on the stove and began to boil water, intent on making some pasta. You had to correct yourself when you realized that you were making it for only one, not two. You frowned. You missed Yoongi.

Your pasta was just reaching al dente when the doorbell rang. You blinked in confusion. Who would come over at this time of night?

You quickly checked your notifications for Yoongi’s name, thinking and more so, hoping, that he had come home and wanted to surprise you. The lack of what you were looking for suspended most of that hope and you quickly rushed to the door, smoothing your hair down in attempts to look the least bit presentable.

Seemingly for nothing because when you wrench the door open, you don’t find anything looking back at you except the regular view. You frowned in confusion, craning your neck from right to left to find a remaining clue of who had approached your door. You were about to dismiss it as some kids fooling around when you looked down. A brown box lay on the welcome mat (the mat that so graciously welcomed people with a ‘leave the money and go’ printed across it; Yoongi picked it). You picked up the box and headed back into the apartment, kicking the front door shut with a slight raise of your leg. You carefully scanned for a sender’s address but all you could see was the word FRAGILE scribbled across it in black Sharpie. It looked like some kind of amateur packaging, not like the typical post that came from the regular mail. The packaging tape was mediocrely pushed against the opening flaps to hold them together and the edges of the box were bent, as if it had been used multiple times before.

After finishing the pasta, you grabbed a pair of scissors from the kitchen drawer, before quickly slicing all of the tape and the flaps opened up. You looked inside to find something unexpected.

There was no styrofoam or plastic that would have normally come with a fragile package. Instead, there were two items inside the otherwise empty box.

You pulled the first item out. A folded piece of paper.

Opening it, you began to read the few words scrawled across it:

You’re welcome. Use it well.

You frowned. You didn’t recognize the handwriting at all. First of all, who the heck was this? What did they do that deserved your gratitude? And use what well?

You flipped the paper over and felt your breath catch in your throat.

Don’t tell anyone about this. Danger is closer than you think, princess.

What? What the hell was going on?! What danger? And who is this?

That’s all that was on the paper so you reached into the box for the other item. A CD.

You got up and turned the T.V on, heart hammering in your chest. Sliding the disc into the slot, you waited nervously for it to load, taking a seat on the couch and suddenly craving Yoongi’s comforting presence. The loading sign disappeared.

At first, it was nothing but black. Then the scene unfolded.

Someone was filming. It was nighttime in the video.

“What are you doing?” someone hissed in the video. The screen panned to the voice, revealing a man. You couldn’t see anything but his eyes. A black mask covered the bottom half of his face and he had on a leather jacket that was zipped up to reveal no skin.

“Something important,” the filmer responded. He too was male, though he sounded a bit younger than the first. Hearing the filmer’s voice, the first man smirked. Or so was assumed by the stretch of his eyes.

“You’re a genius,” someone from behind praised, along with a few other murmurs that told you that the filmer wasn’t alone. You heard the filmer chuckle before he moved closer to the edge of the building wall they were hiding in. The camera moved to peek into the alleyway.

And you gasped aloud.

Seven men stood in the alleyway. They were tall, built, and clad in all black. They all wore practically the same thing. Black masks across their faces, black shirts, black pants (though a few were definitely ripped skinny jeans), and big heavy black combat boots. That wasn’t what caught your attention though. It was the gun resting on each hip that had you nervous. And their jackets. Because on their jackets was it. The thing you had been looking for since the day you got your assignment.

The logo.

The logo from the old woman’s alleyway was printed on the breast pocket of each jacket. It was a blood red symbol, although the shape was quite simple. Two trapezoids were facing each other, short side almost touching and you wondered how such a measly shape could have shiver going up your spine. When you saw the back of a few of them, the symbol was switched, this time the longer sides close together but still in deep red.

This was it. This was the gang.

The tallest of the group stepped forward, towards a crate you just realized was there. Along with being the tallest of the group, he exuded an intimidating aura. His light brown hair was styled in a way that made messy look confident. You couldn’t see his face, but his eyes were void of emotion, his perfect brows resting in an unimpressed frown. He snapped his fingers.

“Open it, Number 4,” he ordered and the deep voice that resonated through the quiet alley made you curl up on the couch. Another man stepped forward, a crowbar in his hand. He too, was tall, maybe an inch or two shorter than the first. His hair, unexpectedly, was a faded red and he gave the man a curt nod. Raising the metal bar in his hands, he eased the end into the lid and pushed hard. It popped off and Number 4 stepped away.

“Check it, 6,” the tallest said, turning away. Another man, as tall as Number 4, stepped forward. His hair was different, a pretty silver with a black bandana wrapped around his forehead. He crouched down in front of the crate and began rummaging through it. As he did, you looked to the bulkiest one of the lot. He had longer hair of a dark black that fell in front of his narrowed eyes. A plethora of piercings graced his ears and the muscles of his biceps strained through the leather of his jacket. But you were more focused on the knife he was skillfully twirling between his fingers.

Then you moved to another one. He was shorter in comparison to the rest of the group, but he could easily tower over you if he so desired. His hair, a shade of faded orange was messily unkempt, as though he had run his fingers through the strands multiple times. He too, was built, toned muscles visible through the outline of his clothes. He stood leaning back against the wall, his arms crossed and a leg crossed over the other, though he gave off a certain type of grace.

The next was too was a bit shorter in comparison. He had dark black hair and nothing more could be said except that he was basically shrouded in black. Even his eyes looked like they were black holes. The next one had light brown hair and a very big physique. His shoulders were basically broader than your future. His eyes were trained on Number 6 as he rummaged through the crate. One of his hands rested on his gun.

“All good, Sir,” Number 6 replied in the deepest voice you had ever heard, shutting the crate quickly.

You couldn’t help but notice that they never gave names. Smart.

“Good. 5, 2,” was all the leader, or you assumed, the leader said before he cocked his head towards the crate. The orange-haired man and the broad-shouldered man stepped forward and pulled the crate up together.

That’s when you noticed the big one. His breathing stilled and his shoulders tensed. The twirling of the knife stopped.

“Hyung,” was all he said, his voice strong. The leader made eye contact with him and then Knife Boy whirled around at the speed of light and chucked the knife straight at you.

You let out a shriek in the middle of your quiet apartment as the knife hit the wall.

“Shit!” the filmer yelled and another voice behind him yelled, “Fall back!”

The screen shook as the group of men ran before the video came to an abrupt halt.

You sat in your living room with wide eyes, pressed back against the couch as far as you could go. You legitimately thought that knife was going to pierce you through the eyes. Your heart was pounding like crazy as a spectrum of emotions ran through you. That was possibly one of the most thrilling things you had ever seen but a streak of happiness cut through that.

This was your proof.

This had everything you needed to actually submit this and have it published. It was perfect.

You stopped.

But wait, this was given to you by some mysterious stranger who was warning you of some kind of trouble and danger. Was this safe to use?

But they had given it to you with the message of ‘Use it well.’ So didn’t that mean that you could?

You thought about it. The gang in the video could so easily track you down for exposing them. They could hurt you, and the ones you loved. Was it worth that risk?

No. No, definitely not.

You pulled out the CD and placed it back in the box before closing it up, your heart sinking with disappointment.

As you sat down and stabbed a fork into your pasta you couldn’t help but think about how nice it would have been if you did manage to get some good evidence. Despite obviously having perfectly good evidence sitting on the counter.

No, (Name), it’s not safe.

But maybe you could use it. If you used it, it was almost 100% sure you’d be recognized by your seniors and your boss. Recognition could give you a promotion. You could finally start earning more money and win back your parents. You wouldn’t have to restrict yourself whenever you saw a pretty dress that was above the budget. Maybe you could even buy a better house for you and Yoongi to live in together. And then, perhaps you’d be able to comfortably pay for a wedding. Marry Yoongi, have kids--

You stood up and ran to the box, wrenching it open and pulling out the disc.

