#my appointment a couple days ago was supposed to clear me to do certain things again but they denied it and i've been sulking for days | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aria-i-adagio · 3 years ago

Text

Mudlark

aka. Chapter 46 of Where the Elfroot Grows (read on AO3)

---

Rhys Trevelyan - Fucking Herald of Andraste and newly appointed Lord Fucking Inquisitor - kneels on the warm ground of Skyhold’s garden, ripping out weeds with his bare hands, getting dirt all over his trousers, and trying his best to enjoy the autumn sun in peace. The walls of the garden are working as they should, collecting and trapping the heat of the day, even as the shadows cast by the trees begin to grow long. It’s brilliant engineering, even more brilliant than he thought at first. Even at lower elevations, the season for pears and applies should have passed, but the trees here are still producing. He suspects some sort of enchantment built into the walls to amplify the natural effects of the design, but he hasn’t been able to clear enough growth to uncover all the stonework. He’d have finished days ago. Except for Leliana and Cassandra interrupting his plans to declare him Inquisitor.

He’s as close to alone as he’s likely to manage anytime soon. Mother Giselle wandered into the chapel a half hour or so ago either to pray or to work on cleaning and repairing the ancient statue. She’d probably tell him that work and prayer are much the same if one has the right attitude of devotion to Andraste’s teachings and the Maker’s will. He heard the sound of other feet in the gallery a bit after Mother Giselle passed followed by the scraping of a chair being pulled into a desirable spot. Someone might be there still, but whoever it is, they aren’t bothering him, just trying to get a break of their own from the general cacophony of a hundred or so people trying to make Skyhold fully habitable.

It shouldn’t bother him so; it wasn’t as though he’d ever had space to himself in the Circle, but there’s something very different about being in charge of more than seedlings. And Inquisitor feels so much more permanent, so much heavier, than Herald.

Josie kidnapped him promptly after breakfast and trapped him in meetings all day. First with Leliana about the couriers she would be sending: to the Inquisition camps around Redcliffe, to the Chantry, to the College of Enchanters, to Queen Anora in Denerim, to Orzammar, maybe to the Queen of Antiva. Rhys had honestly lost count at a certain point, even though he did his best to read the ones she wanted him to sign. They were all variations on the same theme - an announcement that the Inquisition had survived the destruction of Haven, a reminder that they were responsible for closing the Breach, and requests for supports to oppose Corypheus.

Then, Rutherford and Cassandra wanted to discuss the soldier’s progress repairing an old road that ran through a pass between Ferelden and Orlais, just under the peak on which Skyhold sits. Rutherford says the road is in shockingly good condition and mostly only needs a bit of clearing a few holes filled to be usable by caravans. At the moment, the engineers can’t explain why it was abandoned, as once opened the route will save a significant amount of time transporting products between Orlais and the Lake Calenhad region. Further, they’d discovered auxiliary forts will secure Skyhold's control of what will be a valuable trade route. There’s some discussion of collecting tolls as a source of income for the Inquisition, but it all seems very abstract to him.

The only part of the report that Rhys is internally motivated to be interested in is the repair work on an ingenious winch and cable system that would allow people and goods to be moved up and down the mountain in a matter of hours, versus days. Like the road, it is in remarkable condition - a little grease and a few solders to the heavy cables made it functional again. They’re already able to use it to send messages and lightweight supplies up and down the mountain. (And one adventurous member of Bull’s Chargers. Rhys is slightly envious.) To operate it with any significant amounts of weight, they'll need some strong draft animals to turn the winches at the base and the summit, but Rhys is told that the contact he had made with the farmers around Redcliffe and a few generous handfuls of gold should be able to make that happen.

Rhys had just thought assisting the farmers to secure watchtowers so that they could better defend themselves seemed like the right thing to do as he had no solution to the conflict in the area. Even without Templars and Maleficarii, there were still bears to worry about. Rhys has developed a strong dislike of bears. But they do all the allies they can manage. And Rhys wouldn’t say no to a bear fur or ten or a hundred. Skyhold is magnificent, but with the exception of the garden suntrap, the temperatures are rapidly dropping below anything he’s ever experienced.

An hour after lunch, when he thought the four of them were finished with him, Harritt showed up talking about the tunnels underneath the keep that he’d been exploring with a small team. They go deep, far deeper than Harritt is comfortable taking the men without reinforcements, but he just feels that they reach the Deep Roads. Skyhold is close to Orzammar after all. No signs of Darkspawn, thank Andraste! But they do need to be mindful of the possibility of an attack from below. (It balances the threat of an attacking dragon from above, Rhys supposes. Good to keep your equations balanced.) Cassandra suggested that Harritt take Blackwall along with a few soldiers to explore further, and around yawns, Rhys agreed with her. If the road between Ferelden and Orlais is somehow valuable, why not a road to Orzammar? Or Minrathous? All the roads!

Rhys continues ripping out vines and mentally curses all four of them for promoting him from Herald to Inquisitor. (Although, he’s fairly sure that Rutherford isn’t entirely happy about having a mage in charge for the longue durée.) Morning glories - another plant that would generally need a warmer clime to survive, even as stubborn as it is. Pretty flowers, but they take over everything. He’ll transplant some to a bed near an arbor he discovered two days ago when he swung a machete at a stand of ragweed and hit a metal post. The morning glories will be a desirable replacement - Josie will like the decorative element - if he can keep them contained.

Why couldn’t Andraste just need a gardener?

That question, of course, assumed that Andraste is in fact, the Bride of the Maker and thus, endowed with the power to toss Rhys back out of the Fade (however he ended up there in the first place), which, in turn, assumes the existence of the Maker and not just an empty throne in the middle of a Golden City. And as far as Rhys has ever been able to tell, the Maker’s existence can be neither proven nor disproven, and the people debating it - quietly, of course - were both wasting their breath and risking their necks.

A better question might be, why in the Void did he let Cassie talk him into agreeing to lead the Inquisition? It was a bit unfair of her and Leliana to ambush him with the question in public. And Josie and Rutherford’s little display of rallying acclamation from the survivors of Haven strongly suggested that the decision had already been made before Cassandra and Leliana asked him.

From the Fade and into the fire. Just my luck.

Rhys is too distracted by humoring his own grumbling to notice the loose, mounded soil hiding under the vines until his right hand is buried well past his wrist and stinging sharply from hundreds of tiny mandibles pinching the flesh and sinking venom under the surface of his skin.

Rhys springs up and back with a yelp, flinging his arm to the side in an attempt to shake the ants free, then immediately back in front of him to cast a cage of lightning around the anthill, hoping that it circles deep enough underground to cut off the entire colony before any more of the ants can swarm out to attack him.

“Andraste’s flaming weasel -” Some of the ants have already gotten under his sleeve, and it doesn’t take many of this species to produce abject misery. He swats futilely at his arm, then gives up and tears off his jacket. “Knickerbocker tits!”

“Rhys, has some demon of dance possessed you?”

“Ants.” Rhys tosses the jacket aside and tries to crush the insects between the fabric of his sleeve and his arm for a second before ripping the buttons on his shirt open and stripping it off as well. A couple of the damned terrors have made it to his neck and chest. “Blighted fire ants.” Ugh. That’s a horrible notion - fire ants infected with the Blight. The Maker really will have abandoned us.

“So dramatic. Here -” Dorian attempts to brush a few of the blighters off before Rhys can stop him. “Fasta vass! That thing bit me.”

“Yes.” Rhys flicks one off his neck and sweeps his left hand over his right arm. Be damned nice if this Anchor were effective against fire ants. “Get me a bucket of water, will you?”

The static cage spell will wear off shortly, releasing any of the ants that hadn’t been shocked to death already. And those ants will be an infuriated horde with murder on their hive mind. Rhys ignores the stinging long enough to cast as controlled and intense of a fire spell as he can manage over the mound and watches with satisfaction as it erupts through the weeds and rolls over the anthill in a destructive wave. Invasive little fuckers. Kill them. Kill them with fire.

Rhys grabs the full bucket from Dorian and splashes the water over his right side, knocking most of the remaining ants loose and hopping away from that bit of ground before they can recover and decide to crawl up his leg.

“The hell are those things?”

“Fire ants.” Rhys glares at the scorched earth, watching for movements that might single a second assault. Dorian really must have spent the majority of his time in cities and libraries if he didn’t know about fire ants. The things are native to Tevinter and had been slowly invading the south for decades. He goes back to the well in the center of the garden and draws another bucket of water to dump over his head. “Also known as the most vicious little blighters known to Thedas.”

“Certainly they can’t be that bad. They’re just insects.”

“I fell into a mound once when I was still an apprentice... I’ll take a small horde of Darkspawn over these things.” Rhys rubs his hands over his neck and face. He doesn’t think he’s allergic; the bites should just be an irritant - just one more irritant for an irritating day - but people do develop allergies to insect bites following initial exposure. He can’t feel any swelling around his throat, but there is an itch along his jaw. He swats at his cheek - unsure if there’s an ant, or if he’s just imagining it - and inadvertently smears water and dirt together into mud.

“Ah, thus the warpaint.” Dorian smirks at him.

Rhys touches his face. The tacky mud over his cheek and nose sticks to his fingertips. Fortunately, it seems like Dorian is the only other person about to bear witness. Rhys laughs. Ah yes, he should definitely be in charge of a quasi-religious movement with a military. “Yes. The warpaint.” He slaps his thigh as he feels another series of stingings pricks. Excellent. One or two had made it to his legs, but at least it’s not a swarm. “And the two or three more fireballs I’m about to hit that mound with.”

“Such a vengeful little mudlark. Ready to defend his territory. Want help?”

“Oh yes. Fire. Kill them with fire.” Rhys casts another fire spell over the mound as the first burns out, silently apologizing to any innocent soil dwellers caught in it... But... Fire ants.

“Then quick healing spell, a bath, and clean clothes, I suppose?”

“Volunteering to help with that too?”

“I could be.” Dorian paces a tight circle around Rhys and flicks one of the insects off his back with a single manicured nail. “You seem rather distraught to be left alone.” A wave of magic - Dorian’s spells always feel warm - flows over him, easing the stinging, although the sensation - real or imagined or a combination - of insect feet has Rhys ready to crawl out of his skin - along with the rest of his clothes.

“Inquisitor?” Cassandra shouts down from a window in the tower she’s claimed for herself. “What are you doing? Why are there flames?”

“Fire ants!” Rhys yells back. That should be self-explanatory. He thinks the known range of the damned bugs includes Nevarra, but then Cassandra hasn’t spent that much time in Nevarra, and probably not that much time stomping through weeds anywhere. Andraste! Fire ants under armor. He shivers at the thought.

“What?” Cassandra sounds confused.

“Don’t worry about it, Seeker. The Herald and I have everything under control.”

Rhys can imagine her grumpy huff even if he can’t hear it over the sound of the shutters of the window slamming shut.

Dorian’s eyebrows arch high with amusement. “Be careful, Rhys, or there’ll be a rumor started that you’ve gone quite mad.”

“If I get many more bites -” He smacks a different spot on his thigh. “I just might.”

“Well then, we’d better go make sure you get them all drowned then. Is it safe to touch your shirt?”

“Leave it. Damn things will get confused now that their colony is gone and wander off in a bit.” He can retrieve the shirt and jacket to be cleaned later - once the ants are well gone. The morning glory vines around the ant mound are too green for the fire to spread easily, but Rhys throws another bucket of water over them to be safe. Josie would probably tell him it’s bad form to burn down one’s new base of operations. And then yet another bucket over his head.

If Varric has questions when Rhys, shirtless and still dripping water stalks past the table he’s writing at with an amused Dorian following behind, he keeps them to himself.

“Why so grumpy today?” Dorian asks. He’d volunteered to go find some dry, ant-free clothes for Rhys, and after returning to the kitchen storeroom - the most rational place to locate a tub for bathing until further repairs are made - had remained, leaning against the closed door and toying with the rings he wears, switching them from finger to finger. “You're normally as chipper as a little bird.”

“A mudlark?”

“Does that bother you? I won't call you that if it does.”

“No, no. I kind of like it.” Rhys scrubs a bit of soapy flannel between his toes - just in case an ant had found its way there. At least Josie won’t be able to complain about dirt under his fingernails for a few hours. “Much better than Herald.”

“Or Inquisitor?”

“Definitely better than Inquisitor.” Rhys slides down in the tub, dunking his head under the water again. His next oldest brother and little sister calling him snaggletooth when he was eight would be better than Inquisitor. Besides, he likes the way that Dorian says ‘mudlark’ when talking to him. Rhys resurfaces and pushes wet hair out of his face. “I really don't want to be called Inquisitor. And yet, here I am.”

“You know, the fact that you don't want to be Inquisitor might be precisely the reason why you should be.”

“I spent all morning trying to keep up with discussions on topics that I know nothing about. Politics, economics - roads! I’m not the right person for this.”

“You’ll learn. Quickly, I’m sure.”

“You’re more confident than I am.” Rhys flicks idly at the surface of the water. “But for what it’s worth, thanks.”

“Rhys, the kind of person who would be prepared for something like this is also the kind of person who is likely to abuse any power they are given. And you will have power once the rest of Thedas realizes the threat Corypheus poses. Wouldn’t you rather be the leader and not just the tool?”

Rhys lifts his left hand from the water and studies the Anchor carefully. Yes, a tool. An instrument that controls the Veil in terrifying ways that he doesn’t understand. Something that he’s not supposed to have and that an ancient monster desperately wants. The faint green glow is more apparent in the dim light of this basement room than it was in the sunlight of the garden - one more reason to cherish the place. “It feels so foreign. Wrong. Like some disease that should be pruned away.” He touches the first three fingers of his right hand to his palm and draws them slowly down to the fold of his elbow, following the path that the magic flows along before Solas pushes it back again.

Dorian’s brow creases and moves fluidly, kneeling on one knee beside the tub and catching Rhys’s hand in his. “You’ve managed well this far.” He weaves their fingers together, and almost - almost - touches his lips to Rhys’s knuckles. “You can always come rant to me, you know. If any given day is too much.”

Rhys remains still for the space of one, two, three heartbeats, then he runs his thumb over Dorian’s fingers, soft skin, metal rings warm with heat from his body.

Dorian’s eyes drop. His cheeks might be colored a touch, but Rhys can’t quite be sure in the dim light. He rises to his feet and turns away in a single elegant motion. “You should take a break. Soak for a while. Relax a bit.” He pushes the door open, just a crack, hesitating for the barest second. “I guess I’ll -”

“Dorian?”

His back straightens as he turns back around. “Yes.”

“Keep calling me mudlark.”

Dorian glances down, breaking eye contact between them, but the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles. “You know where to find me, Mudlark, trying to salvage books. I could try to do something about the mess you’ve made of your hands playing in the dirt again.”

#dragon age fanfiction #dorian x inquisitor #pavelyan #dorian pavus #dragon age inquistor #trevelyan #rhys trevelyan

11 notes · View notes

jungshookz · 5 years ago

Note

Idk if this has been sent before but imagine like baker jin and forgetful y/n like she needs to get a cake for yoongi asap bc she forgot his bday and jin is completely okay w working at supersonic speed for this cute little teary eyed person who seems to be in big trouble

➺ pairing; kim seokjin x reader

➺ genre; baker!jin duh, fluffier than jin’s popular angel food cake!! jin and y/n are a couple of cuties :’)

➺ wordcount: 3.9k

➺ what to expect; “okay! that’s easy. a birthday cake is doable! see? nothing to get teary-eyed over, darling!”

➺ note; i’m not going to lie the one thing that motivated me to finALLy write this request was the phrase ‘cute little teary-eyed person’ i am soFT! I AM SOFT! okay bye i love baker!jin

»»————-　🍰　————-««

you’ve been sitting in your car for the past twenty minutes trying to remember what exactly it was that namjoon asked you to do for yoongi’s birthday

you know it wasn’t to get everyone to sign his birthday card because that was your job lasT year and also jungkook is in charge of that this year because last week he literally asked you to sign yoongi’s card

and it definitely wasn’t to decorate the venue because namjoon always takes care of that (because he likes things done a certain way and doesn’t trust anyone else with the important job of whEre to place the balloons)

and it also wasn’t to wrap his birthday gifts because according to jimin your wrapping skills are awful and you have the cutting skills of a toddler using those play scissors

it certainly wasn’t to pick yoongi up from his apartment because if that was your job then yoongi would be in the car with you right now (it’s hoseok’s job this year)

and taehyung was the one who curated the invite list aNd took care of the music playlist so you know that wasn’t your job either

so what… in the world… did namjoon ask you to do?

your memory has always been pretty shitty so you probably should’ve written it down

actually you dID technically write it down the day namjoon asked you to take care of it because you remember vividly using your pen and writing it on the back of your hand and then you remember namjoon scolding you and delving into a lecture about the dangers of ink poisoning

but then you washed your hands

and once it was wiped away from your hand it was wiped away from your memory

and that was two weeks ago

so now

here you are

in the parking lot of the venue (you guys are celebrating yoongi’s suRPRISE party at his favourite video game arcade) sitting in your car in complete silence hoping that whatever task you were supposed to complete will just naturally come to you

the party starts at 8 and it’s 7 right now so you still have an hour left to think

you came early to help namjoon set up but then the whole ‘i feel like i’m forgetting something’ thought creeped into your mind and now here you are

and you’re a little afraid to go in and ask namjoon about your mystery task because you feel like he’s going to skin you alive if he finds out that you have noT completed the mystery task

but then again he’s namjoon and namjoon wouldn’t hurt a fly!!!! he’s a sweetie pie!!!

whatever your task is it probably wasn’t that important because namjoon should know better than to send you off with completing something that is integral to the success of yoongi’s surprise party

“you have three seconds to tell me that you’re kidding before i actually lose it.” namjoon presses his lips together before exhaling slowly

okay

quick breakdown of what happened after you decided to leave the safety of your car

you came in

said hello to everyone

complimented jimin’s gift-wrapping skills

snuck one of the mini cheeseburger off the foods table

asked tae if he could add dancing queen on the playlist because no party is complete without some ABBA

snuck a mini corndog off the foods table

and then wandered over to a busy namjoon to say hi but before you could say hi namjoon asked you where ‘it’ was, to which you responded with “what… what is ‘it’?”

“by it, i mean the birthday cake. yoongi’s birthday cake. yoongi’s birthday cake that you were supposed to take care of this year because of the revolving system that i- y/n, i need you to say something and stOP staring at me like you don’t know what i’m talking about-“

“oh, the birthday cake!” you snap your fingers before putting your hands on your hips “god, thanks for clearing that up for me. i was literally scratching my head over it for like an hour.”

well there we go!

the mystery has been solved!!!

now you know what namjoon asked you to do for yoongi’s birthday

you were supposed to get his birthday cake!

…

…hollup

the smile immediately drops from your face

YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GET YOONGI’S BIRTHDAY CAKE

“oh my- oh my goD-“ your eyes practically pop out of their sockets when it finally registers that you were supposed to order a custom birthday cake for yoongi and you definitely did noT order anything for yoongi

“y/n, i asked you to do one thing-!” namjoon groans and throws his hands up into the air

“i know, i know!!!!! it’s okay, i’ll fix this!” you reassure as you rummage through your purse for your car keys “what flavour should i get??? classic birthday cake?? lemon curd??”

“lem- leMON CUR- oh my GOD i want to hurl you into the middle of a busy intersection-“ namjoon feels like he’s about to have a stroke christ almiGHTY

LEMON CURD????

yoongi’s not turning EIGHTY

“lemon curd??” your voice is turning piTchy and that’s an indicator that you are PANICKING “was that a yes for lemon cur-“

you freeze in fear when namjoon suddenly reaches forward and squiSHes your face in between his hand

“shut up and listen to the words that are about to come out of my mouth.” he says lowly and you swallow thickly before nodding

you’re not sure if you like this namjoon

“a four layer cake. alternating layers of chocolate cake and confetti cake. light blue buttercream frosting in between the layers. dark blue buttercream frosting all around. black sprinkles around the cake - not the top, just around the cake, it’s crucial that there are no sprinkles on the top. in black buttercream frosting, ‘happy birthday yoongi’ in block letters.” he almost growls and you feel like your heart is about to fall out of your ass

if anything will teach you to nevEr forget anything again it’ll be this version of namjoon

he’s like bridezilla except instead of a bride he’s a self appointed party planner

“four layers. chocolate. confetti. light blue in between. dark blue all around. black sprinkles all around, not on top. happy birthday yoongi. block letters. black letters. block black letters??” you probably look like a crazy person muttering things to yourself as you huStle back to your car

namjoon said that if you don’t get back to the party with a custom birthday cake by the time the clock strikes 9:00 he’ll kill you and you beLIEVE him

since you’re not going to be there when the party starts jimin said he’ll come up with some buLLshit excuse about you running late so that yoongi doesn’t get too suspicious about your whereabouts

he mentioned that he didn’t really want a cake this year but all of you know how much yoongi loves cake

and you love seeing him make that ‘i’m pretending i’m surprised but in reality i knew this was going to happen all along’ face

it’s so cute!!

you slam the front door shut and hurry to buckle yourself in as you type ‘custom birthday cakes near me’ on google maps

it’s fine! you’ll be fine

you wiLL definitely be able to find some bakery to put together a suPER last minute custom birthday cake

more specifically, a four layer cake with alternating layers of chocolate cake and confetti cake slathered with blue buttercream frosting and covered with sprinkles around it (not on top! just around! very important!) and also it should say ‘happy birthday yoongi!’ and the writing should be in chunky letters using black buttercream frosting

“why do bakeries close so early???” you wonder out loud as you continue to scroll through the results

literally everything is closed

if there’s one thing you’ve learned from this it’s that bakers are noT night owls

c’mon come oN

you’ll take anything at this point

you nearly scream in joy when you see that there’s one bakery that a) specialises in custom cakes and b) is still open for another thirty minutes and c) is not that far from you!!!!

according to google the place called sweet kimfecjins

oh dear god

what the heLL kind of a name is that???

whA-

and it is far from you!!!! it’s a twenty minute drive away from you!!!

under these circumstances that’s not close at aLL

you need a place that’s at the most thirty seconds away from you (you are noT kidding you really need this cake right here right now)

what other options are there

well

there’s a mcdonald’s near you

maybe you can just buy a bunch of those apple pies and use the oreo mcflurries to glue them all together to buiLD a cake

sure, it’s literally the farthest thing from what namjoon told you to get, but it’s a cake!!!!!

…okay you can’t do that to yoongi

if you were presented with an apple-pie-mcflurry nightmare as a birthday cake you would be pretty bummed out

so this means one thing

sweet kimfecjins here we come

surprisingly enough you make it to the bakery in twelve minutes time without running any red lights oR running any pedestrians over

you did honk at a couple crossing the street but you made sure to shoot them an apologetic smile

they still flipped you off but the point is you made it to the bakery with like fifteen minutes left to spare until they close up for the night

and-

“oh- oh no- nonONoOnONONO-“ your eyes are as wide as saucers as you practically slam yourself up against the glass doors right as the (presumable) owner is flipping the sign to ‘closed’ “oh, please- please, google said that you’re not closing for like another fifteen minutes, please, you haVe to help me i nEED a cake-“

namjoon is going to have your head on a stick if you don’t get this cake so you are going to have to beg like you’ve never begged before

jin sighs to himself as he watches the clock tick tock tick tock

it’s been a slow day today

he had a couple people in this afternoon but they only bought like one strawberry turnover to share in between the two of them

who shaRES one single strawberry turnover???

psychopaths, that’s who

and also he had some tourists come in and they bought a box of his carrot cake cupcakes so that was pretty good

he also managed to convince them to buy another box of red velvet cupcakes >:-) it was actually pretty easy because he just had to flirt with the two girls and they immediately were like okAY more cupcakes won’t hurt

…what???

he has to make a living!!!

yoU would do the same if you had to make money

but other than that business has been a little slow

last week he had a bachelorette party cake request and he spent five hours moulding a penis out of fondant so that was pretty exciting

they even gave him a bonus tip because they said it looked very realistic

what can he say?? his hands are magical

but now he’s bored out of his mind and honestly he wouldn’t even mind if he got another request for a penis cake

he just wants to maKE something!!!

he made a couple cakes this morning and put them in the display cases hoping to lure people in to buy them but they’ve been untouched!! so he’s just going to pack up all the leftovers of the day and deliver it to the food bank

hopefully they’ll enjoy all his delicious treats.,.., that they’re getting for free.,,.., even though he would much rather prefer getting compensated for his hard work

do you SEE how beautifully braided the puff pastry is for his apple tarts???????

since no one seems to be buying baked goods at this hour jin decided to close up a little earlier tonight

he’s going to clean up a little bit and do some prepping for tomorrow (his secret to the best chocolate chip cookies is chilling the dough overnight) and then he’s going to pack up all the leftovers and deliver them and thEn he’s finally going to go home and maybe order some dinner or something

as he flips the sign to ‘closed’, he-

“jeSUS fuCJK-“ jin jumps thirty feet in the air when someone suddenly slams up against the glass doors

goD

“oh- oh no- nonONoOnONONO- oh, please- please, google said that you’re not closing for like another fifteen minutes, please, you haVe to help me i nEED a cake-“

thank god the doors are locked because whoever you are you seem INSANE

“i’m sorry, i’m closing up for the night!” jin replies and gives you a shrug “come back tomorrow! i open at 7am sharp-“ jin immediately stops talking when he notices your eyes starting to well up with tears

oh god

he didn’t mean to make you cry!!

why are you crying????

is 7am not early enough for you??

