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laurenairay · 4 years

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5 Times Erik Johnson Surprised You & 1 Time You Surprised Him - E.Johnson

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: Some bad language. Some sexual moments.

Summary: What it says on the tin, 5 times that Erik Johnson surprises you and 1 time you surprise him - a journey through a relationship!

A/N: This is the longest piece I’ve written in a very long time, and I’ve spent days going over every little detail - I’ve really enjoyed putting it together so I hope you enjoy it too!

~~~

“So did you think about it?”

You jumped at the sound of your friend’s voice, shrieking slightly as you spun around to face her.

“Gah, you should wear a bell!” you gasped, clutching your chest.

Mel just laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. How she looked so put together after an hour of vinyasa yoga was beyond you. That’s how the two of you had become friends nearly 2 years ago; you’d met in this same yoga class on a Saturday morning, Mel having asked one week to borrow a hair tie when hers had snapped. You’d chatted in passing from that day on, which graduated into getting smoothies together after class, and then to having coffee, lunch, Sunday brunches, and even wine nights. She was genuinely one of the sweetest people you’d ever met, and was a godsend when you needed girl time.

But for the past couple of weeks, she’d been bugging you with a question.

“Come on Y/N, you promised me you’d think about it!” she pouted.

You rolled your eyes slightly, unable to help but smile at her as you slipped into your jacket.

“I know, I know. I just…”

You bit your bottom lip, hesitating a little.

And why were you hesitating? Because she was trying to set you up on a blind date with one of her husband’s friends. Specifically, one of his teammates. And you did not look like the typical WAG, at least according to the internet.

“Y/N, babe, I’ve told Erik all about you. He’s interested, I promise,” Mel said, smiling even wider, trying to encourage you.

You groaned a little, hanging your head back, making Mel laugh.

“I just don’t get why! I’m not exactly the usual hockey player’s type and you know it,” you frowned, gesturing between the two of you.

And you were right. Where Mel’s hair was blonde and artfully plaited, yours was an absolute mess. Where she was tall, toned and tanned, you were...not. And where she was about to head back to her Saturday of leisure with her husband, you were heading back to your small apartment to finish off more work and do laundry for one. As always.

“Oh my god, Y/N, stop it. You’re a sexy smart accountant with an ass to die for, the kindest heart and you don’t take any shit. Erik is interested, trust me,” Mel insisted, nudging you with her arm as you gathered your gym bags.

You sighed, trying to ignore the warmth that filled you from her words. She really was so sweet.

“Alright, alright, you win. I’ll go on a date with Erik,” you said, smiling at her.

Mel grinned back. “You won’t regret this, I promise!”

“I’ll hold you to that,” you said dryly, earning another laugh.

Nearly a week later, Friday night, you were approaching the Italian restaurant that Mel told you to meet Erik at. She’d arranged everything for you, wanting you to have a ‘true blind date’, so all you had to do was show up. And here you were.

“Hi, uh, I’m here for a reservation under Erik Johnson?” you said nervously.

“Ah yes, the other member of your party is already here. Please follow me,”

You let out a shaky breath, smoothing your hands over your navy velvet tea-dress, before walking over to the table you were directed to. Here goes nothing. At least you could potentially get some pasta out of this night, if nothing else. Oh wow. Oh wow. Mel had said Erik was handsome…but damn.

“Hey, you must be Y/N! I’m Erik,”

He stood up and pulled your chair out for you, and you couldn’t help but to blush.

Oh wow. Tall, blonde, broad shoulders, gorgeous and a gentleman? So far, Mel had nailed this.

“Hi,” you murmured back, smiling shyly up at him as he pushed your chair in for you, sitting down as gracefully as you could.

Erik beamed back at you, making your breath catch in your throat. Oh yeah. Mel had definitely nailed this.

A couple of hours later, after great pasta, fantastic wine, and an even better flow of conversation, Erik was walking you to your door. You honestly couldn’t believe how easily the two of you had clicked. As soon as you’d ordered, Erik has started talking, and from there you hadn’t stopped. He was attentive, genuinely seeming to be interested in what you were saying, and he made you laugh as well as making you blush with compliments. It had been…perfect. So much better than you had expected. To be honest, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a date that went this well. Wow.

“What?” Erik asked, smiling down at you.

“Nothing…well, I’m just…surprised,”

“Surprised?” he asked, confused.

You blushed a little. “I haven’t been on a date in a while, let alone a blind date, so I didn’t have very high hopes. But you surprised me,”

Erik smiled widely, making your breath catch in your throat again. Oh wow.

“A good surprise then. I’ll take that,” he said smoothly, winking at you.

You laughed, nudging him with your shoulder, earning a nudge back. All too soon, you reached your front door, but you paused outside, looking up at him. It was only early October, so the weather wasn’t too cold, and you were more than happy to linger outside if it meant a few more moments with him.

“I guess this is it then,” you murmured, biting your bottom lip slightly.

Erik smiled at you, but his eyes were serious. “I’m glad Mel set us up – I had a really great evening,”

He had a great evening. He was glad Mel set you up. Even just those simple confessions lit you up inside. Wow.

“Me too. I’m glad I took this chance,” you said softly.

“Do you mind if I take a chance?” Erik said, just as softly.

What?

You stayed silent in confusion, until his hand rose to your cheek, his thumb lightly stroking your cheekbone.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, voice now as serious as his eyes.

It was all you could to breathe “yes,”

He smiled slightly, leaning his head down and pressing his lips lightly to yours. Oh wow. The kiss stayed soft, and sweet, and slow, but your body rushed with warmth, your hands rising to clutch at his jacket. Erik kissed you again and again and again, each kiss as syrupy sweet as the last, until he pulled away, hand sliding down to clasp yours.

“Wow,” he said, sounding dazed.

“My thoughts exactly,” you blurted.

Oh you absolute dork.

But Erik just smiled, laughing softly. “Can I see you again?”

And you smiled back.

“Yeah, I would like that,”

Mel was getting a bouquet of flowers first thing tomorrow, that was for sure.

~~~~~

6 weeks later, and you were still going on dates with Erik. He was honestly the nicest guy you’d ever dated. You weren’t official yet, but over the past six weeks, you’d been on over a dozen dates, fitting lunches and dinners and even fitted a hike in around his roadtrips. You had to admit that it was a bit strange to work around his athlete’s schedule – having the guy you were seeing being away for work for a week at a time wasn’t what you were used to – but it was worth it. It was so worth it.

You’d even mentioned him to your mom, letting her know how lucky you felt to have him in your life, regardless of how early on it was.

Erik was everything you could’ve hoped for. He called you every night he was on the road, just asking about your day, and told you funny stories about his teammates in return. He’d sent you flowers to work after your third date, earning you a lot of compliments and impressed whispers. He’d held your hand, opened doors for you, leant you a sweater when it was cold…he was a complete gentleman. Sure, he had a filthy mouth that made you blush at inopportune moments. Sure, his snoring took some getting used to. And sure, the first time he stayed over and left his fake teeth in your bathroom, it made you jump out of your skin.

You were besotted, not dumb. Nobody was perfect, but Erik sure came close.

And no, the two of you hadn’t been intimate yet, just slept in each other’s arms with a lot of making out. But damn you knew it was going to be good when you did – the chemistry between you was too good not to be. There was no rush though, you knew that the right moment would happen when it happened. And you knew Erik felt the same way, at least if the fire in his eyes was anything to go by.

Today you were meant to be going out for brunch, a rare Sunday off – but you’d woken up with a completely blocked nose, pounding head and a nasty cough. You knew when you couldn’t even keep down a slice of plain toast that you needed to cancel your date, as much as you didn’t want to miss seeing Erik. But there was no way you could see him like this.

To: Erik

I’m sorry but I’m going to have to cancel.

I think I’ve got the flu.

Sorry x

It was all you could do to roll over and bury your head under the covers.

In what felt like seconds later, you were woken up by someone knocking on your door. No, pounding on your door. What the hell? You groaned, forcing yourself upright, bracing yourself a little as your head swam with dizziness. But the knocking was still happening and it was so loud and you just wanted it to stop.

“Alright, ‘nuff! ‘m coming,” you yelled, your voice cracking and rasping.

You shuffled over to the door, duvet draped around your shoulders like a pathetic cape, and you wrenched open the door with a glare…only to see Erik.

What the hell?

“What are you doing here?” you mumbled, leaning against the door to keep yourself upright.

Erik’s eyes widened at your appearance and your voice.

“Damn, Y/N, you really do have the flu. Get back to bed!” he said, shocked, herding you back inside your own apartment.

“Told you I did. And I was in bed before you knocked. Why are you here?” you groaned, pulling the duvet tighter around you.

You had not wanted him to see you like this.

“You’re sick, I want to take care of you,” he shrugged, smiling.

That was…sweet. But you couldn’t allow it.

“Erik, I’m not getting you sick too. You need to leave,” you murmured, shaking your head.

But Erik just grinned.

“I’m not going anywhere. If seeing you means I need to take care of you when you’re sick, then that’s what we’re doing today. I want to look after you, Y/N,” he said simply.

How were you supposed to argue with that?

“Erik…”

You trailed off, hesitating.

“Go and take a shower. I’ll put some clean pyjamas outside the bathroom door and when you’re dressed come out and sit on the sofa with me. We’re going to have a lazy movie day and you won’t have to worry about a thing,” Erik announced, hands squeezing your shoulders.

Wow. Just wow.

Erik took in the stunned look on your face and laughed softly, giving you a gentle nudge.

“Go, I’ll be out here when you’re ready,” Erik promised.

Well, no-one was perfect, but you weren’t expecting this. You really were so lucky.

~~~~~

There. That was it. That was the dress. You were out shopping on your lunch break; you’d met with Mel quickly ahead of Gabe’s birthday bar crawl tonight, when you realised that you really had nothing that you wanted to wear. In came Mel, suggesting a last-minute shopping trip, and here you were now, in a little boutique not too far from your office.

The dress you were wearing was high-necked, long-sleeved, and knee-length…but it was completely fitted, clinging to you. A beautiful shimmery champagne-coloured bodycon dress. It was nothing that you usually would wear, but there was just something about it that had caught your eye. And you were right. It highlighted everything you loved about your body while still feeling classy, and you just felt amazing in it.

“Mel, I think this is the one!” you called out.

“Come out and show me then!” Mel called back.

So you took a deep breath and opened the dressing room curtain. Mel’s jaw dropped a little, before a big grin lit up her face.

“Oh yes. That’s it, you have to buy it!” Mel squealed, clasping her hands together.

You just bit your lip, glancing over your shoulder into the mirror. It really was a beautiful dress.

“My legs do look pretty great…” you said softly, twisting back and forth.

“And your boobs. And your ass. And your everything. Oh you have to get it Y/N, Erik will just die,” Mel said, laughing.

You couldn’t help but laugh as well. That was true.

“Alright, sold,” you giggled.

If nothing else, Erik would enjoy you trying something different!

You ended up getting ready over at Mel’s, some of the other WAGs joining you too, while Gabe, Erik and the rest of the team went out to a bar first. A glass or two or prosecco, a lot of singing, and one lipstick emergency later, your group of glamourous women was heading into the guys’ second bar to meet them, arriving to a chorus of cheers.

“Oh wow, looks like we need to catch up,” Mel laughed, noticing their tipsy states.

You just laughed at Erik’s flushed cheeks, unbuttoning your jacket as you walked towards him. But when you took it off, you were met with stunned silence from your boyfriend. Oh…did he not like the dress? Maybe you’d been wrong about it after all.

“Holy shit Y/N,” Nate blurted.

Then Sam wolf-whistled, breaking Erik out of his frozen state to punch him in the shoulder, making everyone roar with laughter. Erik stumbled towards you, eyes still wide in disbelief, making you bite your lip nervously.

“Wow. My god, wow. You look amazing” Erik stammered, hands going straight to your waist.

Oh. Good. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, and smiled up at him.

“Yeah? You like it?”

“Fucking love it. Wow,” Erik grinned.

You just laughed, leaning up to press your lips firmly to his, earning jeers and catcalls as Erik tugged you against his body. You may have been dating for over 12 months now, but his kiss still lit up your body every time. Damn.

“Get a room!” Gabe crowed.

Erik flipped him off, before breaking the kiss, resting his forehead against yours.

“Drink?” he murmured, gazing down at you.

You nodded, smiling. “Drink,”

A couple of hours later, more than a few drinks down, and you were up at the bar, waiting to get a new round of drinks for the people still at the table who weren’t on the dance floor. Erik had barely left your side all night, his hands seeming to not want to leave your body – not that you were complaining. But now you were standing by yourself, having volunteered your turn.

“Hi there,”

You turned your head in confusion, to see a guy standing next to you, smiling.

“Uh, hi,” you replied, smiling politely.

Were you in the way of his drinks at the bar?

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?” the stranger drawled.

Oh jeez. Really?

“I’m out with my boyfriend for a birthday,” you shrugged, being brutally honest.

“Your boyfriend doesn’t let you make friends?”

You couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Really?

“Friends? That’s what you’re going with?” you asked dryly, raising your eyebrow.

The guy laughed, grinning.

“Can you blame me?” he said, grin turning to a smirk as he looked you up and down.

Oh, no. That’s just not happening.

But as you squared your shoulders and narrowed your eyes to give him a piece of your mind, you felt a body step up behind you, a warm hand sliding around your waist. You knew these arms anywhere. Erik.

“Thought I’d come up and help you with the drinks, babe. Everything okay?” Erik asked almost-coldly, squeezing your hip a little.

Erik just towered over the guy that had been flirting with you, and you could tell he was balking at your boyfriend’s size. Hah. Serves him right.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just waiting to be served still,” you shrugged, struggling not to laugh.

“Then I’ll wait with you,” Erik shrugged, leaning against the bar, making you fall into his side even more, “So you can leave now, bud,”

Holy shit. The flirty stranger open and closed his mouth, before just walking away.

Erik nodded sharply, as if to say ‘good’.

“Erik!” you giggled, hand coming up to cover your mouth.

“What?” he said, mouth in a surly twist.

Why was he acting like such a caveman?

That’s when it hit you. Erik was jealous. That was…unexpected. He’d never shown any insecurity to you before, not when it came to your relationship. Over the last 12 months, you’d been to plenty of bars and events with him and his friends, and not once had he ever reacted like this to anyone who approached you. What had changed?

“You’re jealous,” you blurted, stunned.

Erik scowled slightly, making you laugh. You turned to face him fully and rested your hand on his chest, looking up at him with a smile, making his scowl soften slightly. He slumped his shoulders a little in shame, a slight flush on his cheeks as he placed both of his hands on your waist again.

“Okay, I’m a little jealous. You look so hot tonight. You look always so hot, but this dress…”

He trailed off, biting his lip. Huh. The dress did it?

Erik noticed the look on your face and pulled you closer towards him.

“Not just the dress. You’re just…glowing tonight, babe. You look incredible and it shows that you feel incredible and…he was looking. He wanted you,” Erik muttered

You just shook your head, smiling slightly.

“Hey, Erik, I don’t care if he was looking or what he wanted. I bought this dress because I like how it looks on me, and I thought you would too. Just you. You’re the guy I’ve been dating for a year. You’re the one whose arms I want around me. You’re the one I’m going home with,” you mused.

Erik smirked, making you roll your eyes.

“Damn right you’re going home with me,” he purred, sliding his hands round your body to rest on your ass.

You blushed as you heard the hooting of his teammates back at your table behind you, batting at his chest as he squeezed his hands cheekily.

“Behave yourself, Johnson” you warned, unable to stop a small smile spreading across your lips.

“Make me, Y/L/N,” he winked.

Challenge accepted.

~~~~~

Sunlight streamed through the curtains as you slowly opened your eyes, blinking yourself out of sleep. You stretched your arms out wide to catch the kinks in your back, only to realise that the other side of Erik’s bed was empty. And the sheets were completely cold. What the hell?

You pushed yourself up onto your elbow, trying to puzzle out your confusion. Today was your 2 year anniversary, that’s why you’d stayed over. So where the hell was your boyfriend? It was only after a few moments that you realised you could hear noise coming from downstairs. It wasn’t like Erik to be awake before you, especially not on a Sunday morning when he had a day off. So you crept over to the door, cracking it open silently.

All you could hear was a bit of shuffling, some clinking and some murmuring voices. Kitchen, maybe? And something smelled amazing. Maybe he ordered in breakfast! How thoughtful! Then the voices stopped and you heard footsteps, so you walked back over to Erik’s bed, sitting upright with the pillows behind you. No point pretending you were asleep for whatever he was planning.

And you were right – less than a minute later, Erik pushed open the door, holding a tray in his hands. Whatever was on it had the same amazing smell as downstairs. Erik’s eyes lit up as he realised you were awake, making you smile.

“Happy 2 year anniversary, Y/N,” Erik said softly, smiling back at you.

“Happy anniversary!” you said breathily.

Oh wow.

The tray he laid on the bed had a plate with three huge pancakes on, covered with a mix of berries and syrup. This looked amazing! But did he…

“Did you cook this all yourself?” you asked in disbelief.

Not that Erik couldn’t cook, but he’d never made a sweet breakfast from scratch like this before. As if in admission, he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“I might have called my mom for guidance? Like, she was on facetime with me while I made them. But I did make them all myself other than that,” Erik promised.

Holy shit. That was cute and impressive.

“Thank you, Erik. This looks amazing,” you said happily.

What a hell of a surprise.

“I may have eaten as I was going along. Taste testing, you know,” he confessed, making you giggle as his shame-face, “so this is all for you,”

Well then.

To be honest, the breakfast was incredible. The pancakes were fluffy and delicate, and the berries were perfectly sweet, bursting with flavour in your mouth. You did make Erik eat alongside you, feeling awkward just eating by yourself, but he insisted you eat the last blueberry.

“Damn, Erik, that was so good!” you groaned, flopping on your back onto the pillows, “you should cook breakfast more often!”