You had some downloading to do.

***

“(Name), can I see you in my office for a minute?”

You quietly groaned as your senior’s voice interrupted the conversation you were having.

[2:13 p.m.] (Name): ugh the witch is bothering me again

[2:14 p.m.] Grumpy: lol good luck

[2:14 p.m.] Grumpy: call me after work

[2:14 p.m.] (Name): ok <3

Clicking your phone shut, you stood up from your desk and started walking towards your senior’s office, not before throwing Seo Jin a pained expression, to which she responded with a sympathetic smile. When you arrived, you gave three knocks to the wood.

“Come in,”

Pushing the door open, you peeked inside and your senior was staring straight at you.

Oh God.

“Shut the door, (Name),” she said before motioning for you to sit down in front of her. You did as told.

“I read your report,” she stated, holding up the files between her fingers. You nodded nervously.

“I think you did a great job,” she said, the corners of her lips twitching upwards. You couldn’t help but beam.

“You have some great information here, along with a good setup for the interview. But what really tied it together was that evidence! Where on earth did you find that?” she asked curiously. You stilled for a second before spewing:

“Ah, you know you can find anything on the internet!”

She laughed a little.

“That’s true. Well I’m glad you found it. This is a very good article. I’ve forwarded a copy to the boss and she’ll review it. Depending on her take, we can talk about publication, yeah?”

You nodded eagerly.

“Thank you so much!” you said excitedly, bowing a full 90 degrees as she chuckled.

“Yeah yeah, don’t be too happy. Now get back to work; don’t you have those files to organize?”

“Yes! I’ll get right to that, Ma’am!”

After another thank you and eager smiles, you stepped out of her office and squealed silently before whipping out your phone. Clicking on Yoongi’s contact, you started typing:

you’ll never guess what just happened to me….

You paused.

You never did tell Yoongi that you submitted your article. You didn’t want him to worry about the evidence on top of all of his stress at home. So maybe it would be better to surprise him once he got home. Yeah, once he got home.

You tucked your phone back into your pocket and headed back to your desk.

***

Two days later, you found yourself in your senior’s office again, this time not alone.

“I have to say, Ms.(Name), this article is very professional,” your boss remarked as you sat quietly. “Your use of evidence is exactly what we need to make this a great hit!”

You looked up with wide eyes.

“Wait, so does that mean-?”

“(Name), we’ll be revealing your article to the public. It will be aired on the news along with the footage you provided. Congratulations,” she smiled. You couldn’t believe it. The thing you have been working at for so long was finally happening!

“O-Oh my goodness, thank you so much,” you stuttered not able to coherently form words.

“Mhm, and I believe that success like yours shouldn’t come without reward. How would you like to discuss a promotion?”

You couldn’t wait to tell Yoongi.

***

You sat on the cold seat, bouncing your knee eagerly, eyes trained on the doorway. You were absolutely sure Yoongi would walk out of there soon. It had stretched into a little over a month since you had last seen him and it felt like forever. Now you were waiting for him at the train station.

“....substantial information that gangs are running rampant in Seoul. A witness statement describes the men seen: “He was wearing all black and on the back of his jacket there was a logo. It was some kind of diamond. And he was holding a gun.” Investigators have reason to believe that this gang may be more dangerous than first thought. The witness attested to hearing a gun go off right outside of their home. Now we wonder just how many gangs run around our city and what they really do. Here we have some footage of an encounter with the gang….”

You eagerly watched the newsreel, seeing the clip that you received playing on the screen. You couldn’t help but be proud that your work was making the city more informed. You tore your eyes away from the screen when the clamor started. An influx of passengers flooded in from the platform and you excitedly stood up, searching for your boyfriend. You beamed when you caught sight of him looking around the station. Clad in simple black jeans and a dark blue hoodie, your boyfriend never looked so handsome. You eagerly ran towards him and he didn’t have any time to react before you threw yourself at him. Wrapping your arms around his body, you nuzzled into his warmth and breathed in his scent. He winced as you squeezed him but then relaxed, holding you close.

“I knew you missed me too much,” he muttered and you pulled back to give him a sharp smack.

“Shut up,” you frowned up at him. “I just missed your cooking,”

He scoffed with a roll of his eyes before pushing you away gently.

“Fine, I’ll just go back--”

“No, it’s fine! I’ll allow you to come to my house. But not because I like you or anything,” you said clutching his arm with a cheeky smile. He chuckled a little bit, eyes softening down at you.

“Missed you, (Nickname),”

You smiled.

“Missed you, too, Yoongs. Now, will you buy me some ice cream on the way home?”

***

“Okay, there aren’t any signs that there were any men here while I was gone,” Yoongi remarked playfully while inspecting the house after he had dropped his bag.

“Maybe I covered my tracks up well,” you responded, putting his other suitcase against the wall. He glared at you, though it was hard to take him seriously when his gummy smile was on full display.

“You know what you didn’t cover up? That,” Yoongi said, pointing at the couch where empty tubs of ice cream and piles of blankets lay from all of your Netflix marathons.

“Ehehe,” you chuckled weakly. “I meant to clean that,”

He raised a brow and fixed you with a pointed stare.

“I was going to! Honest!!” you defended, though now your smile was on show.

“Uh huh, sure you were. You remind me of a child, you know that?” he said, shaking his head with a grin before turning to go into the bedroom.

“Was that a compliment?” you called after him.

“No~~”

You pouted before following him and taking a seat on the bed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Yoongi. I’m clearly the more mature one in this relationship,”

“Sure. When I was turning 4 years old, you were just born, sweetheart. I’m definitely more mature; I’ve been in this world longer,” he replied, now pulling out clothes from his suitcase.

“Yeah but girls mature faster than boys, don’t they?” you countered.

“Not 4 years faster,” he smiled.

“Fine, you win this round,” you admitted defeat, shoulders slumping. His smile widened a bit at that, taking in your playfully dejected pout before he leaned forward to peck your lips. You blinked before smiling.

“Hey Yoongs?”

“Hmm?”

“You never told me about your cousin. The one I woke up at 2 in the morning,” you giggled.

“Oh haha, doesn’t matter. He deserved that. Lazy ass,” Yoongi muttered with a discreet roll of his eyes. You laughed.

“Why? You don’t like him?” you asked. He shook his head.

“It’s nothing like that. Of course, I like him. He’s practically my closest family. I just like bullying him since he’s younger. You know, like how I am with you?”

“Yeah, I know,” you replied sarcastically to which he grinned. “What’s his name?”

Yoongi paused for a second.

“Taehyung,”

“Ohh,” you nodded. “How old his he?”

“23, but why are you so curious?” he asked skeptically.

“I don’t know. He sounded cute,” you risked teasing and Yoongi smacked you with the shirt he had just pulled out. You laughed, pushing his hand away before your eyes caught something that made your jaw drop.

“WHAT IS THAT?!” you shrieked, looking at the shirt in Yoongi’s hand. “IS THAT BLOOD?!!”

Tag list: @ireadfanficsonthisleavemealone, @sunshine-ruins

(comment or dm me if you want to be added!)

#bts #bts yoongi #bts imagines #bts one shot #bts fanfction #bts stories #min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #suga #suga x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts au #bts non idol au #x reader #yoongi x reader #masterlist #euphoria-vmin7 #gnossienne

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seriestrash · 6 years

Text

12 days of Tyrus - Chapter Six

|| 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 ||

Summary: The cold season is upon them and Cyrus finds himself wishing for a lot this festive season, many of those wishes happen to involve TJ.