“i- um, i mean i guess i could open at 6:30 but to be honest i might pass out while frosting your cake that early because my beauty sleep is-“

“no, you don’t understand- it’s my friend’s birthday tonight a-and we’re throwing him a surprise party and i was supposed to get the cake for him because that was the task that namjoon- he’s another one of my friends - that he assigned to me but i- well, i wrote it down on my hand but then i washed my hands and then i kinda forgot about it but that was two weeks ago and now i have to get yoongi - that’s the birthday boy - i have to get him his special cake otherwise namjoon’s going to be so upset with me and-“ your mouth is running like a motor and jin can barely keep up with this story because you keep throwing in new details and also it’s hard to hear you through the glass

something something birthday cake something surprise party something bukjoon something something

okay

you know what

you made a fair point

he iS technically still open so he’ll let you in

(and also you’re…,,. kind of cute so there’s that)

a fat tear threatens to roll down your cheek as you continue to blubber and jin holds a finger up

you immediately shut up and jin offers you a smile before opening the door “i’ll help you if you stop crying.”

you nod quickly and reach up to wipe at your drippy eyes

your nose has gone a little pink and your eyes are glossy and jin can’t help but find that even moRe endearing

“now - what did you need?” jin asks calmly as he leads you towards the front counter

“a birthday cake.” you sniffle before clearing your throat

“okay! that’s easy. a birthday cake is doable!” jin claps his hands together after he makes his way behind the counter “see? nothing to get teary-eyed over, darling!”

okay woAh

he’s not sure where the pet-name came from

it just rolled off his tongue so naturally!!!

you hiccup and your nose twitches and jin feels his heart pit-a-pat in his chest

o boy

“but i- it has to be four layers and it has to be chocolate confetti chocolate confetti and then i need blue- light blue buttercream frosting in between the layers and… and i think dark blue buttercream around- or maybe it’s dark blue in between and light blue around-“ you start to ramble again and jin’s eyes widen

chRist

this birthday cake might not be that doable after all

usually he just has to write ‘happy birthday ____!’ on top of a cake and maybe make some pretty frosting roses on top and that’s it

“how about-“ jin interrupts you agAin with a gentle smile, “how about i get you a pen and paper and you can list out all the requirements for this special cake? in the meantime, i’ll heat up a cup of my homemade strawberry milk for you and- are you a fruit person or a chocolate person?”

“chocolate?” you pull a chair out from a table and drag it over so that you’re sitting right by the front counter “i like milk chocolate.”

“lucky for you, i use milk chocolate for my chocolate mousse cake. do you like whipped cream?” jin asks as he slides a notepad and pen over to you

you nod before offering him a shy smile

okay

so far so good

your cake actually isn’t that complicated! it just has a loT of different pieces that have to be put together

and it’s a good thing jin still has some pans of cake that he baked this morning (usually he bakes the cakes in the morning and then lets them rest for the night and then he frosts them the neXt morning so that it’s ready for his customers)

unfortunately he didn’t have any confetti cake so instead he replaced it with plain vanilla cake and then in the blue frosting he threw in a whole handful of sprinkles

and the buttercream frosting is easy to make because he makes them by the buCket so all he had to do was dump food dye in it

and he knows about your time limit so he’s working as quickly as possible

he really wants to strike up a conversation with you but a) he needs to focus and b) for some reason he can’t seem to turn his usual boyish charm on with you because you seem so… delicate?

and you seem to have calmed down from earlier

you’re still working through the chocolate mousse cake and-

jin’s lips press together in a poor attempt to suppress his smile when he notices whipped cream on the corner of your mouth

you seem to be enjoying the cake which is a good thing

“this whipped cream is like, really good-“ you look over at jin (you asked for his name when he first started putting the cake together and just like that the name of his bakery suddenly made sense) ((and now that you think about it it’s actually a pretty clever name so braVo to him!!)) “what brand is it from?”

“oh, it’s- i actually make my own whipped cream, so it’s my own recipe.” jin smiles proudly and stands up a little straighter

“what do you put in here that makes it so good??” you wonder out loud as you scrape some off the top of the cake before sucking it off your pointer finger

“it’s easy, i pretty much just-“ jin suddenly stops whipping the frosting before narrowing his eyes at you playfully “actually, that’s for me to know and for you to nEver find out. how do i know you’re not from some rival bakery??”

“-if i was from a rival bakery i think i’d probably be able to make this cake on my own. instead i came to you and started crying when you said you were closed for the night.” you raise a brow before narrowing your eyes baCk at jin

“touché.” jin snorts as he starts to pipe the message on the top of the cake “so, um-“ he clears his throat and glances over at you briefly “this yoongi - he’s your boyfriend, you said?”

“yoongi?” you laugh lightly before shaking your head, “no, no way. yoongi is not my boyfriend. god, that’d be…. nO, yoongi is not my boyfriend.” you wipe your mouth with a napkin before dropping it on the plate

“right, right- and namjoon is-“

“namjoon is dEFINitely not my boyfriend- i don’t have a boyfriend, so-“ you lean back against the chair as you watch jin slowly piping out yoongi’s name

“ah, i see, i see.” jin nods in understanding

a moment of silence goes by

…he doesn’t know how to continue this conversation

when did he get so awKWARd at flirting????

maybe if he tries to sell you a box of cupcakes like he did with those tourists he’ll become charming again

“do you have a- is there, like, a mrs sweet kimfecjins-“

…and it’s just hitting him that yoU seem to be just as awkward as him when it comes to subtle flirting

“well, if you play your cards right you might just end up with that title, darling.”

your cheeks immEDiately go bright red and jin can’t help but smirk to himself

he’s still got it

“thank you so much for doing this at the last minute, you’re a literal life saver-“ you gush as you dig through your purse for your wallet

there are approximately 18 minutes left until the clock strikes niNE so if you drive as crazily as you did when getting hEre then you should make it back to the party before namjoon gets the chance to bite your head off

“oh, you know what?” jin shakes his head as he makes sure the cake is secure in the box “you can just take the cake - i feel like you’ve been through enough, so this one’s on me.”

“what?? no, i can’t do that to you! it’s such a nice cake!! i can’t just take it-“

“how about-“ jin stops you before you can get into another one of your five minute rambles (you seem to do that a lot) “how about in return for the cake, you let me take you out on a date?”

you blink owlishly at him and jin beams when he sees colour rising to the apples of your cheeks once again

“you- you want to take me out on a date?”

“the journey to becoming mrs sweet kimfecjins has to start somEwhere-“ jin jokes lightly before shaking his head “if you don’t want to, that’s totally fine, but i’m still going to give you the cake on the hous-“

“no, i want to!” you blurt out a little toO enthusiastically before clearing your throat and rEELing it way back “i mean- yeah, a date sounds nice… or whatever.”

“or whatever?” jin teases as he slides the box over to you “i wrote my cell number on the back of the receipt, so… text me, or whatever. let me know when you’re free and we can sort something out.”

good lord

jin seems to know the way to a woman’s stomach aND her heart

‘i scrape fresh vanilla beans into the whipped cream - that’s what makes it so yummy! there’s also another ingredient but i’ll tell you what it is on our date. see you soon, darling. -your favourite very super unbelievably handsome baker, jin’

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

requested drabbles masterlist

665 notes · View notes

funkymbtifiction · 3 years ago

Text

hey, me again (the person you typed as SFP). Thanks for your respond. First of all; you are certainly right about me using fi-te, thats actually i am quiet sure about by now (even though i had some trouble seeing myself as a feeler at first because it is usually described that feelers are in general more empathic and i can assure you no person i know would ever use the word "empathic" to describe me)...

You sound like an NP in what you wrote here, yes.

Fi's appear stoic on the outside, but are a swarm of specific emotions on the inside. They are self-referencing; if something doesn't ignite an emotional response in them, they don't care and aren't particularly sympathetic from "the outside," hence why people call them "cold." But they are very easily insulted, if they're INFPs. Much more so than an ENFP, who will consider it through Ne/Te more often than Fi.

#question

11 notes · View notes

toujourseven · 3 years ago

Text

Under the Radar | 3

A/N: Flashback!

Sorry for those expecting a steamy continuation of the ménage à trois. We'll get back to that in the next chapters. (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

I kind of decided to include a plot. It just flowed and it would be nice to put some late 20s perspective as the boys are slowly growing up to be dadd-- adults ahem. I hope you enjoy and I am SO SORRY for the late update.I will try to add Chapter 3 next week. keyword: try!!

Do you guys prefer --short chapters but frequent updates OR --long chapters but longer updates?

Stream PTD for baton pass!!! （＊＾ω＾）♪ hugsssss find me on twt @toujourseven ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ

Plot: RM of world-renowned group BTS met you on his private vacation. Things get serious as you both value the same things, including relationships– monogamous relationships, or?

Flashback-- 2 months ago

You moved the gear into park and reached for your camera bag haphazardly thrown in the backseat. You were so excited to walk around the hidden coast as part of your solo travels. You looked around the area and noticed that it was indeed a secluded place, judging by the lack of people milling around. There were a couple of local restaurants attached into the residents’ houses. And a lone bus stop can be seen just along the edge of the parking bay.

It was late in the afternoon and it was the perfect time to capture some photos. You marveled at the pink sand and long stretch of beach. Nobody was swimming, and only a handful of people were scattered along the beach. A couple were laid on a blanket on one area, and a man was sitting atop some rocks with his headphones on. You walked farther ahead where you won’t disturb the other nature spectators and filmed a couple of videos and photos for your travel vlog. The peaceful vibe also stimulated your brain and it pushed you to record some prose on your phone. Nothing can spark creativity better than nature, and sadness, you suppose.

After the sun has set, your stomach began growling. You only ate brunch and you realized it was not good to be this hungry if you were planning to eat lots of seafood for dinner. You traced back your steps towards the local businesses and chose a quaint restaurant with a rustic theme. The locals were friendly and one of the residents hanging out even sat beside your table to chat with you. After a comfortable pause, while the aged woman let you eat your meal, you heard her think out loud, “Oh poor dear, there are no more buses that come at this hour. He must have missed his ride. The next bus will arrive tomorrow morning.”

You followed her gaze and you saw the man wearing headphones earlier sitting under the bus shed, checking his watch and looking back and forth the road. Suddenly, the friendly woman stood up, presumably to inform the man of his mishap.

You finished your meal and was paying for it when the old woman returned, the man with headphones in tow. He was very tall and he was wearing a cap and a mask. He looked awkward and a bit sheepish, he must have realized his mistake already. “Oh hey dear, thank goodness you are still here. You mentioned that you were going back to the city tonight, correct? Would you be so kind to give this man a ride on your way?” Then the woman ushered closer to you and stage-whispered, “It’s fine, he’s a jolly nice man, and I made sure he is not dangerous.” Then in a normal volume of voice, “He’s a tourist too and he had some miscommunications back at the station. But he is in dire need to get back tonight, you understand, don’t you sweetie?” She hugged you close and offered the both of you a sweet smile.

The man rubbed the back of his neck and he looked completely embarrassed. You were more than happy to offer your help but you can’t say you feel too confident riding with a stranger for a 5-hour drive back to the city.

“I’m really really sorry to impose, but I have an appointment early in the morning and I won’t be able to make it in time even if my… friend drives down here at this hour.” You noticed that his voice was deep and he kept his face lowered which did nothing to ease your worries of driving with a stranger.

“Oh sweetie, you need to loosen up a bit. Maybe show a bit of your face to gain this lady’s trust. No one wants to drive with a faceless man.”

The man hesitatingly removed his cap and mask, then you gasped softly. You looked around to make sure no one else was around, or no one else had seen. No way. Maybe he just looks like him. But then, why hide? “That’s fine, you can put the mask back on.” You forced a laugh then addressed the old woman, “Better to be safe, right? With the virus and all.” You cleared your throat, and the man looked a little bit hesitant and more wary of you as he put on his mask.

“We’ll get going now, ma’am. Thank you so much for a delightful chat. I hope to get back soon.” You gathered your things and led the man to your car. Before you opened your door, you faced him and asked, “Best to get this out of the way first. My name is Jane, and I am an allied health professional. I live in New South Wales, and here’s my identification.” You showed him your drivers’ license. “Now, are you perhaps, a celebrity?” You stared him down- well, up, since he’s a lot taller. And your tone is reminiscent of a teacher scolding a child. But you just couldn’t help yourself. He must have felt the same way, because he answered with a small voice, “Yeah.” With his head still bowed down. You took a deep calming breath before continuing, “And you think it safe to travel in the suburbs of Australia, by yourself, without transportation??” You knew you sounded accusatory, considering you were talking to a stranger, but you just couldn’t believe how careless and thoughtless and dangerous the whole situation was. He squared up his shoulders a bit here and defended, “Well, I thought it was safe since it won’t be crowded in this particular locaion, and I did have a ticket back. I just…” he scratched his head and sighed.

A cold breeze fluttered your coat open, and you shivered. “Maybe, we should continue this inside.” He suggested, eyeing your shivering frame. You conceded, and both of you got comfortable inside your vehicle. You removed your coat, and he finally removed his cap and mask and ruffled his hair. You still couldn’t believe your eyes, but there was no mistaking it.

When you didn’t move, he looked at you and smiled, flashing his pretty dimples (curse him), and extended his hand, “Forgive me for forgetting my manners. Pleased to meet you, I’m Kim Namjoon.”

You gulped and shook his hand. You couldn’t say anything, so you just nodded and completed your pre-driving routine. You completely forgot that your phone automatically connects to your speakers and RM’s Seoul started playing. You froze and accidentally stepped on the brake. “Fuck.” You heard him snort and then laugh. “Sorry about that,” you muttered, referring to your embarrassing driving skills. Then he asked with dimples flashing, “So, you’re an Army huh?” You glared at him for a second then focused on driving.

“Well, the songs are good, can you blame me?” Then he chuckled and freakin rapped along. Your heart beat so fast because you couldn’t believe Kim Namjoon is rapping along Seoul while he is in the passenger seat of your car. Fucking surreal.

After a few minutes of silence, with just your playlist in the background, you told him, “You can sleep if you want, you did mention you still have a schedule in the morning.” You glanced at him and he was wearing an incredulous look. You paused, oh yeah. It would be more foolish to sleep in a stranger’s car. “Or not. Forgot about me being a stranger thing. And worse, a fan!” You chuckled. “No, it’s not that. I just don’t think it’s polite to sleep while you are driving for me. The least I could do is accompany you.” You smiled softly. You’re not even surprised he is that thoughtful. “Also,” he cleared his throat, “I don’t actually have a schedule. I just.. didn’t want my manager to scold me. I was about to call him using the phone in the restaurant, but the woman suddenly asked you to drive me. And well, I’d pick riding with a pretty girl than be scolded by the company any day.”

Your jaw dropped, and the man had the nerve to laugh. “Oh gosh, are you sure this isn’t a reality show, like- prank an army episode, oh god, y’all are not stalking me right?? How did you even know I was an army?? I was discreet!” And that just made him laugh harder.

“Relax. It’s definitely not a reality show. It is reality though.” A short pause, then, “Your music taste is so… varied.” And for some reason, that made you feel proud. Your playlist ranged from country music, to R&B, to anime OSTs, to Eminem, Barbra Streisand, and of course BTS.

After a couple hours of driving, your legs were feeling numb already. On your way to the coast, you had multiple rests since you were not in any hurry. But you were still a new driver and your legs are not accustomed to long drives. “Uhm, since you’re not chasing a schedule, is it okay if we stop over for a moment? My leg is killing me.” He instantly agreed, “Of course, Jane. Anything you need. Are there restaurants somewhere we can stop over? Do you want to eat? My treat!” You smiled. “Don’t be silly. You’re my guest and not everybody can do a favor for the Kim Namjoon so I’m treating you. I need something to brag about to my grandkids.”

Silence. “Oh. You’re married?” You laughed at that. “I wish. But, nope.” You took a deep disappointed breath. “What’s with the reaction? You’re still young?” He asked.

You parked the car, and faced him, “Well, you know how we have these certain expectations in our lives? Not other people’s expectations for us or society’s standards- just, a vision of how our life should be like.” You didn’t know what made you share your deepest disappointments in life with this man, but you thought, It’s not like I’m ever gonna meet him again anyway. I might even get a helpful advice or two from THE Kim Namjoon. You faced forward then, and played with your fingers as you continued. “I feel like nothing I envisioned for my life, back when I was just a youthful dreamer, ever came true. I didn’t live up to the expectations of 12-year-old me. And it bothers me everyday. As I get older, time feels so much faster and missing chances get all the more scarier and riskier.” There was a short silence as you both digested the sudden serious conversation. You didn’t want to make him feel more awkward so you showed him a bright smile and unlocked the door. “That was what the reaction for.” Then you laughed as you exited your door.

You noticed him looking out his window, at the queue for the restaurants. You walked around his side of the door and knocked on his window. “Maybe it’s better for me to just buy our food and eat in the car?” He looked worried but grateful at the same time. “I think that would be the best. Sorry.” He really looked apologetic. But you completely understand. “It’s fine, honest. Be sure to lock the doors then, and keep the windows closed. Do you know how to start the car so you can turn on the heater?” He rolled his eyes and held out his hand for your keys. “Sucks that my reputation precedes me. But yeah, I can do that much.” You started to hand him the keys and bit your lip. You were honestly worried he will wreck your car. You sighed, “Please. Don’t break my car.” Before turning and walking away, chuckling at his offended face.

Chapters: one | two | three

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32297806/chapters/80057497

#bts fic #bts fanfic #btsficrec #bts smut #namjoon smut #namjoon fic #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bangtan fic #kpop fic #fanfiction #namkook fic #bts reader #ao3 fic #kim namjoon #jeon jungkook #namkook

19 notes · View notes

witchygagirlwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Confessions

A friends with benefits arrangement with Kelly ends up being so much more. @gottaboopthesnoot fluff?

The first time you'd ended up in bed with Kelly both of you were coming off of being dumped. You walked into Molly's with the intention to just have a few drinks then head home alone. April and Ethan were headed out as you were headed in so you thanked Ethan for holding the door open for you then headed to the bar.

"Herrman my good man can I please get a whiskey on the rocks and make it a double" he let out a low whistle and started making your drink "Rough day sweetheart?" You wanted to laugh but simply shook your head "I lost two patients that came into med today then my dumbass now former boyfriend decided it was in fact too stressful to be dating a doctor who refused to transfer from emergency medicine" "Yikes. Here this will make you feel a little better" you took the glass from him with a smile and slid the money across the bar plus some for the tip jar "Thanks Herrman"

He walked away so you glanced around the room. Jay was sitting in the corner with Will, Adam and Kevin. They waved when they spotted you so headed over "Hey fellas how's it going?" Will cut his eyes at your glass "Bout as good as yours" you laughed then looked from Adam to Kevin "Bad day?" Kevin letting out a breath told you all you needed to know so you turned back towards the bar "Herrman I got the next round for this table!" He nodded "You got it sweetheart"

You patted Jay's shoulder before you walked off and said "see you boys later"

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

You headed for a corner booth and spotted Kelly sitting alone. You sat next to him on a stool and bumped his hand "Well hello Severide" he smiled up at you "Hey Y/N" you noticed he was lacking a certain blonde appendage he'd acquired "Where's shit what's her name..Kristy? Brittany?" "Jessica and she dumped me by text around eleven this morning" you did laugh then and held up your phone "I got dumped at two in between losing a seventy year old to hypothermia and a sixteen year old to a ruptured appendix of all things" he tilted his head with a laugh "Ok you win"

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

The two of you ended up talking for the better part of an hour. "Well I guess I'm gonna head home" you said pushing your glass away. "Want a ride?" He asked so you shrugged. He'd only had one beer and it was long gone "Sure"

You slipped your jacket back on then followed him outside and to where he'd parked his mustang. You smiled when he held the passenger door open "What a gentleman" he walked around then slid into the driver's seat. You watched him as you buckled up then he pulled out onto the road.

Kelly had always been a good looking guy. He was a little cocky at times but damn you'd bet two months salary he could back it up. You shook your head to clear the sudden rush of hormones then turned to look out the window until Kelly pulled up behind your car and parked. "Want to come in for some coffee?" You asked without even thinking and were rewarded with that gorgeous smile of his "Sure"

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

One thing led to another and the morning light found the two of you tangled up in your sheets and each other. You woke up and felt his warmth at your back as memories from the previous night flooded your mind. When he woke up he let his lips trail lazily over your bare shoulder "Morning" hearing his voice so thick with sleep while feeling him pressed hard against you made you squirm slightly "Morning" you said with a smile that turned into a gasp when he bit down gently on your shoulder. "Are you wanting to continue last night?" You asked reaching back to pull him forward for a kiss "If you do" was his response.

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

That had been over four months ago. The two of you weren't dating per say as much as blowing off steam or well you were pretty sure that's how it was for Kelly. You had started falling for him somewhere along the month and a half mark. How could you not? He was gorgeous, amazing in bed, one of the sweetest men you'd ever known and genuinely seemed to care about you.

You were scared that if you told him how you felt you'd more than likely not only lose him out your bed but as a friend also and you weren't really to risk it so you buried it.

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

You were at work grabbing test results from Maggie when a bad wave of nausea washed over you. "You ok Y/N? You look a little green?" She asked so you forced a smile "I haven't eaten. After I sign off on Mrs. Rodriguez I'll come raid your snack drawer"

"You know where it is" she replied with a smile even if she still seemed apprehensive. You told Mrs. Rodriguez her aftercare instructions and was walking out her room when another wave of nausea hit and the next thing you knew the world went black.

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

You woke up in an exam room with an iv of fluid going into your arm. Will was shining a light in your eyes "Jesus Y/N you scared all of us. I'm gonna run some bloodwork. It appears like you're just dehydrated but I want to make sure""Thanks Will" you said right before he walked out. Some doctor you were, couldn't even keep yourself healthy.

You heard a knock on the door before Maggie popped her head in with a bottle of juice in her hand "No solids until your blood work is back but this should help" you sat up a little and took the juice "Thanks Maggie. I don't know what happened. I mean I've been feeling a little off but I thought it was just all the hours I've been working" she patted your hand reassuringly then said "Just rest. We'll figure it out"

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

"Run that by me one more time Halstead" you repeated despite reading the results yourself "You're about eight weeks. That's what caused the fainting. We can make you an appointment with the OB of your choice to discuss options but for today Goodwin wants you to head home and rest. Natalie is going to cover your shift for the next couple days"

"Thanks Will" you were in a bit of a fog as you walked out and to your car. How the hell were you supposed to tell Kelly?

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

You made it a few blocks before you had to pull over. You were crying hard enough your shoulders were shaking what the hell were you going to do?

A baby. You were in love with Kelly and pregnant and he was clueless to both of those things. You wanted to keep the baby but you also knew you had to tell him.

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

Once you managed to get home you grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. You needed a hot shower to clear your mind. You'd texted Kelly that Goodwin had sent you home so he'd in return texted back saying he'd be over the next morning when he got off shift.

At least you had twelve or so hours before you had to face him. You could eat and sleep.

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

No matter how you laid all you could think about was the fact that you had a baby inside of you. Yours and Kelly's baby. You finally managed to fall asleep curled up on your side.

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

You were woke up around seven to a pounding at your door and your phone ringing. You picked it up to see you had seven missed calls and the person currently calling was Kelly.

You answered it but instead of saying hello you asked "Is that you at my door?" "Been here for ten minutes sweetheart. Started to kick it in. I was getting worried" you smiled despite yourself "I'll come let you in" then hung up.

Your nerves started fluttering and you cursed when a wave of nausea hit you again. The moment you unlocked the door you barely saw Kelly's face before you had to hold up one finger and rush to the bathroom.

Kelly kicked the door shut and quickly followed you. When he saw the position you were in he crouched behind you pulling your hair out the way and started rubbing small circles into your back.

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

Once your stomach was emptied either nerves or hormones or both hit you and you started to cry. Kelly pulled you into his arms and sat leaned against the wall gently rocking you for god knows how long before you managed to calm down "Baby what's wrong?" He asked and you almost started crying again.