Erik just laughed, placing the tray on the floor and pushing it back out of the way. You turned your head to face him as he rolled onto his side, propping his head up his hand. Hmm bicep flex. Nice. Erik grinned as your hand reached out to stroke his arm, unable to help yourself, but there was something strange in his expression…

“You could have this all the time if you moved in with me,” Erik said faux-casually, the hope in his eyes betraying him.

Your breath caught in your throat, your hand involuntarily squeezing down on his bicep in shock. Erik smiled down at you for your reaction, but you could see that the smile was nervous. That was a big step. But a good step. And a step you so desperately wanted to take. But…

“You think we’re ready after only two years of dating?” you asked, hesitant.

Erik nodded so vigorously he reminded you of a bobblehead figure, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Fuck, yeah, move in with me Y/N. I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you to move in here smoothly but fuck it – I want you to be the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing I see at night. I want to come back from roadtrips and know that you’ll be waiting here for me. I want to make this a home with you,” Erik said seriously.

Oh god. This man was so sweet. How did you get so lucky?

Tears filled your eyes, and Erik froze, until a smile spread across your face.

“Yeah, babe, I’ll move in,” you said happily.

Erik whooped, punching a fist in the air, making you laugh loudly. He rolled on top of you, pressing kisses into your neck, and you shrieked as his stubble scraped across your skin, only fuelling him on further. The quick kisses turned slower, wetter, until he was kissing down your body, only pausing briefly to whip your strap top over your head. His thumbs briefly brushed against your nipples, causing you to whimper, which Erik only smirked at before his kisses continued their path down.

“Happy anniversary to me,” Erik growled, tugging your pyjamas shorts down your legs, helping you kick them off.

You just inhaled sharply as he roughly pushed your legs up to your chest, moving to press kisses from your knee down your inner thigh, until he…

“Erik!”

~~~~~

Normandale Lake Park had quickly become one of your favourite places in Bloomington, MN. The first time Erik had taken you there, during the first time he’d introduced you to his parents, you’d fallen in love with the peace and tranquillity of it. So every year now when the two of you visited in the summer, you’d made an effort to spend some time there with him as a tradition of sorts.

And this year was no different.

The two of you had gotten up fairly early, Erik having wanted to have brunch in a little spot by the river that he liked, and had insisted that all you needed to do was get yourself ready. Not that you were complaining. It wasn’t like you were going to say no to Erik spoiling you with breakfast.

Soon enough the two of you were walking towards where Erik wanted to set up the blanket, his mom having sent you out of the door with a thermos of coffee and a huge hug, the biggest smile on her face. You knew she loved how much Erik adored you, especially since you made no effort to hide how much you adored him in return. How could you not? The man you loved was single-handedly setting up a picnic blanket and picnic basket to spend a quiet morning with you. What could get cuter than that?

“I prepared a few things today, I hope that’s okay?” Erik said, a little awkward.

Strange man.

“Of course it is – why would I complain?” you laughed.

Erik snorted. “I know carbs are always a winner with you, but I put together a few other bits too,”

Well now you were intrigued.

You watched as your boyfriend pulled out box after box from the basket, everything from croissants to strawberries to bacon sandwiches, finishing with a bottle of prosecco. What the hell?

“Damn, Erik. What is all this?” you said, slightly shocked.

Not that you didn’t appreciate this incredible spread of food, but it really wasn’t what you and Erik normally did…

“I just…I wanted to do something special. For you. For us,” Erik mumbled.

You just smiled, getting the feeling that he wasn’t quite finished. Erik sighed, laughing softly.

“You always know how to read my mind, don’t you? You know me better than I know myself sometimes. Even from the moment I met you, I knew you were special. And I was right,”

Your breath caught in your throat as Erik trailed off, reaching out to hold your hand, and your heart started beating even faster. Was he really…

“I know that I’m not perfect, and I know that I have flaws. But you make me want to be the best version of myself, be the best that I can be in every aspect of my life. And with you in my world, I feel I can take on any challenge, I feel I can handle any situation. My heart is yours 100% and I don’t want to even think about living a moment without you by my side. I love you so so much. Will you marry me?”

Tears filled your eyes as Erik moved to kneel on one knee, pulling a ring out of his pocket. This was everything you’d ever hoped for, and with the man of your dreams – there was only one answer.

“Yes, of course I’ll marry you!” you gasped.

The biggest smile you’d ever seen spread across Erik’s lips, and as he slid the ring onto your finger, tears ran down your cheeks. Oh wow. Oh wow. The ring was perfect – a simple square diamond on a study platinum band, delicate but classy, and it fit just right. Holy shit you were a lucky woman.

“I love you, Erik,” you whimpered, pulling him down to kiss you, strawberries be damned.

Erik laughed shakily into your mouth, kissing you over and over and over again, until the two of you were laughing and crying too hard to continue. So you sat upright, wiping your cheeks dry and leaning into his chest as he sat behind you, admiring the ring on your left hand with a smile. Wow.

“Your mom knew, huh,” you murmured, thinking back to the smile she’d sent you off with this morning.

“Yeah, she knew I was going to attempt a proposal today at least,” he laughed.

“Anyone else?”

Erik nodded. “My dad. Gabe too, he went shopping with me. Maybe Mel? Also your mom and dad,”

“My parents?” you asked, shocked, twisting to look up at him.

He just smiled. “Yeah, I asked your dad’s permission. Had to do things right,”

How could you not kiss him for that?

~~~~~

The box in your hands looked pretty simple, a small plain square, but it was going to change your life. In it was the gift you had prepared to welcome your husband home, with some news that you had been hoping for since you’d gotten married last year.

You’d felt off for weeks, but you’d initially put it down to a bad hangover from NYE (you were over 30 now, these things happened), and then to some bad sushi that Cale’s girlfriend had suggested (never again!). But then it became something you couldn’t ignore, and all of your instincts had been correct.

And you’d found out for certain while Erik was away with the team for the first road trip of the New Year. You’d enlisted Mel’s help to come up with a fun way to tell him, swearing her to secrecy of course, and she’d been more than happy to help.

And now here you were, waiting on the sofa for Erik to arrive home.

As soon as you heard the key turning in the lock, you slid the box under the sofa, jumping to your feet to greet him properly.

“Hey, babe,” you grinned, throwing your arms around him.

“Hey,” Erik mumbled, sighing as he hugged you back.

Ouch. It hadn’t been a great trip, you had to admit, 2 losses and one OT win that was a hard fight, but Erik had played his ass off and you were proud of him.

“I missed you,” you said softly, raising your head for a kiss.

Erik managed a smile, kissing you as you’d silently requested. The kiss stayed slow and soft, only a little light tongue, but it still sent shivers down your spine. Eventually you broke away, and Erik was smiling a bit more genuinely now. Good.

“Sofa?” you suggested.

Erik just shrugged, following behind you. Hopefully the news you had for him would cheer him up. Hopefully. As you sat down, Erik pulled you tightly against his side, kissing you a bit more firmly, and you couldn’t help but melt into his arms, sliding your hands around his neck. I love you I love you I love you. You didn’t know how long you stayed kissing for, the embrace going from slow to fast and intense to slow again, but when you broke away for air your body was tingling. Damn.

“Hey, I have something for you,” you said suddenly, breaking the moment. You wanted to tell him before you broke your nerve.

Erik huffed a laugh, slumping back into the sofa cushions next to you.

“Sure, go for it,” he nodded.

You bit your bottom lip at his indifference. Hopefully you’d get more of a response than that. So you pulled the small box out from under the sofa where you’d hidden it, passing it to Erik silently. He raised an eyebrow at you, but you just shrugged, smiling at him. Erik smiled softly back at you, pulling off the lid.

But then he just looked down at the contents with a frown, clearly confused.

“You got me…my own jersey?” he asked, looking back at you.

You just laughed, shaking your head. You had folded it purposefully to only show his number, but you hadn’t thought he would just stop there.

“Pull it out babe,” you prompted, not saying anything further.

Erik pouted but turned back to the box, and did so. But then he froze at the tiny jersey in his hands.

“Daddy?” he murmured, his voice cracking as he read the name.

Then he whipped his head towards you, eyes desperate, and you grinned.

“I’m…daddy?”

You just burst out laughing, making him blush. But the hope in his eyes hadn’t dimmed at all.

“Yeah Erik, you’re daddy,” you nodded, laying a hand on your stomach where the smallest of bumps was forming.

Your eyes widened as Erik choked out a noise that sounded like a sob, but shrieked with laughter as he launched himself forward, his hands cupping your cheeks as he pressed kisses all over your face.

“Erik!” you giggled, batting at his hands half-heartedly.

Erik just pressed a firm kiss to your lips, making you sigh and melt into his grasp. When he pulled away, he had tears in his eyes, making you tear up as well.

“You’re pregnant? How far along?” he murmured, eyes glancing down to your stomach.

You smiled, moving one of his hands to press where he was looking, knowing that was what he wanted.

“About two months. Would’ve been early November, the doctor said,” you admitted.

Erik huffed out a breath, eyes still full of tears, making you laugh.

“Happy tears?” you asked hopefully.

“So happy,” he nodded quickly, “happy tears, happy news, happy surprise,”

You couldn’t help but to smile, leaning up to kiss him again, Erik kissing you back desperately. Whatever surprises the future would hold, you knew you could handle anything thrown at you, as long as you had him by your side.

#fic rec #erik johnson #erik johnson fic #erik johnson imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #i hope you like this!#5+1 #5+1 fic

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gasolineghuleh · 3 years

Text

Because I Feel No One Knows About It...

This is chapter two of my long fic, Of Devilish Creatures. I’ve currently posted up to chapter TWELVE so if you’re looking for something to read, here ya go!

“I see you are already comfortable with the attire of a Sibling, then. Our congregation is made up of men and women, and everyone in between.” The Sister Imperator, as she had called herself, walked me through the entrance and into a hidden door, well secluded in the stone work of the old castle. The door had led to a hidden back room, opening up into a floor plan that seemed open and spacious. How had I never noticed the size of the building? Or that it wasn’t a ruin after all?

“Hm? Oh, yes Sister. It comes quite naturally to me.” I craned my neck as she spoke, looking along the vaulted ceiling where gargoyles perched, embedded in the stone with canine grins. The ceiling itself was spacious and the stone was gilded in gold filigree where it allowed for embellishment. Every so often we passed a tapestry, and I had to wrench my eyes from it to continue following the Sister.

“The castle belongs to the family Emeritus, the leaders of our church. We’ve turned it into a makeshift Abbey of sorts, so I’m sure that you’ll feel quite comfortable here. I’ve been told that some of the dorm rooms are drafty, so be sure to let one of the other Siblings know if you have need for extra blankets. Or we could find you a Fire Ghoul to borrow to stoke your fire place.” I stumbled a little at her words.

“A what?”

“A Ghoul.” She stopped in front of another tapestry and gestured to it. Sewn into the fabric was a depiction of Hell-- or at least, how humans imagined it to be. Figures lept from the flames with horns and tails, claws extended towards the sky. On a rock at the top of the tapestry was a man depicted in a bright white robe and a papal mitre, his hands outstretched towards the sky as well. “The first Ghouls were summoned by our Papa Nihil’s grandfather.” She paused for a moment, tilting her head in contemplation. “We’ve since lost his name to time. If Papa knows, he isn’t sharing.”

“Are they all named Papa, then?” I asked, studying the tapestry further.

“Not quite. We call them all Papa as a title of respect, but they are known numerically as well.” Sister Imperator motioned for me to continue walking as she led me to a large door at the end of the hall.

“And their real names?”

“Are not spoken of. That is one of the first rules you must learn, new one. If you, perchance, learn of a Papa’s name, do not speak it. Names have power-- you know this?” She paused with her hand on the door, the ornate and gilded handle looking large in her hand.

“Yes, Sister. I do. In our teachings at my convent we learn that names give someone power over you, as God commanded the angels by their Enochian names.” She nodded and smiled and I felt the surge of satisfaction that came along with acing a test in one of my courses. I wanted to make this woman happy, I realized. “In addition, it was said that demons can be cast back to Hell using their given names.”

“Correct, Lunaria.” I started a little at my name-- I didn’t think I had given it. “Come along, I’m sure that the Papa Nihil would like to meet you. You’ve been a topic of conversation among the higher clergy recently. I believe he’s in chambers currently, along with his eldest son.”

“And what do I call him? His son?” I felt stupid for asking the question, but my mind was dizzy with the intake of information. If what she was telling me was correct, then everything I was taught in my convent had been true. Demons were here on Earth, and not only were they here, but I was sharing a building with them. My face felt flush with excitement-- never before in my previous faith had I felt this alive.

“You may call him Papa, or his numerical designation-- Primo.” The Sister smiled at me and pulled open the door, grunting a little as it stuck. When it swung wide my jaw dropped, stepping forward into the large room in wonder.

Like the previous hallway, the ceilings were vaulted and covered in ornate paintings and gold filigree. The room itself was longer than it was wide, with a large throne at the forefront of the chamber. A few pews were situated towards the front of the room, but I gathered that this room was not meant for worship-- but rather, leading. To the side of the throne was a dias, draped in a small piece of cloth that resembled the preacher’s pulpit from my former place of worship.

“What room is this?” I asked, continuing to step forward and survey my surroundings. The room was lit by a few chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, as well as sconces along the walls.

“This is the papal throne room. It’s only used during ascension or if the upper Clergy has an announcement. Occasionally it will be used for trials.” The Sister Imperator walked slightly behind me, her hand trailing along the backs of the pews. “The current Papa in charge will hand down judgements from his seat in the throne.”

“And who is the current Papa in charge?” I asked, wincing as I realized the answer would probably just be “Papa”. The similarities between my religion and this church were striking, but the differences were just as obvious.

“That would be Papa Emeritus the Second. Referred to as Secondo, colloquially. He is the second eldest son of the Papal Nihil.”

“Italian and not Latin?” I started, feeling my face screw up in confusion. “Then,” I struggled to remember what she had told me previously. “Primo is no longer in charge? Nor is his Father?” I turned to face the Sister as I spoke, but my eyes quickly left her to continue taking in the beautiful room.

“He is not, correct. They are still referred to as their papal titles, but they no longer head the church. You would do well to obey them, though.” She began to walk towards the back of the room, gesturing to a small door in an alcove. “Come along, there’s much left to see, and I promised you would make an appearance before turning in for the night.”

“Yes, Sister.” I bowed my head dutifully as I was used to doing, turning on my heel to follow her through the small door. It opened with a creak when the Sister pushed on it, utilizing her shoulder to make the old hinges work.

She led me through it with a stately wave of her hand, and I was more than happy to oblige. It opened into a more typical looking Abbey entrance hall, large and circular with a statue in the center. Except where a statue of the Virgin Mary may usually sit was a large stone carving of what I knew to be Baphomet. Ruby crystals were inlaid where the eyes would be, and they glimmered and gleamed in the light of the candles resting at its feet. I tore my eyes away and noticed a trapdoor in the floor to the right of it, as well as two corridors that shot off to either side.

“The trapdoor there leads to the Ghoul dens. Most Siblings are restricted access to that area, unless specifically ordered by a Papa, or on Ghoul duty. You will more than likely never have to worry about that.” The Sister Imperator came to stand behind me, and dropped a comfortable hand onto my shoulder. “The corridor to the left is the Papal hallway. You will enter that hallway when asked or invited by a Papa, or when on cleaning duty.” She steered me towards the other hallway briefly. “This hallway is for Siblings. It leads to your dormitory, as well as the kitchens and the library.”

“You have a library?” My ears perked up. Reading in solitude was one of the few graces I had at my former convent, even if the literature was boring. I had a feeling that the books here would be much more interesting.

“Sathanas yes, child! I’ll have the Archbishop Copia show you around it. That’s more his domain than anyone elses. For now, let’s go visit Papa Nihil and get you all settled in for the evening.” As we began to walk towards the opposite corridor, I pointed towards two large oaken doors, nearly two stories tall and carved into a depiction of the fall of the Lucifer.

“What’s behind those doors?”

“That’s the Chapel, small one. I’ll have a Ghoul take you on a tour tomorrow for the rest of the Abbey.” I followed the Sister Imperator down the papal corridor, marveling at the stained glass windows that took up one whole side of the wall. We passed one of purple and gold, and another of green and silver. Each one depicted a man in skull paint in different poses of divinity-- snakes wound around the man in silver and green, while large black cats rested at the feet of the purple one. After passing one more glass panel of red and black with large potted plants in front of it, we stopped in front of one of white and gold.

“These are beautiful,” I commented, moving forward to study the golden one further. The man was standing tall, his arms raised into the air as a goat head shone in black above him. Around the goat was an inverted pentacle, the tip of the bottom point of the star glowing a bright red. The evening sun filtered through the window, casting the colours on to the floor of the corridor and over my feet.

“They are decades old, now. The newest one is for his youngest son, Papa Emeritus the Third.” The Sister gestured towards the purple stained glass window at the beginning of the corridor. “All of the Papas live across from the window that depicts them, and their chambers are off limits unless invited.”

She used this as a segue to direct me towards the door directly across from the gold and white stained glass, knocking on it swiftly and firmly. From inside I heard an elderly voice answer, calling to us to enter. She twisted the knob and pushed the door open, holding it for me to enter before her. As I did, the first thing I noticed was a comfortably crackling fire in the sitting room, and the heady aroma of incense.

“Ah! Sister! You’ve brought the newest eh… Sister!” An old man in skull paint stood up and walked towards me, reaching his hands out for mine. I gave him my right hand and he took it warmly, smiling and pressing a kiss to the top of my hand. I loved him immediately. When he looked into my eyes I saw that they were cloudy with cataracts, but the left one was clearly white.

“Papa,” I said, inclining my head respectfully towards him. His smile grew broader and his grip on my hand tightened shortly before letting go.

“This one has respect! Good job, Sister Imperator. Leave us to talk, eh? Why don’t you go wrangle up a better habit and a grucifix for her?” The Sister Imperator nodded to him and tossed me a covert wink before leaving, pulling the door shut behind her. “Now, Sister… Come and sit. Let’s talk.” He moved his hand towards the sitting area and I complied, moving forward and taking a seat. It was only now that I noticed the other man sharing the space.