Read on ao3

Chapter Six: Tick Tock

Word Count: 5547

Cyrus Goodman was not a risk taker and the rejection from TJ reminded him why that was. Cyrus had no idea what his confession would do to their friendship but at least Cyrus found comfort in his belief that TJ wouldn’t tell anyone else about what he shared. Although the rejection and possibility of losing a friend was devastating, Cyrus knew deep down that eventually —some time in the distant future— he’d look back on this and be proud of himself for owning his feelings. Although Cyrus believed he might one day look back and realise it made him stronger, today —the morning after his confession— Cyrus was ready to feel sorry for himself.

After a broken nights sleep, Cyrus resigns to the fact that he would be up before the sun was. Cyrus creeps out of bed where TJ still sleeps and tiptoes past Jonah who is also still snoozing in the single bed beside them. Cyrus continues his escape quietly and goes across the hall. Cyrus gently knocks on the girls door and after he hears some sleepy grumbles he pokes his head through the door and asks if he can come in.

“Cyrus?” Buffy sleepily props up her head. Andi lay next to her in the double bed with a tired and confused expression.

“The sun isn’t even up yet.” Andi grumbles.

“I need to talk to you guys.” Cyrus lets himself in.

“Talk to Buffy.” Andi rolls over and cradles her pillow.

Cyrus ignores Andi’s lethargic behaviour and disturbs her further by climbing on the bed and wedging himself between his two best friends. “I spoke to TJ.” Cyrus says with an exhale.

“You did?” Buffy’s interest spikes and this seems to wake her up. “What did you say?”

“TJ?” Andi gives in and sits herself up too. “Am I missing something?”

“I told TJ that I like him.” Cyrus says quickly.

“You did?” Buffy and Andi say in unison, both sporting jaw dropped expressions.

“You were the one that encouraged me to.” Cyrus sends Buffy a frantic look.

“I know, I’m just surprised.” Buffy is in shock. “What did he say?”

“Hang on a second.” Andi interjects. “You like TJ?”

“Yes.” Cyrus nods.

“Since when?” Andi questions.

“I don’t know when.” Cyrus frowns.

“I thought you liked Jonah?” Andi is confused. “Do you like them both?”

“No, his crush on Jonah went away.” Buffy answers.

“It did?” Andi asks.

“Before summer.” Cyrus states.

“And you knew?” Andi turns to Buffy. “I mean you knowing the TJ thing isn’t surprising, you all hang out together more than I do but why didn’t you tell me about Jonah? Why don’t you guys tell me anything anymore?”

“Andi, focus?” Buffy sends her a look.

“Right.” Andi looks disappointed, “Not about me…”

“What did TJ say?” Buffy asks, “No wait! Start from the beginning. I left the room and then what?”

Cyrus gives Buffy a look begging for her to calm down. “You left, TJ came out to get a drink of water, I cornered him and told him I liked him.”

“And?” Buffy is eager for more details.

“He doesn’t feel the same way and I’m never leaving this room.” Cyrus wriggles down further under the covers.

“He said that?” Buffy furrows her brows. “He said ‘I don’t feel the same way’?”

“Not exactly...” Cyrus mumbles.

“It kind of feels like you’re leaving out part of the story?” Andi lightly accuses.

“I might have redacted a few unnecessary facts…” Cyrus shrugs.

“Cyrus!” Both Andi and Buffy grip onto either of his arms.

“Tell us everything.” Buffy demands.

“I can’t.” Cyrus shakes his head.

“Why not?” Andi questions.

“Because some things aren't mine to share.”

“But did TJ explicitly ask you not to tell us?” Buffy asks. “It doesn't count unless he asked.”

“It’s one of those unspoken things where you just know they don’t want you to talk about it.” Cyrus pouts over their constant pushing.

“Kind of like when I told you that Bex wasn’t really my sister?” Andi coaxes her head.

“My mom spread that around, not me!” Cyrus defends.

Andi shakes her head with a smile, “You don’t have to tell us.”

“Yes he does!” Buffy laughs.

“No he doesn’t!” Cyrus says. “I told you it’s irrelevant anyway.”

“It doesn’t make sense, I thought you were acting weird because you like TJ but now there’s some secret information about him that you can’t share?” Buffy tries to make sense of it. “What happened between you guys-”

“Buffy stop.” Cyrus is assertive. “That has nothing to do with this.” Cyrus lies, “That was about TJ’s family and out of respect I don’t want to discuss it with you.”

“Okay, sorry.” Buffy apologises for being invasive.

“So,” Andi says after the mood in the room was off, “What are we going to do now?”

“I already told you, I’m never leaving this room.” Cyrus pouts.

“Then neither will we.” Buffy says with a smile and Andi mimics it, they both wriggle down beside Cyrus offering comforting cuddles.

Although it was a nice sentiment that they’d spend all day in the room avoiding Cyrus’ problems, the three did however need to surface eventually when the grumbles of their stomachs were too obnoxiously loud to ignore. They brave the kitchen and learn that TJ and Jonah had already head out for the day with Jared thus making the original good hair crew members more comfortable about exiting the girls room.

After Cyrus’ parents leave, the three childhood best friends have the cabin to theirselves and decide to spend the day inside. A day in their pyjamas, eating junk food and watching movies unfolds. Whilst the relaxing day wasn’t enough to make Cyrus forget about his troubles it was enough to make him not completely wallow in them all day.

It wasn’t until Jonah, TJ and Jared return from skiing that Cyrus sinks back into his mopey mood. TJ doesn’t say anything when he arrives, he just gives the three a hard to read look before retreating to the bathroom to shower.

“That makes me so mad.” Buffy lets out a groan.

“That he takes his personal hygiene seriously?” Andi jokes.

“I’m fully aware TJ can be a jerk but I never expected him to be a jerk about this.” Buffy folds her arms. “I might have been wrong about his feelings but I always thought TJ would be supportive of who Cyrus likes.”

Cyrus hangs his head back in frustration. It was hard not sharing all of the information with his friends. Right now Buffy believes TJ has pulled away because Cyrus likes him when in actuality there was a kiss that sparked that distance first. Although the gaps in the story were frustrating, Cyrus took what he could get as even the sketchy story he gave them was better than not being able to talk about it at all.

“I don’t think it’s that I like boys, I just think it’s surprising that I like him.” Cyrus tries to defend TJ.

“Still.” Buffy purses her lips.

The following morning the group eat breakfast in the cafeteria rather than at their cabin. The whole time, Cyrus could feel anger emanating off TJ. It wasn’t until everyone else left for the snow hike that Cyrus got any clarity about TJ’s seemingly frustrated mood.

Cyrus had opted out of the snow hike due to his less than enthused attitude towards the athletic activity. TJ also opted out but he had been in a sulky mood this entire trip so Cyrus wasn’t too surprised by him wanting to avoid spending time with the group.

Cyrus was just about to leave the cafeteria when TJ stops him. “You told them didn’t you?” TJ asks.

“Told who, what?” Cyrus is confused.

“Andi and Buffy about the, you know.” TJ lowers his voice even though they’re in an almost empty room as breakfast had wrapped up.

“You can say kiss, it’s not a bad word” Cyrus says with a newfound bravery sparked from an annoyance with TJ that was bubbling, one that Cyrus didn’t have any idea was building until now. “And no I didn’t.”

“Then why do they keep giving me looks?” TJ asks.

“I don’t know, maybe because you’ve come on a ski trip with them and you’ve spent the whole time being grouchy?” Cyrus coaxes his head in a challenging way.

TJ rolls his eyes and another wave of frustration hits Cyrus after things were evidently going nowhere.

“Buffy was suspicious of why you were being weird, after all it’s not like us to not talk.” Cyrus frowns, “I told her that I like you and you don’t like me back. That’s it. That’s all the information I shared.”

“Great so now she just thinks I’m being a jerk?” TJ huffs.

“You are being a jerk.” Cyrus is firm. “Why did you even come on this trip? I know I told you I wouldn’t pressure you to talk about it but why come at all if you were planning on ignoring me?”