"Kelly I'm sorry" he pulled back far enough to look in your face "about what?" You could tell he was so confused about everything so you took a deep breath then just decided to rip the bandaid off "I'm in love with you and I'm eight weeks pregnant"

A thousand emotions flashed across his face. Shock was the most prominent. You started to try to stand up but he pulled you back down in his lap "Hold on Y/N just let me catch up. You said you love me?" You nodded "It's ok if you don't feel the same way" he cut you off by his lips crashing into yours.

When he pulled away he smiled "I love you too. I have for a while. Now about that second thing you said?" You swallowed hard and looked into those bright blue eyes that you loved so much "Remember that close call you had? And we spent the entire night in bed?" He nodded slowly "Well I apparently got pregnant that night" you nearly whispered glancing down at your hands.

Several long silent seconds flicked by before he said "So you love me and I'm gonna be a dad. Not how I figured this would go" you looked up to meet his eyes right as he added "but I'm happy and I will be here for you and our baby every step of the way"

You started crying again but this time it was tears of relief "I love you Kelly" "I love you too Y/N" he said with a smile then ran his hand across your stomach and leaned down before saying "and we both love you"

#kelly severide x reader #kelly severide fanfiction #chicago fire imagine #chicago fire fanfiction #chicago fire drabble

131 notes · View notes

adenei · 4 years ago

Text

Always A Bridesmaid, Never A Bride - Chapter 6

AO3 || FFN

Hermione

It was official. I’d agree to anything if it meant I had a chance to spend time with Harry outside of work. I knew it was a problem, and it was blatantly clear when Jenny called me in a rush this morning. She thought she’d scheduled an appointment to set up her registry at John Lewis for Monday, but her days had gotten mixed up and she took the only open slot for Sunday.

Of course, I knew she’d already booked herself at the bridal salon and florist, and couldn’t fit it in as she was explaining her mix-up. I was going to suggest she reschedule, but then I heard her mutter about sending someone else, and thinking she was going to send Harry, I offered to go, too. So, despite telling myself numerous times to just call her and cancel, I still forged ahead, even though I knew my ulterior motive was despicable.

Jenny had slipped her list of items under my door while I was in the shower. I thought it was odd if she was sending Harry, but then maybe she didn’t have time to stop by his place before her first appointment.

I took the list and caught a taxi to take me to the department store in the city. My phone buzzed and I checked it to see I had a text from Jenny. Your reinforcement should be there soon. Thanks so much for doing this again! I decided to go in and get started at the registry desk since I knew the set-up process would take a while. Finally, after I finished the paperwork, I was ready to begin.

“So, here’s the scanner!” the clerk said. “This is all you’ll need to choose the items that you’d like. Once you hear the beep, you’ll know it’s been added. If you scan something by mistake, just scan it again to take it off. I’ll be here if you need anything, and if not, just drop the scanner off before you leave.”

“Thank you,” I said as I pulled the list out from my bag and determined where I should start first.

I was paying so much attention to the list, I didn’t notice someone joining me.

“Fancy meeting you here.” I looked up to see Ron standing next to me.

“Jenny sent you?” I asked. Surely, this was a joke.

“Are you surprised?” Ron asked me innocently.

“Yes, actually, I am. What writer helps with menial wedding tasks like this?”

“When I cover a wedding, I cover the whole wedding,” he explained as I shook my head. “So, where should we get started?”

“Probably housewares,” I said with a sigh.

I handed Ron the list to check things off as we scanned them. If he was here, I was going to make sure he was helpful. Maybe it’d make the job go by faster.

“Who needs all this useless junk, anyways?” he asked as I scanned a beautiful set of ivory candlestick holders. “Don’t they both have separate flats already? Surely, they have enough stuff between the two of them to outfit one apartment.”

I rolled my eyes in his direction. “When you’re starting a life with someone, you want to pick out items for the home you’re going to share together. You know, to make it both of yours instead of a mix of two people’s things,” I explained.

“So you’re telling me if you were to get engaged, you’d chuck all of your current stuff just to ask for new versions of the same stuff because you’re marrying someone else?”

“Well...not everything, but I’ve been inside Jenny’s apartment and it’s rather bare in there.”

“What about Harry’s stuff?”

“It’s okay, but he is a bachelor. He only has half the stuff he does because of Teddy,” I said.

“Harry has a kid?” Ron asked, his eyes wide.

I chuckled. “Not exactly. Teddy’s an orphan that’s part of the Boys & Girls Club. Harry’s his big brother. Though, I wouldn’t be surprised if he really does try to adopt Teddy after he and Jenny are married.”

“And how does Jenny feel about that?”

“Why do you care so much?” I gave him an odd look.

“N-no reason. It’s just an interesting dynamic, that’s all.”

“Well, when we went to Teddy’s football game, Jenny seemed really taken with him. She’s surprisingly good with kids,” I mentioned offhand.

“Surprisingly? What’s that supposed to mean?” Ron asked curiously.

“Oh, um, I suppose she probably has several nieces and nephews if four of her brothers are married.”

“Ah. Well, that’s good, then. I’m sure they’ll make a beautiful family,” Ron said.

“Yeah,” I said distantly. It was hard not to think about it, even though I really didn’t want to.

Ron was looking at me curiously. “You know what I think you want?”

“What? Please bestow your infinite wisdom about me, a person you barely know, to me,” I scoffed.

“I think you do all this because you just want a wedding for yourself. Not an actual marriage, but a wedding.”

I stared incredulously at him. “How can you even say that? You don’t know me! Of course I want a marriage! Who wouldn’t want someone to spend the rest of their life with?”

“Well then why aren’t you looking harder for your ‘one true love’?” he said in air quotes. “You spend all your extra time helping brides and attending weddings, and it seems like you barely date.”

“I do too date!” I retorted.

“Yeah? When’s the last time you dated someone? I don’t count,” he said pompously.

“What do you mean you don’t count? Of course you don’t!” I argued.

“Oh, you wound me,” Ron said, his words dripping with sarcasm. “Are you going to answer the question?”

I stopped to think about it. Was it bad that I really couldn’t remember. Ron took advantage of my distraction to steal the scanner from me and started scanning random trinkets.

“What are you doing?” I asked as I tried to take the scanner back.

He used his height to an advantage to block me. “Oh, come on, it’s all in good fun. Every couple deserves some random trinkets that they open and have to fake a smile for, don’t you think?”

There was a mischievous glint in his eye that made me laugh even though I should be scolding him. I was still mad at him for his accusations, but I was willing to play along so I didn’t have to answer the dating question.

“Is that what you think?” I said with a smile. “You’d want to open random gifts you didn’t ask for because someone thought it would be funny to play a joke on your registry?”

“It’s never going to happen for me, so it doesn’t matter what I’d do, now would it?”

Ron was smiling, but it wasn’t reaching his eyes. I stopped to contemplate his words for a moment. “Something must have happened to make you resent love so much. So, what is it?”

I snagged the list from his hand to see how we were doing as I began walking again. We needed to get to the linen section next. Ron still hadn’t answered me, so I decided to push his buttons a bit.

“Did your parents get divorced? An ex-girlfriend cheat on you with your best friend like in those cheesy romantic comedies? Or, were you left at the altar or something tragic like that?”

“Yeah, actually.”

I froze. I wasn’t really serious. I turned around to look at him. “What?”

“I was engaged a few years ago, but about two weeks before the wedding she called it off. Apparently she was more interested in my brother instead, and only realized it when she came home to meet the whole family.”

“Oh, my God, Ron, I’m sorry. It was—I didn’t mean it,” I apologized. That was awful and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

“It’s fine. I was too blinded by love to see that we weren’t a good fit anyways. My brother saw right through her shallowness and told her to fuck off. So, I guess there was a silver lining.”

I handed him the scanner. “Scan all the ugly things you want. I’ll feign ignorance as long as all the stuff on this list gets added.”

He let out a weak laugh. “Thanks.”

“Are you close with your brother, then?” We hadn’t discussed anything personal yet, aside from my involvement in weddings, but I found myself wanting to learn more about him.

“As close as we can be. He lives in Africa on a wild nature preserve.”

“And your ex was more interested in a—”

“Zoologist? Apparently. Guess my career as a writer wasn’t adventurous enough for her. Or it didn’t make enough money for her lifestyle.”

“If she’s more interested in money than love, you’re better off. You’ll find the one someday, I’m sure.”

“So will you...maybe,” he smirked.

“Good to see you being so supportive,” I said sarcastically.

Just like that, the moment had passed. Maybe I’d been a little too quick to judge Ron without knowing his backstory. First impressions were typically a good indication of a person for me, but now I was starting to think that maybe I’d misjudged him. Even though he reverted right back to his sarcastic ways, I was fairly certain that it was all a cover. I couldn’t help the feeling churning inside of me that yearned to know more.

Ron

I was sitting at my cubicle on Wednesday when Rita stopped by my desk. “How’s the article coming?”

I knew she was talking about the perpetual bridesmaid one. “It still needs work; still a rough draft,” I told her.

“I want to see what you’ve got. Email it to me,” Rita said bluntly before walking away.

“But—” It didn’t matter what I was going to try to say, she was expecting it and I needed to send it along.

I didn’t understand why I was hesitating, though. This was going to be my big break, and yet I had this nagging feeling in my stomach.

Sure, Hermione was strong minded and opinionated, but she was always so interesting to talk to. I found myself craving her company and wanting to learn more about her. Hell, I’d even admitted my darkest secret about Romilda that no one knew outside of immediate family.

The last time I put love ahead of my career I lost the section for my contributing investigative pieces and landed my arse firmly in commitments. I needed to stay focused so I shook the thoughts of Hermione from my head as I carried on with cleaning up the article. It’d been so long since I let anyone into my life, and I just didn’t know her well enough yet to trust her.

I did make one small concession, deciding not to use her real name because of the business. So I called her Hermione Wilkins in the article. No one needed to know, and it was my feeble attempt at protecting her identity. Satisfied with the draft, I pressed send on the email and moved onto my next task.

On Friday, Rita called me into her office. “This is really good, Weasley. You should be proud.”

I looked at her in slight confusion, not exactly sure which article she was talking about.

“The perpetual bridesmaid article! We’re running it on Sunday. You’re on the front page of the Styles section. And you’re out of commitments for good after you cover that Warrington/Potter wedding, of course.”

“Er, right. Yeah, thanks!” I tried to fake excitement over it, but the knot was pitted even deeper in my stomach.

“Why aren’t you more excited?”

“I just think it could use some more time, that’s all. She’s in that wedding, too. The one next weekend. Let me wait and see if I can learn more. You know, to add—”

“Ron, this is perfect as is. Isn’t this what you wanted? Or has someone taken a fancy to Ms. Wilkins?” Rita gave me a knowing smile, but it wasn’t a genuine one. It made me uncomfortable.

“Can we please just push publication one more week?” I asked once more.

Rita sighed dramatically. “I’ll see what I can do, but if you have started to care for her, you might want to tell her. You can go now. I’m sure you have things to accomplish before the weekend.”

I nodded slightly as I turned to leave. I had to find a way to tell Hermione. I wasn’t ready to lose whatever dysfunctional new friendship we’d created, but after she’d already accused me of lying to her, I had no idea how I was going to spin this. No matter how I looked at it, it was totally deceitful.

Not to mention my sister and all of her lies, too. No matter how annoying I thought Hermione could be, I knew she didn’t deserve that. She needed to know this was coming. I had to tell her.

~o~

My phone rang on Saturday afternoon. It was the first Saturday where I didn’t have to do anything related to weddings and it was brilliant, until I saw Ginny’s name on the caller ID.

“What?” I answered.

“I need your help.”

“Aren’t I already helping you enough?”

“Never,” Ginny said through a grin that I knew was undoubtedly plastered on her face.

“Well?” I asked, pretending to be annoyed.

“I just got a call that the favors are done and ready to be picked up in Brentwood. Harry was going to do it after the dinner tasting, but I’m worried that won’t give him enough time to get to Andover for dinner with Mum and Dad since it’s in the complete opposite direction!”

“So, you’re asking me to pick up the favors, then?”

“Unless you wanted to come to dinner—”

“Nope, I’m good. I’ve got to try and get a hold of Hermione tonight for something anyways,” I told her.

“Hermione?” Ginny’s voice sounded intrigued.

“Yeah, but it’s not what you think. It’s not like I’m into her or anything,” I said a little too quickly.

“Sureee,” Ginny teased. “Well, you’re in luck. She’s with Harry right now for the tasting at the Winchester in Putney. She offered to go to the tasting since I was wrapped up with things back home. Maybe she could go with you?”

“Yeah, maybe…” I had to admit that Ginny came up with a good idea.

“Listen, I have to go, we’re getting ready to leave now. Hopefully Harry will be hungry enough. I did reserve a later dinner, but Mum and Dad wanted to get settled at the inn beforehand since they didn’t want to drive home tonight…” Ginny trailed off.

“Okay, tell them I said hi, and I’ll take care of the favors for you.”

“Thanks, Ron, I owe you!”

“Yeah you owe me for a lot of—” I stopped talking once I realized she’d already hung up the phone.

“Doesn’t she believe in saying goodbye?” I said out loud as I shook my head.

I could be at the Winchester House in fifteen minutes. Grabbing my wallet and keys, I headed out the door and hailed a taxi.

When I arrived at the hotel, the maitre’d pointed me in the direction of where Harry and Hermione were seated. It was a relatively nice day. Warm and partly cloudy, but I could tell by the way the sky was changing that a rainstorm was coming in.

I walked through the main area to the outdoor seating section where I stopped near the doorway to look for them. I spotted them on the other side of the terrace overlooking the Thames at a small table. My first thought was of how gorgeous Hermione looked when she was smiling. She normally only reserved scowls for me, and I hadn’t realized how attractive she truly was until that moment.

The thought terrified me. I wasn’t sure if I was even ready to let someone else into my life like that. I’d sworn off love, convinced it wasn’t in the cards for me. If things were meant to look up, there was no way it could be her. Especially not after that article dropped. At least Rita was giving me more time to explain it to her.

I refocused on the two of them and began to take a few steps toward their table. That’s when I saw it. The look I’d seen on every bride who was hopelessly in love with their soon to be groom. How had I never realized it before? The way she smiled and leaned across the table.

All the unabashed flirting. Everything was making sense now. Why she was so upset at the club that first night, why she was so dejected when she called me, and why she wasn’t sure if she even wanted to be part of my sister’s wedding. Hermione was in love with her boss, who was also my sister’s fiancée. I wasn’t sure what was worse. Her pining over a man who had no interest in her at all, or Harry’s complete obliviousness to the entire situation. I’d seen him around my sister long enough to know he only had eyes for her.

I was feeling a mix of hurt and anger that I hadn’t felt since Romilda left me, and I didn’t understand why because it wasn’t like I was in love with Hermione or anything. I just enjoyed her company and was keen on the prospect that she might be a good friend if we could get past her constant accusations.

At that moment I lost all my ambition to tell Hermione about the article, and even to ask her along on the wedding errand. I was about to turn and leave when Harry happened to look in my direction and called me over. Shit.

“What are you doing here?” Hermione looked at me in surprised annoyance.

Of course she was annoyed, I just ruined the probable fantasy she was currently living with this whole situation.

“Jenny called and asked if I could go pick up the favors with you before the shop closes.”

“Oh, I thought I was going to take care of that,” Harry said.

“Yeah, Harry and I were just getting ready to head to Brentwood now,” Hermione said pointedly.

“Well, the bride is worried that it’ll make him late for some dinner that’s past the other side of London, so…”

“Hmm, she does make a good point. And it looks like the rain is heading in, which would make travel conditions worse,” Harry said. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Not at all. Hermione’ll ensure everything is sorted as the maid of honor, right?” I asked, raising my eyebrow in question and knowing she couldn’t say no.

“I—I guess,” Hermione sounded deflated as she shot me a death glare as Harry was finalizing the menu.

Good. Someone needed to pop the bubble because she was holding onto a dream that would never come true.

“Great, thanks again, you guys. I better get going if I have to stop home before heading to Andover.”

Harry got up and clapped me on the back as he took off toward the exit. I smiled widely at Hermione, who looked like she was going to murder me. I couldn’t wait to reveal what I’d found out about her little secret.

#romione #romione muggle au #side hinny #27 dresses inspired #ron x hermione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger

12 notes · View notes

missnight0wl · 4 years ago

Text

Wayward Son

I finally succumbed and wrote an AU fanfic where Jacob dies. It focuses on a few moments between the siblings over the years after the Cursed Vaults. And to be fair, death aspect aside, most of it is basically canon for their relationship.

And yes, the title is a reference to the song by Kansas because it does make me think of Jacob.

Words: 5560

Autumn, 1991

When Helena declared that she wanted to stay longer at home after her graduation, her parents seemed to take it as an obvious decision. Physically, she was completely well even before September. She wasn’t going to waste it, so she started helping at the grandparents’ bakery. Mentally, however… She still needed to heal. And they all needed some time together.

Jacob stayed at home as well. He insisted that he wanted to pass his N.E.W.T.s, and with some help from Dumbledore, he managed to get permission to take exams in June next year without going back to school. He was studying a bit, but usually, he was spending his days similar to his sister: trying to find his place. It had to be more difficult for him because of his absence. Some things had changed their place at the house, people had altered some of their customs. He got new habits too. For their mother, it was especially hard to accept his smoking. Nevertheless, they were surviving, learning each other anew. Helena liked in particular when they were catching up on all pop culture Jacob had missed. It felt familiar, almost like childhood. Almost like it could be normal again.

The days weren’t the worst with all their distractions. When the nights fell, though, it meant either sleepless hours or endless nightmares. If Helena woke up with a scream, Jacob would always run into her room, sitting on her bed and cradling her.

“Shhh. It’s okay, you’re safe,” he’d say, stroking her hair. “I’m here, I’m finally here. It’s just a dream…”

But it hardly was just a dream. Usually, it was her memories - and Jacob knew that.

“Will you sing to me?” she asked quietly once when she calmed down.

He chuckled softly. “Aren’t you too old for that?”

“Please?”

He sighed, left without a choice. They both got more comfortable on the bed, although Jacob was probably too tall for that. He cleared his throat, yet his voice was rather raspy when he began. It didn’t occur to her that he probably hadn’t sung in ages. Still, it quickly turned into a sound she remembered from years ago. Only before the last verse, he made a longer pause.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.

You make me happy when skies are grey.

You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you.

Please, don’t take my sunshine away.

Spring, 1992

They were sitting at the table, and she was sceptically watching him staring at his books.

“You don’t need it, Jacob.”

He glanced at her before starting to browse pages. “But I want it.”

“Then why you’re just pretending that you’re studying?”

He cracked a smile, already knowing where she’s going with that. “Because I know most of those things.”

“See? Then you don’t need it.” She leant back in her chair. “Admit it, you’re just stalling before moving on.”

“Fine, maybe a little,” he replied, finally looking at her again.

She shook her head and sighed. “Bill should be here any moment now. I’ll go get my things.”

She left the room and went upstairs. She’d packed most of her belonging, but she still wanted to double-check everything. Besides, it’d take her mind off Jacob for a while. She was a little worried about him, but she didn’t want to nudge him. It was always hard to recognise if he was going through something because he was great at redirecting people’s attention, but it wasn’t even about him suppressing his emotions. It seemed like he was trying to get back the stolen time and feared that leaving would make it lost forever. As a result, he was stuck. He was offered a job at Gringotts with Helena, but he refused, making excuses about his exams. She wanted to do more for him, but she was ready for the next step, and she felt that if she wouldn’t take it, she’d got stuck as well.

She gathered her luggage and was about to get back to the living room when she heard Jacob and Bill talking.

“You sure you don’t want anything? Tea, water?”

“No, thanks.”

There was a moment of silence before Jacob spoke again. “You know, I never got a chance to thank you.”

“Hm?”

“For being a brother to her. When I failed--”

“Don’t,” Bill tried to interrupt him.

“No, I mean it. Thank you for taking care of her.” He took a deep breath before continuing, more tentatively. “It’s weird to think that you probably know her better than I ever could...”

Another pause preceded Bill asking: “What was she like as a child?”

“Oh.” Jacob got surprised by that question, but when he started to talk, Helena could almost hear him smiling. “She was like sunshine. Brightening your day and pissing off when she shone straight into your eyes. I suppose you know how it can be with younger siblings.” Bill laughed, and Jacob went on. “She… she was so curious about everything. They say there’s a certain age when kids won’t stop asking questions, but for Helena it was permanent. And she always had to defend everyone. Y’know, when Snape started teaching us, I complained about him back home, and she was like: you can’t say that, you don’t know him.” He modified his tone slightly to imitate her. “Maybe he has problems. You’re sometimes mean when you’re upset, too, but you’re a good person.”

They both chuckled.

“Well, she did change her mind on Snape, I can tell you that,” said Bill. “But other than that, sounds pretty much like Helena I know. Give her some time, Jacob. Give yourself time.”

The silence between them was longer now, so Helena took a few steps back to get some natural speed and pushed the door open. Two wizards were standing opposite each other and got startled when she entered.

“I thought I hear you,” she grinned at Bill. “What are you two plotting here, hm?”

“Oh, nothing at all,” the redhead replied with an innocent expression.

“Just gossiping about you,” Jacob added casually.

She gave them a suspicious stare. “Is that so?” She’d love to tease them, but they had to arrive with Bill at the appointed hour, so she glanced at her watch instead and then at her friend. “All right, I think I’m ready. We can get going.”

“You sure you have everything?” asked Jacob. Their parents said their goodbyes in the morning before leaving to work, so he took the responsibility of sending Helena off. “Mum left you package in the kitchen, did you take it? Do you have sunglasses? The cooler ones? What about sun cream?”

“I have everything,” she stopped his babbling with a hug.

“Be careful there, okay?”

She tightened her embrace in respond, feeling his ribs against her body. He still didn’t put on much weight.

Winter, 1994

Dear Jacob,

What the fuck do you mean you’re not coming? It’s Dad’s sixtieth birthday. SIXTIETH. You have to come. I don’t care what other plans you have - you knew about that day. Tell that pretty girl (or whatever you’re busy with nowadays) that you have responsibilities at home.

Seriously though, I know that you want to be here too, so… Please, try to make it.

Love you always,

- Ellie

“I can’t believe he didn’t come.”

“It’s all right, Ellie,” said Christopher. “I’m sure something just came up. He can visit us at the weekend.”

“Something came up? On your birthday?” Helena spat. “You know, but it’s not even that. He could’ve just let us know, say anything. It’s hard for all of us, but why he shouldn’t be trying too?”

Alice gave her a stern look. “Well, now you’re just picking on him.”

“I’m not! Mum, you got him a job at the Ministry. A good job. And what did he do? He quit--”

“That job was a bad idea from the beginning. You’d probably quit as well.”

“No, I wouldn’t!”

Alice only smiled softly. “You’re really not that different. Believe me, I know.”

The truth was that Helena was picking on Jacob. She indeed had no reasons to be mad at him, other than him not showing up on that specific day. He did quit his job, that part was accurate. But while she was certain that he’s getting in all sorts of troubles ever since, he never caused problems for them. He always appeared when his help was needed, during holidays or not. On top of that, Helena caught him a couple of times hiding money in places like a sugar bowl since their parents wouldn’t simply take it from him. But all of that made the current situation only worse. In the best-case scenario, it meant that he’s not telling her something big enough to stop him without giving any explanation. He could also be hurt, kidnapped, or worse…

“All I’m saying is that he has no excuse. Even if he’s too drunk or high to Apparate, he could’ve used stupid Floo Network or--”

And then, just like on command, the emerald green flames appeared in the fireplace, and Jacob entered the room, appearing quite confused.

“Did I make it?” he asked nobody in particular. He beamed when he looked at the clock. It was half-past eleven. He faced Christopher, spreading his arms wide. “Happy birthday, old chap.”

Over the whole day, the birthday man was trying to act unaffected by Jacob’s absence. Yet, he obviously got happier seeing his son.

“I’m so, so sorry that I’m late,” Jacob continued, not breaking their hug. “But! I do have an explanation!”

Helena rolled her eyes. Of course he did. Still, she got curious when he reached to his bag and took out a package covered in brown paper.

“I’ve found a lead for that a while ago, however, a bloke who was supposed to get it for me had some problems, and… let’s say he needed a reminder. Anyway, it created a delay, and long story short, I couldn’t risk not getting it at all after all the effort, so… That happened. And I’m really sorry once again, I should’ve known better from the beginning. But! At least I got some wine!”

When Christopher started to unwrap the gift, Jacob hurried to welcome both Alice and Helena.

“Oh my, is it the first edition?” Christopher was already holding an old book in his hands, studying the front page, his eyes twinkling.

“One of the first ones,” clarified Jacob. “But it has notes made by a professor from Uagadou.”

The old man looked at him excited before carefully browsing a couple of pages. “Oh, I have to compare it with my atlas. I’ll be right back.”

He left the room, patting Jacob on a shoulder while passing by. When he was gone, Alice looked attentively at her son.

“And I wonder how much did it cost you?”