He greeted me with a warm smile like his father, but remained seated. He had a steaming cup of tea in one hand, and the other arm rested across his leg, which was crossed over the other comfortably. His robes, similar to his father’s, were black with red filigree and the same symbol strewn down the front. When he moved I could tell that the inside of the fabric was either silk or linen.

“Good evening Sister,” he said, inclining his head towards me and raising his cup. His left eye was white, and his skull paint seemed faded compared to his father.

“Papa,” I repeated, dipping my head to him as well before crossing my leg over the other, getting comfortable in the plush chair.

“Now then,” Papa Nihil groaned, taking his seat slowly once more. “Tell us how you have come to enter our Abbey, Sister. Do you believe you are here to stay?” The answer came to me quickly and I was surprised by the sincerity of it.

“I do, Papa. I’m already more comfortable here than in the convent I was raised in.” I took a deep breath and recounted my tale to the two men, who listened intently. I explained how I was orphaned as a baby and grew up in the Catholic faith, destined to be a Sister. When I began to explain the draw of the book, the older man nodded sagely and held up a finger.

“I enchanted that book many eons ago. I am glad to see that it found its way into your hands. Many years I’ve waited for someone to bring it back to me. May I see it?” I nodded and reached into my pack, pulling the book out and handing it to him. “Ahh… It still smells the same.”

“Father, if I may?” His son waited respectfully until Papa Nihil gave him the go ahead to begin speaking. “Sister Lunaria, are you quite certain that you’d prefer to dedicate your life to the adversary you studied for these past eighteen years?” I turned my head towards him and surveyed him intently before speaking.

“I am. All my life I’ve felt that I have a greater purpose. I never had a chance to know my parents, or a family. Only the rigid order and structure of religion. I’m already more comfortable here than I ever have been before.” I remembered briefly his position and finished speaking with a quick “Papa.”

“Hm. And you are willing to sing your praises to Him? Pray to Him at night? Bend the knee and subjugate yourself to Him? A higher power than even your God?” Papa Nihil interjected with a flap of his hand.

“Leave the child alone, eh? She has come to us for refuge, and who are we to turn her away?” Papa Nihil leaned forward and met my two-toned eyes with his cloudy ones. “She has the Eye of Providence, my son. She is meant to be with us.” I blinked, slightly taken aback-- the only comments I had ever received about my eye had been either nonchalant or negative. Some of the Sisters had claimed that I was marked by the devil. They whispered about me in hushed tones. I brought my hand to my eye self consciously before letting it drop.

“I was told that when I was a baby, my left eye was injured and the colour never developed. The nuns at my convent said I must have been hit in the same accident that took my parents.” Already the two were shaking their heads and frowning.

“You have been lied to, little Sister.” Primo leaned forward and made eye contact with me, his gaze firey and intense. “Have you not always felt the pull of greatness in your heart? Do you not see shadows in the corners and feel a kinship?” I fell silent, looking at my hands folded in my lap. He was right, of course, but I had never put words to the feelings until now.

“You’re right. I suppose I never thought of it in that way.” He sat back with a satisfied smile, looking to his father for confirmation.

“Tell me, Sister, what did you do at your former convent?” Papa Nihil reached for a cup of tea and took a long sip, his eyes peering at me from over the rim of the cup.

“I was in charge of the youth and the library. I taught the little ones.” A ghost of a smile lingered at my lips as I remembered the joyful shouts of the children in my convent, all orphans like myself. I did love them, and my heart gave a pang when I realized that they would be looking for me today. “I was good at it.”

“I see. Father, would it be a terrible idea if, perchance, we sent her to live with--”

“Not now. Let her be settled first. She still has to meet your brother, and take a tour of the Abbey. She doesn’t even have a rosary yet. It’s insane to attempt to place her at a work detail off campus. She can work in the library.” Papa Nihil leaned forward and picked up a rotary phone, dialing an extension quickly.

“I think you’ll be quite comfortable here, sorella.” Primo winked and nodded at me before busying himself with his tea once more. In the lull in conversation, I attempted to draw him in once more.

“The plants outside your stained glass window are beautiful. Are they yours?” I had clearly asked the right question as his eyes lit up brightly and he gave me a wide smile.

“Yes! Aren’t they so wonderful? I tend the gardens outside, and the orchards. Once you’re comfortable and settled you’ll have to come and see my greenhouse!” I smiled at his enthusiasm and nodded, genuinely happy for the invitation.

“I would love to, Papa. Do you do all of it yourself?” I asked, keeping an ear out for Papa Nihil’s muttered Italian conversation on the phone.

“Sathanas no, child. I have Earth Ghouls and Water Ghouls that help me to tend to it. It’s too much for an old man alone!” Another reference to Ghouls… As soon as I opened my mouth to inquire further, a knock sounded at the door. It was timid and hesitant, as if the person wasn’t quite sure that they should be knocking.

“Come in!” Papa Nihil called, reaching behind him and dragging a blanket from the back of his chair into his lap. The door opened slowly with a creak, and a man stuck his head into the room. He had mousy features, with short cropped brown hair and a rosy complexion. His top lip was lined with a dark black lipstick, and a large necklace hung at his chest-- the same sigil that appeared everywhere.

“You called for me, Papa.” The man stepped into the room and gave a short bow, wringing his hands in front of his chest nervously.

“Archbishop Copia! We have a new Sister of Sin in the Clergy,” Papa Nihil gestured towards me and I sat up a little bit straighter. “And she has made it known to me that she specialized in child care and library work. Perhaps you need an assistant in that library of yours?”

“I do, Papa. That would be wonderful.” He ducked his head into a swift nod and turned his eyes towards me. I was taken back briefly by the sight of his eyes-- mismatched, like mine and the Papa’s. Did everyone in this Abbey have the white eye? “Pleased to make your acquaintance Sister…” He let the title hang, waiting for me to supply my name. When I did, he rolled it off of his tongue like fine wine. “Lunaria… Come with me, Sister Lunaria. I’d be happy to show you my small home here in our Abbey.”

I stood and bowed my head towards the Papa’s, who remained seated by the fire. Papa Nihil waved a hand towards me and smiled broadly, waving me towards the door. Primo inclined his head towards me again, and reminded me to come by and see his gardens when I was given the chance. When I took my place in front of Archbishop Copia he smiled warmly again, and waved me through the door. As we walked down the corridor in the direction I had come from initially, he quizzed me on what I might know from my time in the Catholic convent.

“And what of the fall of Lucifer, Sister?” I opened my mouth to answer, but he held a hand up. “Before you answer me, know this. I was raised Catholic, like you. I rose to the rank of Bishop in my time there… I remember much of their teachings, as you were most likely taught them. Listen to me when I tell you this, Sister. Things are better here. You are understood. There is no fire and brimstone for you to fall into.”

“I--” I cut myself off, chewing at my lower lip for a moment before looking him in the eye once more. “I was always so afraid of the repercussions of my actions that I… I believe that I forgot how to live, Archbishop.” I smiled at him. “Although your title being the same as the church does soothe me.”

“I think it made it easier for me as well, Sister. The transition was… less than kind, for me. I left the church in disgrace.” He shook his head slightly as if to dispel the thoughts, and motioned to me to continue down the hall. We walked in silence for a moment more before he spoke again. “Papa Nihil has been so gracious to me as to allow me to run the library. The Ghouls are helpful as well. I fear I’m better at words on pages than conversations.”

“I know what you mean. I’ve always gotten along with books more than the people who write or read them. Archbishop, I’ve heard about these Ghouls but I’m unsure what… or who they are.” Copia huffed a laugh and glanced tot he side at me. He halted outside of a large door with “LIBRARY” emblazoned above it in gold.

“Now is as good a time as any to meet some, don’t you think?” He studied my apprehensive expression before explaining. “Ghouls are Hell-spawn servants. They serve us in our daily work, and do whatever they can to make things more comfortable for us here on Earth. They aren’t malevolent. No need to worry. Come, I’ll introduce you to mine.”

“Yours? You own them?” I asked as Copia brought his hand to the handle of the door.

“Yes and no. They own themselves, but each high ranking clergy member summons his or her own Ghouls when they’re promoted. Mine have been with me for a few years now, since I attained Archbishop. They’re loyal, and surprisingly loving… and very cat like.” He finished speaking and, before I could question him further, pulled open the door and stepped inside.

The library was as I had imagined it and more. Large, towering book cases laden with thick tomes tottered along the walls, some of them veering dangerously to the side with the weight. Small picnic benches were in between the shelves, with a large seating area against one wall, flush with a ceiling-to-floor window. The smell of parchment, leather and ink was heavy in the air along with that same scent of incense. A smile grew on my face as I saw the comforting fire in the seating area, as well as two steaming cups of liquid-- presumably tea.

“Shall we sit, Sister?” Copia stretched his arm out, motioning for me to join him by the fire. I sat down in the overly stuffed armchair, swinging my feet as they dangled uselessly off of the floor. Copia handed me a small saucer with the cup of tea and I took it gratefully. “Would you like sugar? Milk?”

“Please, both.” Copia looked behind me and motioned someone over. I turned around and only barely suppressed a gasp.

The person approaching was inhuman-- claws, a tail and horns. His face was a shining and chrome mask that seemed melded to his skin. The eyes underneath were glowing a pale blue as his tail swished back and forth excitedly. A large smile tugged his cheeks up into dimples, revealing pointed teeth behind his lips. He crept forward slowly, a plate in one hand and the other hand extended. As he got closer I noticed that he was dressed smartly, in a black vest and suit pants.

“Sister Lunaria, meet Rain. My Water Ghoul.” I nodded, dumbstruck, as the Ghoul came closer and held the plate out to me. Arranged neatly on the porcelain top was a small decanter of milk, and some sugar cubes.

“It’s been so long since we had someone new in the Abbey!” he said. His voice was nothing like I had expected-- instead, it was pitched like a man in his mid-twenties, and exuded friendliness. I couldn’t help it, and I smiled at him.

“Your name is Rain? Like the--”

“Precipitation, yes.” He wiggled the fingers of his free hand to simulate rain falling and his grin grew even wider. “Boss, can I sit? I wanna talk to the new one for a bit. It’s been ages!” Copia was already shaking his head.

��You’ll have plenty of time later, Rain. Papa Nihil has assigned her to work in the library. You’ll see her often. Go on back to the dens and let the others know to steer clear of the library for a few days. Not that most of them will have an issue with that.” Copia smiled dryly at Rain, who snickered as he nodded.

“Right on, you’re the boss.” He set the plate down on the table between us and looked to me once more. “Nice to meet you, Sister Lunaria. I hope you’ll be with us for a while.” I couldn’t stop the smile that I beamed back at him and watched as he left, whistling and tail swishing happily.

“They really are like big cats. Incredible! If only my Abbess could see this.” I suddenly remembered my own Abbey, far down below in the valley. I wondered if my absence had been noticed yet.

“Mm, thoughts of home? That will happen often, especially as the similarities become more and more jarring.” I was already shaking my head.

“That place was never home. I only felt accepted by the children there, and they’re… Not the best company.” Copia started to laugh, a cute chuckling sound.

“I understand. I’m good with children myself, but the conversation… Lacking.” He tipped his head towards me and winked, and I laughed. A smile curved his lips upwards and he took a sip of tea to hide it, but I could still see his mustache curling. “The children you’ll find here are nothing like that. Most of the children here are Ghoul kits.”

“Kits?” I raised an eyebrow. “They breed?”

“No, no. They have kits. Breeding implies that they rut like animals. I assure you, Ghouls are entirely human in the matter of anatomy, sex and--”

“Okay! I eh… I meant only that they have children as other species do?” My face was growing flushed and hot, only deepening in my embarrassment. Things of that nature were never spoken of at my convent, and if they were, they were shut down quickly the Mother Superior. I was educated in that area of course, but discussing it out loud was a different matter entirely. When I looked at Copia, I noticed his face flushing as well.

“My apologies, Sister. I forgot briefly who I was speaking to. Sex is viewed very openly here, and you may see or hear things that are eh… Sinful to you.” He flashed a quick smile before clearing his throat and continuing. “You know your letters?”

“Yes. Latin, French, and English.”

“Fluent?”

“Yes, Archbishop.” I took another sip of tea, draining the small cup before leaning forward to set it on the table between us. “Forgive me for asking but, where am I expected to sleep? It’s getting late and I had such a long walk.”

“You walked here? From your Abbey?” His eyes widened in shock as I nodded. “You walked nearly ten miles, Sister! Come, let’s get you to a shower and a bed. As my assistant, you’ll be living in the small chamber behind the library. It’s quite small, I apologize, but I believe you’ll be comfortable here. I am always just next door if you need anything.”

Copia stood and guided me towards the back of the library, one hand on the small of my back. I was so tired, and I had only noticed it when I sat and drank the warm tea. My lids felt heavy, and my limbs sluggish. My feet ached with every step and my back hurt from carrying my pack. He led me to a small, out of the way door, and pushed it open to reveal a modest but comfortable bedroom.

“Thank you, Archbishop. What time is morning mass? I’ll have to set an alarm.” I moved into the room and set my pack down on the floor, putting a hand to the bed and testing the mattress.

“Tomorrow is Sunday, Sister. We have Saturday mass. Tomorrow is a rest day. I’ll come and collect you around noon, and I’ll walk you through your new duties here. Rest.” Copia gave me another smile and pulled the door shut, leaving me alone in the small room that was to be my home.

#lorraine writes #fics #ghost #ghost bc #the band ghost #papa emeritus #cardinal copia #copia #popia #papa iv #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus iii #papa iii #terzo #of devilish creatures #odc

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jimlingss · 4 years

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Sugar and Coffee [16]

Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17

➜ Words: 3k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

On Wednesday, you begin to bake, cut, and fill. The ingredients are pulled from the borrowed kitchen — eggs, butter, buttermilk, vegetable oil, sugar, flour, baking powder, unsweetened cocoa powder, and vanilla. The oven is preheated to three hundred degrees fahrenheit and the round pans are greased. The four of you measure and mix together the dry ingredients, and then the wet ingredients. Once it’s all ready, it’s baked while the ganache filling is worked on. Heavy cream, butter, chocolate, and a pinch of kosher salt are melted together with two tablespoons of brewed coffee to deepen the flavour. It cools and thickens, a fluffy texture that melts against your palate. And when the moist cake is out of the oven, it cools too before being cut and filled. “Alright, folks.” Namjoon dusts his hands off, shutting the fridge door. “Now on Friday, we just cover, dowel, and stack. Since the wedding is on Saturday, we want it to sleep overnight.” “We’re going to have to prepare decorations tomorrow,” Sejeong says. If there was anyone’s cake that she wanted to perfect, it was her own sister’s. “Crumb coat the cakes and smooth the frosting, colour the fondants, make the flowers. Just so we can get it prepared in time and not be rushing on the last day.” “Okay.” You offer a smile. “Are we still going with lavender?” “That’s the plan. But we can worry about that tomorrow. How have you two been? Any problems?” You glance at Jungkook, meeting his eye, but you divert hastily. “N-No, we’re fine. We’ve been enjoying ourselves. Thank you for bringing us along.” “That’s not a problem.” Namjoon laughs heartily, practically glowing with a healthy tan. “We’re happy to have two more sets of hands. God knows the wedding is hectic and stressful enough, right, honey?” “Chungha is having it tougher.” His wife sighs. “We’re just glad to get this done and over with.” In between family feuds and relatives duking it out, you don’t need to tell them that you and Jungkook are incidentally sharing the same room over a mistake in booking. They have enough on their plates as it is. But just because you don’t talk about your issues doesn’t mean that they’ve magically vanished. Even if you wish that were the case. “Morni—” The moment you open your sleepy eyes, Jeon Jungkook has manifested in the mirror. You choke on your toothpaste, toothbrush sucked into your throat like a vacuum, lodged in. You choke it out and sputter. Jungkook’s shocked awake, eyes widened as he pats your back. You cough and rinse your mouth. “Oh my god. You scared me to death!” “All I said was good morning!” He shoots you a look, leaning in too close with his still sleepy demeanour, fluffed hair and swollen face. “Are you alright?” “Obviously not! I almost died!” You’re not okay. Very far from any semblance of ‘okay’. For one, you can’t look the bastard in the eye. You can’t stop yourself from perspiring. It’s as if your best friend is someone worthy to be fearful of… No. It’s not that you’ve become afraid of Jungkook. You’re nervous. “I’m going to shower.” “Sounds good.” It shouldn’t be surprising. He even warned you. But the moment Jungkook starts to strip off his shirt, you’re caught off guard at how he didn’t wait for you to leave ⁠— how comfortable he is with you. You have half a mind left to sprint out of the bathroom. Nearly falling over. Barely catching your stumble. Jungkook watches with his brows raised incredulously. The bathroom door eventually shuts and you change as quick as you can, and run out of the room without a word. Like you’re being chased by loan sharks. “Hey, Y/N.” After ten minutes, Jungkook comes out topless, having forgotten to grab a shirt. But he pays no mind, toweling off his head. “We should get room servi—…...Y/N?” The doe-eyed boy looks around, realizing that you’re gone. You’ve headed across the resort to the restaurant for breakfast. Finally, you’re able to have a meal in peace without having to lift your head to see a big nose and brown, doe eyes. You grab a healthy serving of eggs, toast and cereal. And you pick a good table to look out and enjoy the view. But fifteen minutes into your meal, someone suddenly plops down across from you. You’re startled to death again. “I can’t believe you ditched me.” “S-Sorry…” You look away. “I was too hungry to wait.” “Could’ve told me at least. I would’ve hurried up.” He spreads cream cheese on his bagel, ruffled mop of hair flopping as he moves. He’s dressed like a true tourist again, this time with a hawaiian shirt that’s bright orange with blue florals all over it. Jungkook’s eyes are round and buggy as he bites down and he hums in satisfaction at the taste. “So what are our plans for today? It’s the only full day we have left before we have to work on the cake.” “I don’t know.” You stand up. “I finished. Should go back to the room. I have a stomach ache.” “Really?” His left cheek is puffed out with food stored inside. “But I just got here.” “Nature calls.” You run off, leaving your best friend in the dust. It’s horrible being stuck on an island with Jeon Jungkook. No matter where you run or how you hide, he’s always there. “How was the—” You scream. “—bathroom trip.” Jungkook looks at you, brows furrowed deep. “You scared me!” You put your hand over your heart where it’s pounding hard, threatening to jump out of your chest. “But I didn’t do anything,” he defends, mouth drawing open as he gestures around, perplexed at how you could be frightened in broad daylight, in the middle of the day, with this many people around. “Are you sure you’re okay?” “I’m fine. H-how’d you even find me?!” “I don’t know, I was just heading back to the room. The resort isn’t that big.” He shrugs and finally is able to get a good look at you. Jungkook slowly smiles at your one-piece swimsuit. “Are you going in for a dip? I can join.” The thought of Jungkook ripping off his shirt, jumping into the pool and getting all wet with you has your knees weak. It’s not a healthy idea. “No. Changed my mind. It’s kind of….cold out for a swim. I’m probably going to go back inside to change.” “Y/N. It’s hot. It’s like a hundred degrees out here.” You muster stiff laughter. “Well I’m feeling a bit chilly. Gonna go back and change. See ya!” You sprint off again, in a completely disoriented manner. Jungkook shouts your name when you nearly slip on a puddle of water by the poolside and almost crack your head open. But luckily, you catch yourself and throw him a half-hearted smile and an exaggerated wave goodbye. Part of you wishes you would’ve just fallen into the pool or hit your head. Maybe it would finally knock some sense into your brain. There’s no reason for you to be so nervous around him. This is Jeon Jungkook you’re talking about — IU fanboy, the biggest nerd of the universe, officially the worst flirt on this planet. There’s absolutely no reason for your stomach to flip. For you to be unable to retain eye contact with your friend. For you to suddenly be so self-aware and conscious of him that you feel nervous when he’s around and nervous when he’s not. There’s no reason whatsoever… “You need to get your head straight.” You’re muttering to yourself as you walk. You probably look crazy, but need to hear it out loud. If no one’s going to help you by saying it, then you’ll say it yourself. “Focus, Y/N. Focus—” A blood-curdling shriek tears from your stomach when there’s suddenly knocking. You turn to see Jeon Jungkook beside you, separated by a window, but laughing hysterically at your reaction. His nose is scrunched, mouth drawn up into that boyish smile of his. He’s inside the fitness center in a white tank top, sweating enough to make his hair damp, and the dark stands are pushed back against his head. That little shit is scaring you on purpose now. “Are you shitting me, Jeon Jungkook?!” Your fist pounds against the glass and you fail to notice how everyone else in the gym is whirling their heads around at the noise. The resort attendant runs up on you. “Ma’am, please don’t bang on the glass.” “S-sorry.” Jungkook is in bigger hysterics now, bent over and grabbing his stomach, laughing loud enough for you to hear through the window. His smile is excited, eyes lit up. Everywhere. Every corner you turn to. Every path you take. Some way or another — whether you’re talking to Namjoon or Chungha, hanging at the bar, around the pool, on the beach to watch the waves — no matter how hard you try to evade him, Jungkook is always there. You didn’t know it would be so hard to avoid him. He’s truly like the plague. Or maybe a curse. Better yet, it would be more fitting to call Jeon Jungkook the year-round Christmas grinch. He’s here to ruin your life, ruin your holiday, and make your head filled with him and only him. “You’re not avoiding me, are you?” He finally asks after crawling into bed beside you that night. His hands are folded on top of his midsection and he’s staring up at the ceiling even if he can’t see when the entire room is drowned in a comfortable darkness. You muster some laughter. “Don’t be ridiculous.” The sheets shift and from the little light coming through the terrace glass doors, you can see him looking at you. And you can feel his body warmth with the small distance. “I would hate it if you were a hypocrite since you don’t like when others ghost you.” “I said I’m not,” you whine. The lie gives a tickle of guilt in your gut. “You shouldn’t accuse people after they’ve already defended themselves.” “Okay.” The corners of his lips quirk. “Just making sure. I don’t want to scare you off.” You scoff, eyes adjusting enough to be able to look at him. It’s quiet, with him beside you underneath the covers, too close but too far. Yet somehow, in spite of the silence of your room, it’s still very noisy inside your head. “You really think you’re going to get rid of me that easily?” “No. And I’m glad for that. I wouldn’t want to lose you.” Jungkook grins and he teases, “You’re not a coward, Y/N. Right?” “Psh. Go to bed, Jeon.” “Hmm, I’m not tired, but I do know an activity we can do together that’ll tire me right out.” “Yeah, my fist meeting your face.” He laughs and you roll over, tugging the covers up to your chin. You don’t say out loud, don’t admit it, but you are a coward. One big coward who pretends to face the truth with courage, but actually learnt to run and hide in the face of trouble. A coward who can’t face the music, who’s actually wide awake like he is, but won’t say it. Whose heart is stuttering too loud to try to slip underneath the seduction of slumber. You won’t admit the funny feeling you get when your gaze sets upon Jungkook. You won’t acknowledge it even when it’s screaming into your ear drums and drumming against your rib cage. You won’t confess that the nervousness you feel is far from platonic. It’s hard not to feel stuck on Jungkook. These days, the last person you see before you sleep is him and he’s the first person you see when you wake up. He’s both the beginning and the end. “Hey, Y/N.” You’re stirred away by a soft voice calling to you. “Wake up.” When your lids peel back, you see him. The strands of his black hair nearly tickle the skin of your cheeks and he smiles tenderly at you. “We have a long day. Come on.” You’re a coward and you have been for some time now. // Friday is the busiest day of the week. It’s the eve of the wedding and where you’re in the kitchen for hours on end. Between the four of you, the lilac-coloured fondant is rolled out to cover the chocolate cake and ganache frosting. The dowel rods are inserted and the cake is stacked. Once it’s to Sejeong’s satisfaction, the decorating process begins. The sugar lavender that you made yesterday is used, placed delicately in the correct positions and you work on tracing a lace pattern on the bottom most layer. Hours later, with muscles sore and eyes stinging, she’s finally satisfied. It ends up looking magnificent. All the effort is presented in front of you — the cake is a soft purple colour, lavender flowers made from gum paste and real lilacs edible. “It’s too pretty to eat.” “It always is.” Sejeong smiles. “But when we do, it’ll be delicious.” Namjoon stretches his arms over his head, making noises as his bones crack. “I’m starving. What time is it?” He checks his watch. “I think the snack bar is still open. We should go eat now since we have to wake up bright and early tomorrow.” “I forgot how much work it was to be a bridesmaid.” Sejeong sighs lightly. “Let’s just get the cake in the fridge for now.” Jungkook and Namjoon carefully move the cake into the refrigerator area, a whole cold storage, and you take your aprons off, washing your hands. Sejeong turns to you and Jungkook. “Are you guys hungry too? You probably are since we’ve been working so late.” You exchange a look with him. “N-No. We’re fine.” “Are you sure?” Namjoon asks, brows raised. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’m more tired than hungry. I’ll probably call it a night.” “Same here.” Jungkook offers a smile, following your lead. “Well alright, I’ll see you both bright and early then! Good job, you two.” Namjoon smiles and both he and his wife leave the kitchen, talking to one another until their voices fade away. Jungkook then turns to you with his brow raised. “Are you really not hungry?” You look down at your stomach and it rumbles. You wonder if he can hear it too. “I thought I’d give them alone time since we’ve been busy all day….” An extended sigh pulls from the man’s lungs. Jungkook smiles and as he passes by you, he ruffles your hair. “You’re so unnecessarily thoughtful sometimes….” You turn around, trailing after him. Jungkook opens the fridge and hums, eyes searching. “What are you doing?” you ask curiously. “Looking for ingredients since a little someone said they weren’t hungry and now we can’t go to the only place still open.” He grins easily. “So unless you want to go back to the hotel room and wait half an hour for room service, I’ll cook.” Jungkook sounds so self-assured that you comply, finding your place on a stool as he begins to pull out mushrooms, shallots, parmesan cheese, butter, and starts digging around the cupboards. “You can cook?” “’Course I can. I’m a master of the kitchen.” His eyes flicker up and the little shit mocks you. “Why? Can’t you?” “The pan always burns,” you mutter. “Is that why you can’t melt chocolate over the stove?” he questions with a glint of mischief. “For the record, I’m getting better. It’s not like I do it intentionally anyway. But are we even allowed to use these ingredients, Jungkook? Won’t we get into trouble?” It’s not your kitchen after all — just a small space the resort was willing to let you use. He merely shrugs. “We have to live a little.” You sit on the other side of the island, watching him closely. Jungkook finds a can of chicken stock and heats it over the stove in a small saucepan. Then he moves to chop shallots and mushrooms, sleeves pulled up to his elbows, forearms revealed as he works the knife in a constant motion that’s therapeutic to listen to. Jungkook fries the shallots and mushrooms over the hot oil and butter in a skillet, tossing and flipping them as they sizzle. He works fluidly, in a rhythm without needing to stop and think twice. It’s fun to watch. “What are you making?” “Mushroom risotto.” “Sounds fancy.” “It is,” he lies. In your ignorance, you’re unaware that it’s actually an easy recipe. You’re also oblivious to the fact that Jungkook is secretly beaming with gratitude that his dad taught him this recipe years ago. His dad was right that he needed to learn how to cook basic dishes to one day impress. Jungkook adds the rice, coating it in the butter before adding a cup of white wine he found in the cupboards. Once it’s fully absorbed, he puts in the chicken stock and adds salt to taste. All the while, he’s watching you from the corner of his eye. He can read you like a book and your amazed expression feeds directly into his ego. When Jungkook turns around to throw something in the sink, he lets his enormous smile slip. “If we ever have the time, I’ll make you shrimp or chicken risotto.” “You can make that?” “Of course, cooking isn’t hard.” “Pft. You really know how to do everything, don’t you, Jeon?” “You said it, not me.” He serves it on a big plate, even taking the extra step to clean the edges up with a napkin. You’re amazed and when he arrogantly urges you to take a bite, you can’t even tell him off. It’s delicious. And once you say so, he can't deny how happy he is. Jungkook is over the fucking moon. He would cook for you for the rest of his life if you’d let him.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook reader insert #jungkook baking AU #jungkook baking!AU #sugar and coffee jungkook #JUNGKOOK AS BAE what's new #also looks like a little someone special is catching something #and it ain't corona

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mimiplaysgames · 3 years

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Terraqua Week Day 4 (Legends/Tales)

Summary: Someone calls for help from the deepest depths of darkness. Terra and Aqua trace the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. || Word Count: 8,983

Read on AO3

A/N: @terraquaweek hooooo if you thought yesterday’s was angsty dkfjdkfjdk So everyone and their mom compares Terraqua to Orpheus and Eurydice (Orphydice?) and I totally agree. It was time to officially jump that wagon. This one was difficult though - originally, I was going to have them sitting near a fireplace and talking about fairy tales over drinks, but I think I did the sit down apology fic way too many times and needed something different. This one was a huge challenge in such a tiny frame of time though. It took me the longest to write (a whole week, when I normally take months), so I couldn’t clean it as much as I would like to. I hope you like it anyway! <3

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The Long Way Down ~ no further debts to be paid

Aqua has been dragging him all over town, following a call—this gut-wrenching feeling that something is wrong and someone is crying but she doesn’t know who or where. Except here, wandering around Thebes, though Terra doesn’t mind at all. Keyblade wielders are supposed to follow their hearts. Terra will follow hers anywhere.

What he does mind, though, are these screaming fangirls.

He collides head first into a neglected booth of rugs, scampering away from a group of young women who were trying to rip his left arm out of his socket, seeking pieces of his armor. They squeal, they cry, they sigh with all the fever of delusion. Champion! Terra! You’ve come back! You’re more beautiful than the gods!

Aqua strides by him, hiding an amused smirk behind her elegant fingers. “You picked a good hiding place.” She straightens a bent rug and rolls it tighter, letting it lean on its side by the wall.

Terra knocks a rug off of his head. “I did nothing to deserve this.”

“I nearly forgot,” Aqua says in a way that means she didn’t. “You won a championship.”

“Years ago. Once.” He kicks the pile on his back and crawls out. Zack and Hercules would never let it down if they hear about him hiding from harmless girls like he’s a mouse. “I’m no celebrity.”

“I beg to differ.” She unfolds a tapestry. Weaved into the fabric is a figure of a man armored in golds and burgundies, tall with dark hair and wielding a giant key. “You’re a story they share. Be grateful for your adoring fans.”

The only thing he’d be grateful for is the attention of the person standing right next to him. He never thought about the Olympus Coliseum championship while he was possessed and trapped in Darkness, not once. He thought of her every day and night.

“I think you’re jealous they’re chasing me and not you, Master Aqua.”

“Well, I would handle it with more grace.” She beats dust out of the corner of a rug with her hand.

The way she jokes with him is instinctual, natural, but the way her eyes wander is not, like she’s not paying attention. They’ve searched Thebes for hours, and while the city-state’s stairs for hills and elaborate gardens are impressive, they’ve found no lead as to who Aqua is looking for. She unrolls another tapestry like she’s reading a scroll. She doesn’t even have a name, just a dream that spoke to her one night: Find me, please.

“There’s nothing here, either,” she mumbles.

Terra doesn’t know how to lift her spirits. “Maybe the answer is not in Thebes.”

“We haven’t searched everywhere.” She pulls out another tapestry that he’s sure she’s already deciphered.

How many times are they going to circle the marketplace? Terra sighs and risks peeking at the main street from the alleyway. If he stays close enough to Aqua, the fangirls stay farther away, as though she’s a repellant. Who knew Aqua makes for a good shield.

The marketplace swarms with chatter and dust pickup from sandals and wheels. They’ve been through every store on this block. They’ve been through museums, they’ve listened to storytellers on the streets, met with sages and fortune tellers. There’s not much to deduce out of a whisper from a dream.

A high-pitched scream breaks through the loud talk of shopgoers, and Terra summons his Keyblade, watching for Heartless.

It comes from a girl, pointing a finger at him. Everyone else gawks. She shivers from head to toe. “Terra!”

At the sound of his name, like mockingbirds for sheep, they call out. “Terra!”

“Damn the stars,” he mutters and sprints back into the alleyway, a stampede behind him. “Aqua?” She’s not by the rugs. “Aqua!” He turns the corner of the empty alleyway, stuck between choosing a direction in a crossover. There’s no sign of her, no sign of his star in the darkness or his shield.

A hand waves at him through a window.

“Terra!” the girls squeal.

He dashes, throwing himself through the window. He lands on his back, on hard concrete. Aqua cradles his head on her lap and keeps low beneath the windowsill, a finger to her lips as the wave of giggles and cries ride past them and fade away.

“You were gone,” he whispers.

Aqua brushes her fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry,” she says, but she offers no explanation.

They’re in what looks like the back room of a pottery shop, half of them unpainted with the clay still slick, and the rest completed but possibly not inventoried yet.

“We’re breaking into people’s homes now?” Terra asks, grunting.

“You needed a hiding place,” Aqua says. She sounds unlike herself. Too tone-deaf, too distracted, her heart in the right place to help him like she always does, but she’s disregarding the consequences she’d normally consider before making such rash decisions.

“Why are we here?”

Aqua looks at him with a blank expression. “I don’t know.”

“You just waltzed in here?” He sighs. The shopkeeper is lucky Terra hasn’t destroyed anything when he crashed. He sits up and holds her chin, checking for vital signs of injury. “Are you feeling alright?”

Aqua grimaces. “Maybe we’re in here for a reason.”

Or maybe she’s lost her mind.

“Is it too early for me to say that I’m worried about you?”

“I’d say so.”

Terra scoffs and stands up, his knee hitting a table next to him. The vase on the surface rattles and spins. Aqua catches it.

When she glances at the artwork, she glares. “This one.”

“Huh?”

The vase is stamped with an image in black. Two figures, a man and a woman, reach out for each other, but there’s a wall between them.

“You recognize this?” Terra asks.

Aqua waits before she answers. On the man’s side is a lyre. On the woman’s, wisps of smoke. “Not really. But something about it is so unpleasant.”

It’s not much, but her reaction is the closest they have ever gotten so far.

She takes the vase with her and heads out the window, the door to the rest of the shop locked. “I’m borrowing it.”

“Aqua—”

“I’ll bring it back.”

Out in the alleyway, Aqua cradles the vase gently in her arms, desperately looking around for someone to talk to.

As much as he doesn’t want to, he says, “We can head back to the marketplace.”

The shuffle of feet approach them from behind the building next door. A lost girl blinks at them, her makeup smudged and running as though she’s been crying, her lip color smeared on her teeth. She recognizes Terra—

—Terra casts Silence on her and pulls her aside, up against a wall. “Shhh. Please don’t yell, please don’t yell.”

Without her voice, her squeals are replaced with gasps. She throws her arms around him.

“Hey!”

Aqua runs up to them without acknowledging how Terra is peeling this girl off himself. She points to the vase. “Do you know who this is?” The girl stares back. “Can you tell me? Please?”

As much as he really doesn’t want to, there are miles he’s willing to trek just for Aqua. “If I remove my spell,” Terra tells the girl, “and you answer Aqua, very gently, who this picture is supposed to be of, I’ll let you hug me again.”

The girl’s eyes go wide and she nods.

He recants his spell, and the girl suppresses her squeaks.

“Oh gods, it’s really Terra.” She hops, pinning her hands in between her legs. “You smell so good. I love you, Terra. I mean, um…” Instead of speaking to Aqua, the girl just locks her eyes at him. “That’s Orpheus. Everyone knows who that is.”

The look on Aqua’s face tells Terra that her heart is stirring.

“What’s his story?” Terra asks.