TJ is unresponsive and continues to look uncomfortable about it all.

“Well?” Cyrus presses with a heavy sigh, “TJ, if you don’t want to be friends anymore can you just say? It will be a lot easier for me if you just tell me so I can move on.”

“You think I don’t want to be friends anymore?” TJ looks upset.

“Maybe?” Cyrus shrugs. “You don’t seem to want to talk to me anymore.”

“That’s not what I want.” TJ frowns.

“Then what do you want?” Cyrus questions.

“I don’t know.” TJ lets out a frustrated breath.

“Let me know when you work it out, okay?” Cyrus wears a defeated look before exiting the cafeteria.

On his escape route out of the main lodge, Cyrus is flagged down by Eli.

“Hey, where’s the fire?” Eli holds a hand out to stop him.

“I was just, I don’t know.” Cyrus was too upset to fabricate an excuse. It didn’t help that Cyrus witnessed TJ also storm past them and out of the lodges main entrance.

“Having some trouble with your friend there?” Eli pricks up a brow as he watches after TJ for a second. Cyrus remains quiet.

“Or we can not talk about it.” Eli holds his palms out defensively. “Got any plans today?”

“Just my regular scheduled pity party.” Cyrus laughs nervously.

“Want to bring that pity party into town with me?” Eli asks. “I have to pick up a few things for the new years eve party tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Cyrus lets out a big sigh, “Anything beats hanging around here all day.”

Eli laughs anxiously, “I don’t know if I should be more offended that you don’t like my family’s lodge or if spending time with me is just a small step up from the worst thing you could be doing...”

Cyrus’ expression crumbles, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that.”

“It’s okay.” Eli nudges him, “You’re totally doing me a favour by keeping me company anyway.”

The two make their way into town on foot. It isn’t much of a walk from the lodge to the little village but it is freezing cold in the snow and Cyrus quietly thinks he’s somehow been tricked into going on that hike he opted out of. Although the walk wasn’t Cyrus’ favourite part, the trip into town lifted his spirits. Cyrus helped Eli run his errands and they stopped for ice cream despite the frosty weather.

“You’re right, this did make me feel better.” Cyrus says as he holds his ice cream cone in hand.

“I told you, it’s impossible to feel sad with a triple scoop in hand.” Eli says proudly.

“So is it in your job description to make mopey guests less mopey?” Cyrus questions.

“Only the cute ones that are willing to help me with data entry.” Eli says with a smirk and Cyrus chokes on his mouthful of ice cream which causes Eli to chuckle.

“This does not happen to me often but I am at a loss for words.” Cyrus laughs nervously.

“Don’t worry, I like you and everything but I know you and your friend —was it TJ?— have some unresolved feelings.”

“You like me?” Cyrus is shocked.

“That’s not the part of the sentence you’re supposed to be surprised about.” Eli laughs. “You’re supposed to be like, ‘you know I like TJ, what?’”

“Apparently I’m more obvious with my feelings than I would like.” Cyrus frowns.

“No more obvious than your friend is with his.” Eli states.

“See I don’t see that.” Cyrus shakes his head.

Eli coaxes his head, “You don’t?”

“No.” Cyrus says innocently.

“Every time I’m with you and he's around, he acts like a jealous boyfriend.” Eli laughs.

“He’s not normally like that.” Cyrus insists.

“Has something happened recently to change things?” Eli questions.

A kiss.. Cyrus thinks to himself and Eli notices Cyrus in thought. “See, I thought so.” Eli says knowingly.

“So maybe things are different now but that doesn’t mean he likes me.” Cyrus shakes his head.

“I think you know he likes you, you just won't admit that to yourself because if you do it means you might have to do something about it.”

“You sound like my friend Buffy.” Cyrus thinks this sounds eerily familiar to his conversation with Buffy the other night.

“The competitive one that tried to teach me how to ski during the lesson?” Eli questions.

“The one and only.” Cyrus laughs.

“Well she is pretty smart so maybe you should listen to her.” Eli says with a light smirk.

“Or I could pretend like nothing is going on and avoid it forever?” Cyrus exaggerates a smile.

“Tick tock, Cyrus. The end of the year is fast approaching, do you really want to start off the new one with regrets?” Eli is like a wise old owl.

“I already told TJ I like him.” Cyrus is almost defensive.

“But did you tell him everything?” Eli questions, “Did you lay it all out on the table, win or lose he knows how you feel?”

“Yes?” Cyrus sounds more uncertain now.

“Does he know that no matter what happens you’re there for him either way?” Eli continues.

“I think so...” Cyrus is panicked by this line on questioning.

“You have to tell him.” Eli says simply with a shrug of his shoulder, “Tick tock.”

“You’re really intense.” Cyrus laughs nervously.

Eli joins in on the chuckle but minus the nerves, “Thank you.”

After Eli’s encouraging push, Cyrus goes off in search of TJ. After checking a few places first and having no such luck, Cyrus makes his way to the rec room. Cyrus happens upon TJ at the keys of the grand piano. He solemnly pokes a couple but he stops when he notices Cyrus.

“I didn’t know you played?” Cyrus takes a cautious step towards him.

“I don’t.” TJ folds his hands in his lap. “I should probably go.”

“TJ, wait.” Cyrus leaps forward. “I want to talk and I promise I won't get all huffy with you like this morning. I just want to say something and then I’ll never speak to you again if that’s what you want.”

“I know my actions might say otherwise but I don’t want you to stop talking to me.” TJ is sheepish.

“Okay.” Cyrus nods with a small smile. “But I will stop talking at you. I can’t have anymore one sided conversations, it’s driving me nuts.”

TJ nods and waits for Cyrus to say his piece. Cyrus sits beside TJ on the piano stool although there is as much distance between them as possible.

“I’m sorry I went crazy on you this morning. I was hurt —not that you didn’t like me back, I expected that much— but because I really value our friendship and it felt like you didn’t so I handled that poorly.” Cyrus apologises.

“I do value our friendship, a lot.” TJ stresses. “I told you this morning I don’t want us to stop being friends.”

“Me either.” Cyrus wears a sad smile. “So why does it feel like we can’t get past this? Whatever this was?”

“I don’t know.” TJ shakes his head.

Cyrus’ sad smile remains as he tries to hold TJ’s eye contact, “I think you do know and you can’t admit it to me or yourself even.”

“What are you saying?” TJ lowers his gaze.

“I can’t sit here and claim I know how you’re feeling or what you’re thinking but I do know that you don’t believe you deserve to be happy. You practically said so yourself after the gun incident. You tend to sabotage things when they’re good for you...” Cyrus frowns, “It took a lot for me to get past your walls and I know when people get close you tend to push them away.. Like how you pushed me away after your suspension from the team and then when I asked about your family..” Cyrus is knowing but gentle with his analysis. “This morning I was all hurt and ready to walk away because I let myself forget that.”

“Congratulations you’ve discovered I don’t like talking about my feelings.” TJ scoffs but Cyrus doesn’t let it get to him.

“Have you ever been fishing?” Cyrus asks.

“Fishing?” TJ wears a quizzical look.

“Yes.” Cyrus is firm.

“Yes, I’ve been fishing.” TJ sighs and decides to go with it, “I used to go with my grandpa before he passed away.”

“You know when you get a bite and the fish tugs on the line?” Cyrus asks but he doesn’t pause, “You don’t just drop the fishing rod and let the fish go. You hold tighter and pull it back in.”

“Are you calling me a fish?” TJ raises a brow.

“Yes I am.” Cyrus says, “But I’m also trying to tell you that although I’ll respect your wishes no matter what, I’m not letting go of the fishing rod.”

TJ’s smile creeps wider on his face after Cyrus’ little analogy. “So you think you’re some great thing in my life?”