Jacob shrugged and smirked. “A lovely dinner with my family.” He opened his bag again, pulling out two bottles of wine. “Did everyone leave already?”

“They did, not long before you came,” Alice replied softly.

To break the silence, Helena grabbed one of the bottles. “What about that wine? It looks fancy.”

“It is quite fancy. But this one is for Dad, and for Mum. We have the other one.” She looked at the other label and frowned her nose. “It’s the cheapest one they had, and it tastes like acid.” Jacob was clearly amused by his sister’s reaction.

Alice got up. “I’ll go bring some glasses then, how about that?” Then, she also left, letting the siblings stay alone.

“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?” Jacob asked finally.

“I thought we agreed to no secrets.”

This time it was him who rolled his eyes. “It’s no secret! I just wanted it to be a surprise!”

“Still, you could’ve told me! I’d cover for you!”

He was quiet for a moment, pondering on his words. A corner of his lips twitched faintly. “You know you’re terrible at surprises, Ellie.”

“That’s not true!” she said reproachfully. He only raised his eyebrow. “Oh, because I’d go to Dad and tell him everything, right?”

“No, but you’d tell Mum, and she’s no better than you.”

She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. Then, not thinking much, she opened the cheaper bottle and took a sip. She grimaced, regretting her decision immediately.

“I warned you it tastes like acid.” He was trying very hard to hold a laugh. “It gets somewhat better the more you drink.”

All four of them were sitting and talking until the late night, so by the time Helena woke up the next day, it was already noon. She got down to the kitchen where she found an unfinished bottle of wine as it turned out that Jacob brought bigger supplies with him. She took a clean glass and poured some liquor when her brother showed up out of nowhere and snatched it out of her hand.

“Ah ah ah, what do you think you’re doing?” he teased her.

She sighed. “I’m having a drink.”

“No, you’re not, young lady.”

“Jacob, I’m twenty-one. If I want to have a drink, you’re not gonna stop me.”

“I don’t care how old you are. It’s only past twelve.”

She gave him a stink eye because he was holding two glasses at the moment: hers and his own. “I’m guessing it’s your third one, you hypocrite.”

He seemed a bit perplexed for an instant, but then he grinned. “Only the second.” Still, he put both glasses on the side when Helena started brewing coffee.

“So, what you’re planning now?” she asked and covered a yawn.

“Like today or in general?”

“Both, I guess.”

“Well,” he started. “I wanted to visit grandparents’ today. That’s probably most of the day. And in general, I thought I could stay with you for a little.”

“Oh! But… I’m getting back to work.”

“I know. I wouldn’t bother you, I can get busy on my own or help you, whichever you prefer. And in the evenings, we could do something fun. What d’you say?”

Every now and then, Jacob would stop by whenever she was currently at her curse-breaking mission. However, he never stayed for long. They’d usually get out once, and after making sure she’s alright, he’d disappear. Spending more time together could be nice.

“Sure, sounds good,” she replied with a smile, filling two mugs with coffee.

Summer, 1995

Jacob was pacing between walls, running his fingers through his hair once in a while.

“We should leave,” he said eventually, stopping and crossing his arms.

Helena looked at him in disbelief. “What?”

“We should leave. I don’t know, to the States or whatever.”

“There’s a war coming, and you want to leave?”

“Yeah, exactly. You’re not gonna tell me it’s not a better solution than becoming Dumbledore’s soldier.”

She opened her mouth and closed it again, not being able to find the words. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Jacob, innocent people will be dying!”

“I know! You think I don’t?!” He started losing control over his voice. “But there are people ready to fight for them, and we don’t have to be among them! Even if Voldemort is back, he never got beyond Great Britain, so there’s no reason to think it’d be different any time soon. We’d be safe across the ocean.”

“How can you be so selfish?”

“I’m selfish?!” He made a sound between a gasp and a snigger, but when he spoke again, he was more steady. “Ellie, who helped you with the Cursed Vaults? Dumbledore? Who cared when we had to stop R which was, let me remind you, an international threat?”

“Oh, so that’s why we should do nothing now? Because that’s how we were treated? Do you hear yourself?! An eye for an eye and the whole world goes blind, Jacob, and passiveness can be as bad as violence! There will be more wizards thinking like you, but if we all leave, who’ll stay to fight?”

He wasn’t looking at her, and he switched to almost a whisper. “I was never selfish in my life. Never selfish enough to let the adults deal with all the cursed mess, as they should. Though, you know? Maybe I was selfish, maybe I just wanted to feel useful, fucking protector of everyone.” He sighed. “But you know where it got me? My best friend died when he was just fifteen, I had to leave my family, and I was imprisoned for years by R. Ellie, I…” His voice cracked and he swallowed hard, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just for once, I don’t want to worry about people being in danger. If it’s selfish of me, so be it.” Their eyes finally met. “I don’t care. I just want some peace.”

“Well, that’s not how life works.”

She left, not giving him a chance to reply.

The rest of the day, she spent with some of her friends, learning more about the whole situation connected to Voldemort’s return. The first shock - caused also by Cedric’s death - had passed, and they had to focus on planning. Still, Helena kept going back in thoughts to Jacob. She probably was too harsh on him. She saw where he’s coming from. In fact, sending their parents off to the family in the States wasn’t a bad idea at all. She came home late, so she went straight to her bedroom to think things over.

The next morning, however, it was neither Christopher nor Alice who she found in the kitchen – it was Jacob.

“What you’re doing here?”

“Breakfast,” he replied blandly.

“No, I mean, I thought you’d just leave after yesterday.”

“Someone has to keep an eye on everything when you’re in Egypt, don’t you think?”

“I didn’t tell you I’m going back there…”

“Yeah, well.”

He was chopping some vegetables while eggs were frying on a pan. There’s a joking rule in their family that you could use magic in the kitchen only if you’d learnt to make the dish also without it. Jacob always preferred to prepare things Muggle way, though. Helena could never match him, even with the help of the spells.

“Thank you,” she said abashedly, sitting at the kitchen island.

“For what? Food’s not ready.”

“For joining our side.”

“No, my dear. Let’s make it clear,” he spoke firmly, involuntarily pointing a knife in her direction. “I’m on no one’s side but yours. Got it?”

“So… you’re not joining the Order?”

“Hell no.”

“Well, thank you anyway,” she repeated. “And I’m sorry. For yesterday. I don’t think you’re selfish at all.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He still sounded a bit coldly, but he smirked ever so slightly. “Just…” His voice got softer as he knitted his brows in a worried expression. “I beg you, Ellie, be smart. Just because you’ll be outside Europe doesn’t mean it’ll be safe. It’ll be hell everywhere. And above all, remember: no information is worth dying for.”

“I know, I know…” She reassured him, though it felt like there’s not much she could say. “So, what are you planning to do?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged. “Maybe I could renew some connections in Knockturn Alley.”

“Oh, because that sounds very safe.”

“No, it doesn’t,” he cut in. “I’m aware of that. And that was my point. If you get involved, it’ll always be dangerous. But because you’re too stubborn to listen, I can’t simply… sit and watch, y’know. I don’t want to hear from some strangers one day: Hey, remember that cursed siblings? Yeah, the younger one just died. She was killed by fucking Death Eaters because she refused to learn from her brother’s mistakes. And he screwed up again because he could’ve done something.”

She bit her lips to hide a smile. Jacob only glanced at her, shaking his head with feigned disapproval before he focused back at his cooking.

May 1998

It was getting crowded at the Hog’s Head when Helena spotted Jacob near the door waving his hand at her. She immediately rushed to him.

“Jacob! You came!”

He frowned in confusion. “Of course. I told you so.”

“I guess part of me wanted you to not come…”

“Do you really think I’d let you go into a battle alone?” he asked raising his eyebrow.

“I’m not alone,” she replied, mindlessly pulling his flannel. “And you don’t want to be here.”

“And I don’t want you to be here either. But I know I won’t convince you to leave because Charlie’s here. And he’s here because his whole family is here. And I’m definitely not gonna discuss with all the Weasleys because it’d be both pointless and possibly stupid.” His smile faded away when Helena didn’t even react to his joke. “Hey, we faced worse before, didn’t we? At least we’re not the main target for a change, right?”

She nodded haltingly as Jacob embraced her with one arm, leading away from the entrance.

By the time they arrived at Hogwarts, the battle was raging. It was overwhelming chaos with troops of people storming to the castle. Helena was keeping both Charlie and Jacob in the reach of her sight, but as they were in the Entrance Hall, one scream caught their attention among all the noises.

“Fire! There’s a fire!” yelled someone.

“Then put it down!” they heard in a respond.

“I can’t! They had to cast Fiendfyre!”

Three of them froze. If it actually was the curse, there’s no way students could deal with it, and it’d be bad to let it spread. On the other hand, it could’ve been regular fire, looking more dangerous due to fear and panic.

“I’ll go check it,” decided Jacob. “We’ll meet in the Great Hall. Look after her, okay?” he added, smirking at Charlie.

Helena briefly squeezed his hand. “Be careful.”

In the next moment, Jacob was running up the staircase while Helena and Charlie joined the crowd moving to the Great Hall where most of the fighting was occurring. It seemed like they’re gaining the advantage over Death Eaters, but it was still heated, and spells were shooting from all sides. Helena had just helped some girls counter an attack and was looking for Charlie when she felt a sudden sharp headache. For a split second, her vision went black, which was enough distraction to not notice a beam of light speeding in her direction. She tried to dodge it, but it was too late, and the spell grazed her side, causing her to fall.

“Nell!” Charlie appeared almost out of nowhere and kneeled next to her. “Are you all right? Talk to me…”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she hurried to calm him down, though she grimaced with pain.

Charlie quickly checked the spot where she was hit. Her blouse was torn, revealing red skin, but there was no wound. “Come on, let’s take you from here.”

He helped her get up and led her to the edges of the room where he spotted Ben Copper tending to two students.

“Ben! We need you!”

The Healer hearing his name turned his head to them. “What happened?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” replied Helena. “I can--”

“No, you have to rest at least,” Charlie cut in. “Keep an eye on her, Ben.”

He deflected one more spell and run back into the fight. Ben in the meantime tried to examine her, but she gently pushed him away.

“It’s nothing, really. There’s no time for that.”

She was calm but determined, so Ben didn’t push. “All right, but you’re not going back there. I need some cover when I take care of those two.”

He pointed to a Hufflepuff girl and a Ravenclaw boy behind them, both visibly scared. Helena nodded and took her position. Everyone’s attention seemed to concentrate towards the centre of the Great Hall, so they weren’t being attacked directly, but stray curses almost hit them a couple of times. Helena also managed to stop some Death Eaters, whether from escaping or assaulting the others.

Suddenly, the shouting in the middle became louder, and the whole atmosphere got more tense. Helena was too far to tell what’s it about exactly, though - until almost all went silent. She exchanged questioning looks with Ben.

“Go, see what’s happening,” he told her.

When she finally broke into the crowd, she realised that everyone was paralysed because of the encounter within the circle. The Boy Who Lived was facing the Dark Lord. She tensely watched them moving in constant distance between them, looking ready to attack. She listened to the story of the Elder Wand, of the big intrigue behind that war. And then, with just one hit from both sides, it was over. Voldemort was dead.

The joyful cheering exploded around her. Everyone was trying to reach Harry Potter now, pushing her in that direction. But she needed to find someone else. She was scanning people in search of familiar faces to finally pick up Charlie’s. She ran right into his arms, laughing with relief. However, when she made sure that he’s all right, she felt a wave of anxiety.

“Have you seen Jacob?” she asked, holding onto his arm.

Charlie shook his head and his face got graver. “There are so many people. I still haven’t seen everyone.”

“I better go search for him…”

“I’m sure he’s fine.” He sounded confident, but she knew it was only because she needed to hear that. Anything could’ve happened, and a bad feeling was growing inside her chest.

She left the Great Hall, going oppositely to the most. She didn’t get far when she met Rowan, and she almost sobbed at her sight.

“Helen!”

“Rowan! You’re all right!” she whimpered, hugging her tightly. “Oh god, I didn’t see you at all, I didn’t know--”

Her voice cracked, so Rowan started patting her back calmingly. When they finally parted, Helena noticed an open wound on her friend’s arm.

“Oh god, you’re not all right!”

“It’s not a big deal.” Rowan waved her hand. “I’ll take care of it in a moment.”

Helena frowned, but she nodded and swallowed hard. “Have you seen Jacob somewhere?”

Rowan’s eyes got wider. “No, I haven’t. I thought he’d be with you.”

“He was. But then we got separated.”

“He’s probably helping people around the castle. There’s a lot of the injured. Do you want me to help you find him?”

Helena looked at her arm and took a deep breath. “No. It doesn’t look good, you better have it checked.”

Rowan hesitated, but she agreed to go see the Healers while Helena continued her search, walking faster through the debris, calling Jacob’s name. She started to think that perhaps they missed each other and she should return… when she finally spotted him on one of the higher levels. He was lying unconscious under the wall. There had to be a cut on his head because blood covered a part of his face.

“No…”

She approached him slowly as if it could delay the terrible truth. She fell to her knees and leant over him, cupping his face.

“Jacob, can you hear me?” She brushed his cheek with her thumb. “Open your eyes, Jacob…” She laid her fingers on his neck. There was no pulse. “Open your eyes, please,” she repeated. “Don’t do this to me…”

She wanted to believe that if she waited long enough, if she’d be patient enough, he’d come back – just like Rowan. That it’s not real, just another lie in her life. But at the same time, she knew that Jacob was truly gone. It was a battle, and he was just one of the casualties. She didn’t even know how he died.

She sat on the ground, leaning on the wall, and pulled Jacob up on her chest. She wasn’t sure how long she was holding him before she heard footsteps and Charlie got down next to her. He didn’t speak.

“It’s not fair, Charlie,” she whispered, sniffling.

“I know.”

“It wasn’t his war, he didn’t even want to fight. We should’ve left as he said.”

Charlie tried to touch her arm, but she got startled, so he just sat by her side instead.

“He already saved that fucking school! And for what?!” she cried out. “To be killed like that?!”

Her last words turned into a shriek. She pulled Jacob’s body up again as it was slipping from her grasp. He was too heavy, and she was too tired to carry him. Some more time had passed before they were found by Ben.

“Helen…” he started softly. “I’m so sorry. But we have to take him to the Great Hall.”

She finally raised her head and looked at them. Ben was squatting in front of her, Charlie still in the same place. She took a deep breath and carefully rested Jacob against the wall. Then, Charlie helped her stand up once more that day, and she immediately buried her face in his chest. She couldn’t watch Jacob being taken away. When she looked at Charlie, though, she recognised that there’s more bad news to come.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, trying to contain trembling of her voice. “Who else?”

His eyes were glistening. “Tonks… and her husband… they didn’t make it.” Helena covered her mouth with both hands. “And Fred--” The words stuck in his throat.

“He’s just a kid…” she murmured, hugging him again. “I’m sorry, Charlie…”

She wanted to stay with him and comfort him. She wanted to find Rowan and make sure that nobody else got hurt. But all the noises were overwhelming, and she felt like she started suffocating.

“I have to get out of here. I’m sorry…”

She somehow reached the exit, not fully registering things around her. Only some young excited wizard stopped her when she was about to leave.

“We won! Can you believe it?!”

“Did we, really…?”

He was too thrilled to notice her blank stare, and so he quickly went his way. As soon as Helena got outside, she choked on the morning air. She sat on the stairs and embraced herself in an attempt to control the shaking of her body.

“Hey, may I?”

Another minutes or hours escaped her attention. This time, it was Talbott standing above her. She nodded without a word, and he took a seat on one of the steps.

“I’ve heard about your brother. I’m really sorry.”

She bit her lips to stop a weep, but the tears fell down her face. They were sitting a long moment in silence.

“Will it always hurt?” she finally said weakly.

Talbott watched her with compassion. “Yeah.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Move on,” he replied softly. “Find something worth forgetting about the pain. And most importantly, always remember the good things.” He hesitated before patting her shoulder. “Tonks would want us to celebrate the victory,” he added with a sad smile. “You know where to find me if you need to.”

And like that, she was left alone. She hid her face in her hands. It suddenly occurred to her that her parents probably didn’t know anything yet, so she wondered whether she should go back to the castle or home. But then, she was disturbed again.

“Hey, are you all right?”

She had to shade her eyes from the sun to see who’s talking to her. To her surprise, it was Harry Potter himself. The Boy Who Lived who just defeated the Dark Lord was asking her if she’s all right. He was the same age as her when she entered the final Cursed Vault. The same age as Jacob when he joined R. She suddenly felt bad because if her experience taught her anything, probably nobody showed much concern about Harry in all of that. When the wizarding world would stop relying on children to solve their problems?

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

He took a closer look at her. “Do we know each other?”

“No, I don’t think so. I mean, I know you…”

“No, but I’m pretty sure I saw you at the Burrow.”

“Oh!” She smiled faintly at that remark. It was almost funny that they never had an occasion to be introduced properly. “That is possible, indeed.”

“Well, nice to finally meet you then. I’m Harry.”

He reached out his hand to her. He appeared as exhausted as she felt. “Helena.”

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

She nodded. “Don’t mind me. But I guess you could use some help with those blankets.”

She took a part of the armful he was carrying, and they headed together back inside. She started helping wherever it was needed. She found Rowan being tended to by Ben and who was upset with him because he didn’t let her go find Helena – but he insisted that Rowan’s wound might’ve been too serious. She spent some time with the Weasleys, grieving over Fred. She was trying to keep herself busy and bring consolation to the others.

And the same thought was motivating her in years to come, just to not let herself get lost in the emptiness. Eventually, she even learnt to be happy again. But nothing could change the fact that in the Battle of Hogwarts she lost not only brother and friends. Part of herself died that day as well.

#long post #hogwarts mystery #hphm #hphm mc #jacob's sibling #helena ellis #hphm jacob #jacob ellis #alice ellis #christopher ellis #bill weasley #charlie weasley #post hphm #my writing

31 notes · View notes

kriscme · 4 years ago

Text

One Life to Live

Here’s the latest chapter. Thanks to Ronja for permission to write fanfic of her Hunger Games fanfic “The Chance You Didn’t Take.” It can be found on A03 as this can too (under Kris22). Thanks for reading. Chapter 35 I wake to bright sunshine and the citrusy perfume of evening primrose wafting in from the open window. Such a lovely dream I had last night. I was following Prim through the woods and the further she took me, the happier I became, even though we never arrived at any place. But then I remember my current predicament and my spirits plummet again. I turn to face Peeta, expecting to see him, but he’s not here. The only sign that he was in my bed last night is the impression his head made on the pillow close to my own. Somehow, we both seemed to have gravitated to the middle of the bed during the night. From downstairs I hear movement and two voices in conversation. That could only be Peeta and Haymitch. No one else would be in the Village and in my house at this hour. The clock by the bed tells me I have an hour before it’s time to leave for work. I use most of it to shower and dress. I don’t want to face either of them just yet. They’ll only talk strategy. Haymitch seems to have relished getting back into his old mentor role which is odd, because he hated it when he actually was one. As for Peeta, I haven’t seen him like this since the Quarter Quell when he had us all training like careers. There’s the same energy and focus. It’s as if he’s determined to get me home a third time. Only this time his reasons are . . . well, I don’t know what his reasons are but it is good to see him back to his old self. I should make an effort to stop being so sulky and disagreeable around him. It’s not his fault he doesn’t love me anymore and he is doing me a huge favor at risk to himself. As soon as I see the food laid out on the table, I wish I had come down earlier. Peeta has cooked my favorite breakfast of sausages, eggs, potatoes, bread, juice and hot chocolate. I tuck in, ignoring Haymitch’s scowl. It’s my house. I’ll come down when I want to. “We keep to the schedule as planned,” says Haymitch. “And it goes without saying – “ “Stay in love,” Peeta and I say in unison. “And don’t be afraid to lay it on thick,” Haymitch adds. “That’s what the public is used to seeing from you. This isn’t an old settled relationship. Or a continuation of one. It’s brand new. You want to avoid any talk that this has been going on behind Lace’s back and it’s why the wedding was called off. After the cameras are gone, you still have to live amongst these people. No one likes a cheater.” “It won’t be a problem,” says Peeta, as he starts to clear away the dishes. I grab the plate with the potatoes before he takes it. “It actually works out well. Lace was worried that people might think the same of her and Arthur if their relationship became public too soon. But if she and I both have partners, they’re far less likely to think that one of us had cheated on the other. I’ll let her know sometime today that Katniss and I are together.” I bet that will shock her. After all his talk of me being an illusion, he’d better have a convincing excuse for why he’s changed his mind. But at least I know that he’s aware that Lace is with Arthur now. What’s most surprising though, is that he doesn’t seem upset about it. And they’re still talking to each other. On Haymitch’s advice, we take the most public route into work so as to be seen by the maximum number of people. That takes us through the main street past Lace’s shop. I catch a glimpse of her through the window sorting through fabrics. She has her back to us. The shop next door is vacant but there’s carpentry in progress, probably for new fittings for Arthur when he moves in. We turn down a side street and pass by Arthur’s shop. He’s opened early as usual. I don’t see him but I know he’ll be hard at work, saving for that factory he plans to own one day. The salon is closed at this hour but I spy Flavius at the front desk, head down, consulting the appointment book. He raises his head as we walk by. I move closer to Peeta and rise on tiptoe to kiss his cheek before giving Flavius a wave. The news will be all over town by the end of the day. We meet for lunch at the small park adjacent to the school. It’s a hot day but the old oak tree provides plentiful shade. We eschew the bench seat and sit on the grass because it looks more romantic that way. I kick off my shoes to cool my feet and smooth out the folds of my dress. It’s the sunset dress that Peeta likes. It just happened to be the first thing on hand when I reached into my closet this morning. Peeta has brought us food from the bakery. He holds out in each hand a white paper bag with the Carter logo on it. “Beef or chicken?” “Um . . . beef,” I say. Peeta hands me one of the bags and keeps the other. It’s not a pie but a sandwich with layers of thinly sliced roast beef, cheese, lettuce, tomato and some kind of sauce. I take my first bite and moan appreciatively. This might just overtake cheese buns for me. “Since when did the bakery sell sandwiches?” I ask. “Since last week. And coffee and other beverages too. It’s an experiment, to see how well it does. In the Capitol, the bakery also functioned as a café, with indoor seating. It will mean moving to larger premises but it might be needed anyway. Did I tell you we’re getting cake orders from as far away as the Capitol now? The one I did for Cressida’s wedding seems to have started it.” “That’s great, Peeta,” I say, genuinely happy for him. But then a terrible thought occurs to me. Cass told me that Peeta could get work anywhere. What if he leaves 12 for the Capitol for bigger opportunities? I’m suddenly consumed with fear. I don’t want him to go. “I’ve also been offered a fourth share partnership in the business too, along with Julius, Cass and Cornelia,” he adds, his face alight with enthusiasm. “They want to keep you,” I say. “Probably,” he concedes. “But there’s more to it than that. We’re more than just coworkers. I feel disloyal saying this and no one could ever replace them, but in a way, it’s like having my brothers back. And Cornelia is the woman one of them might have married. Does that sound bad?” “Not at all,” I say, thinking of Johanna and how she’s like a sister to me. Loved ones can’t be replaced but it doesn’t mean your circle can’t expand to include others. “I suppose you won’t be opening a bakery of your own any time soon then? Wasn’t that one of the plans you made with Lace?” Peeta gives a short, self-depreciating laugh. “That was never going to happen. Responsible for running a bakery? Ugh! I like what I’m doing now, decorating cakes and leaving the management side of it to others. I think we just chose what we thought the other expected of us, not what we actually wanted for ourselves. Lace would never have been happy giving up her shop to work from home. She’s worked too hard for it. And five kids? At this stage of my life, I’m not even sure about one.” “Really?” I ask. That was the only part of it that made any sense to me – that Peeta would want a large family. “I thought you’d like to have children.” From the school grounds nearby, I can hear the shrieks and laughter of children at play. It wasn’t long ago that the mere thought of having to teach Peeta and Lace’s children had filled me with dread. I was sure that if it was Peeta’s choice, they’d have had them straight off. “One day, perhaps,” he says. “But I want to be in a better place than I am right now. You know, with the attacks and everything. And we’re only twenty. There’s plenty of time.” Twenty-one. Lace is twenty-one. “You?” he asks. “Oh, um, the same as you, I guess,” I say, surprised to have the question turned back on me. “I’ll think about it when the time comes. But for the moment, no. I want to see how things turn out. With the new government, I mean. Whether the peace lasts.” I want to be certain the Games will never return before I’m be ready to bring children into the world. “I meant more general that that,” he says. “How do you see your future? What do you want to do?” I take a moment to think about it. My future isn’t something I’ve given much thought to other than in terms of what I can’t do because of my confinement. But it dawns on me that even if had the choice to live wherever I wanted, I’d still choose Twelve. It’s my home and the people and places I love are here. “Keep on teaching, I suppose, and finish getting my qualifications. Mr Matson suggested I could teach archery to the older students. So maybe I’ll do that. I doubt there’ll be much hunting once the woods officially become national park so it seems a good compromise. I can continue to use my skills and pass them on at the same time.” “Sounds perfect,” says Peeta, smiling at me. We go back to eating our lunch. I see a few people walking past on the opposite side of the road but foot traffic around here is thin and sporadic. It’s an out-of-the-way place to be seen but Haymitch’s rationale is that we can’t just frequent the popular places because that would cause suspicion in itself. We have to appear as a normal courting couple doing what a normal courting couple would do. Picnicking in a sequestered park is apparently one of them. But there’s at least one onlooker. A squirrel, perched on one of the lower branches watches expectantly. He seems used to people as he doesn’t show any fear. And probably used to being fed by them too. I break off a piece of crust and throw it a short distance away. He doesn’t hesitate. He scampers down the tree, grabs his prize, and scurries back up. I catch Peeta observing me, a look of amusement on his face. “What?” I demand. He had better not be laughing at me. “It’s just seeing a new side of you, that’s all. You know, relaxed. One time, that squirrel would have ended up with one of your arrows through its eye. But now you share your lunch with it. I like it. It means you’re in a better place now. Not so concerned with survival.” Humph! The last time I heard anyone talk about me and survival was in the basement of a dingy little shop in the Capitol that sold fur underwear. “Katniss will pick whoever she thinks she can’t survive without.” Gale said it, and Peeta didn’t refute it. The same resentment I felt then wells up in me. There it is again, the implication that any finer feelings are subservient to my need to survive. Not love, or desire, or compatibility, or even just throwing a crust of bread to a squirrel. I didn’t get to defend myself then, but I will now. “That’s a horrible thing to say.” Peeta’s eyebrows shoot up in a surprise. “I hate that people think that of me – that I’ll put my own wellbeing ahead of anything else. If I’ve tried so hard to survive, it’s because I had people depending on me. What would have happened to Prim, or my mother, if I hadn’t been around to make sure there was food on the table? Prim would have ended up in the Community Home and that meant as good as dead. I’ll do anything for the people I love. Die for them if need be. I would die for you. I –“ I stop short, remembering all of a sudden that I’m supposed to keep those feelings hidden. Heat rises in my face. “I mean – “And then it’s Peeta who cuts me short. He takes my face in his hands and kisses me. Really kisses me, not the closed mouth playacting kind, but softly, insistently, plying my mouth open with his own. For a few seconds I’m stunned into inaction. But then I feel that thing. That thing that happened in the cave and on the beach. And I put my arms around his neck and kiss him back hungrily, greedy for more. He pulls me closer and we sort of meld together, the points of his body picking out the counter-points of my own and I moan somewhere deep in my throat. I forget we’re in a public space and only a short distance from a school. Nothing exists but Peeta and me and when I feel his hand slip between my thighs under the cover of my dress, lightly as if seeking permission, my legs fall apart in open invitation and I will it to go higher, to that place that wants him so badly.