The girl is happy to oblige. “He sings the saddest ballads, all about the death of his most beloved wife.” She twirls a lock of hair. “Lost her to a snakebite. They say he went to the Underworld to find her, but he lost her along the way. He wasn’t a strong person.” She stands on her toes. “Not like you, Terra. You wouldn’t leave the one you love in the darkness, would you? You’d save them?”

Terra steps back. The onslaught of such specific questions makes him sick to his stomach.

The girl leans forward. “Can I touch your hair?”

“No.” He slaps her hand out of the way.

“Where can I find him?” Aqua asks, completely serious.

The girl rolls her eyes this time, as though it’s such a rude interruption. “If you trek up Mount Olympus, you’ll eventually cross a forest. You can find his head there.”

“His head?” Terra says.

The girl steps up to meet him face to face. “They say he still sings—that’s how Death came to meet him. Anyone who hears his songs will be instantly enamored. Man and beast alike. Even the leaves and the stones will move just to be near him. That reminds me of you, Terra.”

Aqua—already sprinting back toward his direction from the pottery shop after leaving her borrowed vase at its windowsill—cuts between Terra and the fangirl, pulling him away from her by the hand. The hug he promised this girl is cancelled, and Terra is grateful for it

“Thank you!” Aqua says, not breaking her speed. The girl is left behind, dejected.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Thebes is now a miniature, a toy town of red roofs and sandstone streets, that disappears from view as soon as they cross over a cliff, where the face of a forest is tucked away. The quiet greets them, a chirp of a bird here and there.

Terra follows Aqua, not knowing where she’s going.

“So we’re looking for a severed head?” he asks.

“According to the girl, yes.”

“Isn’t that a bit gruesome?”

“I think what she was hoping to do to you may be worse.”

Aqua skids to a stop. She looks over to her left, and runs in that direction. The treeline gets thicker, casting a dim filter over the ground. Aqua stops at a short, stone monument—a statue of a head on a pillar. The man’s face is carved with an open mouth, like he’s singing an opera. The trees sway in the wind.

“That’s Orpheus?” Terra asks quietly.

Aqua frowns. “I don’t hear a song.”

“I don’t, either.”

“But I feel so sad.” She holds a fist over her heart, her eyes watery.

Terra places a hand on her bare shoulder. She feels cold, and he has a sickly feeling that she’s getting worse. “What do we do now?”

“I don’t know, yet. There’s not much I can do here. There’s no text, no clues.” Aqua walks, scanning the ground for a hint.

For a mural, there are no words or poems honored to Orpheus, no maps or glyphs that lend to any guidance. Terra touches the head of the pillar. He feels nothing. Keyblade wielders can be invulnerable to certain spells, but this is supposed to represent grief, and grief is Darkness. How he isn’t affected is an enigma to him—how he is spared and Aqua is not, is worrisome.

“You know what I think?” he asks.

She’s no longer there. Terra steps away from the statue.

“Aqua?”

No answer.

He jolts into a sprint, passing tree after tree with no sign of blue, none of her sashes flowing in the air. How did she get so far away?

Terra shouldn’t be so worried. The Heartless population here after the Keyblade War is minimal, and Aqua is more than capable of taking care of herself—but how she’s coming in and out of reality is more than Terra can bear. He can’t lose her. Not ever again.

“Aqua!”

Terra cries out in relief. She’s standing in a field of red flowers. Lilies, by the shape of them, speckled in the color of raspberries. Their stems curve over, swaying like bells. They’re not stretched towards the sun but hang towards the ground, as if they’re watching for fingers to climb out through the grass.

“I thought I lost you,” he says when he approaches her.

Aqua crosses her arms. “There’s something here.” When she inhales, she turns around like she just realized he was there. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Terra fights the urge to hug her. He loses, taking her in his arms. “I think I’m going crazy... I’m so glad you’re okay,” he says, though there’s so much more he needs to tell her.

“What a little, perfect, crispy portrait of a love story,” a heedy voice says, pronouncing every syllable with sweet spite, exaggerated by hand movements. First is the creep of black smoke over the grass. A shadow emerges from behind a tree, bald head with blue fire for hair, a long black cloak wrapped around his body. “Really, it’s a photo op, an exhibition, a grand spectacle.” He frames them with his fingers. “Bluebird and the Waste of Space, classic. All the children will hear about it.”

“Of course you’re involved in this,” Terra spits, letting Aqua go. He keeps his Keyblade near, in case he needs to summon it.

“On the contrary, I’m the victim in this case.”

“Hades,” Aqua says, an icy chill to her voice. “These flowers...”

“You like them?” Hades flashes a grin, teeth sharp as needles. “A specialty from- you could say a good friend. They’re called eurydice, funnily enough.”

Aqua freezes.

“What’s so funny about that?” Terra asks, stepping in front of Aqua so he’s a barrier.

“I forgot you’re not the sharpest rock in the canyon,” Hades mumbles, before animating his hands, presenting his words like they’re a marketing technique. “Eurydice, the pride of the forest. A muse, a sprite, a dryad.” He motions quotation marks with his fingers. “‘She’s not like other girls,’ whatever you want to call her. A gold prize.”

It comes to Terra like the dawn. Orpheus’s wife.

“What is she to you?” Aqua asks, defensive.

“Well…” Hades casually places a hand on his hip and relies on the other to tell his story. “The Underworld is a vibrant culture of flora. There’s still some Heartless mucking about in the crevices, little maggots, doing Zeus knows what, but…” He pinches the air with his fingers. “There was a teeny tiny leak, a blemish in the system.” He shrugs. “And she slipped. You want to save her, and I want her back in my perfectly packaged Paradise. We work together and we both win.”

Terra scoffs. “You lost a ghost in the Underworld?”

Hades bites a breathy laugh, flicking lint off his robe, a gross smile stretching across his face like he knows a dirty secret. “My Underworld is a tight machine. No. She went somewhere darker.”

Aqua is the first to speak after the silence. “I see.”

“You see what?” Terra says.

Aqua casts her eyes downward. She usually never breaks eye contact in the presence of an enemy. “She’s in the Realm of Darkness. That’s why I’m connected to her.”

Aqua has often said that she thinks a piece of the Darkness will stay with her until her final day, a single thorn growing out of her heart.

“It’s not a place for the sensitive.” Hades scoffs with false modesty.

This is something no one has the right to ask of her. “We’re not bringing Eurydice back to you,” Terra says.

Hades disappears in a blink, reappearing by Terra’s shoulder, his hand a warm pot on the stovetop. “You, my friend, are the last person to bargain.” He disappears again and bursts into flames by Aqua’s side. “Aren’t Keyblade wielders supposed to keep a world’s balance at the tip of their fingers? There’s only one place everyone ends up in this world. Who says you can take the dead away from me? Where else would they go?”

Aqua won’t give him the merit of a look. She swats his smoke away like it’s a fly.

Hades continues, “You see, the living owe a debt. You borrow life to breathe here for a few short happy years, and when you’re done, you return back to where you came from. And if you borrow, then you owe.” He flashes the teeth. “Therefore, she’s mine.” Hades flicks a finger on Terra’s chest. “You—both of you—have cheated. You’re thieves, you reek of it. Talk about privilege.”

Terra stammers.

“We’ll do it,” Aqua says.

Hades taps all his fingers together. “I’m glad we came to an agreement.”

“We didn’t agree to anything,” Terra says, his eyes begging Aqua for an alternative way to do this.

“Down boy. Your bite is just as intimidating as your bark.” Hades turns over his shoulder. “Oh, and one other thing.” He raises a finger, and addresses Terra directly. “Have you ever worked with ghosts before? Miserable company. They’re mopey, they babble too much about nonsense. Not the guest you want to invite over for dinner. They’re confused, it’s part of their nature. Being connected to one isn’t the most sane habit. If you’re not careful, they’ll infect you with their pain.” Hades winks, and nods toward Aqua. “You might want to keep an eye on her.”

Terra’s heart strikes his chest like a hammer to the blood vessel, and he swallows bile. Aqua doesn’t seem fazed.

“Well,” Hades says, “it’s a long walk down. Stay healthy, drink water, don’t go crazy.” With that, he vanishes for good this time, leaving the wind gliding through the flowers, all looking for someone below.

“She’s nearby,” Aqua says, her voice breaking a silence that doesn’t want to be heard. Like poison to be drunk, denial to be told the truth, there’s no ignoring this. “I can open a door here.”

“You’re really going back?”

“I can’t let her continue to suffer,” she says. “But I won’t put you in danger, either.”

“Wait,” Terra says, getting in her way. “I’m coming with you.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“I don’t expect it to be anything else. Danger doesn’t scare me.” Terra takes her face in his hand. “After everything you’ve been through, you can’t ask me to let you do this alone.”

Aqua opens her mouth as if to refuse but she grimaces. “I admit I would like the company this time.”

Terra’s heart thumps, stroking her cheek. “I’ll never turn my back on you again.”

“A shame. You look taller from behind,” she says, and he snorts.

When she moves away, he feels hollow, a sudden need to hold her again invading his body. He shrugs the feeling off. “I’m texting Ven.” He pulls out his Gummiphone. “He’ll need to open a Door to Light for our return.”

“Yes.”

“Any tips for how to survive?”

Aqua summons her Keyblade and points to the ground. “The Realm of Darkness wants you to feel hopeless and scared. It feeds from your mind.” She looks at him. “You can’t trust what you think or feel. You won’t be able to tell the difference between you or the Darkness.”

“Then how are we supposed to find her and come back if we can’t even think?”

Aqua lifts an elegant shoulder. “You keep your head up. That’s your best defense. The Realm will do many things to make you want to give up, to make you doubt yourself. You have to choose your battles. Even if you feel like you’re being followed, don’t look back. Don’t give in to its tricks.”

It sounds like hell. It feels like a knife to the liver—Aqua has suffered so much. His biggest regret is not having the strength to break out of his prison and do something about it.

“Are you having second thoughts?” Aqua asks.

“Not at all.”

The way she smiles this time makes her look like herself. “You know, I feel better now. Much clearer.”

Terra hopes that’s a sign of sweeter things to come. The smile he gives is weak when she summons a Door to Darkness.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Realm of Darkness is a dirt path in a forest that sprawls under patches of stars, as though someone has taken photos of different skies and pasted them together in a collage. Few lanterns light the way, smokey as if caked in fog. It would be similar to a romantic walk on the mountain in the spring if not for what it really is.

Terra trails close behind Aqua, the cape of her armor bouncing in the air. She jogs with such confidence despite that they have no map and have never been here before—well, Aqua has, but not here. According to her, the Realm of Darkness never stays the same. There’s no path back the way they came.

So far, it’s lacked excitement, a still silence as though this world’s heart has stopped beating.

“How do we find her?” Terra asks, his voice loud enough to make him worry if something hidden behind the trees has heard him.

“We keep going.”

A sudden clank, metal on metal. Terra sprints to her. “What’s going on?”

Aqua has stepped onto a metal surface, a sudden cutoff from the forest like mismatched puzzle pieces forced together, spreading beyond what they can see. When Terra steps on it, the boot of his armor reverberates from his weight.

“I don’t like this,” Aqua says.

The river is black and made of torn iron, shards that jut out like shredded waves frozen in time. Lanterns from broken boats wedge into the collisions, a ship graveyard where they all crashed into each other in a hurricane.

“What now?” Terra asks, hushed.

She turns to face him, her helmet obscuring her expression. “We keep going.”

Their only direction is forward. There’s no compass, no horizon to see where they’re going. They curve around mountains of broken war and cruise ships and melted steel, like hills to climb and descend. Whether they’ve trailed a huge arch and are going backwards, Terra can’t tell.

Then again, Aqua has said there is no backwards in the Realm of Darkness. But what if this river doesn’t have a shore?

“Those aren’t lights,” Aqua warns.

Some of the lanterns bob up and down, blinking.

“Stars,” Terra curses, summoning his Keyblade. Aqua has already conjured hers and is throwing a blast against a group of eyes hiding inside half of a ship, its inner scaffolding exposed like bent needles. The impact combusts.

Heartless swarm up and rain on him. They’re stronger here, these small Shadows more resistant, withstanding his powerful swings when they’d normally be thrown far back.

A huge crash rumbles behind them, and Terra is knocked onto his knees. A ship sinks as its bow breaks off. It sounds like a building caving in.

Aqua grabs his elbow. “Forget it,” she yells over the clamor. They run past hordes of Heartless materializing from the metal as if they’re being born, more and more and more until the sea behind them is a mass of yellow eyes. Terra relies on nothing but his two legs, pushing and pushing them despite the strain to catch up to her. Ships and boats disintegrate, about to swallow them if they can’t find solid ground.

They step onto dirt, a slab of earth suspended in space. They’re blocked by a huge stone gate without walls.

Aqua turns and slices her Keyblade across, light thrusting forward to cut through the first wave of Shadows.

Terra grunts when he jabs his Keyblade, a beam striking the gate in the middle. He summons a keyhole, a plea to enter.

The gate opens.

“Come on!” He grabs her elbow and bolts inside. Terra immediately pushes his weight against the gate, Aqua mimicking the same—a desperate slog at first, his breath hitched and pulsating at his temple, until they build momentum and shut it. At the slam of the door, dust drops from the ceiling and lands on their shoulders.

Behind them is a dim hallway of two choices: left and right. The little light they have here comes from nowhere.

Terra sighs, breathing heavily. The air inside his helmet doesn’t smell fresh. “Well, your heart, your pick.”

Aqua chuckles, her voice muffled. He wishes he could see her smile. “Enjoying your stay?”

“You’re sick.”

“Remember not to get too affected by what you see, Terra.” She holds his shoulder, her glove clunking onto his pauldron. “The Realm will probe your mind until it finds what it can use.”

She leads the way right, her steps kicking up clouds of dust. The entire floor is sand, sinking the sound of their steps. The hall turns left. It turns left again.

Terra can’t shake the feeling that they’re being watched. He eyes the ceiling where the crevices that meet the wall are at their darkest, where he anticipates small, yellow eyes blinking at him.

He thinks he hears something, but shrugs it off.

No, he has heard something. Growling.

It thrums louder and Terra is walking slower, growing a distance between him and Aqua who hasn’t noticed yet.

The growling is coming from behind.

He turns.

There’s nothing.

“Aqua.”

“What is it?”

“I’m hearing an aggressive dog.”

“There are no dogs in the Realm of Darkness.”

“But it’s following us.”

“Trust me, there isn’t anything behind you.” She waves with her hand. “Come on. The Realm wants you to worry. The moment you start to believe it is when your heart begins to falter.”

At another two-way junction, Aqua chooses left—they’ve just gone in a circle. Terra expects to come back to the stone gate—but as though the Realm has heard him and is laughing at his assumptions, the hallway opens up into a path of eight directions. One of them a stairway up, one a stairway down. The opening next door is blocked from a staircase turned upside down, and the one next to that leads to a staircase that twists and leans on its side.

Aqua chooses the way straight ahead, a long uncomplicated hallway.

The hallway turns right. She’s no longer there.

“Aqua!” Terra dashes forward and the hallway turns dark, like the twist of the knob on a lantern, a flame fading.

He turns over and heads back. “Aqua!”

They went left, left, left, straight. All he has to do is trek that backwards.

When Terra arrives at the large expanse of eight directions, Aqua comes in from behind him. “Terra!”

She runs into him when he halts and spreads his arms, their breastplates colliding. “Where did you go?” he asks.

“Down the hall, that’s it.” Her voice trembles. He’ll have to do better to be braver, for her. Aqua pulls away to look up at him. He wishes he could see her eyes. “What did I say about giving in?”

He licks his lips. “Don’t go back.”

Aqua swallows as if to stop a sob. “There’s no going back in this place, Terra. You could have gotten lost. The Realm wants you to doubt yourself.” She nods as if to make a point, her voice thick as if to mask how terrified she is. “Do you understand now?”

No. “We keep going.”

“I’ll stay close to you this time.”

“Please.”

“I-I can’t lose you. Not again.”

“You won’t, I promise.”

She points to a hallway different from the one she chose earlier, and walks by his side this time, step by step. Down this way is brighter, the stone newer, the sand thinning until they step on cobble. The walls shrink into a tight foyer framed by fully lit torches, parchment and paper scattered all over as though a storm blew through a library.

Terra bends to pick some up. They’re all blank.

“Love letters and songs,” Aqua says, reading through empty pages, “that Orpheus wrote to her.” She shakes her head. “The stories I grew up with were so stupid.”

“Which ones are we talking about?”

“Those books I used to read when I was a teenager.”

Terra grimaces. “About true love.”

“I believed them until the end.” She sighs. “They seem so silly now. That you could be in love at first sight, without ever bonding with them—without ever knowing the ties you create with them and how much it pains to have those cut. It’s improbable. How does anyone expect them to be willing to pluck their hearts out of their chests and sew them together like that? How is that supposed to be ‘true,’ or ‘pure?’ The trials they’ve gone through to prove themselves in the name of that love—so small in comparison to some.”

“You mean in comparison to what Orpheus tried to do.”

Aqua swipes her hand over a page to flatten the bends. “I can’t imagine how brave he had to prepare himself to be, and how little he cared for his personal safety. That he would descend so deep into darkness for her. After everything I’ve been through, I could say—that is love. The fairy tales I’ve read don’t come close.”

Terra watches her stack parchment together, tapping the edges so that they align, her movements stiff due to the armor. There are no written words to be read on the pages, but there’s not a single word that could describe the epiphany he’s having. That she is sitting next to him, that there are things neither of them uttered a sound for, that she is the same person who fell to the depths just to save him, that she is not the same child who used to sneer at his essays. That day, he only had a feeling that he was being hugged until he went to sleep, then he woke up twelve years later.

“You love me,” he says, part question, part certainty.

Aqua pauses. Her visor reflects his. “I do. I have for a long time.” She scoffs softly at herself. “You know, the Realm has brought you to me in lucid dreams. Five times. The first three, I told you how I felt. And you smiled. Then you were gone. I got fooled each time.” She hangs her head. “It was the fifth time that it was really you.”