“I guess I am.” Cyrus says with a laugh, “Although that’s not what I was trying to say and you weren’t supposed to take that away from the conversation.”

“Thank you, Cyrus.” TJ says genuinely, “But I still have a few things to sort through, I’m not sure I can give you a response you’ll be happy with-”

“I’m not looking for a response.” Cyrus interjects. “I’m just trying to end my year without regrets and ending things on a huffy note with you would have been my biggest.”

The conversation is over after that and Cyrus felt like they had made progress although they weren’t back to their old selves, Cyrus wasn’t certain they’d ever be their old selves again but at least everything was out in the open, or at least everything on Cyrus’ side was out there.

That night when they were going to sleep, TJ didn’t immediately roll over to face away from Cyrus, instead they faced each other for a moment. TJ still seemed pretty emotionally drained but they smiled at each other for a second. To Cyrus that was progress and maybe a tiny glimmer of hope that their friendship was not lost forever.

The following day Cyrus wakes to find TJ and Buffy have disappeared before breakfast.

“Where did Buffy go?” Cyrus asks Andi quietly in the kitchen.

“She was gone when I woke up.” Andi shrugs. “Jonah said she and TJ left together pretty early this morning.”

“You don't think Buffy’s trying to get information out of TJ do you?” Cyrus frets.

“She wouldn't do that.” Andi shakes her head, “Not unless TJ brought the situation up himself.”

“And I’m doubtful he will..” Cyrus mumbles.

Although Cyrus was curious as to what TJ and Buffy were up to, he tries to push that aside and focus on his own moves going forward. Cyrus enlists the help of his crafty best friend and the two offer their assistance to Eli as he helps decorate the rec room for the new years eve party that night.

Andi was in her element turning the basic decorations Cyrus and Eli had picked out the day before into ones worthy of a wonderland. Cyrus and Andi were off to the side having a laugh as they reflected on the past year. When the chuckles taper off, a small and almost sad smile crosses Cyrus’ face as he lets out a breath, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about not liking Jonah anymore. The crush in general was a little awkward to talk to you about and I guess I got used to not sharing..”

“Don’t apologise,” Andi reaches forward and holds Cyrus’ hand, “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like my feelings for Jonah were more important than yours. I never want you to not talk to me.”

Cyrus’ smile is more genuine now, “I don’t want that either.”

“I hate new year resolutions-”

“Me too.” Cyrus scoffs, “It’s like setting yourself up for failure.”

“How about a friendship resolution instead?” Andi suggests.

“I can work with that.” Cyrus smiles.

“Let’s communicate better from now on?” Andi asks.

“I think we’re already doing a better job of that.” Cyrus says with a smile as he pulls Andi in for a hug.

The evening rolls around before they know it and Buffy and TJ still hadn’t turned up. Cyrus expresses to his parents that he was beginning to get worried but they tried to calm him and said they knew the pair were going into town today and they had given them money to catch a taxi back to the lodge so they weren't walking in the dark. Cyrus tries to find comfort in this and gets ready for the party.

After Cyrus was dressed and ready, there was still no sign of TJ and Buffy. Whilst Andi and Jonah go to the young adults party in the recreation room, Cyrus first goes to the function hall with his parents and brother to mingle a little with his family and the older crowd at the party they were attending. Jared was more suited for the younger party but he was trying to act mature and hang out at the boring party instead. After a respectable amount of time, Cyrus splits from the adults party and makes his way to the rec room where he was hoping to meet up with all of his friends but unfortunately upon arrival Cyrus only spotted Andi and Jonah grazing the snack table together. Cyrus was about to approach them when Eli stops him.

“You made it.” Eli says with a smile.

“Of course. I had to see all my hard work.” Cyrus grins, “I’m practically a party planner after all this.”

“Practically.” Eli chuckles. “So, I was respectful and didn’t bring it up today whilst you were with Andi just incase but I’ve been dying to know. How did things go with TJ?”

“I put it all on the table like you said.”

“And?” Eli questions.

“I think he heard me but I don’t know.” Cyrus shrugs.

“You don’t know?” Eli looks disappointed. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I don’t know!” Cyrus huffs, “I thought last night maybe we were having a moment but then he’s been gone all day so I’m thinking he’s ignoring me still.”

“Are you sure?” Eli’s smile pricks up and Cyrus follows his line of sight, his eyes land on TJ and Buffy as they enter the room.

“I don’t know.” Cyrus says again but this time softer.

“Last ditch effort, you two watch the fireworks together.” Eli says, “I know a few secret spots.”

“Eli..” Cyrus tosses his head to the side.

“What?” Eli smiles innocently. “There’s still an hour left of the year.”

“Just yesterday you said you liked me, but you’re okay with trying to help me get the guy?” Cyrus questions.

“Sometimes crushes turn out to be better friends and friends turn out more like crushes.” Eli shrugs. Cyrus smiles at that thought, he spies Jonah goofily dancing with Andi before making sheepish eye contact with TJ across the room.

“Maybe this is an epic friendship in the making.” Cyrus turns back to Eli with a smile.

“Or a love affair yet to be explored.” Eli wriggles his brows suggestively but breaks with a laugh, “I’m just kidding. Now go over to TJ before the jealously consumes him.”

Cyrus was unsure if he should approach TJ or not since he was trying to give him space but before Cyrus could decide, TJ taps him on the shoulder.

“TJ.” Cyrus is surprised when he turns around to find the basketball captain.

“Can we talk?” TJ calls out over the music.

“Yes.” Cyrus nods eagerly and he motions towards the doors that lead outside.

The pair make their way out into the cold air and close the doors behind them, shutting the noise out along with it.

“Hi.” TJ says nervously and he shivers in the cold air.

“Hey.” Cyrus is just as bashful. “Where have you been all day?” Cyrus tries to be casual.

“It’s a long story.” TJ frowns. “Lets just say everything went wrong and Buffy might not want to talk to me for a few days...”

“That bad, huh?” Cyrus raises a brow.

“What started as a quick trip into town turned into an all day disaster.” TJ shakes his head.

“What were you two doing in town in the first place?” Cyrus questions.

“I was looking for something.” TJ says.

“Did you find it?” Cyrus asks.

“Kind of.” TJ laughs and Cyrus does too although he didn’t know what was funny. “It’s for you.” TJ says shyly.

“For me? TJ you didn’t have to get me-” Cyrus’ expression curls into a confused one when TJ pulls the object out from his jacket, “-A coat hanger?”

TJ rolls his head forward with a laugh. “The bait shop is closed for the holidays and I spent the day dragging Buffy around looking for a fish hook but the closest we found was a coat hanger.”

Cyrus now looks at the coat hanger with a newfound fondness, his expression mirrors TJ’s when he received the popsicle stick frame. “You were going to give me a fish hook?” Cyrus looks up from the hanger to TJ with a hopeful expression.

“I don’t want you to drop the fishing rod, or something like that.” TJ laughs quietly, “The analogy was a little skewed.”

Cyrus laughs too but then people come outside and interrupt their conversation. TJ lets out a frustrated breath and Cyrus could tell it was hard for him to try and get out what he wanted to say. Cyrus wears a kind smile and gently pushes TJ around the corner of the building and away from the people.

“I’m sorry I reacted the way I did.” TJ says when they’re alone again, “I’m sorry for how I’ve acted the past week and a half.”

“It’s okay.” Cyrus assures, “I just as easily could have been the one to freak out.”

“But you didn’t, you were all mature whilst I was a huge jerk and pushed you away.” TJ frowns.

“TJ, it’s okay.” Cyrus says with an understanding smile.

“It really isn't.” TJ shakes his head, “Nothing happened how I imagined it would and I messed it all up.”

“What exactly were you imagining?” Cyrus wonders.

“Cyrus, I hate feelings.” TJ whines.

“I’m the last person in the universe that is going to judge you.”