His fingertips barely make contact when from some faraway place the pulsating ring of a school bell sounds. With great reluctance, I am dragged back into the present and reality returns with a thud. I pull away, confused. What just happened? Why did he do that? My head whips around looking for the audience he’s playing to, but there’s no one about.

“Don’t. Don’t let’s pretend when there’s no one around,” I say, getting quickly to my feet. It’s not . . . we shouldn’t do it. It’s how lines get blurred.” And people get hurt. People being me. I shove my feet into my shoes. “I have to go. Class is about to start. Thanks for lunch.”

I don’t wait for a response from Peeta. I race off, leaving him to dispose of the remains of our lunch, a look of bewildered concern on his face. The kiss leaves me shaken and it takes a concerted effort to concentrate on my work. That was so close. Too close. How am I going to get through this without breaking down? There’s at least three weeks to go. This week before the television crew arrives, the following when they set up, and after that a week of filming. I don’t know how Peeta did it. All that kissing and hugging on the Victory Tour. And the nights on the train. And then when we shared a bed in the Capitol just before the Quell. It must have been torture. As it will be for me tonight, and every other night until this is over.

Luckily, Peeta and I don’t finish work at the same time so I’m spared walking home with him. As I’m home first, I set the table and prepare the food for dinner, allowing extra in case Haymitch turns up, which he probably will. And then I go into the living room and take a book from the shelf. I hope reading will be a distraction because I just can’t get that kiss out of my mind. It’s a book on conservation that Marcus left behind, and it’s as dry as you’d imagine but it does nothing to lessen the wetness between my legs. I am so aroused; I’m fit to burst. There’s only one solution. I slip my hand under my dress to take care of it myself, and I’m just on the verge when I hear the front door open. It’s Peeta.

I quickly open the book and pretend to be immersed in it.

“Good book?” Peeta asks, as he comes into the room. He takes the seat opposite and reads the title from the cover. “’Wetland Techniques.” I suppose we could all benefit by brushing up on our wetland technique. Maybe I should read it after you.” “

Maybe,” I say noncommittedly, and lower my eyes back to the page. I hope he’ll take the hint that I’m not in a sociable mood and go away.

There’s a long pause. “Katniss, I think we should talk about what happened at the park.”

I don’t think that’s a good idea at all. If Peeta has a flaw it’s that he likes to talk about things that shouldn’t be talked about. It would be better for both of us if we pretended it didn’t happen.

“Things got a little carried away, that’s all,” I say. “It was bound to happen with us forced into this situation again. We just have to be more careful next time.”

“Is that what you want?” he asks, frowning. “I think it’s best, don’t you? If we’re to get through this, we need to set boundaries. After all, we have to go back to living normally after this. We have to stay friends.” I try to sound convincing but there’s a faint tremor in my voice. I stare down at my book to avoid looking at him.

“All right, Katniss,” he says tiredly. He rises from the chair. “I’ll get dinner started then. Haymitch should be here soon.”

After he leaves the room, I let out my breath. I don’t think he believed me but maybe that’s not important. We only have to preserve the veneer. But he makes it so hard. Always wanting to open wounds instead of just leaving them alone. I’ll just have to stay on my guard and make sure to keep him at a safe distance. Obviously, Peeta isn’t averse to having sex with me if what happened at the park is any indication. But then, I was practically begging him. I know you don’t have to be in love to have sex. And if sex is all I wanted from Peeta, I’d do it in a heartbeat. But I know, I just know, that if we went down that path, the floodgates would open and I’d be as helpless as ever and in an even worse place than I am now. Nothing will have changed. I’d still be in love with someone who isn’t in love with me.

While Peeta makes dinner, I take a shower. A cold one. And change out of the sunset dress into something that makes me feel less vulnerable – tight-fitting trousers and a t-shirt. I’d wear a chastity belt if I had one because I don’t really trust myself. I wait until Haymitch arrives before I go downstairs. The less alone time I have with Peeta, the better.

Unfortunately, Haymitch doesn’t stay for very long after we’ve eaten. I was hoping that he and Peeta would get the chess board out again so I could avoid interacting with him.

“It’s Monday,” I tell Peeta, when he comments on Haymitch’s early departure. “He wants to be home to watch “One Life to Live.” He’s something of an addict.” I dry the last of the dishes and put it away while Peeta makes tea.

“That’s the show Plutarch talked about, isn’t it?” he asks. “Yeah, that’s the one. It’s the most rubbishy, most stupid thing ever. I was insulted when he compared us to Celia and Blake. Idiots, both of them.”

“I can’t really comment. I’ve never watched it,” he says, as he pours tea into two mugs.

I sniff derisively. “Well, you haven’t missed anything. I can’t think why Haymitch likes it.”

“Let’s find out.” “What? You actually want to watch it?”

“Yeah. I do. You can explain the plot so far.”

He picks up one of the mugs and I take the other. “That will take about two seconds.” Nonetheless, I follow him into the living room and sit down beside him on the sofa. I guess there are worse things to do than watching television together, even if it is “One Life to Live.” At least it’s a distraction and we won’t have to talk much. My gaze flickers over to Peeta. I’m acutely aware of him. His well-muscled thigh only inches from my own. The fine blond hair on his strong capable hands. Hands that can lift heavy sacks of flour yet wield a paintbrush with the most delicate precision. Hands that were on me only hours earlier. A throbbing starts between my legs at the thought of it. I cross one leg over the other to alleviate the sensation but then quickly uncross them. The movement makes the crotch seam of my trousers rub against me in a most stimulating way. I should have worn a dress.

With a click of the remote control, the opening credits of “One Life to Live” appear on the screen. I swallow hard and force myself to focus. “Well, Celia and Blake are from neighboring districts . . . “

2 notes · View notes

notquitejiraiya · 4 years ago

Text

Chess [32] - {ShikaTema AU}

Only 2 chapters left! 34 will be the finale. I really hope you enjoy this chapter - it’s a long one.

As always, thank you for the support you give me and this fic - it means the world to me!

[READ/COMMENT ON AO3]

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Shikamaru sighed as he stepped back from the window, wiping his hands on his apron with eyes still fixed on the shop opposite. He was sure, for a moment, that he’d seen a flash of blonde hair peep through the glass above the window display, but that seemed far too convenient to be true. After his talk with Ino he was considerably less annoyed with himself, but there was a worry that clambered to his attention—stung, even. And when two blonde ponytails rose from behind the stacks of woodwork again, for certain this time, Shikamaru found himself frozen solid.

“Hey! There you go,” Ino chirped from behind him, clearly seeing the same thing, “you didn’t even need to call Temari—she’s already here to see you.”

Usually, Ino’s excitement would get on his nerve’s, but today he found it hard not to smile at her as he turned briefly. If she could see it, he wasn’t going mad—Temari was really there, just a stone’s throw away. Still, as he hurled a couple of left over pieces of flower arranging foam in her general direction, Shikamaru rolled his eyes all the same. “Ah, yes,” he groaned sarcastically, “there she is in her brother’s shop, very clearly here to see me and not him.”

“Shikamaru, she—”

A clattering of metal and a shout echoed across the street and both heads whipped round in tandem to look at the carpenter’s. It was seemingly fine from where they stood; no movement from the blonde except a quick shake of her head and the movement of another silhouette deeper within the shop which could only be Kankuro. But such a noise didn’t come from nothing—something must have gone awry over there.

Momentarily, a shiver crossed Shikamaru’s shoulders. They were fighting, weren’t they? Why else would there be such a godawful racket and shouting to follow?

That didn’t exactly sit well. Slinking away to the back of the shop, his head ducked down, it was all too apparent to Shikamaru that the last reason the two siblings had fallen out was him—he was the reason—and he didn’t know why exactly past Kankuro’s general dislike for him; something he didn’t fully understand even now. Based off of Temari’s message last night, he had assumed the two made up on that topic, but from what he was seeing that line of thinking seemed questionable at best. Don’t push it, she had told him. The more he thought on those three words, the less comforted he felt.

He retreated to the corner behind the cash register and cleared his throat awkwardly. “So,” he mumbled halfheartedly, eyes focusing in on the clipboard his colleague had brought downstairs, “looks like a busy day on Friday.”

Ino raised her eyebrows. “Are you serious?”

“What?” Shikamaru shrugged and leaned against the counter. “I was just—”

“You were just changing the subject.” She tossed the foam she held in her hands toward him, and tutted when he missed deliberately. “Go,” she instructed. “Go over to that shop—right now.”

Shikamaru laughed, trying to ignore the beads of sweat he could feel seeping through his hairline. No way in hell was he getting involved over there. Those two were insane enough separately for him to know that the last thing he wanted was to be sandwiched between them in a room full of sharp objects.

He almost felt obliged to explain to Ino how utterly stupid the idea she’d just suggested truly was, and threatened to ask if she really wanted him to return in five minutes, scarred by the noise and possibly even missing his right hand. Instead he shook his head and simply said, “Not a fucking chance.”

“You’re afraid of her brother, aren’t you?” she smirked. “Admittedly, he could probably kill you.”

“Encouraging as always, Ino,” he deadpanned, shaking his head. “You’re probably right, but I’m more afraid of irritating either of them than getting attacked by that madman.”

She scoffed. “Last time he was here you weren’t exactly nice.”

“In my defence, I didn’t expect to see Temari ever again at that point.”

“Right, well,” began Ino, “if you can hold your ground—which we know you can from last time he was here—why aren’t you over there right now talking to her?”

Shikamaru ducked his head a little further, hand shooting to the back of his neck as he hoped to hide the redness enveloping his expression. “It’s a bit personal to talk about everything in front of that guy, Ino.”

“But you’d talk about it in front of me, right?”

He laughed bitterly without a second’s thought, and immediately averted his eyes as far from Ino as he could. It was an attempt to ignore her dramatic enactment of what Shikamaru could only assume was him stabbing her in the back, but he saw it all the same. “Grow up,” he muttered, forcing back a smile at his friend before letting his eyes wander before zoning straight back in on the carpenter’s.

Everything seemed to have died down—no movement at all now. Instinctively Shikamaru pried his phone from the back pocket of his jeans and grumbled at the lack of messages. It was infuriating being able to see the back of her head, yet being powerless to making it turn without interfering. He just wanted her to look his way so he could see those eyes. There was no desire to get in her way, or force her out of her routine, just a simple turn would be satisfying enough for him—it would make his day that much better in a single second. Seeing her eyes from a distance was better than not seeing them at all, that was for sure.

I could ring her, he thought to himself as he opened her contact page hesitantly. His eyes darted between the screen and those blonde ponytails one final time, and he bit down on his lip hard.

“While you’re at it, ask her out, yeah?”

He turned to Ino whose arms were tightly crossed. “What?”

“It’s not hard, Shikamaru. Whilst you ring her, which you’re so obviously about to do, ask her out,” she said smugly. “And not for fish and chips like last time, cheapskate.”

Shikamaru could feel his face heating up, and shook his head rapidly as he slotted the phone back into his jeans. “No,” he told her calmly. “I’m supposed to talk to her about my appointment—that’s what she wants to speak about.”

“And what about after that conversation has dried up, huh? What will you talk about then? Because you’re sure as hell not going to hang up immediately, are you?” Ino grinned as soon as he rolled his eyes in response, clearly aware that he wasn’t going to offer a counterargument . “I’m sure,” she added, “that she only wants an excuse to talk to you, just like you wanted an excuse to talk to her.”

He had to admit that such a thought was comforting beyond belief. It made sense, somehow, that she would weave reasons from every part of his day, every event, that made it acceptable to talk to him. After all, he’d done the same to her. He’d texted her last night just to tell her he’d got home safe, knowing full well she knew he would, just in the hope that she’d reply to him and tell him goodnight. Of course, she had—she’d wished him goodnight and arranged their call this morning in that moment, too.

He had had, just as she’d wished him, a brilliant night’s sleep. Even his dreams had been brilliant—brighter and more exciting than they had ever been. For a moment he contemplated telling her about the dream he’d had: the way she’d sat in his parents garden in it, staring up at the clouds in the sky, and the smile on her face. He thought about telling her how it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and how impressive it had been when she’d made the wind dance around her in spectacular turrets to block the path to her, only to let them settle when her eyes lay on him.

The smile he remembered wearing in his dream plastered across his face. She’d made his path easier, even in dreams—he wanted to tell her that.

But it was boring, wasn’t it, to talk about ones dreams? Even a woman whose everyday revolved around the inner workings of peoples minds surely cared more for the real world than midnight fantasies. Shikamaru knew how much he hated it when Choji harped on about his recurring orangutan nightmare—how did he know this was any more interesting? How did he know if it wasn’t creepy that he’d dreamed about her?

What if she’d dreamed about me? The smile on his lips grew giddy, and he blinked his way out of his web of wild thoughts quickly. If she missed him as she’d said, there was a chance she had. It made sense, just as much as her desire to talk to him did, but he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around such a notion.

“You want to ask her out—admit it.”

“Fine,” he relented, “I do.”

“Well, good,” Ino giggled as she said it, cheeky as ever, “because looks like she’s coming right now.”

All he could get out as his eyes caught hers through the window was a whispered curse. Shikamaru scurried out from behind the desk, and without thinking her hurtled towards the stairs, rushing up them three steps at a time. His mind raced with everything he could possibly say to her—how was he supposed to choose what was important and wasn’t anymore? Hell, why had he hidden himself away upstairs the moment he’d caught sight of her after praying she’d turn to look at him only moments ago? There was no logic to that, no sense at all, much like the jumble of words clambering to be heard in his mind right now.

But then, as he threw himself into a chair by the desk, he recalled what Ino had said. Logic didn’t play a single part in love. It wasn’t a game, and he certainly couldn’t control the movements of any of the people in play—himself less than anyone else! This was out of his hands, and he knew his position. He was being advanced on by the queen right now—his queen—and he could he could hear the words echoing in his ears, “Check mate.”

He shuddered. How was he supposed to talk to her about Chojuro when he couldn’t even remember a single word of what he had said to the man. Amongst all the feelings Ino had let him spill out and explained, he barely remembered a thing. All he remembered was the kindness and the warmth the man had radiated. That and the desire he’d had for her to suddenly appear at his side every time he blinked to make it all easier, and the comfort he’d felt knowing that he’d hear her voice today.

Now he didn’t just get to hear her voice; he got to see her face. Surely that was a good thing—a win in every sense of the word. So why was he hiding? Why was he worrying about stumbling over his words like this?

Shikamaru let his head fall on the table with a loud bang, and hissed in pain at his own stupidity as he sat back up.

Get a grip…

Ino called something up to him him, her tone a perfect mix of frustration and glee, but the words she said didn’t even begin to register in Shikamaru’s mind. He felt powerless to the way his heart was pumping out of his chest, and how every blink of his eyes brought him closer to opening them and seeing her again. How was he supposed to keep a straight face talking to her? Before she even walked in he knew he was going to do something stupid—something embarrassing. Until he’d met this woman, and caught himself up in her life through kind words and perfect smiles, he’d always settled in this glum little hole inside himself, and while he certainly hadn’t been happy there, it was still a shock to find himself outside that hole.

He felt exposed, and so brilliantly out in the open.

Shikamaru almost choked on his own saliva when he heard the bell ring.

There were some pleasant murmurs from below, a few words at most, before he the tapping of feet against stairs began. He dropped his head and grabbed a pencil, twirling as though he was planning to use it somehow. The footsteps, all too soon, came to a stop, and as his tapped the pencil nervously against his palm he heard a great sigh sound behind him.

“Hey.”

Her voice, undistorted by a telephone, sent a shiver across his shoulders and Shikamaru couldn’t help but smile. One syllable shot a relaxing sensation right through his body like nothing he’d ever felt, and he found himself sheepishly turning his head. She stood before him with her hands stuffed firmly in the back pockets of her jeans, kicking at the floor nervously, and instantly he felt his anxieties settle at the sight of her own.

“Hi.”

More than anything, Shikamaru wanted to close that distance and engulf her in his arms, capture her lips with his own. He wanted to point out every perfect detail of her face, and try explain to her the warmth it summoned in his chest, or how the meek smile she was giving him made the rest of the world disappear.

There was so much to say, too much he wanted to tell her, to such an extent that all he could get out was: “You look nice.” It wasn’t a lie—she did—but he wanted to punch himself. Nice didn’t even begin to cover it, after all. Especially not when you compared her stunning curves to the dirt on every inch of his grubby uniform.

He looked down at himself and registered the missing button—the button that’d torn off thanks to her—and wondered how on earth they’d got here. They’d yo-yoed their way to this point, in and out of each others arms for a month, and Shikamaru had no idea how he’d got so lucky by doing so little. It was almost embarrassing. Almost as embarrassing as his compliment had been weak.

Nice, he thought to himself. You’re all I want to look at for the rest of my life.

Thankfully Temari’s smile grew as a subtle blush tinted her ears, and the butterflies in Shikamaru’s stomach settled as he watched her body soften at his voice. “What’re you doing over there?” she asked, mischievously.

One step towards him sent Shikamaru reeling. “I’m, um,” he stammered, his eyes falling down to his pencil. He felt so unlike himself in this moment, hating how flustered he was beyond belief, and hoped it would dissipate quickly. Whilst he was in this state, not a single excuse was coming to him—no lies or quips to explain himself even slightly—and Shikamaru found himself chuckling with no idea how to proceed. It seemed easiest to say nothing at all, but with her right there and so much running through his brain, that option couldn’t have seemed further from impossible if he tried.

When he looked up at her she was much closer than she had been before, looming over him with eyes that were as expectant as they were narrow, as unconvinced as they were beautiful. He pouted in order to contain his chuckles and shook his head in resignation. “I’m not going anything useful,” he admitted with his lip between his teeth. “Honestly, I was hiding.”

“From me?”

He nodded. “Yep.”

“Wimp.”

The most embarrassing snort escaped him as he rose from the chair, sitting up on the table in a desperate attempt to gain the higher ground. “Correct,” he told her as she edged closer. Her fingers wrapped around the top of the chair and she looked at him expectantly, leaning forward slightly. “What’s the matter with you?” he chuckled. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Temari shook her head in disbelief at the oblivious idiot before her, a soft but worried smile overriding the frustration behind her eyes. “You didn’t call me, Shikamaru.”

“And you didn’t call me at the weekend,” he shot back. “So, shall we call it even?”

“Fucking hell.” She pursed her lips. “I think I preferred you a minute ago when you were cowering in your chair. Can we go back to that?”

A victorious smirk spread across Shikamaru’s face as he watched contempt settle into her expression, and he linked his hands in his lap to stop them flying to her waist, pulling her close. For a moment he almost told her that if she wanted to go back to that she’s need to leave. After all, it was her comforting presence which had caused the change in his demeanour the first place, but despite the confidence she amplified within him, he wasn’t capable of saying so. Instead when he opened his mouth to speak he simply said, “Chojuro’s a nice man.”

She didn’t look surprised, but much to his dismay she stepped backwards, and began to trace her fingertips along the cabinets when she reached the other side of the room. “You liked him, then?”

“I did.”

“And you think he’ll help? You trust him?”

“I do.”

“But?”

Shikamaru’s head drooped. “Who says there’s a ‘but’?”

“It’s obvious,” she told him. “Did something go badly?”

He lifted his feet onto the fair before him and rested his elbows on his knees. Slouching, he began to chew slightly on his thumbnail. “No, it went fine—it went great—but…” A piece of hair fell from his ponytail as he trailed off and shrouded his right eye slightly, but he didn’t think to fix it, too focused on the way Temari had drawn to a halt, staring at him.

Given his new slouchy position, she found it much harder not to storm towards him, throw aside the chair and occupy that space between his legs, but she settled on staring—an action he returned, much to her pleasure.

The way he looked at her, whatever emotion raged through those deep brown eyes, never faced to ignite something in her. Whether that was a rampaging thought in her mind, a heat in the depths of her stomach, or some other ravenous feeling ready to eat her up, Temari found it all equally impossible ignore.

Right now, as if to torture her, it felt like every feeling hit her at once. The top button of his collar, bust and missing, left both shadows of his collarbone and Adam’s apple in plain sight. There came that fire, creeping through her every nerve. The beauty of his tired doe-eyes, and the solemn smile that laced his lips—so subtle she worried it might disappear—showed her every emotions without a single word.

He was good at that, she decided: communicating without words. Or maybe she’d just grown good at reading him over the last month or so. But either way, when the silence fell around them for a moment she she looked into his eyes she could hear exactly what they were saying through the deafening quiet. Above it all, even about the sadness, all she seemed to see was gratefulness; gratefulness and admiration, with a touch of something that felt a little too terrifying to name…

She cleared her throat, worried that her perceptions might be failing her, and tapped anxiously on the counter. “‘But’ what, Shikamaru?”

“But,” Shikamaru sighed, his voice somehow lighter than she’d ever heard before, “he isn’t you.”

Temari’s shoulders fell slightly, her stomach turning as she tried to decide how she could possibly rationalise this with him another time. She wasn’t sure she could bare to have the conversation about why she couldn’t take him in yet again, and forced a smile as she crossed her arms across her chest. “I can’t be that figure for you anymore,” she told him in a far shakier voice than she would’ve liked. “You know I can’t.”

“You can't,” he agreed, “and I don’t want you to be.”

She frowned. “Then why say—”

“Tem, you’ve got to remember that you’ve helped me so much—saved me, even.” Shikamaru’s eyes glistened over, and her heart skipped a beat. “Me switching from you to Chojuro isn’t like you switching from patient to patient.”

Silently, Temari nodded. Her eyebrows furrowed as she stepped closer.

“And I don’t want to hear your usual shit,” he insisted, and although it didn’t ease her desire to run to him and wrap her in his arms, she was thankful for the chuckle in his voice. “I don’t need to hear about feeling better and being better, and how they are or aren’t the same thing, to know that you’ve helped me more than you will ever know.” Shikamaru bit down on his lip. “This morning, on the bus, I thought about when we saw Kurenai.”

Temari felt her nostrils contort as she pinched her lip between her teeth.