“I remember,” Terra whispers.

“I couldn’t say how I felt, but you took those precious few seconds we had to tell me not to give up. I realized later that I needed that more than saying anything.” She sighs, her breath parched from the helmet. “I never expected to say it again, here, of all places, but now… Now you’re here. And I love you.”

Terra leans forward, bracing her arm, the cusp between her shoulder and neck. He feels the inner padding of his gloves. They can’t take their helmets off, not here, but a swelling of solace fills him. For a moment, he forgets where he is, his imagination only seeing her face, his heart asking to break the metal and touch her.

“Do you have any idea how important you are to me?” he asks.

She breathes like she’s laughing. “I have an inkling.”

He leans his helmet against hers. “With all my heart,” he says.

“I thought so.” She squeezes his gauntlet.

When they get out, the first thing he’ll do is take her in arms.

“I think we’re close,” Aqua says, talking about Eurydice.

They have to see the light of day first. When they get out, the first thing he’ll see is her smile.

“Let’s do it and get out here.”

Beyond the next archway is a new place: a cavern maze, the walls roughed up by raw mineral, crystals glowing pastel colors in the dark. It’s beautiful in its own expression, a small memory of whatever the Realm took and couldn’t digest. The single paths here are disorienting, the walls littered with natural dips and holes to take shortcuts.

The cave opens up to a jagged, rocky clearing, its natural structure much like a coliseum. He and Aqua stand at the top. The boulders cut off a clear sight of the path below, a single star in the sky and a single fig tree at the bottom, its exposed roots dug into a pond. Terra and Aqua descend, the rocks down here taller.

“Prepare yourself,” Aqua says, taking the lead.

Terra summons his Keyblade too, bracing himself for Heartless. A shadow moves near the tree, hiding behind one of the roots.

A surprised shriek comes from the tree, like it’s been woken up, and it shifts. The roots straighten out, the branches curl over and sharpen like claws. Cut through the trunk is the shape of a heart, empty and black inside. No yellow eyes.

“What is that thing?” Terra yells before dodging. The tree slams its branches between him and Aqua.

Terra trips. A tree root chokes his ankle, pulling him from under the dirt.

Aqua doesn’t see it happening. She scrambles and ducks behind a boulder before the earth behind her collapses into a sinkhole. She climbs the boulder and jumps onto the canopy.

The tree rocks viciously to knock her off but she stabs the bark with her Keyblade to hold on. It digs its vines and branches into the ground. A flash of purple lighting cracks the boulders into halves.

Terra cuts himself free. The root shrivels, and the ground it touched caves into nothingness. He dashes, taking fast cover behind boulders. It’s hard to tell if he’s effective since he doesn’t know whether the tree has blind spots.

When roots shoot up to throttle him and fail, they punish the earth instead, ripping away respites and hiding spots. If enough of the dirt sinks, the boulders fall with it.

Terra can only keep running.

The only signs that Aqua is okay are the flashes of light from her Keyblade, spellcasting and waves of reflective blues crushing the tree. Stuck on the canopy, Aqua doesn’t have much room to escape when the ground is collapsing at random.

Terra yells and charges towards the tree, calling upon his Keyblade to transform into his glider. He slams into the roots, all of his offense and magic building up and combusting against the bark.

The tree tumbles and Aqua lets go.

Terra catches her and flies up. He hovers a rock that is still holding on at the edge of a newly formed cliff.

A dark lightning bolt strikes from above and Aqua summons a barrier to protect them.

“It’s her,” Aqua says, straining to keep the barrier intact.

“That can’t be possible.”

“We don’t know what the Darkness can do to the dead. We don’t know anything.” Aqua chokes on her words. “But that’s Eurydice, I know it.”

The tree scratches at nothing and wails, its roots crumbling hard onto the ground with every step it makes. Eurydice sounds like anger, a need to make sure everyone else suffers with her.

“The hole in her trunk, where her heart would be if she wasn’t dead.”

“Terra—”

“Say no more.”

He revs his glider and charges towards the clearing, now a gaping hole sunk down the middle with no bottom. Terra sticks to the cliff sides. Aqua jumps off from the back, high into the sky, waiting for his next move.

Terra lets go and holds on to his Keyblade’s grip. It stretches and transforms into a whip. He slaps one of the branches where it hooks, and slams his fist onto the ground. The tree careens. He keeps pulling, forcing the tree flat against the ground.

From the sky, Aqua points her Keyblade towards the trunk and calls. A beam of light strikes through the heart void, glowing.

The tree shrieks and thrashes. Terra is thrown off and the tree slaps Aqua out of its way. Aqua lands on the side of a cliff, climbing up. The tree stampedes towards her with the motion to crush her.

Aqua yells and yanks herself over, rolling onto her back, pointing her Keyblade up again. Her light blinds this time, a force that shocks the air and pushes everything with swept pressure. As though Aqua has summoned water, Terra is thrown, the currents taking him away.

He lands and rolls. It’s quiet.

His muscles ache and sting. He’ll have bruises but those don’t matter. Terra stumbles when he stands, leaning on a boulder near him. He peers over, praying for the image of Aqua climbing over the hole, but what he sees is a picture from before the nightmare: the clearing back in its original state, as though he has hallucinated everything. The rocky exterior makes it hard for him to notice anyone. If she’s crouching due to pain, if she’s stranded somewhere, knocked out…

His knees give out when he runs, and he tumbles down the hill. Summoning his glider, Terra asks it to carry his slacked weight. There is no puddle at the bottom anymore. He keeps himself up high where he has a vantage point, calling her name. There’s no sight of her.

“I won’t be fooled. You’ll take me to her,” he tells the Realm. He scans. No sign of her. What if she’s buried beneath the earth...

A pale glow flickers between rocks.

He drops.

Aqua isn’t here. In her place is a green, ghostly apparition of a woman in a simple, flowy dress that allows for dancing, her long hair swaying to zephyr. Terra doesn’t need to ask for her name. His voice croaks. “Where is she?”

“Of whom do you speak?” Eurydice says. The ghost has no voice but a loud breath, as though she is whispering right into his ear.

“Aqua!” he calls but he gets no answer. No sound of the pebbles crumpled by her bootsteps, nor the clank of armor.

“Ah,” Eurydice sighs. “The one who looks like a naiad. A water nymph.”

“Do you know where she is?”

“In the labyrinth.”

Terra turns over his shoulder and starts up the hill. Where is the entrance they used to get here?

“If you enter the labyrinth, you will lock her inside, Keybearer.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” His helmet feels tight. “How do you know about Keyblades?”

“The body is an entrapment, a vessel designed to define concepts that we can’t understand. What we call prayers, offerings, angels, the Light, the fountain of the gods, Keyblades, Kingdom Hearts, Paradise, Mount Olympus—all bear the same resemblance depending on the language we use. Without a body, I am not burdened by any of those barriers.” She holds her hands together with reverence. “Your armor glimmers like a star.”

“Can you feel her then? Is she hurt?”

“She is with you.”

That’s the same thing people say to him about Eraqus. Your Master will always be with you, no matter where you are. You just need the faith to know he’s there.

I’m sure he’s proud of you.

I’m sure he knows how much you love him. He’s with you.

“Aqua!” Terra bolts into a run, picking whatever direction because this clearing is a circle and there is no exit. He’ll have to break one open. His helmet presses on the pulse in his neck. He’s losing oxygen. He’s gasping. He’s removing his helmet, collapsing to his knees, yelling at the most his lungs could give him, now that his voice is no longer muffled by metal. “Aqua!”

His throat throbs.

“No panic, no haven for panic, Keybearer.”

Terra stares at the dirt under him—cracked from drought, a single pebble and a patch of grass. “You should have taken me,” he wheezes.

The ground rumbles and he snaps up, dying to see if it’s her. A giant hand pounds towards him, attached to a giant body with beedy yellow eyes and tentacles for a face. A Darkside, towering over him, watching him like it’s going to grant a wish.

“Keybearer,” Eurydice warns.

The Darkside digs its fingers into the dirt like the roots of a tree. A black puddle opens up a pathway for the sprawl of eyes to crawl out.

Terra would summon his Keyblade but he’s slow and tired. Numb. His skin is exposed to the Realm, and it seeps into him. It lulls him, it quiets him. There’s no sanity better than the world the mind makes up.

The Darkside grabs him.

Terra is tired, watching for a hint of blue when he sees black.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Terra.

“Aqua.”

Terra wakes submerged in an ocean. He reaches for her but grabs air.

He’s gently sinking.

So he’s lost her. He’s failed at his duty of protecting someone who needs his help. This is why Aqua is stronger than him. Terra could never survive in a place like this, he could never withstand twelve years of this torture.

“Aqua, I’m so sorry.” He wants to cry but he can’t. The Realm won’t let him, anesthetizing the fall of tears.

What is in the ocean with him? A monster he can’t see? Will it have teeth? Will it swallow him? Or will it watch him float here, waiting for him to turn so he could become one with it? Terra could let go here—

—but a faint glow hovers near, like breath to a limp body, like a light at the exit. There’s still time and a chance. If he can open his eyes, then Aqua could, wherever she is.

Eurydice watches the amoebas in the water, floating by herself.

Terra swims to her.

“‘Twasn’t a long wait,” she whispers when he approaches.

“I’m sorry for turning my back on you,” he tells her. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

Eurydice smiles at him. She looks sickly, hollowed cheeks down to the lines of her skull. But if she was healthy, she would be the beauty that captivated people in the forest.

Terra takes her wrist and gravity takes them. They gently land on solid ground, in the black, in the middle of nothing. Endless dark, endless shadow, endless lack of everything.

“We can’t go anywhere without Aqua. We have to find her first.” Though Terra doesn’t know where he is or which direction he should take.

“We are everywhere, she is nowhere.”

“What does that mean, though? She isn’t here? Then where is she?”

“Below. Nowhere and the end. At the beginning, where you can’t see.”

Terra jerks forward to beg, but a ghost is the last person to ask for answers. He trembles.

“You have a kind face,” Eurydice says. “The bards would have sung in honor of you.”

That’s no consolation. Terra sobs but it’s dry.

“Beware, Keybearer.”

He hears the sloshing of water. His ankles are sunk under.

If he despairs, the Darkness will take him. If he stays calm, he’s betraying her.

“Aqua, what do I do?”

“I called to Lady Aqua because I saw her Light,” Eurydice says, nodding slowly. “The only star in the dark. I would trust her choice, always. I believe in the Fates.” She brings her hand to her chest. “I believe she brought me you.”

The truth stings, a slap to the face, the swallow of a knife, the burn of the tongue with a lighted match. He can’t bear it, but he has to. Aqua would trust him with anything.

“I…” He is such a horrible person, looking at the face of the needy and the hurt but thinking about someone else. He can’t do it. He has to. “I was supposed to hold her when we got out.”

“We were to be married.”

Terra feels as though a pail of water was dumped on him. He takes a hard look at Eurydice, at how she’s trying to warn him with bulging eyes, distorting. Ghosts are emotional. “What happened to you?”

“I died. Vipers are the most unpleasant.”

Terra doesn’t want to ask, afraid of where this conversation will go. “And Orpheus?”

She brightens up, washed over by nostalgia. “He came for me. With his gift of song, he moved Hades enough to agree to be charitable. Hades granted me freedom so long as Orpheus accepted the terms.”

Of course, Hades and his contracts.

Eurydice’s face ashens more than it possibly can. “I was to follow. Orpheus was to lead me to the sunlit earth, so long as he did not look back at me while I was in the dark.” She pauses, as though her lips are sewn together. Talking about this hurts her. “So Orpheus led with much enthusiasm. So much at peace. I was to finally be with my beloved again, to smell the pomegranates and taste the olives.

“Love is powerful but Death more so. Every step was a moment to rethink. He could not hear me behind him, for I was a mere shade. Orpheus could not trust Hades. I could feel his anticipation, his desperate need to hold me dearly, his doubt that he was being played.”

“I can’t blame him.”

“At the end, right as the light was about to touch us, Orpheus lost his faith. He looked back to see my face.” Eurydice hugs herself. “I gave him my farewell and kind regards, then I was whisked away, back into the Underworld.”

“I’m so sorry.” Terra swallows, not liking what this is supposed to mean for him. “Aqua would have chosen to help you.”

“Will you set me free?”

“Yes, of course but—” He inhales. “How could I leave her?”

The look on Eurydice’s face stops him. “I did what was asked of me. I followed him. I kept close. I was loyal. I spoke to him though he could not hear me. And yet he turned and tore us apart. I have yet to understand what I did wrong to let him doubt me.”

“He didn’t doubt you.”

“Then why hesitate to trust Lady Aqua?”

Like a knife to the throat, Terra falls to his knees and grips at his chest, the guilt inside so heavy and thick that he wants to rip his armor off and cut it open, dig it all out so he could finally breathe.

If she were here, Aqua would have told him to save Eurydice. There’s no denying that.

“I’m sorry,” he says, hoping Aqua could hear him. “I’d give you my whole heart if it meant you were here.” He swallows. “I’m so sorry. I’ll be back, just wait for me.” He doesn’t want to stand up, for that would mean that he’d have to walk. But he tells himself that there must be ways around this. There must be an exception, a line in the fine print. “Wait for me, I’ll come to you. I swear with every will I have to live.”

Terra stands. He summons his helmet. When he wears it, he finally cries, soft tears that feel warm then cool, muted because they’re delayed.

“Okay,” he tells Eurydice. “Let’s go.”

He wades across the water, ripples that fan out and reflecting light that isn’t there.

Eurydice floats by his side. “I’m grateful. The vipers are the most unpleasant.”

Terra stops a chuckle. “Yeah, you told me.” Repetition is a symptom for the eldritch, an obsession with what life was. Eurydice deserves so much better. “Do you have to go back to Hades?”

“Orpheus is with him. Once we reunite, we will walk the Underworld together.”

“But it’s a prison.”

Eurydice glances at him. “Man and god are the same. They associate death with misery and see the Underworld as nothing else. But we don’t see what you see.”

“The thought of Hades hating his job is satisfying.”

“He makes for an upsetting neighbor.”

Terra scoffs.

“But I shall be content. Death is powerful but Love more so.”

Terra doesn’t know how to respond, but it spells for him a kind of peace. The Realm numbs everything it touches. As long as they play by the rules, it’s not so bad. Aqua is the only balm he’d need.

“How shall we escape?”

“Ven—my best friend—is waiting on the other side. You see that light?” Ahead of them, far in the distance, is a star. “He has a door open for us.”

“But we’ve been walking for so long and yet it does not come closer. Are you not looking forward to seeing him?”

“Of course I am.” Terra slows to a stop. The water has reached to his waist.

Eurydice studies him with sadness. “You mean to stay here.”

Terra doesn’t answer Eurydice’s remark. “I mean to see you free and happy.” He holds out his hand and she takes it.

Nothing is truly ever following Terra here, for the Darkness wants him to think so. So he will stay, walk forward and walk far without a map or a compass. Eventually, he’ll have to cross paths with her. There is no other place he’d want to go, and any world without her is a world behind him. With that vow to himself, the star finally comes close, the black fading into gray.

“Ven?” Terra calls.

“I have always wondered what it would be like to cross over,” Eurydice says.

Heavy, loud footsteps approach them. Ven appears in the light, in a box colored in white, his armor worn. “Terra? Finally, I’ve been—” He jerks his head towards Eurydice’s direction, the sharp rabbit ears of his helmet tilting. He leans forward as if to peer inside. He does not have a reflection in the water. “Where is Aqua?”

“We are everywhere, she is nowhere,” Eurydice says.

“You don’t see her?” Terra asks, his voice brittle. A tiny part of his heart was hoping he was wrong.

“Dude,” Ven says, “I can barely see you. You’re like an outline.”

“That’s proof enough.”

“Such lies,” Eurydice says.

“What is the ghost talking about?” Ven asks.

“It’s okay, Ven,” Terra says. “I’m going to find Aqua.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“She’ll never forgive me if you follow.” Terra hangs his head. “Please don’t ask me to leave her.”

“That’s not—”

“I’m not afraid of the Realm of Darkness.”

Eurydice turns to Terra. “Such bravery yet you are frightened to cross the threshold for her. Is it natural that faith betrays you? Don’t do this to her. Don’t punish her.”

Ven looks at her, looks at Terra, looks at her.

Terra says, “Once I find her, I’ll be okay.” He moves to turn.

Eurydice holds his shoulder. “Many don’t know how to love. They only know the fall, and they fall, waiting for peace to replace the ecstasy and despair. But it will not come if you do not beckon it. May you listen to your heart?”

His heart aches.

Ven grabs his forearm. “I’m going to listen to the freaky lady. She knows more than you.”

“Ven—”

“I can’t lose both of you. We’ll figure out an action plan, and”—Ven uses all his weight and both of his hands to try to pull Terra over—“you’re coming with me.”

“I can’t leave her here.”

“We’re not! Come on, man, she’s strong.”

“Step forward with me. The vipers are most unpleasant,” Eurydice says.

Terra holds onto the doorframe. The sun hits his gloved fingers, baking them. Aqua, what do I do?

Terra, please.

That’s Aqua’s voice, far away. For the Darkness wants him to think nothing is following him.

“You promise me we’ll come back?” Terra asks Ven.

“Of course. Anything for her.”

Terra doesn’t sob when he wants to. He doesn’t make a decision—he leaps, stepping forward into the light. Eurydice follows.

But a heavy ton, the Darkness, drags him back. Hands from the water grab his cape into bunches and pull on his neck. They hold onto his legs and bend his knees, desperate, like beggars that need his help, need the stars that glimmer in his armor.

One hand grabs his forearm, metal on metal, like it’s telling him not to forget something.

Terra gasps.

He grabs that hand and throws himself forward with a yell, ripping away from the Darkness begging him to stay, knocking Ven out of his balance, and pulling her out.

Terra lands on his back and hears her gasp and whimper out of shock, relieved. He throws his helmet off.

“Aqua.”