TJ lets out a sigh, he folds his arms to guard himself, “I’d be lying if I said I actually ever had any intention of telling you how I felt but in a perfect dream land maybe I would say something and you’d be like ‘me too’ and then it would all be sunshine and rainbows.”

Cyrus smiles at TJ’s embarrassed expression. “I can’t believe you imagined us getting together.”

“Shut up.” TJ frowns and he gives Cyrus a gentle shove.

“No, I just mean I never thought you’d like me back —I’m still not even sure if that’s what you are saying—” Cyrus says with furrowed brows.

“That is what I’m trying to say.” TJ palms his face and Cyrus’ smile picks up again. “Along with apologising for freaking out about it.”

“Are you scared about liking me, or scared of what liking me means?” Cyrus questions.

“It’s not like it was news to me. I mean sure it’s confusing and a whole thing but I’ve already spoken to my mom about it briefly and-”

“You’ve spoken to your mom about being..” Cyrus didn't really want to fill in the blank.

“Gay.” TJ finishes, “Yes. But that’s not why I freaked out. I mean yes it’s still pretty scary but I freaked out because you were the boy I kissed. I don’t want to like you, Cyrus.”

“Oh..” Cyrus’ face drops.

“No, no, thats not what I meant,” TJ says quickly, “I mean you’re too important to me. I thought I had ruined us by kissing you.”

“My dozens of texts and voicemails didn't make you think otherwise?” Cyrus questions.

“I was scared that conversation would end along with our friendship.” TJ frowns.

“You think I’m that kind of person?”

“Not at all, but I was afraid if you knew about my feelings then things would be different between us.”

“How come you still pushed me away when I told you I liked you too?” Cyrus asks.

“I had convinced myself that feelings would wreck the friendship but I was already doing a good job of that myself...” TJ sighs, “And if feelings didn’t wreck the friendship I’m sure I would have done something to wreck a relationship.”

“TJ-”

“No, Cyrus,” TJ stops him, “Look how well I did under pressure, do you really want to commit to that?”

“Yes I do.” Cyrus says firmly and he breaks with a nervous laugh. “TJ I like you, I liked you before you kissed me, I know how you react when you’re vulnerable. I wanted you to kiss me.” Cyrus says, “TJ, you have every right to be confused by this. I am. Do you think I know how to handle this? I honestly probably wouldn't have said anything to you about how I felt either because I value our friendship so much.”

“Do you think that’s all we should be then?” TJ asks.

“I think the reason we couldn't seem to get over our fight is because we can’t just be friends.” Cyrus says.

“Well that’s inconvenient.” TJ huffs and Cyrus can’t help but smile. “So what do we do now?”

“I don’t know.” Cyrus shrugs with a laugh, “This isn't how I imagined it would go either.”

“So you have imagined it too?” TJ asks.

“I picked the surprise kiss thing but it didn’t end like the mistletoe mishap.” Cyrus admits sheepishly.

“What about Eli?” TJ questions.

“Well I didn’t know him back when I pictured it...”

“I mean what about him now?” TJ lightly rolls his eyes, “Do you like him?”

“As a friend.” Cyrus nods, “But I like you, TJ. That’s not going to change in a week.”

TJ looks almost relieved by Cyrus’ affirmation. “Okay so, do over?”

“Like start over?” Cyrus questions.

“I meant can I kiss you again?” TJ shifts nervously on his feet.

“Oh, oh.”

“Or did I make it weird by asking you?” TJ frowns.

“No.” Cyrus shakes his head, “I think maybe we’re making it weird by asking if we’re making it weird?”

“Maybe we should just let it happen naturally?” TJ suggests. “Whenever that may-”

TJ is cut off by Cyrus taking the lead this time and initiating the kiss. Much like their first one under the mistletoe, they’re a little stiff, both their lips are cold from the frosty air and TJ is surprised by Cyrus’ actions but they loosen into the kiss and thankfully it didn't end just as Cyrus let himself enjoy it. It was still nerve wracking to say the least but Cyrus couldn't have wished for a more perfect moment.

“I didn’t want to wait, sorry.” Cyrus crinkles his nose as they part and TJ laughs, they’re still close enough that his warm breath brushes Cyrus’ skin.

“That is okay.” TJ laughs again, his heart still racing from the kiss.

“We should have timed this better.” Cyrus jokes, “We could have gotten it in right before midnight and then the fireworks could set off behind us, pow, pow, pow.”

“Or, we could just kiss again at midnight?” TJ suggests shyly but he’s smiling at Cyrus’ theatrics.

“Or we could do that.” Cyrus chuckles.

“Should we go find our friends?” TJ asks with a small smile.

“Yeah.” Cyrus nods and they begin to make their way back inside but before they enter Cyrus stops TJ. “You know, this might not have been how we imagined it, but it wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Not bad at all.” TJ smiles.

The two knew they might still have a lot to work out but at least both of the teens enter the new year with no regrets.

THE END

End Notes: So I feel like I just sort of ended this?? Idk. I hope you’re happy with the ending!!! That is is! That is me done for my contribution to the 12 days of tyrus!! I am 20 minutes late posting this last chapter but other than that I stuck to my schedule!!!!

In this story: 1. Hanukkah ✓ 2. Christmas with the Kippens ✓ 3. Secret Santa/Gift Exchange ✓ 4.Snow ✓ 5. Mistletoe ✓ 6. Christmukkah ✓ 7. New Years Eve ✓ 8. AU day 9. Based off a holiday song 10. Santa photo booth ✓ 11.The worst Hanukkah/Christmas ever ✓ 12. Free day! ✓ (I did what ever I wanted so lol ✓✓✓)

There were only two prompts I didn’t work into the story (I originally had plans to work them in lightly but they felt too forced so I chose not to) !!

ALSO THIS IS IMPORTANT: I am very sorry to announce this will be my last tyrus fic for a long while (possibly forever :(!! ) as I will be going travelling in less than 2 weeks and I will not have the time. I hope to stay as active in the fandom as I can but it saddens me that I won't be able to produce any new fics for you all!!

Thank you so much to everyone who has read this story and any I have posted in the past! You make my time on tumblr so wonderful and rewarding! I love you guys!!

My tag list:

❄️ @baby-its-gayy-outside ❄️ @byersrainbows ❄️ @geekingbeautytx ❄️ @shadows78787 ❄️ @joshua-rush-fanpage ❄️ @thedampjofangirl ❄️ @homosexualearthworm ❄️ @jovianspacewoman ❄️ @janky-snorpion ❄️

#tyrus #andi mack #tj kippen #cyrus goodman #winter wishes #12 days of tyrus #12daysoftyrus

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momestuck · 6 years

Text

Let’s read Hiveswap Friendsim... volume 17!

The penultimate volume. Let’s sacrifice a few more timelines to the great tapestry of fate that we’re weaving. Or more likely, Doc Scratch is weaving.

This time, “Of Teen and Tech, Acerbic”.

One more jade, and one more indigo. I think at this point we have a pretty even spread across the non-Sea Troll blood colours.

Daraya

I thought there was a TV show of this name, but apparently it’s ‘Daria’. This troll and that Daria seem to have a similar attitude, judging by the image. As for ‘Daraya’, it refers to a handful of places, notably Darayya in Syria, which was apparently the site of a massacre seven years ago during the civil war. Oof.

Daraya is the final troll written by Cee. L. Kyle, creator of prior memorable trolls Bronya, Zebruh, Remele and Lynera. I guess Cee likes writing jades.

Anyway, Daraya’s route begins as a few have in recent episodes - the protag feeling lethargic and listless, too tired to make friends.

We end up in a cerulean neighbourhood. There are some pointed lines...

When this game wants to, it really skewers its targets.

Anyway, the music kicks in as we realise Elwurd (the huge lesbian) texted us to invite us to a party. A bunch of other trolls seem to be showing up as well...