“I wasn’t upset at all—I didn’t feel guilty, either—it just made me feel proud, and it made me want to go back.”

Her whole body softened, but a burning started in her waterline.

“You did that for me, Tem. You’ve changed me—even Ino told me earlier that she’s noticed it.” So, honestly, when I was sat in Chojuro’s office, all I wanted to was open my eyes and be talking to you,” he told her. “Not because I wanted you to be sat in his chair, just because moving on from you is…” One hand raked through his hair, settling on the back of his neck, and Temari could feel a most dull ache in her chest. “It’s really hard upheaving something you know with someone you care about.”

In the faintest breath, nearly impossible to hear, Temari found herself whispering, “I care about you, too.”

“Not having you there felt weird,” he added, “it felt lonely.”

All of a sudden, talking to Ino felt like the most stupid thing he could’ve possibly done. It felt to Shikamaru like he’d become a different person. These words, as much as he meant them, sounded nothing like himself. The upheaval of every emotion he held for Temari had felt comforting before now, but feeling her eyes burrow into him it was entirely different. His bluntness had never left him feeling like he’d handled things well, but usually he was laying down facts. Laying down emotions made him feel strange—both stronger than every and impossibly pathetic all at once—and her silence was even more unbearable.

He almost begged her to speak, say anything just to prove to him that she’d heard him. Anything to fill the silence. Why couldn’t he enjoy it like she’d taught him?

“Shikamaru?”

As his hopes became reality and her voice sounded, his eyes slowly lifted to see her smiling as she moved closer. A familiar warmth circulated in his stomach as he feebly returned the expression.

“I’m here,” she mumbled when she finally reached him. “I’m always here.” Temari rested her hand on his knee shoulder and squeezed it gently. The fabric of his uniform was softer than she remembered beneath her fingertips. “And I know you’ll be happier now that someone can help you get better. Properly, this time, not like how I did.”

“Oh, I’m happy now,” he smiled. “Trust me, I’m happy.”

“You don’t sound it.”

Shikamaru chuckled. “When do I ever?”

Without hesitation, Temari began to laugh, and allowed her hand to snake round behind his neck. She felt his forearms come up tightly against her back, looped around her waist, and wrapped her other arm around him gently. Burying her face in the crook of his neck, she began to hold tighter, and grinned as she felt his shoulders shudder with what she assumed was a chuckle.

There were a million words he wanted to say, and a million ways he could think to say them, but not a single one came out as he opened his mouth. A breath hitched in his throat as he held her tight against his body, and he pressed a soft kiss onto the side of her head. He wondered if maybe now would be the right time to explain to her how grateful he truly was, or ask her somewhere besides the park or chip-shop, but the tears lacing his waterline persuaded him to keep his mouth firmly shut.

Now wasn’t a time to speak. From the way she held him alone, to however small an extent, Shikamaru knew she must’ve understood. Not to mention he was too afraid to say it with eyes this red, too afraid she’d dismiss the rambles of a lonely little boy.

Buried in the collar of Shikamaru’s shirt, Temari felt as though nothing could ever pull her away. His palm sat perfectly against the small of her back, and his mouth rested against her hair such that she felt every warm breath he took, sending shivers down her spine each time. She felt a sudden droplet touch the top of her head, and she eased out of from her safe haven to see Shikamaru staring down at her, a wet line trailing down his cheek. He smiled, as if to tell her that it was okay—nothing was wrong—and placed a quick peck on her forehead. She couldn’t explain how she knew to believe him.

Temari’s eyes flickered shut as she felt her own eyes grow hot, stinging slightly. Today wasn’t the day to ask questions or invite him to any of the hundreds of places she wanted to experience with him. Today, a hug was all that was needed, and it couldn’t have been more appreciated. The two of them had learned to speak in silences. A simple kiss on his cheek said so much more than just the intended, “Thank you.”

Downstairs the bell sounded, a haunting jingle forcing them to slowly pull apart. Shikamaru quickly wiped his cheeks and chuckled. A faint pink hue tinged his nose slightly as he locked eyes with the beautiful woman before him.

Her eyelashes fluttered and she grabbed his hands to lace his fingers between her own. “Right,” she began, a friendly finality playing in the word, “Gaara wanted soil.”

Shikamaru sniffed as he let out a wheezy laugh. “I see: you didn’t come here for me, after all.”

“Of course not,” teased Temari. “No, I’m just a really good sister.”

He felt her fingers tighten around his knuckles, her nails digging into his skin, but he somehow felt nothing but comfort and calm. Without thinking he squeezed back, and held tight. As she dragged him off the table as though nothing had happened, Shikamaru felt the strangest fuzzy feeling enveloping him. She had another thing coming if she thought he was ever going to let go. If he wasn’t sure before, he was sure now. Right or wrong—reciprocated or not—he loved her, and with every step she lead him down it grew harder to keep that fact quiet.

That was until he saw who had caused the bell to ring.

Over by the register, Ino and Kankuro chatting aimlessly. Shikamaru could see the way Ino’s eyes drifted across the obvious muscles Kankuro’s tight shirt showed off. He rolled his eyes and turned to the woman beside him whose mouth was agape, stammering in disbelief. “I can’t believe him,” she whispered.

“I can’t believe her,” added Shikamaru, shaking his head as his friend’s eyes locked on his, not an ounce of embarrassment in them as her smile expanded. “They’re talking about us.”

“Of course. Not to mention my brother thinks she’s fit, so he’s probably embarrassing me with all his might.”

“I didn’t think you’d be the embarrassed sort.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, holding back a grin. “Kankuro is obviously an exception.” Temari grumbled and squeezed his hand one final time before letting it go and storming forward. “Oi!”

Kankuro turned his head and hauled the box of soil underneath his arm, his fiendish grin the only thing Shikamaru was able to focus on.

Temari barged his shoulder and folded her arms. “I was just about to get that. Can’t you let me do anything by myself?”

“Not when you forget your purse,” he chuckled, eyebrows raised.

“I didn’t. I…” The blonde’s lips pursed together as she shook her head. “I know why you’re here, really.”

Shikamaru tried his best not to laugh from the distance he’d managed to keep between himself and the siblings, but Ino began to scurry closer, and he knew exactly what was coming. She grabbed his arm and dragged him closer, pushing him into a spot right beside Temari. It wasn’t dissimilar to the way she’d thrown him around the primary school playground in an attempt to get him to admit to childish crushes he most certainly didn’t have, and it hardly made him feel comfortable in this moment.

She positioned herself beside Kankuro, almost too close, and Shikamaru immediately understood her intentions. It was only slightly less childish than his mind had originally assumed it to be, and he sighed as he looked between the two women. He held out his hand, gesturing to one then the other. “Temari, Ino. Ino, Temari.”

Proud of herself, Ino grinned and held out her hand excitedly waiting for the other woman to shake it. Temari looked to Shikamaru as she extended her hand. “We met earlier,” she said gently. “Ino kindly told me you were hiding upstairs.”

Ino tugged her arm closer and pulled her into an excruciating hug. Shikamaru almost tore the two apart as the mortification set in, but before he could place his hands on their respective shoulders he caught a glimpse of their smiles.

The sense of relief that flew through Temari’s body was tremendous, and she locked eyes with Kankuro over the shoulder of the girl she hugged. Though his expression was far from what she wanted to see—a waggle of his eyebrows particularly out of place in this wholesome moment—Temari found it difficult to do anything but giggle. All of her brother’s nonsense assumptions really had been build on nothing, and it couldn’t have felt better. Here was this woman, this beautiful colleague of the man stood behind her, whose excitement to meet Temari had outweighed politeness to her age-old friend.

“Thank you,” Ino whispered in her ear. “He’s a different man thanks to you.”

Temari’s stomach twisted, and her eyes grew stingy. She hugged Ino tighter, oblivious to the eye rolls they received from Shikamaru. “My pleasure.”

Ino pulled away, grinning with an impressive set of perfect-white teeth. “Shikamaru talks about you constantly.”

“I don’t.”

“Choji does, too.”

“Not true,” groaned Shikamaru.

“I was starting to think I’d never get to meet you.”

Temari nodded, smirking as the man beside her squirmed. “Likewise.”

Ino reached out, grabbing her wrist and giving it a gentle tug. “Come with me,” she giggled. “I have to give you something to say thank you.”

“Oh no,” gushed Temari, blushing. “No, it’s honestly no trouble, Ino. I couldn’t—”

“White or pink?”

“Excuse me?”

“Lilies,” Ino smiled. “White or pink?”

Shikamaru couldn’t help but smile as he watched Ino drag her away, his hands bedding down deep inside his pockets. His friend was clearly in her element, and while he could see Temari’s surprise he had to agree that she deserved a reward for putting up with him for as long as she had. If a bunch of lilies was a step towards making it up to her then Shikamaru wasn’t going to get in Ino’s way.

He made a mental note when he saw her reaching for the yellow lilies ones, and chuckled.

“Shikamaru?”

A stiffness spread across his shoulders as Kankuro said his name, and without Temari beside him to protect him—because who was he kidding, that’s exactly what she was doing—it was hard to force a smile to the guy. “Kankuro,” he greeted as calmly and politely as he could muster.

Kankuro’s face contorted in the most confusing way, his eyebrows finally settling into a furrowed position after dancing up and down a few times. Carefully, he switched holding the soil under his arm to his left and wiped his palm on the dusty black trousers he wore. His hand extended towards Shikamaru sharply, as though he wasn’t even sure he wanted to do it, and he cleared his throat. “No hard feelings?” he asked, a hint of nervousness lacing his tone.

With one raised eyebrow, Shikamaru cautiously took his hand, squeezing tightly as he shook it. He was expecting a sadistic crushing of every joint in his hand—that maybe even after avoiding the carpenter’s shop he’d still lose his right hand—but instead he watched Kankuro’s face form an expectant smile.

He’d hoped that eventually Kankuro might smile him, and as it played out it felt somewhat surreal. There was no arrogant undertone, no malicious intent obviously playing in his eyes, just a hint of hope covering his whole face, and Shikamaru found it impossible not to nod along.

“No hard feelings,” he agreed, a smirk playing on his lips. “Though honestly, man, I can’t say I ever had any.”

Kankuro shrugged. “Do you not want a truce, kid?”

“I do. I’m just questioning whether or not you’re motivated by fear.”

“Fear of what?” scoffed Kankuro. “You?”

Shikamaru chuckled, nodding toward . “Of her, obviously,” he mumbled. “Who the fuck else?”

Across the room, a bunch of yellow lilies nestled in her arms, Temari felt herself start to grin with amazement as she saw her brother break out into a proper laugh. His shoulders shuddered as he bent over slightly, and turned to her with the biggest grin. Instantly she knew that he’d found someone else willing to tease her within an inch of her life, and she hated it. She hated it nearly as much as she loved it.

She made her way up to Kankuro with an expectant look, waiting for the two of them to explain themselves, but they simply grinned at her mischievously. Shikamaru’s eyes were tinted only slightly more apologetically than her brother’s, and she couldn’t help but bump his arm playfully as she stepped past him.

A chuckle erupted from him as Kankuro followed her, winking as he went. “Thank you for the soil, Miss Yamanaka,” said the brunette in a voice unrecognisably sweet. “And for my sister’s flowers. They’re stunning, much like yourself.”

“My pleasure, sir.”

There was a giggle, and Temari turned and shot a disgusted look at Shikamaru which he returned without a second thought. She rolled her eyes before raising her hand reluctantly in goodbye, struggling to continue the chuckles they’d begun when they first caught eyes. He wanted to storm up to her and demand she say, hold her close and refuse to let her go.

But he was too unpractised in love for such acts, and too in his own head as Ino had rightly said. He simply raised his hand in return and smiled apologetically.

I love you, he thought as he watched her back away. He hoped that she knew; he prayed that she knew.

“I’ll see you soon,” she told him, certain and strong.

Such a tone erupted nothing but excitement within him, and all for a sudden he felt his self-control slip completely.

“Tem, wait!”

He saw her falter as Kankuro pushed past her to hold the door open, and her eyes wandered out the window. Never before had he been this desperate to read someone’s mind, and he almost cursed Kankuro when he tapped her on the shoulder.

“Get on with it,” he heard him mumble.

Shikamaru’s chest contracted as Temari cleared her throat. She rustled the flowers in her arms and tucked a stand of hair behind her ear. It seemed like the perfect time to ask her, surrounded by floral scents and smiles of their friends. He cleared his throat to fill the unbearable silence he’d created, and couldn’t help wondering if he had misunderstood everything that had brought them to this point. That look in her eye usually seemed to spell out how she wanted to look at him forever suddenly disappeared, and was replaced by a confusing worry unlike anything he’d seen.

If she understood what he was about to ask, and it rendered her this anxious, he wasn’t sure he was able to put her through it. Imagine the pain when she said no—the pain of realising all of this had just been some stupid boyish fantasy he’d invented after experiencing her kindness a couple of times.

His eyes flickered back to Ino, who looked hopeful, and sighed desperately.

He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t risk her saying no.

“I’ll call you about it,” he said finally, his blushing face suddenly itching to get escape the situation he’d cornered himself into. “It’s not important.”

As his stomach sank, he watched as she smiled her beautifully calm smile despite his stupidity. “Okay,” she told him, as though maybe it was.

Once they’d said a final goodbye, and that same old nervous promise to call lingered on their breath, Shikamaru stayed put in the centre the shop floor. Even when Ino came up behind him and slapped him playfully on the back, he couldn’t bring himself to move an inch.

“If you don’t ask her out, I will,” she sighed.

“I can’t interrupt her life like that, can I?”

“Stop being a martyr, Shikamaru.” Ino sighed and draped her arm across his shoulders. “She’s stunning and she fancies you. Stop asking questions.”

“But what if she loses her—”

“Just be selfish, you idiot—let it be about you!”

Shikamaru watched as she jumped into Kankuro’s van across the street, and his heart leaps when she looked his way. One more time, he smiled and waved, hopeful as ever.

“But it’s all about her, Ino,” he muttered. “I can't stop myself worshiping that woman, and it's killing me.”

Ino groaned behind him. “Then why haven't you told her that?"

Temari waved back. She even mouthed a dramatic thank you, a grin plastered across her lips.

"I want to," he sighed, his voice ringing with desperate disbelief, "but I can never get the words out."

#shikatema #nara shikamaru #Sabaku No Temari #temari #fanfic #fanfiction #Sabaku No Kankuro #Ino Yamanaka #nqj chess #chess #love

12 notes · View notes

neonsentient · 4 years ago

Text

Haikyuu! Rise Above

A ragtag group of students from a school for troubled teenagers forms an unconventional co-ed volleyball team in hopes of proving to themselves that they're more than what people make them to be. With the help of a few loopholes in the rulebook, they'll have the chance to win the gold for what might possibly be the last time in their lives.

Think of it as a spin-off, the Karasuno's first years are now second years, but I will focus on this paticular team.

Warnings: Mentions of drug abuse, underage drinking, self harm, eating disorders, depression, suicide, racial and homophobic slurs. Not all at the same time though.

Chapter 1: Promising Young People

Amara leaned closer to the toilet as she gagged, throwing up her measly breakfast of tea and apple slices, the only things she could stomach that morning. In an unusual lucky strike, the bathroom she was currently in puking her guts out was empty. It probably had something to do with the fact that she decided to arrive at the school building an hour earlier, otherwise she would’ve had an audience.

She rose from the floor, wobbling like a newborn fawn, and went to check herself in the bathroom mirror. Her russet skin had an unhealthy pallor to it, her waist-length crow black braids were loose and poorly made and the bags under her eyes could’ve been easily mistaken for bruises. That morning she didn’t even bother to look for her makeup bag in her suitcase.

“First impressions matter, you know?” Her parents would’ve told her. “It’s not every day you get to make them.”

“But I already made mine.” Amara thought bitterly.

She splashed cold water on her face and rinsed her mouth as best as she could. Now she was regretting not bringing at least some concealer or even chapstick.

“As if that were to make things any better.” A voice hissed from the back of her head. “As if that would…..”

Amara shook her head, bringing herself back as she checked her wrist watch. She was supposed to meet her guide at the entrance. In a normal scenario, she would’ve already known by now where everything in the school was, her classes, the gym, the best spots for a smoke break……

But despite being her second year of high school, it was her first year at Ōkamiyama Alternative Academy. In fact, since most of her education consisted of homeschooling, it was her first time back at school since she was in elementary, period. And unlike many other students who had arrived at least a week earlier, Amara’s messy flight schedule made her arrive only a day before the school started.

One look at the main building and it was clear that the school had a thing for a certain color scheme, or lack thereof, rather, since Amara noticed that all the buildings were either black, white or gray. That and the uniforms, a dreadful combination of a prison concrete gray blazer and pants or skirt with a white shirt and black tie. Luckily, the school didn’t seem to be too strict on the dress code, since she saw several students with all sorts of accessories, shoes and even altered pieces of the uniform.

She decided to play it safe by wearing it plain with a pair of rather sad looking black loafers that had seen better days - an emergency purchase at Target after her suede Jimmy Choo boots fell victim to an unexpected downpour-, and a gray Casio. It's not like she was expecting the sailor tops and blue skirts she saw on TV, but the overall look did leave Amara incredibly disappointed.

Her guide was a girl called Emine Narisawa, also a second year and in the same class as her. Other than that she didn’t knew anything else. It was still a bit early, so she sat at a bench near the entrance, and to no surprise, it didn’t took long for the stares and whispers to start.

“That’s her, right?”

“Oh, so it was for real?”

“Is it just me, or did she looked taller on TV?

Amara’s vision turned blurry, her eyes curdling with tears. She quickly dug into her bag, pulled out her IPod nano (one of the few devices that the school allowed) and headphones and pressed shuffle, not even paying attention to the song that was playing as she took several deep breaths.

She tried her best to distract herself with anything, yet not even a second later, Amara felt a light tapping on her shoulder. She jolted on her seat, took off her headphones and turned to face the person behind her.

“Ups! Sorry!” A cheery voice apologized. “You’re Amara Murakami, right?

The girl was tall, not as much as Amara, but still taller than the average second year girl, and model-thin, with long hair the dark red of rose petals tied in a high ponytail. A ridiculously big, silvery gray bow sat atop her head. Amara immediately noticed her uniform, or “uniform”; the blazer had been turned into a button vest, the gray skirt was embezzled with black and white rhinestones and she sported a pair of white Adidas sneakers. Amara had bought the same ones just two months ago. A thin, white gold anklet with pea-sized bubblegum-pink sapphires was clasped at her slim ankle.

“My name’s Emine Narisawa, but everyone calls me Emi! Wow, you’re taller than I imagined.” The girl chirped. Her voice had a slight hoarse edge to it, which combined with her super girly perfume, an overly sweet combination of flowers and strawberry, made Amara suspect that she was a smoker and that she probably had a cigarette before the tour. “Welcome to The Den!”

Amara could only raise her eyebrows.

“Get it? Cuss we’re wolves!” The girl pointed at the welcoming banner hanging in the entrance, where a menacing looking gray wolf was painted.

“Right.” Amara nodded, not knowing what else to say. "Umm, thanks?"

The redhead caught her hand in an overly enthusiastic handshake. She had a pretty face, although her cheeks looked a tad bit gaunt, and she wore silver eyeshadow with glitter all over her face and hair. Her tanned skin, a shade lighter than Amara’s, was completely covered with freckles, and her lips were painted a shimmering soft pink.

“Wow, your eyes look super cool!” She said, inspecting Amara’s face. “You’re from America, right? Is one of your parents Japanese?”

“So she hasn’t heard of me.” Amara thought with relief. She then noticed that Emine was waiting for an answer.

“Y-yeah I’m from Massachusetts.” She answered. “Umm, my dad’s Japanese and m-my mom’s Nipmuc.”

The redhead cocked her head in confusion.

“Native American.” Amara explained.

Emine’s licorice black eyes lit up.

“Cool! So you guys are the ones that make, like, dreamcatchers and stuff?” She asked. There wasn’t a single hint of malice in her voice, just genuine curiosity, but still, it made Amara feel annoyed.

“Ummm…”

“My Nine was from Turkey,” Emine said. “And they have these Nazar amulets to ward off the evil eye or something. Is it the same thing?”

“I don’t…”

“Anyways, you’ll love it here. It never gets boring!” Emine explained as she leaned uncomfortably close, linking her arm with Amara’s. “Follow me, I’ll take you to our classroom.”

The girls made their way inside the building and all the way through Emine "discreetly" pointed out rooms and people, giving Amara a crash course on the school, the students and teachers.

By the time they reached their classroom, Amara had learned that the captain of the baseball team had just began dating the president of the Student Council, crop tops were back in style, the back of the football field was the best place to smoke and that the guys from the Shōgi club sold the best ketamine during midterms.

"Don't they do drug tests all the time?" Amara asked. She herself had an appointment in the nurse’s office later that night for one.

Emine nodded.

"Yup, but it's a six panel."

It was Amara's turn to be confused once again. She had drug tests done before but she only...provided the sample, she never bothered to ask about the details.

"Weed, coke, speed, benzos, angel dust and opiates. All the mainstream stuff," Emine explained. "Ketamine doesn't show."

“Oh.” Amara said. “I thought there weren’t a lot of drug users in Japan.”

“Oh there are,” Emine said, occasionally waving to the people in the hallway. “And here are some of the ones that got caught.”

“Good to know?”

Amara thought that drugs were a rare commodity in Japan, but then she remembered where she was….

“So…” The redhead began, pulling Amara out of her thoughts. “How are you liking the dorms so far?”

“They’re cool.” Amara replied in a monotone voice. “My roommate hasn’t showed up yet, though.”

“Oh yeah, I heard she’s busy with some family stuff.” Emine pointed out.

“So you know her?” Amara inquired. “What’s she like? I mean, personality wise.”

Emine scrunched up her face, trying to find the right words.

“Well, she’s a bit of a…..

“Bitch!” A voice yelled from the other side of the hallway.

A girl walked towards them with a rhythmic and intense stride that made Amara think she was going to do a handspring or cartwheel at any second. She was gorgeous, what people would call a “Bombshell”, with sun tanned skin as if she had spent an entire summer at the beach, and a long mane of sandy blonde waves styled in the same way as Emine; a high ponytail with a bow on top, though hers was black. Her dark teal eyes had a gleam that Amara could only describe as “keen”.

The girl faced directly at the redhead with a quasi indignant look. Amara noticed that her look was very similar to Emine's; the embezzled skirt and altered blazer, shimmery eyeshadow and glitter sprinkled all over her face and hair.

"I can take a couple missed calls but ignoring me the whole summer was just mean!" She said, giving the redhead an angry look.

Emine looked saddened.

"I'm sor…..”

Before the redhead could finish the blonde interrupted her with a big hug.

"I've been worried sick! Even a "Don't text me" would've been enough!" She cried, clinging to Emine's neck. "Never do that again, got it?"

Emine's expression eased as she returned the hug.

"Never again."

If there was something worse than being a third wheel Amara sure was being just that at the moment.

The girls broke their hug and a pair of teal eyes immediately fell on Amara. They weren't menacing, just, observing her. The blonde was significantly shorter than Amara and Emine, but her presence felt more….. imposing. Even with the uniform, Amara could see the outline of muscle on her legs and arms.

"Oh!" Emine exclaimed, as if she had just remembered that Amara was there, and gestured towards the blonde. "Amara, this is Erika Sawai, captain of the cheer squad.

“Now it makes sense,” Amara connected the dots as she looked at both Emine and the blonde. The perky attitude, the lithe build, and even the bows. “They’re cheerleaders.”

“And Erika, this is….."

"Amara Murakami," Erika said, capturing Amara's hand in a firm handshake. "Rumour mill went that you were gonna end up here. But for future reference, I wouldn't trust anything they say around here. It tends to be a little….unreliable."

"Umm, sure" Amara said. She wasn't sure how to react to that. "I-I'll keep that in mind."

“My, my,” Erika leaned a bit closer. Amara caught the scent of the blonde's peach blossom perfume. “What pretty eyes you have.”

“Uh, thanks.” Amara muttered.

"Oh, I know!" Emine perked up with an “Eureka!” type of expression. “Since I can’t join you guys for lunch why don’t you go with Amara to the cafeteria, Erika?”

Amara felt incredibly awkward. Day one and she was already being ditched by the one person that was supposed to be with her.

“Sure.” Erika shrugged, a smirk appearing on her face. “I love fresh meat.”

Amara gulped. Why did spending a couple hours with a cheerleader, a really pretty one to boot, made her more nervous than stepping into a court filled with professional players?

Then the bell pulled her out of her thoughts.

“Come on, Amara!” Urged Emine. The redhead turned quickly and gave Erika one last hug before entering the classroom. “And see you later Erika!”

Erika waved them goodbye before making her way to her classroom.

Their first classes; English, Math, Japanese literature and Science seeped through Amara’s brain like water on a strainer. Luckily none of her teachers made her introduce herself to the class so far.