Aqua’s blue armor stares at the grass while she takes in the scene, her sobs controlled and hushed.

Terra pulls her helmet off to look at her face, stained with tears and tired smiles. “Aqua.”

“You didn’t hear me?” she asks, crying quietly. “No one heard or saw me, I was there the entire time.”

“I’m an idiot.” Terra weeps with her. He dispels his armor and touches her pauldron to dismiss hers. He holds her tightly. She’s warm and sweaty, small in comparison to him, folded into his chest like she fits perfectly. “Call me an idiot, I deserve it.”

Aqua’s cries tremble into laughter as she buries her face in his neck, twisting his suspenders in her fists. Terra lets her weight pull him onto the grass. “That girl was right. You smell good.”

“What are we talking about now?” Ven removes his helmet and brushes through his hair. Terra is so happy to see that chubby face. “Everything’s so confusing.”

“These girls have been chasing Terra. They’re harpies.” She looks up at him and smirks. “I don’t think they’d be pleased if they saw us like this.”

Terra chuckles into her hair. “I don’t care.”

“Wait,” Ven says, scoffing. “Now we’re going to be murdered by rabid fangirls? Ugh, Terra, why are you always inviting trouble? We don’t need it.” He slams his helmet back on. “Stay here, I’ll scout to see if it’s safe. I’m kicking your ass when we get back home.”

That’s fine. Terra will hold onto Aqua here, stroke his thumb on her cheek, wipe her hair off of her face, massage his hand over her exposed back, under the straps. It’s overcast, the clouds a respite.

Flowers named eurydice watch over them, their anthers hanging close.

“She’s okay,” Aqua whispers, sighing. Her body relaxes. “Thank you.”

Terra kisses her forehead and brings her waist closer. His star in the darkness. She blinks from behind blotted clouds.

#terraqua #terra #aqua #terraqua week #kingdom hearts fanfiction #orpheus #eurydice #AHHHHHH omg i finally finished this monster #the longest piece in the collection for sure #my fic

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hailhydra920 · 3 years

Text

A Chance Protector Pt. 1

Pairing: Lumberjack!Steve x reader

Summary: Moving to a small town to get away from your ex-husband, you find that love can come to even the most troubled of hearts.

Warnings: None

Part 1

“Mommy, I have to use the bathroom.” Your little six-year-old girl, Dawn, said from the back seat. “And I’m hungry.”

“I’m hungry too!” Your four-year-old boy, Ronin, added. “Can we get cheese boogers?”

“Ew.” Dawn gagged. “It’s cheeseburgers, Ronin.”

“About an hour more, how about we stop at McDonald’s for lunch, then head to the new house? Sound good?” You asked as Dawn and Ronin cheered.

You parked at McDonald’s and rushed inside. Dawn having said she might explode if she didn’t get to the bathroom. You took Ronin inside the bathroom, telling him he should probably go too. After ordering your food, you guys picked a nice corner table, and began eating. Ronin got ketchup all over his hands and tried to wipe them on Dawn, which caused her whine and quickly scoot away from him.

“Ronin, be nice to your sister.” You scolded as you wiped his hands.

“Sorry, Mommy.” Ronin said before taking a sip of his apple juice, and then suddenly asking, “Do you think Daddy will break out of jail and find us again? I don’t want Daddy to hurt you again Mommy.”

You looked at Ronin whose face had now turned scared. You kissed his chubby cheek and hugged him. “He won’t find us. There’s no need to worry. You’re Daddy and I aren’t together anymore, so he doesn’t get to know where we go. Let’s just focus on happy things, okay guys?” You said hugging Dawn and Ronin.

“Okay, Mommy.” They both said before going back to eating.

~~~~~~~

Steve walked into Bucky’s shop, wiping sweat off of his brow. He saw his friend underneath a car, earbuds in, his foot bouncing with the beat. Smiling, Steve walked over and nudged Bucky’s foot. Feeling someone, Bucky rolled out from under the car, popped his earbuds from his ears, and wiped his greasy hands on a rag.

“Hey Steve. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I have your load of firewood. Where do you want me to put it?” Steve asked tightening his work gloves.

“Oh, yeah. Um, back of the shop is fine. I’ll help you unload, and we can catch up.” Bucky said following Steve to his truck.

“So, what do you think the new girl will be like. I hear she has two youngins.” Bucky said grabbing an armful of wood.

“Don’t know. We haven’t had anyone new in a while. This place isn’t even on the map. But ever since Mrs. Summers died, her house has just been a sad part of the community. It will be nice to have some new people bring joy to the house once again.”

“And maybe you can try something new and start dating again. Peggy would want that for you.” Bucky said grabbing Steve’s shoulder.

“I don’t know if I’m ready yet.” Steve refuted, stacking the heavy pieces of wood.

“It’s been three years since Peggy’s death. Everyone in town wants you to be happy. You can’t just drown yourself in work.”

“I’ll think about it.” Steve huffed as they stacked the last pieces. “But no promises.”

“Hey, she should be coming this afternoon. The whole town is doing a welcoming party. You’re coming, right?” Bucky asked grabbing his wrench.

“Uh, I guess.”

“Great. See ya there, pal.” Bucky said before popping back in his earbuds and rolling underneath the car again.

Steve hopped in his red truck and sighed as he looked in the rearview mirror.

“I better go get cleaned up. Don’t wanna scare the town’s new company.” Steve grumbled as he backed out of Bucky’s shop.

~~~~~~~

Ronin and Dawn had there faces pressed up against their windows, drinking in the small town that they would be calling home. As you drove past a small candy store, Ronin and Dawn wiggled in their seats.

“Mommy, can we please go there? Pretty please?” They begged.

“Maybe after we’ve checked out the house and greeted the neighbors.” You said as you turned.

After a couple more minutes you saw your new house. It looked like it was newly painted and had a stack of firewood beside it. Once you parked, Ronin and Dawn were unbuckling and hopping out of the car.

“Look Mommy!” Ronin shouted. “We have a big yard! Maybe we can get a puppy!”

You laughed. “Maybe. Let’s check out the inside.”

You unlocked the door, and Ronin and Dawn rushed inside, their tiny eyes trying to take in everything.

“Wow! This is much bigger than our old house.” Dawn said in awe. “Are we really going to live here?”