The track this time is called “trollkind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. to obtain something, something of equal value must be lost. that is alchemys first law of equivalent exchange. in those days, we really believed that to be the worlds one and only truth”. No prizes for guessing who decided to name a song after an extended quote from Fullmetal Alchemist.

There’s some more emphasis on how artificial our friendship feelings are...

Anyway, as we approach the party, we spot Daraya, busy looking very goffick.

She’s not thrilled to see us. Of course we’d be friends with Elwurd, she says grumpily.

Now in Befriend Mode, we do our best to mimic her whole ‘disaffected slouch’. Apparently being vaguely cynical and depressed is pleasing to Daraya. She seems to like Elwurd though...

Lesbians, I swear...

I swear...

Anyway, we learn that Daraya has snuck out of the caverns - though she’s not as restricted as little Wanshi. She whines about Bronya’s ‘cloister rules’. But hey, she met Elwurd through Bronya...

We blather about how the caves aren’t so bad, and namedrop some other jades we know. Daraya is not impressed.

Anyway, she’s not invited. So our first choice is to tell her to go home or invite her in.

Let’s let her in, because the other way doesn’t seem to go anywhere interesting.

Bronya isn’t the only troll we know at this party. Chahut apparently hasn’t yet shipped out off planet, and she shows up too.

Chahut makes some remarks about how fascinating she finds jadebloods... or ‘greenies’ as she puts it. She makes a murder joke about whether Daraya is really jade or not.

Yes, that’s exactly how I’d put it. Definitely.

After that brief brush with death, Daraya gets other ideas.

Mmhmm. As we head off, Daraya suggests we have a reputation for being ‘unconventional, weird and rebellious’. That’s certainly one way to describe ‘being a clueless alien pathologically addicted to making friends’.

Ahahaha nicely done.

Unfortunately we don’t have a lot of edgy rebellious ideas tonight.

I’m in favour of being a hoodlum.

Lots of new backgrounds in this episode. Somewhat different style too...

Apparently these are by Phil Gibson.

We ask Daraya how she’s doing. Her answer: not well.

Daraya says some dangerously radical stuff about how everything sucks for everyone but the highbloods... and maybe them too. We get a callback to the joke from last time...

Ha.

The narrator refuses to comment on that. That’s a good call, I think.

Daraya continues to complain. As a jadeblood, she’s not going to have to go into space, but life in the caverns tending to matters of social reproduction. We commiserate, which she appreciates.

We raise an eyebrow at the mention of Lynera. Danara assures us that she hates her - and not in a romantic way! (“or well...”)

At that point, we run into Tyzias. Just the person to take Daraya’s alienation and dissatisfaction and forge it into a revolutionary will, right?

Luckily, protag has the same idea. Which is no doubt why Tyzias was written into the plot at this point.

The well known “goth to anarchist” pipeline, right?

There’s a brief allusion to the weird shift that happened with Fozzer - a vague memory of a different Fozzer. “But why did you remember that guy?” indeed.

Tyzias tries to give a Daraya a little pep talk against hopelessness... Daraya is not particularly persuaded.

God I know that utterly depressing feel. What can one troll do, indeed?

Tyzias answers it the challenge.

She’s not wrong.

Daraya is not exactly being won over, but the protag does manage to get her to chill a bit and keep the conversation going. Tyzias has more real shit to say.

Daraya challenges her - is it just about making herself feel better, if there’s no realistic hope of real change? Tyzias says... in some way, it is. And the protag chimes in - that doesn’t make it less effective, at whatever little it is achieving.

At the end of this, I’m gonna try and make a list like... troll I would most want to be friends with in real life, and least, favourite route and so on. Spoilers: Tyzias would be the friend I’d want to make.

Tyzias points out like... what the hell else are they gonna do? Daraya finally admits she’s got a point.

And... having secured a friendship between not just us and Daraya, but us and Tyzias... we reach the end of the arc.

Let’s go fuck shit up. By which we mean, read law books. I guess!

That was nice. I fully support this lesbian goth and her budding revolutionary consciousness.

God I’m predictable.

Unfortunately, finding the friendship route here means it’s all downhill from here.

If we tell her to go home instead of bringing her to the party...

strut pod encasements!

That was predictably short.

OK, now for the non-phoned in side branch.

She does have an idea, it turns out. We hop into our (now quite low on fuel) car, and head off to a ruined city somewhere near the thriving one we’re living in.

Ooh. I wonder what we’ll find?

We make our way to an abandoned mall to go urbexing. Fuck, I love reading about urbex. Too much of a shut-in to have ever actually tried it.

We end up in a food court with the roof caved in. It’s apparently cool as hell. Alas, it’s not illustrated.

I’m not sure which rebellion this would be associated with. That of the Signless, or some other?

Ah, that narrows it down. The Signless rebellion, then. In which case... Alternian malls are really built to last!

We comment on the strangeness of the absence of adults, but this upsets Daraya.

Apparently, as an adult, she’ll be cloistered off on her own somewhere, and forbidden to contribute genes to the slurry. Huh.

To be honest, it’s a wonder that most other trolls are so cheery. Daraya’s attitude seems like the sensible one on this planet.

Daraya says some real shit about the existential dread she’s living with, the paralysing hopelessness of having no future to speak of.

Hey Daraya, do you fancy this copy of Baedan I happen to have on hand?

make total destroy etc. etc.

Anyway, at this point... Daraya somehow manages to set the mall on fire by throwing a mall at a cooker.

And... the narrator has no choice but to leave, as Daraya lets herself burn in the centre of the mall, one of the few places she cared about.

God, this episode was a bit real lol.

It’s not wrong though. Leftist theory certainly hasn’t cured my depression (lol), but it has given me some perspective to put it in a context where it can be managed, I guess. Something to work towards, no matter how futile it may be, in this fucking hell world that created me.

In the words of 2B... “Everything that lives is designed to end. We are perpetually trapped in a never-ending cycle of life and death. Is this a curse? Some kind of punishment? I often think about the god who blessed us with this cryptic puzzle... and wonder if I will ever get the chance to kill him.”

Let’s look to the struggle within the cycle. What else is there?

Nihkee

So now for...

Nihkee. She stronk. Keep your pants on, lesbians.

Nihkee is the creation of David Turbull, who previously made Tegiri (weeb) and Tirona (baby lawyer). Her theme, appropriately bombastic, is another James Roach piece with a long name: “lmao i still dont know if it’s nicky or nike (like the shoe, not like... the name mike)”. Make of that what you will.

This episode opens in media res - at a sporting arena. How did we get here?

We seem to be watching some kind of cage fight. Knowing trolls, I imagine it will be a lethal one.

Apparently we’re attending to Amisia. She bemoans the ‘boorishness’ of the purplebloods.

This seems to be the troll equivalent of pro-wrestling, rather than, say, MMA. However, injuries are a lot more common. We learn that Amisia won us tickets in a raffle, and invited us to this ‘Display of Muscular Theatre’.

We are watching The Huntress (olive) fight Cullpitz (purple). The narration mentions that Cullpitz is bizarrely un-clowny.

The fights are, naturally, rigged by hemospectrum. The narration notes that The Huntress seems to be deliberately holding back to avoid inciting the crowd. Amisia, however, is excited for the next competitor: Nihkee Moolah of course, who - Amisia claims - has never lost a fight.

Cullpitz wins the fight, and causes The Huntress a likely permanent injury. The protag feels sick enough to have to step away. But as we leave, we get drawn into a conversation with a violetblood (seadweller). He promises money (nah), fame (no thank you) and at last, friendship. And the deal is sealed.

Unfortunately, Nihkee’s opponent is dead. Which means... he wants us to take their place. Having an alien will make big money for the ring.

Let me guess: the choice is gonna be to refuse this terrible plan or go with it.

Maybe, but not yet...