But on the other hand, she couldn’t help but notice the “subtle” whispers and looks from her classmates.

A few minutes after the bell rang they found Erika already outside. Emine apologized to Amara, promising to be back as soon as lunch was over and making quick plans with Erika to catch up later in the day before she made her way into an unknown destination. Amara was tempted to ask, but at the same time she told herself that she knew better than prying on someone else’s business.

She exited the classroom and was immediately greeted by Erika’s sly smile.

“Long time no see, Sugar.”

Amara gave her a tight smile as they walked towards their destination.

_________________________________________________________________________

The principal was a firm believer that a healthy diet was key to a healthy mind, therefore, the school’s vending machines only offered water, organic soy milk, sugar-free drinks, fruit and protein bars.

There were two cafeterias, but Amara was told upon arrival that she only had access to one of them. There, most of the menu items were either boiled, steamed or baked and it also had an all-you-can-eat salad bar and a drink station where one could get teas, coffees, smoothies or juices. Amara thought it was a sharp, yet nice, contrast with her old elementary school’s cafeteria choices of cardboardy pizza, dry meatloaf and congealed mac 'n' cheese.

Amara silently wondered what was the deal with the other cafeteria as she took a spoonful of miso soup.

“Liking the food so far?” Erika asked, placing her tray opposite to Amara's. She had a bowl brimming with a colorful salad of greens, pecans, apples and fennels, a plate of spiced tofu and two cups; one filled with a pale orange drink and the other with a beige colored liquid. She handed the beige one to Amara. " Here, try this."

She had told Erika that her stomach was feeling a little odd (yet not the reason as to why), so Amara trusted that anything she had given her wouldn't kill her on the spot. She took a sip and despite the unappetizing color the flavour was delicious; sweet, creamy yet not too heavy, and with the aftertaste of almonds. It felt nice on her tender stomach.

"Wow," Amara said, pleasantly surprised. "What's this?"

Erika winked and smiled. For a second, it reminded Amaran of someone else's smile.

"My Mama calls it the Jitter Killer." She explained, her voice emitting a hint of nostalgia. "She's been making them for me ever since I started competing. But once I got here I had to start making them myself."

"It's really good!" Amara complimented, taking another sip. She then thanked her, wholeheartedly. Gestures like those literally made her day a thousand times less shitty.

"Any time, Sugarcube." She chuckled, and then leaned towards her with a curious expression. "But do tell. How is a first day of school more intimidating than stepping into a court filled with three meter sized Amazonians?"

Amara lowered her face and blushed. She only told her that she wasn’t feeling good, she never told her the reason.

"Is it really that obvious?"

"You look exactly how I did on the day of my first competition." Erika recalled. "I believe I was around six?"

"What?" Amara said. "Do cheerleaders really start that young?"

"Yup." Erika nodded. "Especially in the States. They love their cheers there, let me tell ya."

"You're from there too?"

"Mama's from Texas" The blonde said. "So it’s always been half and half until now. We still go for the holidays though, they’re much more fun there."

"Sounds cool. I'm from Massachusetts, and I've only been in Japan like twice….until now."

The atmosphere suddenly became grim, and Amara felt her breath hitch. Erika's hand reached for hers.

"Hey." Emiki said, her voice serious. "I know you probably heard this enough but...I'm really sorry for your loss."

Amara's eyes began to curdle with tears.

"You're actually one of the only ones to tell me that."

Then she broke into sobs.

"S-sorry." Amara tried to apologize. Last night she had cried herself to sleep in her dorm, clutching a pair of worn out volleyball shoes, not even bothering to unpack, she just wasn’t in the mood for anything but crying. And there she thought that she had cried everything last night…...

Erika bolted from her seat and to her side, placing her hands on Amara's shoulder in a comforting manner.

"Oh, Honey Bee." She said. "Don't you dare apologize for your feelings ever again. You better promise me that"

Amara sniffed and nodded.

"You wanna talk about it?" Erika asked, the way a mother would when trying to comfort her child.

"I….

"There you are!" A voice interrupted. "We've been looking for you everywhere, morra!"

Amara and Erika both turned and looked. There were three girls, each one different from the other. They were around the same height but that was where the similarities ended. One had brown skin, long glossy black hair in a single thick braid tied with a gray bow and umber brown eyes traced with glittery makeup. A gold stud glinted in her nose. The other had bronze skin, waist-length chocolate colored hair with a gray bow atop and eyes like two yellow tourmalines. On her face was a red lipped, wicked dimpled smile, like a kid who’d just finished pulling up a prank. The third one was a bit meek looking, with rosy white skin, a cloud of short strawberry blonde hair with a white bow on top and soft green eyes. She fidgeted with her hands and seemed ready to throw up at any second. Amara immediately felt a bout of compassion towards her.

“It’s lunch time, where else would I be?” Erika asked with a confused expression.

“Good point.” The brown haired girl said. She took a sip from the giant coffee cup in her hand. “Can we join you?”

Erika gestured at the empty seats.

The black haired girl looked at Amara up and down, from her messy braids and puffy red eyes to the plain black loafers.

“First time here?” She asked her as she sat.

Amara nodded and noticed their outfits; skirts embroidered with flowers and crystals, Miu Miu sneakers and Birkin bags. How she wished she had her new Air Jordans with her….

“Aww! I remember my first day as if it was yesterday.” The brown haired girl sighed.

The black haired girl furrowed her brow.

“Didn’t you threw up from withdrawal?”

“It was from a hangover, not withdrawal! They’re like two different things!” The brown haired girl corrected, indignant.

Erika cleared her throat, making the three girls turn their heads at her.

“Amara, these are my friends and members of the cheer squad.” Erika explained.

She pointed at the black haired girl.

“This is Kumari Hanan, our best flyer.”

Kumari gave Amara a small nod.

“This is Ximena Otakara, our dance expert and choreographer.”

“And future celebrity, don’t forget that.” The brown haired girl added with a wink.

Erika rolled her eyes and then pointed at the strawberry blonde girl.

“And this is our newest addition to the team, Kara Tamada”

Kara gave Amara a timid smile and wave.

“Kumari is a third year like me, Ximena’s a second year like you, and Kara is a freshman.” Erika explained and then gestured at Amara. “Girls, this is Amara Murakami, please don’t torture her.”

“A la madre! ” Ximena looked at her, surprised. “Wicked eyes, girl!”

Amara lowered her gaze and mumbled an empty thanks. If there was something she was used to at that point in her life, was of people making comments about her eyes.

"Sectoral heterochromia." Were the doctor's oficial words.

"Stained glass eyes." Her friends often called them.

"Woodland eyes." Her grandfather had called them. "Brown for the soil, black for the stone and green for the life."

"You carry your land within your eyes, Amara." He told her once. "You will never be lost."

“If only that were true.” Amara couldn’t help but think.

But then she saw Ximena’s eyes squinting in concentration.

“No mames, I’ve seen you before!” She said, proud of her discovery. “You’re that volleyball chick!”

“Holy shit, you’re right.” Kumari joined.

Amara’s stomach plummeted and her face paled, which Erika noticed.

“Damn it you two, what did I just say!?” The blonde scolded. Her tone was the same one Amara’s mom used when reprimanding her. “Hope you’re in the mood for running suicides today!”

"What? Why?" Ximena and Kumari cried.

"That's okay, Erika." Amara reassured her. "It's not like it's a secret, anyway."

“See? We have the Ok.” Ximena said, earning a murderous gaze from Erika.

Then an awkward silence filled the table.

“So…” Kumari began, taking a sip of her purple smoothie. “You’re joining the volleyball team?”

In Ōkamiyama, all students were required to join a school club or association, and from looking at the list that came with the welcoming pamflet, there seemed to be quite a lot, from embroidery and cooking to horse riding and rock climbing. There were even some odd ones like “The Cheese Connoisseurs Association” and “Apocalypse Survival Prepping Club”. And there were also the typical sports clubs like baseball, basketball, football* and of course, volleyball.

She didn’t wanted to give up volleyball, but the wound was still so fresh it still bled…...

“I-I don’t know.” She mumbled. “I’m still not sure. I have a week, don’t I?

“Yeah, of course.” Erika reassured her. “And if you need more time, you can ask the therapist for an extension.”

Amara had completely forgot about the therapist.

In a normal school, a counselor was usually available for students if they wished so, but here it was mandatory to have individual one hour weekly therapy sessions,and once she joined a club, group therapy would also become obligatory. Amara’s first session was scheduled for Sunday.

“Yeah, don't sweat it!” Ximena said.

“Isn't Emi also joining the volleyball team?” Kumari inquired.

Amara raised an eyebrow.

“I thought she was a cheerleader.” She asked, looking at Erika.

“Emphasis on was.” Ximena sighed.

“And not just that, she was...is...the best tumbler in the prefecture.” Kara explained in a soft voice.

“Really?” Amara asked, she knew from somewhere that tumbler meant acrobat, basically a gymnast with a mini skirt instead of a leotard. “Then why did she quit?”

Ximena, Kumari and Erika looked at each other.

“She didn’t told you?” Kumari asked.

“Tell me what?” Amara looked at Erika for guidance.

“Okay that’s enough.” The blonde’s face had a not so subtle hint of worry. “That’s not for us to talk about, I’m sure that in time Emi will tell you all about it.”

Amara certainly felt a bit pained for being left out, but it was someone whom she literally just met, so she concluded that she had no right to be upset either.

Kara must’ve sensed the tense atmosphere and quickly asked some questions about the cheer squad. There were many terms that Amara did not understood, but she soon became fascinated. The cheerleaders at the games Amara played in danced around and cheered (duh!) but the way Erika and the others talked about the work plan for their squad it was clear that they did more than that.

“Hey, why don’t you join the squad?” Erika suggested.

“We do need more tumblers.” Kumari pointed out.

“Yeah.” Ximena agreed. “How are your back handsprings?”

“Ummm...nonexistent?” Amara admitted, although the idea did sound nice. “I do have a mean cartwheel, though.”

The girls chuckled.

“Okay, maybe we can help you find another club if volleyball and cheerleading won’t do it for ya.” Erika smiled and stood, walking towards a notice board and taking a poster version of the clubs and associations list.

“Let’s see then.”

They tried to summarize each club as best as they could, counting the pros and cons and telling her about the people in them.

“What’s the Wolf Kingdom Club?” Amara asked, slightly amused by the odd names.

Everyone grunted, which Amara took as a bad sign.

“That’s the historical reenactment club.” Erika said. “They do everything medieval, and I mean everything.”

“Except dying from the plague.” Kumari muttered.

“So that’s a no?” Amara inquired.

“Depends.” Ximena said. “Do you like dancing with seven layers of clothing on and churning your own butter?”

“Pass.” Amara said.

And so they spent the rest of the lunch break going over the list in hopes of finding something for Amara, but nothing seemed to catch her attention. Kara spoke on occasions whenever she felt in danger of being forgotten.

By the time the bell rung, they’ve managed to narrow it down to the basketball team and the basket weaving club. She had the height and the jump for the first one and the skills for the last one.

“If you change your mind, you should go with Emi to the tryouts after school.” Erika reminded her as they walked towards Amara’s classroom.

She nodded weakly, lost in thought.

Erika sighed and tapped her shoulder, making their eyes meet.

“Look, I don’t know a lot about volleyball, but I do know that it shares something in common with cheerleading.”

Amara arched an eyebrow. Then, Erika grabbed her hands, the blonde's lightly tanned skin clashing with Amara's russet complexion. Their eyes met, and Erika’s had one of the most serious expressions Amara had ever seen.

“Jumps are the most thrilling part, as well as the hardest.” She said. “When we jump, we don’t take steps back, not even to gain momentum. It’s always forwards, full force.”

Amara had so many questions about those words, yet she didn’t ask. Was it fear or confusion that stopped her? She didn’t knew. But for a moment she was sure the girl was saying that there was only one way to go.

Forward.

#haikyuu!!#haikyu #hq #OC #my OC #ocs #fanfiction #fanfic #My writing #haikyuu

2 notes · View notes

razaks-wheel · 4 years ago

Text

An intro story for Adyn Rothreni, my new Nerevarine, as they cope with the strangeness of returning to Morrowind, the memories they've been having, and the role they may play in history.

---

17 Last Seed, 3E 427

Adyn stood at the base of the stairs up to the Palace of Vivec, trying to push down their worry. They were eager to rejoin the Buoyant Armigers, but terrified that they would be rejected. But how could Vivec reject them? Sure, their leave had lasted a little longer than they had expected, but they never meant to make it seem like they had abandoned their family. Vivec of all people would know that. Surely ze would welcome them back with open arms.

They started up the stairs. Their stomach churned with nerves at every step, but they pushed on. They would need to be brave if they were going to be a Buoyant Armiger again.

When they finally reached the top, they were surprised to find that the door was locked. It had never been locked before, to their knowledge. Had things really changed so much in those past twenty years or so?

They stood for a moment, contemplating how to proceed. It wasn't as though a simple lock could really stop the determined Armiger. Perhaps this was some sort of test? Keep the common rabble out, but allow the Buoyant Armigers and other parties close to Vivec free passage? No, that didn't seem right. This was a message that they were not welcome. They turned around and went back down the stairs.

Their next stop was High Fane. As much as they would have preferred to speak with Vivec directly, a priest would have to do.

"Adyn Rothreni," the priest Endryn Llethan greeted them with an unreadable expression. "It's been a long time. It's good to see that you've finally returned home."

"It's good to be home," Adyn said, though they recognized the barb in Endryn's words. "I was wondering, when does Vivec hold audience these days? I went to see hir just now, but it was locked."

"Vivec does not hold audience these days," he said. "One may only see hir by appointment."

"Is there any way I could make an appointment?"

"No. Not until you've proven yourself worthy again."

The words stung, but they kept their expression light. "I see. Thank you, Endryn."

Priests. Always so uptight. This was why they preferred to go to Vivec directly.

Oh, well. There was little more they could do right now, short of breaking into the palace. They would just have to wait and "prove themself."

1 Hearthfire, 3E 427

Nerevarine. They had heard the word before in whispers and rumors, but never to be taken seriously. It was supposed to be Ashlander superstition, blasphemous to the Tribunal faithful, and unheard of outside of Morrowind. So how had the Emperor learned of it, and why had he dragged Adyn into it?

It was strange, though. The word had a certain familiarity to it, beyond their passing encounters with it in the past. Beyond their Temple upbringing with the stories of Saint Nerevar. The connection felt almost personal—but that was ridiculous! This whole thing was ridiculous.

But...it would explain the memories they'd been getting. They had started when they arrived in Cyrodiil, but they had become so much stronger when they returned to Morrowind. They were worried that it was the soul sickness that everyone was talking about. Now, they almost wished it were. It would be better than this.

They were supposed to go to the Urshilaku camp next, but they had a stop to make first.

Once again, they found themself at the foot of the stairs to Vivec's Palace, and once again, when they reached the top, they found the door locked. This time, however, they opened it with a spell and went inside.

There was Vivec, as always, floating in the center of the room. They went before hir and knelt.

"You have come uninvited, Adyn," Vivec said. "I have nothing to say to you."

"That's fine; you don't have to say anything. I just need to talk. You can listen, or not. Your call." They shifted so that they were sitting more comfortably on a cushion with their legs crossed.

Vivec's expression softened, and Adyn swore they saw a small laugh.

"Very well. Speak."

They took a deep breath. "Okay, well...First of all, hi. It's been a while. I mean, I know I still prayed every day while I was gone—most days, anyway—but it's different. I missed you." Hm. This was harder than they expected, but they pressed on. "When I first got back, I wanted to see if you'd let me resume my Buoyancy, if you will. And I'd still love to, if you'd have me. But things have gotten complicated.

"Apparently, the Emperor thinks I'm the Nerevarine. Now, why the Emperor is sticking his nose into Dunmeri prophecy and superstition is beyond me, but apparently I'm involved whether I like it or not. And I don't like it, to be clear. I mean, I guess now everyone's saying that the Nerevarine's job is just to fight the Sharmat and end the Blight, but even if that were all, why would I be a better candidate for that than you? And that's not all of it, is it? The coming of the Nerevarine is supposed to be the end of the Tribunal, isn't it? Why would I want that? I'm your loyal servant. And you, and all the Armigers, and everyone in the Temple, you're my family. I don't want this to end.

"And then there's the memories. When I got to Cyrodiil, I started getting these weird half-memories of, like, a familiar face I've never seen before, or a couple lines from a song I've never heard in a language I can't even identify but sort of understand. And they've gotten stronger since I got back. I've even had some weird dreams. I was starting to think I'm soulsick, but maybe it's related to all...this. Even looking at you now, I have this weird feeling that I knew you a long time ago. Not just before I left Morrowind, but a long, long time ago. When you were...different, somehow." They shook their head and waved a hand. "Sorry. That's probably blasphemous. I'm rusty.

"Oh, and I still don't even get why I had to go to Cyrodiil in the first place. Just that it felt really, really important. Maybe I am just soulsick." They shrugged and gave Vivec a tentative smile. "Anyway, that's all. Thanks for listening, if you're listening. Or at least for not just killing me for breaking in."

The room was silent for a few moments. Adyn was about to call it a loss and leave, when Vivec finally spoke.

"To address your first concern, you showed bravery and determination—and some skill with locks—in coming here. I would love to have you back among my Armigers. But you are right, things are complicated right now. If you can tolerate a bit of limbo, consider yourself a Buoyant Armiger without an assignment. You have other things to focus on for the time being. Then, when things are a little simpler, perhaps you could rejoin in a more official capacity."

That alone had Adyn nearly in tears. Everyone else had been regarding them with distrust and even disdain, doubting their devotion, calling them an outlander despite them having lived in Morrowind for longer than they lived in Cyrodiil. To have Vivec welcome them so readily was like a breath of fresh air in a Blight storm. But ze still had more to say.

"As for the rest, now is not the time. I will invite you back at a later date, and we can discuss everything in as much detail as you desire. In the meantime, follow the path before you, if you so choose. Whatever you decide, remember to step light and stride far, o my Buoyant Armiger."

#adyn #razak's ocs #i've only known adyn for like a day and if anything were to happen to them #you know the meme

4 notes · View notes

lwjstiletto · 4 years ago

Text

wangxian au where lwj is a popular hand model and wwx is an independent jewellery maker [Part 2]

[Part 1]

their monthly sibling catch-up jenga ruins wwx’s plans to mope for the foreseeable future.

jc is concentrating very hard on wiggling a piece out and wwx would usually make fun of him but he can only conjure enough energy to pull out the easy looking pieces today so he has no high ground.

“name 3 good things that happened to you.” jc frowns as he reads the wooden cuboid, “like ever? or in the last month?”

jyl doesn’t quite give him a look, but a slight downturn of her lip still gets the point across.

jc sighs, “an old student of mine opened a gallery, xichen and i went for brunch and wei wuxian hasn’t bothered me in a while. what’s up with that by the way?”

“my turn.” wwx says unenthusiastically and pulls a loose jenga piece. ‘how is your love life?’ it reads. can jenga be rigged? it has to be rigged.

“you know we’re allowed to ask questions outside the jenga right?” jc snaps.

wwx knows. wwx also knows that the jenga questions were only introduced by jyl to stimulate conversation between an angry jc and a stubborn wwx when he’d come back two years ago from his apprenticeship abroad.

but wwx also doesn’t want to talk about his humiliating interaction with the man who his brother had called ‘wangji’. he even has a nice name. why is wwx’s life so hard?

“a-xian,” jyl starts, “are you alright?”

wwx looks at her with a pout, “how can i be when we’ve not seen each other for weeks? i missed you.”

jyl smiles indulgently, “i missed you too. next time you should come with me, lotus pier seems empty without you two.”

jc looks like he wants to prod wwx more but then he looks over at wwx’s jenga piece and starts to laugh. wwx hates it here.

—•—

lwj wears gloves when he’s not working to shield his hands from things like tanning, small scratches, drying out etc. any normal person would overlook these as minuscule imperfections but it could put him out of his job for weeks

he has custom made moisturising cotton gloves that he wears during the night; and thicker cotton or leather gloves for the day, depending on the weather

at first, he had found this incredibly bothersome. a month or so into it he stopped noticing them and suffered through various incidents where he tried to eat with gloves on or, on a particularly horrifying occasion, wash his hands with them.

but now, he has begun to indulge. he buys gloves in materials which are impractical, which he can only wear when he has nowhere to go and nothing to do.

there are the pastel lace gloves that draw patterns from his fingers up to his elbows, the white satin ones with frills, and finally the fingerless black gloves made of supple, soft leather.

(for ref)

they make him feel a certain type of way that he is too embarrassed to put in words, so he doesn’t.

he puts them away in a drawer on the furthest corner in his wardrobe that he only opens when he needs a confidence boost or after a particularly tiring shoot

today happens to be the latter, except it has been multiple tiring shoots and while his muscles aren’t aching anymore, he still feels like he deserves something nice.

he retrieves a new pair of leather gloves that have an adjustable belt at the wrist. he tightens the strap to the point that he can’t move his hand too much without it hurting. he hums, a pleased sound escaping his lips, and finally lets himself go

—•—

wwx has spent the last hour answering nhs’ questions about his business, future plans and why he wants to work with lan wangji (who is apparently a hand model? and a super successful one at that???)

wwx answers to the best of his abilities as his head spins from the turn of events and the recent information that has come to light. it’s- a lot.

finally nhs nods and picks up his phone to call someone.

“not presentable... what does that- it doesn’t matter, i’m not calling you here for a shoot. just come here and i will explain.” with that nhs hangs up the phone as if someone would have jumped through it otherwise

wwx, who has finally managed to absorb everything, asks, “was that lan wangji?”

nhs just smiles cryptically. wwx’s question is answered soon enough though, as lwj walks into the office twenty minutes later. he blinks at wwx but does not show any other outword reaction as he takes a seat

nhs begins to speak, “i have spoken to wei-xiong and come to the conclusion that he is not stalking you.”

lwj looks at wwx and then back at nhs, not quite an eyebrow-raise but as close to it as it gets.

“wei-xiong wants you to model for him. i will let you two speak for a while. there is no pressure, just a light discussion.” nhs says and then skips out before any of them can stop him

the air in the room gets significantly more tense. lwj’s expression is blank and when wwx can’t look at it anymore, he decides to look at his crossed arms instead

“holy shit dude, are you ok?” wwx shouts, alarmed at the bruised red marks lining lwj’s wrist where it pokes out of his long sleeved sweater

lwj looks down at it, seemingly horrified, and pulls his sleeves down before wwx can get a better look.

“are you... hurt?” wwx asks gently.

lwj shakes his head. “i’m fine.”

he sounds like he’s telling the truth. this immediately short circuits wwx’s brain because.. why else are there bruises on his wrists... what else could possibly... oh my god he likes to be tied up, wwx’s brain supplies

thankfully he manages to keep the thought to himself this time. lwj still looks at him like he heard it all the same.

“you are not stalking me.” lwj states.

“not really? i mean not for the reasons you think.” wwx cringes at himself. but lwj hasn’t walked away yet which means he must be willing to hear him out this time.

“to be honest i’ve been in a bit of a slump these past few months. i saw you at the university and wanted to work with you, i had no idea you were a hand model. i didn’t even know that was a thing.” wwx says.

lwj scrutinises him for a few seconds then nods. “thank you for explaining.”

lwj clearly sees this as the end of the conversation but wwx doesn’t want him to leave again so he starts to talk about the hand chains he has been working on the past few weeks, pulling out his phone to show lwj pictures of a few.

wwx is with his jewellery how new parents are with their babies. he has been gushing about the complicated silver work that he plans to refine over the next few days when he looks up to see lwj’s face inches from his.

lwj is looking at his phone, seemingly absorbing his words, because when wwx pauses lwj looks at him as if to ask him to continue. wwx gulps. being on the receiving end of such undivided attention, no less from such a beautiful man, is almost intimidating.

then lwj blinks again and the spell is broken.

wwx straightens up, “ah sorry for rambling.”

“if we were to work together,” lwj starts, “what would it entail?”

the implication that lwj is seriously considering working with him, a small business beneath his usual collaborations, is both flattering and slightly unreal.

“i would need you to come in to take measurements, maybe a couple of photographs so i can have refrence to your skin tone and bone structure when designing.” wwx says, voice professional.

“my... are you making these specifically for me?” lwj tilts his head, a gesture so adorably confused that wwx wants to coo.

wwx rubs his nose, “more like i’m using you as a reference? having a clear picture in my head helps kickstart my creations. once i have cohesion within my designs it’s easy to expand my range from there if that makes sense.”

lwj nods, looking contemplative. “won’t you need me to try them?”

wwx nods, seeing them on someone is usually important. after all, jewellery is made to be worn. “you’ll need to come to my workshop for that though, so i can make minor adjustments on the spot. my thoughts tend to run away from me sometimes and i forget half my observations as i work. it won’t be often though, i’ll only call you in when necessary. and if you’re too busy then we can always reschedule.” wwx says.