We meet Nihkee, in the middle of working out. Some of these trolls are dressed more for MMA than pro-wrestling but who knows.

There’s a meta joke in the narration.

She is not best pleased with the showrunner for interrupting her prep. Though, I get the impression it’s all in the spirit of showtrollship.

Sure are some muscles. I’m not entirely sure what the [()] typing quirk is menat to represent exactly. Probably not a yonic symbol?

It’s worth noting at this point that all of my knowledge of professional wrestling comes from reading the TVTropes pages a couple of times. If you’re curious, it’s an impressively comprehensive discussion of wrestling terminology and the various dynamics involved in its production.

Kayfabe is the way wrestlers pretend in their media appearances that pro-wrestling competitions are not mostly scripted athletic performances with exaggerated personas, but genuine fights between real people who actually act like their stage characters. Now all the fans fully understand that wrestling is fake (but still fun), it’s not taken as seriously, but apparently it was a huge deal back in the 70s. Give the article a read, it’s fascinating.

Nihkee is not particularly impressed by the suggestion of performing with us.

We protest. At length.

We get the first choice: are we ready for a BUTT CLENCHING, FLESH ABRADING, KNUCKLE BLISTERING, MUSCLE RIPPLING, SMACKDOWN FROM UPTOWN?

Of course we fucking are.

She gives us guidelines for the show. Basically: follow her storyline. “The alien invader challenges me in an exhibition match to TOPPLE the MIGHTIARCHY.” We struggle, but eventually...

...PREVAILS AGAIN!

(I guess to convey suitable drama, a lot of Nihkee’s dialogue is split between multiple dialogue boxes, which makes it a little hard to take screenshots.)

We ask if we’ll die. She assures us no - unless we’re especially weak. But even then...

Well, that’s a great reason to die. Sign me up.

Secondly, an “exhibition match” means we will not be challenging each other for positions on the “flexeladder” - otherwise we’d have to wrestle nude, like at the “Intergalactic Trollympics”. I’d count that as a blessing.

We bring up the question of face and heel. You can read about these on tvtropes, but the narrator does a pretty good job of explaining.

In troll society, of course, the traits we’d ascribe to a ‘heel’ are valorised. So we’re just going to get crushed under her heel. Indeed.

Time for the match. The showrunner does the announcement for Nihkee.

In a clear allusion to good old Equius, Nihkee’s entrance is accompanied by a shower of thrown glasses of milk from the fans.

And opposing her whole deal is...

“Some messed up lowblood alien”. Huh, usually when I go into an arena fight in games I’m the “mysterious stranger”. Who could have seen this coming?

Ah, that’s what fate was working towards this whole time! Thanks, Doc Scratch, for your dedication to the cause of wrestling.

So, naturally, we’re playing the foreigner. Here to prove our superiority to trollkind. TVTropes naturally has an article on this: the Foreign Wrestling Heel. We’re going by the book here.

We put up a good bit of bravado. But are we prepared to face, Nihkee demands, her...

OK, you got me. I’m laughing out loud again.

The protagonist puts up a pretty good show, it seems like - barely dodging Nihkee’s attacks in a suitably dramatic fashion. We bleed, but the narration suggests that under the stage lights, the trolls will take it as ordinary ‘rust’ blood and not ‘mutant’ red. We hope.

Nihkee invites us to attack with appropriate pomp. But we...

...don’t do that, not directly. We springboard off the edge of the cage in “a classic clothesline manoeuvre”... and get knocked the fuck out.

But we haven’t reached our second decision point yet, so that can’t be the end of us. Hopefully we gave the trolls what they wanted.

Do we even have a fourth wall anymore?

Anyway, this turns out to be Nihkee’s hive. She is not impressed at our ring performance - getting knocked out by our own attack. Well, that’s fair.

Training montage incoming?

Hell yes. (She calls everyone sister, including the announcer guy, in case you’re wondering if that’s an implicit gendering of the protag.)

She’s brought us to her BRAWNISEUM. As we can see in the illustration... it’s pretty much made for Space Marines to train at.

After her speech about our indomitable will and potential, she invites us to ASCEND with her.

Hell yeah. Let’s [S] ASCEND together!

Of course we fucking take it.

We start with the acid treadmill. (The acid doesn’t seem to be depicted.) She turns it up... a bit fast.

We manage to run at 12 miles per hour - which is about bronze level good. Apparently all the machines rate us by blood colour. While the low end of the hemospectrum gets the badass psychic powers, the high end gets the physical strength, it seems. There’s more jokes about how great our legs are - they merit a cerulean!

All the while, Nihkee ‘encourages’ us in a way that’s gendered in the opposite way that things usually are on Earth.

After half an hour of that, she gives us a protein shake... except it’s not a protein shake but ‘gatorade mixed with milk’. Amazing.

Then we get tested for ‘pressure resistance’ in a soft iron maiden. Apparently that’s olive level.

The overall verdict?

Hooray.

We do more of this - including getting chased by a literal toothy monster. By the time we finally collapse...

She’s impressed by our commitment - our “strength of heart and soul”. And our great appreciation for the MOST RIGHTEOUS OF PURSUITS... earns us the recognition of “workout friend”.

And that rounds out the arc. Presumably after some more of this, the narrator will be due for a return to the ring.

Go us!

Easy arc to find the right answers in, evidently. Now to see what happens if we hesitate.

First of all, before the match...

We can’t watch as she pulls out lowblood challengers from the audience and smashes their faces into the spikes. Oh, trolls. We get treated to an image of this, too.

Mmm, indeed.

Now, if we hesitate later before the workout session...

She dismisses us - unworthy of her gifts, unwilling to reach our full potential.

She tells us to get out of her sight. The narration steps in to make another meta joke (that’s like three this arc?)

We get a fake out fade to black and the first note of the end card music... but then!

...GET RIIII(...)IIIPPPPPED! In our own way.

D --> Hmm, 100k at this e%tremely subtle reference.

Anyway, that someone turns out to be... Stelsa! And Tyzias, who happens to be present. There’s a brief discussion of a fast food service called ‘door smash’, and Stelsa’s love of scheduling. They’re cute together.

But let’s get down to business... to defeat...

...our own flimsiness.

Stelsa’s into it.

Then we hang with her and Tyzias for a bit. We suggest Tyzias might consider energy drinks.

This arc then extends over... a long time!

Multiple weeks! And the training seems to be going well...

It’s almost as if ‘drill sergeant’ isn’t the ideal demeanour for a coach after all.

But as we go to show off our progress to Nihkee, the question of this being a non-canon branch leads us to hesitate.

So we decide to ‘blitz our chakras’ to try and work this out. We put on some ocean noises (which leads to a change in the soundtrack! soft music starts playing, seguing into the menu music) and... start imagining some metaphors.

In our reverie, we slip beneath the surface of the river.

Things get kind of meta. I’m just gonna take a bunch of screenshots because this seems... important.

The images of failed branches, all these catastrophes, blur together on top of each other.

We are implored to ‘find our river’. And we find the two branches of the current route... one sounding much more inviting than the other.

Then things get REALLY meta.

And then we get the rest of the arc in some kind of summary form, all in this... letterboxed? That’s not the right word, but whatever... all in this view. Nihkee is not pleased to see us. We come up with the idea of sneaking in.

It does not seem to end well.

She chases us on one leg and we escape by getting her run over by a train. But she becomes a cyborg coming to chase us down, terminator-like. Yeah, seriously.

NIHKEEBORG spends a year hunting us across the wilderness. And eventually... she catches us. We die.

And coming out of the meditation, we decide... not to do that. We just go to Stelsa’s house instead, and let Nihkee be.

Oof.

God, you never know what you’re going to stumble onto in this game. That was amazing.

Next time: FINAL CHAPTER.

#momestuck #lets read hiveswap friendsim

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