“you are too accommodating.” lwj says, “in this industry, you shouldn’t be.”

wwx feels a little stricken by the statement. he laughs nervously, “it’s not like i can have you sit there for hours while i work.”

“if it makes it easier for you, then you should. i’m used to holding still.” lwj says, serious.

“is that an offer?” wwx raises an eyebrow. because this whole discussion certainly sounds like they’re making a deal.

lwj turns his head to the side and the loose strands of his hair swish with the movement. it’s such a graceful motion that wwx thinks he has surely practiced this before.

when he turns back, wwx notices he’s holding a business card out towards wwx. “you can contact my agent about my scheduling. my number is only for emergency appointments in case you need them.”

wwx is speechless. he cannot believe he actually pulled this off what the fu—

he’s still feeling thunderstruck when he gets home. with numb fingers, he has managed to program lwj’s number into his phone because he knows he’ll lose the card sometime soon. his contact name is just ‘💅🏻’

it’s both because wwx thinks lan wangji is too formal, and because he has an undeniable urge to see his nails painted.

it’s just so he can know what colours and gemstones would suit him of course. the thought that probably everything would suit lwj is firmly shut down and pushed at the back of wwx’s head.

—•—

lwj gets a call at 6am the next morning. he doesn’t know why but he immediately thinks of wwx. it turns out to be nmj

“wangji, have you been well?” nmj asks.

“yes.” lwj says, unsure of why nmj is calling him so early in the morning. isn’t he supposed to be at the gym at this hour?

“that is good to hear. are you busy?”

“no. i have five hours until my shoot.” lwj says, still confused. a feeling of dread settles in his stomach.

“let’s go for coffee then. i want to treat you.” nmj says.

lwj is silent for a few seconds then, “why?”

“i need to discuss an urgent matter with you.” nmj says.

if lwj wasn’t alarmed before, he definitely is now. he agrees to meet nmj in a cafe he visits regularly.

when he gets there, nmj is waiting for him at the door, attracting every passerby’s attention with his muscles bulging out of his grey t-shirt.

when lwj comes to a stop before him, nmj gives him a small smile and opens the door for him, gesturing him to go in.

people look as they walk over to a table in the back and keep looking as they take a seat. lwj makes nmj sit with his back to the cafe so he hides lwj completely from their eyes.

“wangji,” nmj starts seriously, then pauses, pushing a glass of water towards him.

lwj doesn’t touch it.

nmj sighs, “i was at huaisang’s office the other day and bumped into a man. he came there looking for you so i asked who he was. luckily huaisang had told me about him before, su she?”

lwj takes the glass of water and chugs it. nmj looks at him with concern.

“i turned him away but i’m worried about you wangji.” nmj says, pushing his own glass of water towards lwj.

lwj doesn’t frown but it’s a close call. “i do not know what he wants.”

nmj’s face hardens. “clearly nothing good. huaisang stopped me from punching him but if you ever need me to, feel free to call me.”

lwj shakes his head, “it’ll be okay. possibly.”

this makes nmj frown even more. “i’m serious, call me if he dares follow you. we cannot press charges until he portrays to be an actual threat but i will protect you.”

“i do not need protection.” lwj’s grip tightens on his glass.

“i know that.” nmj says, “but i will offer my protection either way. it’s good to know someone has your back.”

lwj wants to fight him on this, they barely know each other outside work and lwj does /not/ need someone to do his dirty work. he doesn’t though, because he is tired of carrying the fear of being recognised/followed all by himself. it’s not like he can burden nhs or lxc.

and nmj is neither judging, nor underestimating him. he is just offering to have his back should he ever need it, and it’s not... a bad thing. it’s almost like having a friend in the industry, and maybe he needs some of those.

so he nods. even nmj seems surprised by this but gives him a smile and orders him a coffee, true to his word.

nhs emails lwj a document containing his schedule for the next month and wwx is nestled comfortably in the only free hours he gets on fridays. he’s not as upset about it as he thought he would be

at 4pm friday, lwj drives to wwx’s ‘workshop’ which is simply an extension of his untidy living space. lwj doesn’t know how someone so meticulous with their handiwork could be so in a borderline hazardous workspace.

wwx conjures up a beanbag and gestures for lwj to sit down. lwj looks at the purple monstrosity and then at wwx, dubious.

“aiyah i’m just trying to make your comfortable!” wwx says, “graphing out your measurements will take a while.”

lwj doesn’t remember the last time someone cared for his comfort when he was at work. he has to stand for hours when only his upper body is in frame, and bend his fingers in unnatural ways as per the director’s requirements. discomfort is his status quo

he has never complained. it’s part of his job to hold still and not draw anyone’s focus to the less important parts of him, i.e. his face, by voicing his discomfort. it hardly bothers him anymore.

“are you sure you wouldn’t rather have me sit upright?” lwj asks, because while wwx seems like a considerate person lwj does not want to compromise the quality of his work.

“it’s gonna take an hour,” wwx says scandalised, “i’m not cruel. besides, i already received the photographs i needed for reference so you can just chill out till i do my work.”

lwj doesn’t mention how an hour is nothing compared to the time he had stood with his hands outstretched for seven hours. with an internal sigh, he gingerly sinks down on the beanbag. he hates to admit it, but it is actually comfortable.

wwx smirks at him like he knows, then gathers his measuring tools and approaches lwj. lwj removes his cotton gloves and places them on his knees.

once wwx is close enough, he takes lwj’s proffered wrist and winds a measuring tape around it. lwj doesn’t want to stare straight at wwx’s.. ehm yeah so he looks up.

this is just as bad of an idea, because where lwj has noticed wwx is attractive, seeing him from this angle is just... too much. he can’t close his eyes either, because that will make it look like he’s— enjoying this or something.

he decides to look to the side instead, spotting a framed picture of wwx and a toddler.

“is he your son?” he asks, because he feels the need to fill the silence for the first time in his life.

wwx looks at the picture, then laughs, “no, that’s my nephew, jin ling. he’s three and already spoiled rotten by my family.”

“do you have a big family?” lwj asks. asking personal questions is both unlike him and probably very unprofessional.

wwx, however, smiles indulgently. “it’s just my shijie, her husband jin zixuan, jin ling and my brother jiang cheng. well those are the nearest and dearest ones.”

“jiang cheng?” lwj asks.

wwx frowns, “yeah. do you know him?”

“he and my brother are close friends.” lwj says.

“wait, xichen is your brother?” wwx asks, then cringes at his informality, “i guess that’s lan xichen huh? i never knew his family name.”

“and what about wen qing? how do you know her?” wwx asks as he starts to try different sizes of measurement rings to see what fits lwj’s fingers.

it takes lwj a few seconds to answer. “wen qing drew studies of human anatomy for her final project.”

“let me guess,” wwx grins, placing a ring on his middle finger, “were you the hand section of her anatomy?”

lwj feels his ears burn for some reason. “yes. it’s how i got discovered.”

“discovered? like you got scouted for hand modelling based on a painting?” wwx pauses in his movements.

“nie huaisang was present at the final display at the university’s gallery, he’s fond of art.” lwj says.

wwx looks impressed, “just like that?”

“it is common for hand models.” lwj says.

“okay, so in your professional opinion, could i sell-“ wwx pauses, “could i be a hand model?”

he wiggles his fingers in front of lwj’s face.

“no.” lwj says.

“oh wow, blunt but effective.” wwx pouts

“you have callouses.” lwj explains, taking a closer look at wwx’s hands, “and dents from using your tools. things like cuticles, tanning and nails are fixable, but the others will remain permanent if you plan on still making jewellery and doing other strenuous work.”

when he looks up, wwx’s face is unreadable. thinking that he has offended the man, he draws back. “i apologise.”

that seems to snap wwx out of it, “don’t! you don’t need to apologise. it’s just– i don’t think anyone has ever answered a silly question of mine so sincerely. i’m still absorbing it.”

“i’m just being honest,” lwj says, “you have a good bone structure. you could have considered this line of work were it not for your existing business.”

wwx drops lwj’s hand and places both of his own on his cheeks, “i’m pretty sure that you’re messing with me but i can’t prove it so i’m gonna let it go.”

lwj suppresses a smile. maybe he doesn’t need the free hours on fridays.

[Part 3]

#wangxian fic #wangxian #lan wangji #wei wuxian #lwj x wwx #lan zhan #wei ying #the untamed #cql #mdzs #my fics #hand model au #long fic

3 notes · View notes

honeypiehotchner · 5 years ago

Text

Deception -- part ten

Oh hi... :)

The next couple weeks become…strange.

John and I continue our sessions the same as always, but something feels different. Off. And I can’t help but wonder if the night I burst into tears when he was at my door has something to do with it.

I have restrained myself from looking at his blog, even going as far as putting a block on it on my laptop, so I can’t view it without removing said block. Which I can do, but every time I’m met with the ‘restricted’ screen, I rethink my choice and back away.

His blog is personal – on a level different than therapy. And there needs to be a difference, so I am staying back and not overstepping any boundaries. As he asked.

Mycroft and I haven’t had a meeting since my little explosion. I wouldn’t call it an explosion, necessarily, but I’ve never actually yelled at him the way I did the last time we had a meeting. And I suppose that’s why I yelled at him. I had been holding all of that back for a very, very long time, and our last meeting just happened to be the time it all came boiling over.

Though, I’m almost entirely certain that my internal battle with my newfound feelings for John didn’t help the situation any, especially not with how Mycroft has been acting.

But nevertheless, there hasn’t been another meeting, only a single text that said he is busy doing some international work, but that the mission remains active.

Which is all basically Mycroft for, “I’m angry with you for your behavior, but you’re obviously angry with me as well, so some time away from one another might be in our best interest.”

I’m not complaining. I could use some time away from the bastard. And if he wants some time away from me, then say no more. I’ll gladly stay away.

Onto to other business (and things I worry about), today is John’s last session of the month. He normally has another scheduled, but this time he doesn’t. There is no way for Mycroft to force John to keep seeing me as his therapist – Mycroft had to completely rely on Sherlock’s intuition of who John would pick as a new therapist if his old one was unavailable, which Mycroft made sure she was. But since John picked me seemingly on his own, he’s stuck with me. Now that he doesn’t have another appointment scheduled, I can’t help but wonder why. Or what he’s up to, if anything.

Only time will tell, I suppose.

~~~

John’s session time comes quicker than I want it to. And as I suspected, John’s behavior is different. Nervous, almost.

“How are you doing today, Dr. Watson?” I jump right in, sitting comfortably in my chair as he gets himself settled, but he’s stiff.

“I’m alright.”

And no question to me, so he’s definitely being strange.

“Alright,” I echo, nodding slowly. “Is there anything you’d like to talk about first?”

He nods his head, his eyes studying me, almost fondly – but I can’t tell if that’s my stupid head making that up, but regardless, my heart is hammering in my chest.

After what feels like forever, he speaks. “Do you remember what you said to me? The first time we met?”

I frown, shaking my head. I said a lot of things, so I’m not entirely sure what he’s referring to. Especially not with how he’s already acting. I can’t tell if he’s about to go off on some tangent or what.

“You said, ‘Mad dog and an Englishman.’”

I sigh, remembering now. “Yes, I’m sorry. It was a poor joke on my part and a frankly inappropriate time to try to make jokes. I apologize, still.”

“No, it’s fine,” John chuckles, smiling now. “I liked it. You called me a fool – indirectly. It made me laugh later when I thought about it again. And now it just…” He pauses, shaking his head. “You clocked me before I even clocked myself.”

A nervous laugh escapes my lips. “I’m not sure I understand…”

“What I’m about to say might make me a fool, but I’m going to say it anyway.” He takes in a deep breath, and then he says, “I want to see a different therapist.”

That? Seriously? That’s the reason he’s acting so strange? We aren’t working well enough together, so he wants to see someone else. That’s what’s wrong with him?

I almost feel stupid for suspecting something else.

“John,” I chuckle. “That hardly makes you a fool. I want you to get the best help possible, and if that means seeing a different therapist, then I understand. I’m not going to call you a fool for that.”

“Okay,” he nods. “Then maybe call me a fool for this.”

“For what?”

“I want to see you,” he pauses. “Not as my therapist.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I want to take you to dinner.”

And in this moment, what he’s implying becomes crystal clear. I sigh, letting out a little laugh as I set my pen down. “John, I…”

“I’m a fool, I know, but I’ve got nothing left to lose and ever since I saw you I just…” He shakes his head again. “Ever since I saw you, I’ve thought about kissing you, and if that makes me a fool, then I’m fine with being a fool.”

I furrow my eyebrows, sliding his file off my lap and onto the table beside me. I stand to my feet, hoping to gain some control over this situation. “Listen, John, I can’t date one of my patients. I’m really sorry.”

But he stands with me, so we’re back on even ground. “I know, it’s unethical. I’m a doctor, too, remember?”

“Yes, I remember.”

He takes a step closer, almost too eager about explaining this to me. “But if I see someone else, then I won’t be your patient anymore.”

“Oh,” I laugh. “You’ve properly thought this through, haven’t you?”

“I have,” he replies, suddenly serious about this. “I have because…I really want to see you.”

If his face didn’t look as sincere and genuine as it does, and if his voice hadn’t gone as quiet as it has, then I probably would’ve told him to leave. I probably would’ve shown him the door and told him to see a new therapist and that I decline his offer.

These are all things I probably should’ve done.

“You’re serious about this.”

“Of course I am,” he shrugs, stuffing his hands nervously in his pockets. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re not just saying all this so you can get my license restricted and reputation ruined?”

“I’m a doctor, too,” he repeats. “If I wanted to do that, I don’t think I’d be standing here, asking you out to dinner, no longer as your client.”

I think it over – and I absolutely hate myself for thinking it over, but I am, and I can’t help it. I also can’t help the butterflies that are swarming in my stomach, the ones that I try to calm by wrapping my arms around my torso, shifting my weight on both my feet as we look at each other. Him, pleading; me, contemplating.

Is this really a good idea? I agreed to be his therapist and his therapist only. I never agreed to being anything more, but then again, I never thought of him as anything more. Not when I saw pictures of him to get acquainted with his face, so I’d recognize him when he came for his first session. Not when I opened the door and saw him the first time. I never thought of him as anything more than a patient until…well, until he walked with me in the rain that day. Almost a month ago now.

And I know myself. If the feeling isn’t there, it isn’t there. No amount of interest shown by the guy will make me consider anything. But if the feeling is there, if the feeling is subconscious, pushed down by something else – example: I’m his therapist – then the moment interest is shown, the feeling comes out. It rears its head, it yells, “See! I was right! There is something there!”

“It’s just dinner?” I ask tentatively, taking a deep breath.

John nods. “Just dinner. And after that – Well, we’ll take it one step at a time.”

One step at a time. I like that. That’s not something you normally hear a guy say. He’s not being overly arrogant or cocky. One step at a time.

“Okay.”

I swear, the way John’s eyes widen is almost comical. “Okay?”

“Yes,” I laugh, letting my arms hang down by my sides. “Yes, I will let you take me out to dinner.”

“You’re serious?”

“Don’t ruin it, John.”

“Right.”

“Does this mean you want my personal number now?”

“Uh, it might help, yes.”

I shake my head as he pulls out his phone, opening up a new message and handing me the phone. I type in my number and send a text, and he smiles when he hears my phone ding from the kitchen.

“There,” I smile. “You’ll text me the details, I presume?”

“Yes, I will.”

“Good. Now get out.”

“What?”

“You’re not my patient anymore and I barely know you, so get out of my house,” I point toward the door, but I can’t contain my teasing smile. He sees it after a minute and then he breathes a sigh in relief, chuckling to himself.

“You got me.”

“I saw,” I smirk. “I’ll at least walk you to the door.”

I walk with him to the front door, pulling it open for him and holding it as he steps out. He gets to the front step before he turns around, coming back inside only halfway.

“Can I kiss you?”

My reply is instantaneous. “Take me on a date first, Dr. Watson.”

“Message received,” he nods. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you.”

I shut the door and lean my back against it, my eyes widening.

What the hell did I just get myself into?

36 notes · View notes

donnerpartyofone · 6 years ago

Text

TL;DR - i finally got an MRI for my ear, which has been fucked up and constantly clogged since september and developed tinnitus in february, and apparently, supposedly, there is nothing wrong with it. so there’s nothing to do about it. so just like with my eye and my skin and my lung and my etc, i have a problem that i can’t do anything about, that i can’t even get the satisfaction of a diagnosis for, and i’m so pissed off about how much time and energy i’ve spent trying to improve things for myself when there was absolutely no point in doing so, that i just want to set my body on fire to really show it what i think of it.

i’m so, so mad. the last couple of months have been almost nothing but wall to wall doctor’s appointments, and with zero exception, they have all been a complete waste of time. it hurts because my body tortures me, of course, but it hurts worse than that because i convinced myself that i HAD to do this, that it was Mature to face my fear of doctors and generally the Right Thing to Do, when i absolutely didn’t want to do any of this at all.

i suffer a lot from an internalized impression of myself as being lazy, defeatist, and dramatic. it comes from a lot of places. i grew up in an environment where i was the only open depression sufferer, under one parent who definitely considered depression to be an antisocial behavioral problem, to be treated like any other shallow cry for attention. i also grew up in an environment full of obvious talents, all of whom would go on to be published, or even public figures, and not to be a complete asshole, but the idea that “you can do anything you put your mind to” is kept alive by people who have the baseline talent necessary to succeed at things they put their minds to. if you subscribe to the idea that success requires nothing other than commitment, then the implication is that all failure is a matter of laziness, petulance, and defeatism--never lack, never inferiority, never ordinariness. on top of all this, my personal interests--horror, sexually graphic media, comics, underground music movements, the usual roundup of morbid or antisocial cultural items--were considered pretty much...well, not very adult. so what i’m coming to is that if i can’t prove my adulthood in any way that has to do with who i am or what i’m capable of, then the very least i can do is Be Responsible. (and of course i get made fun of all the time for being an uptight rule follower but JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, LITERALLY WHAT ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO DO)

one of the main ways you can Be Responsible, if you have the means that is, is to look after your health. the world is full of icky, boring, degrading, depersonalizing, and occasionally painful tasks that are necessary to keep the societal cogs turning. if you can’t make art or have ideas or be beautiful or become an athlete or whatever, you can still show that you’re alive and generally hygienic by going to the dmv, voting, showing up for jury selection, or going to the doctor. you can still grasp the final shred of integrity offered to you by doing things no one wants to do, but that we know are necessary for the vitality of self and society. so i’m extra good at doing stuff that people my age frequently shirk--the dentist appointments, the doing your taxes the second the forms come in, etc--because they’re sort of the only things i can do that prove that i’m not, you know, a complete piece of shit.

so this year, at the start of february, i decided i was going to get a real handle on my health. i’d been going to doctors for various things already, of course, even though it was pretty much never satisfying; the only thing i can think of that ever got fixed or explained was the pathological growth of scar tissue over my eyeballs, which required some pretty fucked up surgery. but at this time, i had a lot of problems building up. my left eye developed a small spot, and a constant glare that borders on having double vision. my right ear remained completely stuffed up since i had a cold last fall, and began to ring constantly at the end of the winter. my right lung has felt alarmingly tight and weak for...years actually. the right side of my face is constantly beet red, like i go fresh with somebody’s wife, and i can see how it’s thickening and bending my flesh all out of shape, which rosacea will do progressively and incurably throughout your entire life. i decided that instead of quaking in fear of doctors, and also in fear of wasted time, i was going to straighten my back and go nip this shit in the bud. after all, when you’re miserable but not doing anything about it, people kind of hate you, and then you have THAT problem on top of all your real problems. sometimes you gotta give the people what they want.

so how did it all go?

my skin: since no insurance company considers rosacea a medical problem, which is actually complete fucking bullshit, i decided to take matters into my own hands. i researched what rich people do for their uninsurable problem, and decided to use my recent (traumatic) inheritance to take care of myself. i tried three different preposterously expensive topical treatments that i was told are a “magic bullet” for rosacea, and all of them made my face blow up like a fucking macy’s day balloon. then, after four rounds of extremely expensive, painful and scary laser treatments, i had absolutely no results other than that my face was actually MORE reactive for about a month after the last one. i’m fucked.

my eye: according to my optometrist and ophthalmologist and corneal specialist it’s “just” regular scar tissue from my terrifying surgeries, not the pathological scar tissue that i had to have removed via terrifying surgery and localized chemotherapy. this kind of sucks because it means i can’t just get it removed again, but at least there is a slight chance that my body will reabsorb it like regular scar tissue. (oh yeah? and what’s my luck USUALLY like?) my only “treatment option” is to use eyedrops four times a day, which is actually extremely uncomfortable, and which pretty much means i’m just not allowed to wear makeup ever again.

my lung: after two rounds of clear x-rays and a breathing test that only detected slight asthma, through two GPs and a pulmonologist, nobody has anything to say about why i have this chronic breathing problem. there’s some indication that it might be a “muscular-skeletal problem” that’s putting pressure on the one lung, so i guess i need to add a physical therapist or something to my endless list of specialists.

my ear: two or three trips to urgent care (i forget how many now), two GPs, an ENT, a fucking weird hearing test, and an MRI have done absolutely nothing for me. after a cold with a sinus/ear infection last fall, my right ear remained permanently slammed shut; if i pop it, it closes back up in seconds. i do not have the same problem with the other ear, it is clearly a physical problem. in february, my ear began to ring agonizingly and has not stopped for a second. in all this time, i went through round after round of antibiotics, antihistamines, anti-inflammatories, steroids, etc. nothing works. no one can see any type of problem. apparently i have the option of electing to have a tube surgically inserted into my ear, although i can’t quite figure out what the risk factor is, both for my tinnitus, and for my hearing in general.

and OF COURSE, depression: part of the stigma against depression is that it’s a choice, somehow. like fresh air and exercise and looking on the bright side are so effective that if you’re depressed, it must be because you LIKE IT THAT WAY, because otherwise you would use these simple and free cures for your so-called illness and it would be all over, right? anyway i kind of hate being depressed, and i’ve been working my fucking ass off trying to deal with it. i see a nutritional therapist (a licensed psychiatrist) who prescribed me a number of nutritional supplements that i do think help, but they are unthinkably hard on my stomach. i tried lexapro, and it made me feel so abnormal, and cut into my general quality of life so badly, that i didn’t keep it up. i tried a generic version of wellbutrin, and it made me violently sick to my stomach, and caused my ringing ear to ring deafeningly for days after a single dose. the brand name version wasn’t much better. then i tried lamictal, and felt totally great AND NORMAL for like a week, and then i got the rare and potentially deadly lamictal rash. sometimes this just indicates a basic allergy, and sometimes it indicates Stevens-Johnson Syndrome which causes something called TOXIC EPIDERMAL NECROLYSIS WHICH REQUIRES LONG TERM HOSPITALIZATION TO GROW YOUR SKIN BACK. i had to deal with this on the day of mandatory final exam presentations in a class where i was already struggling, and this was one of the darkest days i can recently remember. after this, my psychiatrist tried to prescribe me abilify, but after i started to hear about the side effects and personal testimony of certain friends, i decided i couldn’t handle it. very possibly, i just cannot be medicated for depression, unless i’m willing to sacrifice everything else around the depression too.

...this is all pretty much a retread of an experience i had for a few years, a few years ago, where i was having these abnormal paps, so they constantly had to drill painful core samples out of my cervix to keep checking up on the NOTHING that was going on in there, until one day they were just like...uh your tests are coming back fine now, and we don’t know why they didn’t before, and it just doesn’t matter, you don’t have to do this anymore PLUS you could have just been sitting on your couch jerking off this entire time and it would have done exactly as much good as this cycle of being humiliated and tortured by doctors in a while that leaves you curled up in a ball sobbing every time. i’m still pretty pissed off about it, if you can’t tell.

so like i don’t know why the fuck i’m doing all this. i don’t know why i do anything. nothing fucking comes from even my most herculean effort except a relentless sense of mystery that is starting to border on satire. i don’t know why i have so many problems. i’m 38 years old and i’m in ok shape. i don’t have generalized immune issues or anything. my doctor said i have some of the best lab work she’s ever seen. why the fuck does all this shit happen to me. i’m trying so fucking hard to enjoy my life. it’s hard to be in mental and physical pain all the time, the latter for absolutely no coherent reason. i mean i’d rather have a bunch of random problems than like, lupus or MS or something, for sure, but everything that happens to me is so meaningless and arbitrary, i’m starting to get that feeling like god hates me. it’s also hard to have the constant feeling that so many people think that failure to enjoy life is exclusively a matter of “not trying hard enough”, being a pill, looking for attention. i don’t know what to do anymore. i’m real pissed. i think what i need is a change of philosophy, which will be a long hard road. at least i know it’s the one and only area where i, and only i, have some level of control. wish me luck.

#long post

13 notes · View notes