“Yup. I’ve gotta grab some boxes from the car, so you guys explore.” You said walking to your car with a smile.

~~~~~~~.

Rumbling down the road, Steve whistled an old tune as he drove toward Sam’s house. He had borrowed one of Sam’s ties on Sunday and was going to return it to him. As he was driving, he noticed a car parked at Mrs. Summer’s old house, and saw you grabbing boxes. Being the helpful man he was, he pulled into your driveway, and hopped out of his truck.

“Excuse me. Would you like some help?” He asked as he saw you struggling.

You looked at the man in front of you, his wind tossed blond hair, tight flannel shirt, and charming smile was enough to make your knees weak.

“Uh, yes, please.” You managed as he took the heavy boxes from you with ease.

You grabbed a lighter box and you both walked inside the house. You set the boxes on the floor by the couch, and Ronin and Dawn stared at Steve.

“Who’s he Mommy?” Ronin asked eyeing Steve carefully.

“Um…” You turned toward Steve and he smiled.

“I’m Steve. I live nearby, actually. Just down the road.” He said crouching to Ronin’s height. “And who might you be?”

“I’m Ronin. I’m the man of the house.” He said puffing out his chest.

“Wow.” Steve chuckled. “You must be what? 25?”

“I’m four.” Ronin laughed showing Steve with his chubby fingers.

“What? You’re so mature. I thought you were surely 25.”

You smiled at Steve’s interaction with Ronin. His father was never like this with Ronin. You were glad you had picked a nice town like this one. You watched as he started talking with Dawn, and how she started to giggle at something he said. Steve then stood up and stuck out his hand.

“Steve Rogers. I’m the town’s lumberjack, and occasional mechanic when I work with my buddy Bucky at his shop. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Y/n. Thank you for helping me with my stuff. I don’t suppose you were the one that stacked some firewood outside?” You said shaking his hand.

“Ah, yes. That would be me. Just a little welcoming gift.” He shrugged.

Before you could say anything more, a knock echoed through the house. You excused yourself from Steve and opened the door. A woman with beautiful red hair and nice smile greeted you at the door.

“Hi, I’m Natasha. I brought some cookies.” She said shaking the plate she held.

“Oh, thank you. I’m Y/n. Please, come in.” You said opening the door wider.

She stepped inside and her eyes landed on Steve. She sent a smirk Steve’s way, and Steve pretended he didn’t notice.

“I see you’ve already met Steve.” She said setting the cookies on the table.

“Uh, yeah. He helped me carry some of our stuff inside.” You said as Ronin and Dawn rushed toward the table.

“COOKIES!!” They said as the reached for the plate.

“Only one right now.” You said as they nodded. “And what do you say.”

“Thank you!” They said before shoving the cookie in their mouths.

Steve chuckled and saw Nat giving him a knowing glance. Nat turned back to you and smiled.

“We’re having a welcoming party for you guys at 2 at the community center. Just a little welcome to the community. It’ll be fun.”

“Oh, thank you. We’re not used to such hospitality.”

“Well, I best be going. Gotta make sure my husband, Clint, isn’t burning down the house trying to make Ramen. See you at the party.” Nat said as you thanked her again for the cookies and the visit.

Once she left, Steve tugged on his flannel shirt. “I should probably get going too. Uh, welcome to the community.”

“Thank you once again for carrying the boxes, and being so kind to my children.”

“Don’t mention it.” He said with a smile before exiting the house.

He walked back to his truck and ran a hand through his hair. You were not what he expected at all.

Permanent tags: @sleep-i-ness

#steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #lumberjack steve #marvel fanfiction #lumberjack au #mcu

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kookiebunnii · 4 years

Text

pairing: mark(got7) x reader

genre: fluff for the birthday boy 🥳

word count: 4.3k

warnings: mature language

When Mark had been dating your roommate, you barely spared him a second glance.

Being a college undergraduate meant that you had plenty of exams and coursework to worry about without having to keep track of who Ingrid was “dating” this month. The two of you got along as well as two individuals who kept to themselves could get along. She was rarely home, and when she was, she’d spare you the awkward introduction to her new fling by quickly ushering him into her room. You always told yourself that your living situation could’ve been way worse, so you let Ingrid’s business proceed without much of a complaint.

You couldn’t even remember how long the two lasted, given the amount of fuckboys that had walked through her door. It was a wonder that you could even recall his name, to be frank. Perhaps he left some semblance of an impression because of the way he never walked around like he owned the place like most of Ingrid’s conquests. There were times you’d find an unknown shirt hanging haphazardly across the couch or one of your pudding cups gone missing from the fridge. Despite these occurrences, you disliked confrontation, so you chose to endure rather than address your grievances. While Ingrid had been with Mark, you remember being considerably more comfortable in your own residence.

If someone had told you that you’d be head over heels in love with Mark Tuan only a month after your roommate ended things with him, you’d probably have a good laugh. You were more invested in the comebacks of the boy groups you loved than some boy your roommate, of all people, had once been with. Besides, you were a commitment-seeking gal, and anyone that pursued your roommate was definitely not expecting anything long-term.

The suggestion that you would grow attracted to such a guy would have seemed ludicrous. Yet maybe this is why the saying “not everything is as it seems” exists.

The whole ordeal began relatively innocuously. You were waiting on your hazelnut latte at the university’s central coffee shop, preparing to head to the library for some much-needed studying. Midterms were around the corner, and you had spent one too many days dozing off in lectures to feel prepared. It seemed that most of the student population had the same idea as you, since the café was bustling for a Wednesday afternoon. You tried your best to stay out of everyone’s way, focusing instead on checking the time on your cell phone and planning out your schedule for the rest of the day.

When you finally have your order in your hands, you take a small sip before heading for the exit. Right when that happens, a form in your periphery suddenly rushes in and knocks the hot coffee out of your grasp. Thankfully, or as much thanks as you could offer in such a tragedy, most of the drink cascades on the tiled floor. Only a little of your latte scalds your hand and paints your white sweater with brown polka dots. The disappointment you feel about losing your drink is quickly overshadowed by embarrassment when people start staring and the painful burning blossoms across the back of your hand.

“Shit, I’m so sorry.”

Your offender rushes to grab some napkins, immediately going to work on wiping the floor. As his head is lowered, you try to think of a smart response. Just as you were about to give the rude kid a piece of your mind, he looks up and the words dry up on your tongue.

“Y/N?”

“Mark?” you finally manage, surprised he even remembered who you were.

He quickly hands you a napkin, looking even more apologetic before responding, “Here, for your hand and sweater…I’m so sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“It’s fine,” you quickly reassure, doing your best to clean yourself up. The coffee will likely stain your sweater at this rate, so you decide to simply study at your apartment instead so you can change into new clothes.

This certainly puts a wrench into your plans, doesn’t it?

“Let me buy you another coffee. A new sweater too, it looks like,” he gives you a timidly awkward smile, as if he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to do so.

You offer him a quick rise of the corners of your lips, but not much else. It still felt a little shocking and disappointing to be in such a predicament, and you sure as hell didn’t want Ingrid’s ex to be owing you any favors.

“As I said, it’s fine. Really. This was an old sweater anyways,” you grab the hem as you speak, before trying to dodge around him to leave.

When he quickly blocks your attempt to escape, you realize the guy’s reflexes are quite remarkable. However, you wanted to be rid of this awkward situation as soon as possible, so his actions made you purse your lips together in discontent.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. This really wasn’t the way I’d imagine bumping into you again. Literally I guess,” he shyly runs his hand through his hair, which is now surprisingly dyed blonde. You knew something about him was different, but now you pinpoint it as his hair. He used to wear his natural dark brown locks when he was with Ingrid, so the change catches you off guard. It suits him well though, the way it easily brightens his whole demeanor.

“Don’t worry about it, it happens,” you tuck your hand into your pocket and continue, “Look I’ve really gotta go, I have midterms to study for.”

He promises you that he’ll pay you back as you rush out the door.

It seems that Mark is a man of his word, because the next day, you find a mysterious package addressed to you waiting outside the door. With no shipping label and your name scrawled on the top of the box, your survival instincts tell you that opening it on the living room floor was probably the last thing you should’ve done. However, that happened to be exactly what you did.

The first thing you notice was a small note laying atop a variety of items that were wrapped up with layers of navy-colored tissue paper. Reading through the note causes a bright flush to dash across your cheekbones, as you realize that the suspicious package was from Mark.

Ingrid’s Mark.

You began to slowly examine the rest of the contents with less zeal, hoping that your roommate wouldn’t pop out of a corner and accuse you of having something with her old flame. The neatly-folded white sweater you discovered inside was very similar to what you previously wore before the coffee incident. However, the material was definitely a lot nicer and you spent a good two minutes just stroking the material with your fingers. His attention to detail regarding what you had worn was crazy good, leaving you more than a little impressed.

Moving forward, you found a package of instant coffee—hazelnut-flavored to be exact. You grinned, realizing that Mark’s attention to detail really was impeccable. Perhaps anyone could’ve identified the hazelnut syrup in your drink if they spent five minutes wiping it off the floor, but he had gone out of his way to identify the same flavor for you.

It was kinda cute, actually.

As soon as the thought appears, you quickly shake it out of your head. Mark couldn’t be cute. He couldn’t be anything more than somebody you knew, someone who was paying you back for an inconvenience. He was doing these things because he owed you—even if he wasn’t exactly obligated to go through such lengths.

Before you could try to evaluate your feelings about the matter, you decide to boil some hot water for the coffee you’ve just received. It seems as if the universe is conspiring against you however, as Ingrid emerges from her room right on cue. She gives the box on the floor a quick glance before asking, “Did you order something?”

You tuck the thin pack of instant coffee in your pocket next to Mark’s note. Your fingers tighten across the slip of paper, crushing it into a condensed ball as you spoke.

“Yeah. Just some random stuff.”

“Sweater’s cute,” she remarks, grabbing your gift and running her hands through the material in the same way you had previously. You felt something twist in your heart at her ministrations, as if her touch were contaminating and wearing away what that article of clothing had meant to you.

When she finally leaves after dropping the sweater back in the box, you take the entire box to your room and dump it in a corner of your closet with a slam so you wouldn’t have to see it anymore.

It just so happens that that package from a boy with golden locks would signal the start of a series of frequent disruptions within your day-to-day lifestyle.

Fate probably thought it would be funny to let Mark Tuan slip into your life little by little, for a few seconds each day, just to tease you. You were starting to wonder if the boy was stalking you, given how often you would see him at unpredictable intervals. If you went to the library to study, he’d be there borrowing a textbook from the front desk. If you wanted to buy a coffee and a pastry for breakfast, he’d already be at the cashier paying for his own. If you were rushing to class, slightly late because you’d overslept, you’d almost crash into him in front of your building.

He’d always give you that cute smile with a little wave of his hand to accompany it.

Your life was a grade A joke at this point.

Midterms had long been over by the time you finally took him up on his offer to hang out one-on-one. You had spent a lot of time and effort into putting him off, making excuses for why not a single day of the week would work for you. When November rolled around, all Mark had to do was raise his lower lip slightly in a pout for you to forget why you were trying so hard to avoid him in the first place. You’d never seen the boy purposefully act in such a cute way to get something, but it definitely made your heart leap in your chest.

Even when he took you to a nice minimalistic café to pay for a drink and slice of strawberry cake, he couldn’t stop apologizing for bumping into you during midterms season. You had honestly forgotten about it, but the way he talked about how foolish he felt after the whole ordeal made you smile unconsciously. The consideration he had put into making it up to you stressed him out greatly. He couldn’t stop wondering whether or not you even liked the sweater. Did it fit you alright? Did you actually like hazelnut lattes, or were you just trying something new out that day?

At this point you couldn’t help but laugh. It was such a minute detail, something he really didn’t have to worry this much over, but he had worried nonetheless. It was really silly of him, but also showed that maybe he was more than just trying to play with your feelings. You’re about to tell him how you appreciate the thought he put into his apology gift when you realize he’s staring at you.

“W-What is it? Is there something on my face?”

He shakes out of his reverie and reassures, “No you’re fine. It’s just, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh like that.”

You blink in confusion before playing with your napkin in embarrassment, “Oh uh…I’m not laughing at you. I promise. I just think it’s amusing that you cared so much since I never held anything against you in the first place.”

Looking back into his soft brown eyes is a mistake, because as soon as you do, your heart starts racing again. He gives you a grin of his own in response, brushing his honey-colored hair back to briefly reveal his forehead. It’s stupid how much that simple gesture makes you want to jump his bones.

“I’d say it was a worth it, considering we’re basically friends now,” he says, happily taking a sip of his iced americano.

The assertion makes you hesitate briefly as you ask yourself whether or not the two of you were “friends”. You didn’t know him all that well yet, but a part of you looked forward to doing so. If anything, the only thing holding you back was that he was Ingrid’s ex. She’d probably laugh at you if she found out about your interest in him, and it also meant that you couldn’t be sure who Mark really was. Ingrid was notorious for having her pick among fuckboys, and maybe Mark was just one of them who was really good at hiding it.

It seems that he notices your lack of agreement in his earlier sentiment, so he says, “What will it take for me to be your friend Y/N?”

Using your fork to play with the cream left from your cake slice earlier, you reply, “I don’t know.”

He doesn’t push you further, sensing that your answer probably meant something deeper than what you were able to convey. You feel thankful that he lets the matter go and goes back to giving you an excited puppy-dog look.

“Come on, there’s something I wanna show you.”

Turns out “something” means the ice cream parlor down the street. As he walks you back to your apartment, you can’t help but notice the way he goes to town on that poor cookies n’ cream ice cream cone.

“Are you trying to fatten me up with sweets today?” you muse, enjoying your second pastry of the day courtesy to Mark.

“As if. You look perfect Y/N—nothing a cheat day could do to you.”

It’s like the guy’s a professional sweet talker too, since he barely bats an eye at the compliment. Not something you’re used to, you try your best to not blush obviously at his statement.

God, everything about Mark Tuan was too much for you. He was the epitome of a honey boy.

The walk is fairly interesting, as Mark turned out to be simultaneously a good listener and a good conversation carrier. He’d ask you some questions that you were comfortable answering, listening intently as you shared some details about your studies, your childhood, the things you liked and the things you didn’t. You knew he was paying attention because he’d always laugh along with you, as you recollected some embarrassing things that had happened to you in the week prior.

By the time you reach your apartment door, you’ve forgotten exactly who Mark was supposed to be to you. In his large, tan hoodie with his hands in his pockets, he felt like a nervous boy walking you to your door at the end of a first date.

But could you really expect life to do you any favors just when things started to look up?

The door swings open just as you fumble for your keys, and out steps the last person you wanted to see. Ingrid takes one look at Mark and another at you before a smirk blooms across her bright red lips. Her makeup told you that she was heading to another one of her parties where she’d definitely bring a boy or two home.

“Long time no see,” she addresses Mark first, giving him one of those smiles that probably instigated all those hook-ups she partakes in.

You can’t help but feel overshadowed and uncomfortable. It would hurt you beyond measure to see the two flirt with each other right in front of your eyes. You had half the mind to just push past Ingrid and call it a day, but Mark’s words stop you in your thoughts.

“Sure.”

It’s curt and simple, lacking the flirtatious tone that Ingrid had injected into her words earlier. If you didn’t know any better, it honestly sounded downright bored—as if the speaker couldn’t wait to get rid of her.

Not giving her much to work with, Ingrid turns towards you instead. “Didn’t know you’d go for my sloppy seconds Y/N.”

Your throat feels dry and you refuse to let yourself expect anything different than the reaction your roommate just gave you. Of course, you expected her to make fun of you. It made sense that she would think of you and Mark being outside the apartment as you picking up a boy she left behind.

But why did it fill you with shame anyways?

“As if anyone would. I wouldn’t get involved with one of your boy toys,” the words leave you mouth with disgust, a tone you couldn’t help given the way you were trying so desperately to hide your true feelings. Liking Mark was dangerous and it would mean that Ingrid was right. You weren’t involved with him. You couldn’t be.

As soon as your statement pierces the air, you sense Mark’s form stiffen next to you. Immediately, you’re filled with regret. Did you need to word things that harshly? Even if you could never get to know him beyond being an acquaintance, he had shown you nothing but kindness. He never tried to get in your pants or act like a certified sleazeball like you were insinuating.

When Mark turns around and leaves the two of you standing in the hallway, it’s almost like you’re stuck in a wall of honey. The figurative sticky syrup prevents your limbs from making a move after the blonde-haired boy, as you’re stuck watching him go—watching him hurt over your words. Your throat tightens painfully with the way you try not to cry, fearing that you really ended up harming a boy that didn’t deserve the way you just portrayed him.

For the next 11 days according to your count, you don’t see Mark again. You were used to finding him leaning around the corner, listening to music on his airpods as he waited for a friend’s class to end so they could go play basketball. You had just started to adjust to his daily presence by entertaining the idea that you could start spending time with him. Props to your big mouth and careless words for shattering the prospect to pieces. The sense of guilt you carried was far heavier that the notebooks you lugged to class, and you were hoping—no, praying that you would see that bright smile of his to unexpectedly bump into you again.

Maybe meeting him again was the most luck you were fated to have.

As you doodle in the margins of your notebook, wearing the sweater he bought you all those weeks ago, you formulate an apology plan. If you showed him you were sorry, actually really sorry, maybe he’d forgive you. It wasn’t like you deserved it but seeing him again would sure beat the dreary days you were currently victim to.

Wracking your thoughts for comments Mark had made to you regarding things he liked, you realized he hadn’t talked much about himself beyond seemingly having an affinity of cookies n’ cream ice cream. He did mention wanting to have a puppy if his apartment landlord would allow it though. If it were possible for you to be more depressed, you realized belatedly that he had spent a good amount of time learning more about you than you did about him.

After your classes, you head out to find something for him. It wasn’t like you could afford getting him a puppy, especially since he literally told you he wasn’t allowed to have one, so you searched for the next best thing. It took you a few hours of searching to find something that satisfied your expectations, and you set out to spend the rest of the day preparing it for when you would confront Mark yourself.

Standing outside of his apartment at 9 PM on a Friday night was probably one of the dumbest decisions you ever made, and you made a lot of those. He probably didn’t even know that you knew he lived here. Ingrid had made you pick her up once from a party one of his roommates hosted when she was still with him, and your trusty sense of direction never really allowed you to forget how to get from one place to another. Even if you wanted to turn around and run home straight away in fear, you forced yourself to knock on the door with three quick thumps.

Praying that it was Mark and not one of his rambunctious roommates who opened the door, your wish actually comes true and you’re greeted with the sleepy frame of the honey boy you missed so much over the last two weeks. He’s wearing a thin white tee with grey sweats, as he rubs his eyes as if he can’t believe he’s actually seeing you at his door.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” he quickly runs a hand through his hair, as if trying to hide the fact that you probably just woke him up.

Did Mark always look this good? It’s actually unfair how pretty he is.

Clearing your throat, you gather up as much courage as you could muster before saying, “Yep it’s me. I’m here to beg for forgiveness.”

“What for?” he tilts his head slightly in question before mumbling, “Come inside, it’s cold.”

He gently rests his hand on your shoulder before urging you inside, and the way he touches you sends a shiver down your spine. Trying not to let any surprised noises escape you, you hurry on into the warmth of the apartment. You look around as you take your shoes off, noticing how surprisingly clean it is despite five boys living here. Perhaps your preconceptions need to be changed.

You shyly trail behind his large figure as he leads you into what appears to be his room. Taking note of the light-up rainbow keyboard and gamer chair with scarlet red highlights, you realize that Mark is one of those boys. You almost laughed aloud imagining him as one of those kids that whined “Mom I’m busy!” while playing Call of Duty.

He collapses on his bed unceremoniously with a groan, looking like he was ready to pass out again. Wondering who in their right mind took naps at 9 in the evening, you awkwardly stood in front of him while playing with the ribbon of the gift in your hands.

Opening one eye to look at you, he sits up and pats the corner of the bed closest to him. Wide eyed, you point to yourself before pointing to the same bed corner. He chuckles, and the deep sound sends another shudder through your body.

“Yes, I’m talking to you silly,” he grins, as if he had already forgiven you.

Hurriedly, you plop your butt down on the bedsheets and push your apology gift into his hands. He seems confused at first, messing with the sides of the wrapping paper as he examines what you just gave him.

“I got this for you because…I’m sorry for the things I said,” you relax, shrinking down in sadness before continuing, “You’re my friend.”

He looks at you through your entire confession, hanging onto each word that slips out of your lips. When you stop and slowly look back at him to gauge his response, he gives you a small smile. But it’s only when he grabs your nervous hand in his own do you finally let the small sigh hiding inside your chest escape you.

“I’m more than just someone Ingrid messed with. You know that, don’t you?”

Nodding quickly, he laughs as if admiring the great bobblehead impression you were giving. Your hand in his grasp starts to become unbearably warm, as you bite your lip to keep your dangerous thoughts at bay.

“I thought I knew everything that happened. But I don’t, and I shouldn’t hold that against you,” you admit, slightly losing your train of thought when he begins to gently rub circles into the back of your hand with his thumb.

“Don’t hold that against yourself either.”

You allow yourself to meet his gaze again, and the amount of warmth and comfort you find there almost breaks you down instantly. Perhaps he knew more than he let on regarding the inner turmoil you struggled with by only thinking of Mark as someone Ingrid once had. But from the first time he ruined your study plans to the moment he bought you various sweets until you verbally forgave him, he was slowly disproving those preconceptions. The amount of understanding he offered you made you feel even worse for referring to him the way you did all those days ago.

All along you thought that Mark was bad for you. Perhaps it was you that truly didn’t deserve him.

Momentarily pulling away from your fingers, he begins unwrapping the package you brought along with you. Suddenly nervous, you fiddle with the hem of your petticoat as he slowly pulls out the adorable puppy hat you purchased for him from the mall yesterday. Mark stares down at the hat in his hands, and it’s only when he bursts out in laughter do you finally let your cheeks warm in embarrassment.

“What are you laughing at? I-It’s cute!” You stutter, furiously crossing your arms.

When he finally stops his fit of laughter, he sets the hat on his head in triumph as if he were wearing a crown of honor. Seeing it on him makes you giggle too, knowing that it was somehow possible for the boy you liked to get even cuter than he already was.

“Here, press the paws and the ears move,” you hand him the paws that dangled from the side of the hat and experimentally press one of them to demonstrate.

Mark spends the next few minutes pressing the ears at varying intervals and laughing at his reflection in the mirror.

“You know, maybe I should get upset more often. You’re great with gifts.”

Rolling your eyes, you retort, “Sure thing, honey.”

-----

#got7 #got7 fanfic #got7 imagines #got7 scenarios #got7 mark #mark tuan #mark x reader #mark tuan x reader #mark tuan x you #mark x y/n #mark x you #mark fluff #mark tuan fluff #got7 oneshot #mark ff #got7 ff #happy birthday mark #i love you

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lovelyirony · 4 years

Text

@theavengays requested rhodey being a bamf and tony being proud, both of them snarky along the way. so i’ve decided rhodey’s going to be a secret agent because i love it

Agent Rhodes is a very successful secret agent. Honest to god, he is. Looks debonair in a suit and everything.

He’s taken down crime syndicates, looked men in the eye who were coined “the most dangerous in the world” and never broken a sweat while fighting them. He executed lies flawlessly, could adjust at the drop of a hat, and disappear just as quickly.

Rhodey cannot speak to the barista at the coffee shop he goes to. He literally can’t. He’s known this barista for a year. His name is Tony. He wears an AC/DC button on his apron, always makes Rhodey a very fancy latte that he never orders, and has the best smile in the world.

Pepper makes fun of him whenever he comes into the office smiling like a dope.

“How was Tony? You say anything to him yet besides ‘hi’?”

“I hate you.”

“You said that to him? Wow, how unfortunate. You’ll die alone.”

“Don’t remind me, I just hope it’s somewhere fun. Like maybe Ireland on the side of the road or perhaps Spain.”

“You want to die in Spain? Spain?”

“Yeah, there’s a possibility of my ghost haunting La Sagrada Familia. I’m about that shit.”

“Jim, I hate you.”

Tony has a customer who is a regular and his favorite, and the only things he knows about him are as follows:

1.) The name he puts on the cup is Rhodey. He’s not sure if that’s an actual name or maybe he misheard it once, but Rhodey hasn’t corrected him.

2.) Aforementioned Rhodey looks like a total dreamboat in suits.

3.) One time on a Sunday he came in after a run and Tony thinks to this day that he has never been redder in his life.

“You should put your number on the cup,” Maria tells him, swiftly sliding a carrier of eight drinks to a businesswoman who flashes a smile as she juggles them out the door.

“What’s the worst that happens, he doesn’t text you?”

“The worst that happens is he never comes in again and I am doomed to die of loneliness and heartbreak,” Tony decides. “Or he finds another coffee shop and I find him there and repeat the same process of dying.”

“Are you completely sure you didn’t major in theater?” Bruce calls out from his spot at the drive-thru. “I think you majored in theater because that was dramatic as fuck.”

“Language!” comes the chorus of other employees.

“We have one coworker who doesn’t even work two months and somehow he’s still influencing this shit,” Bruce mutters.

(Said coworker was Steve Rogers. Great latte-foam artist, also a member of the secret spy organization that Rhodey belongs to. He’s actually the one who got Rhodey to come in. Steve is also really bad at staying undercover because someone took a video of him making the art and then the villains found him. To this day, Pepper has never laughed harder.)

Tony has another job on the side, because being a coffee shop employee does not exactly get you obscene amounts of wealth. He works for “Hap’s Repair Shop” on Wednesdays, Fridays, and the weekend. He’s really good at car repairs, and usually gets cars in and out quicker than anyone else in the city. Because of this, the shop is much sought after and now Happy can afford to pay for the boxed set of Downton Abbey. He’s very pleased.

A problem: one of Rhodey’s enemies gets his car serviced at Hap’s. It’s a whole workup on this fine Monday afternoon. Tires are being rotates, breaks are being changed, and an oil change. This means the villain is in a borrowed car until five-thirty, when Tony will return the car.

Rhodey has no idea that Tony works here.

Because the villain is running into the shop, intent on picking up his car really quick and potentially maybe hiding out.

Except Rhodey is a badass and absolutely is gaining speed as he’s chasing him down.

Tony yelps as Rhodey effortlessly grabs a wrench, putting it through the glass of the car and at least getting the other guy (who’s name on paperwork was Mark) to jump and move.

Tony is just watching his coffee customer be a total badass. He should not be as hot and bothered as he is by this, and he is also pretty sure that he can still see Happy in his office taking his before-going-home nap. The man never fails to amaze him.

Rhodey jumps as the guy tries to throw various hammers and tools his way, successfully dodging each one. He’s light on his feet, throwing projectiles, and not breaking his gaze from his target.

Tony helps at the end, tripping the guy Rhodey’s after with a rolling cart. The guy completely wipes out, head knocking on a cabinet as he goes down.

“Oh no,” Tony says. “Please don’t be dead.”

Rhodey faces who the man is, gaping.

“Tony?”

“Rhodey?”

“Oh my god, I am so sorry you had to see that,” Rhodey babbles. “I usually don’t let people see my work and now I ruined that car.”

“It’s fine, that was his car,” Tony says. “You...you’re not exactly a businessman, are you?”

“Not in the usual sense, no.”

(Not in any sense, as Tony will come to find out.)

“Well, you’re very good at all this,” Tony says.

“You’re really good at making coffee,” Rhodey says. “Best in all of town.”

“Have you been to any other coffee shop?”

“Um, no? Why would I do that?”

Tony blushes, rolling his eyes. “I suppose you owe me a dinner for chasing a bad guy around the shop.”

“I suppose I do.”

Rhodey and Tony start dating, and Tony actually gets most if not all of the coffee shop employees to double as secret agents by the end of the year.

Bruce particularly enjoys it, as he gets to make latte art and also teach the new, incoming agents which poisons will blend seamlessly with what flavor for said lattes.

“Also if you know how to make good art with foam, it can help transfer some poisons way quicker,” Bruce says.

“You don’t actually like killing people, right? Like, this isn’t actual poison?” New Recruit Peter Parker asks. He’s really nervous.

Thor pokes his head in.

Bruce grins at him.

“Hey babe.”

“Bruce, please tell me that you’re not telling the recruits that we use poison on the lattes.”

“Technically they would find out that I was lying later?”

The class lets out a collective breath.

They move in together after about five months, and Tony fully admits that his favorite thing is that Rhodey never expects him to press his cold hands under his stomach, and Rhodey has the best shriek.

It’s also fun to make breakfast together, dance in the kitchen, and discover each other in a new, fun way.

“Who knew I’d get so lucky with coffee?” Rhodey says softly one night, smiling as Tony nudges him away to get the serving platter.

“No one,” Tony says. “Who knew I’d get such a loyal customer?”

“Me,” Rhodey says. “I’d follow you to the ends of the earth, and then I’d follow you when we surpassed that.”

“That’s a loyal promise,” Tony says. “Are you sure?”

“More than anything,” Rhodey says. “Where you go, I go.”

Tony smiles, pressing his forehead against Rhodey’s shoulder.

“Rhodey, I think I’ve decided to love you forever and a day.”

“Only a day after forever? Hm...”

Tony smacks his shoulder after that.

“Geek. Pass me the tongs.”

“Okay.”

Rhodey smiles after him, watching Tony hum and dance a bit to the song playing over the speakers.

Yeah. He was definitely gonna marry him.

#anyways both are Stupid and Dumb #but Cute :)#rhodeytony #tony stark #rhodey #james rhodey rhodes #war machine #rhfe #ironhusbands #iron man #lovelyirony writes #coffee shop au #secret agent au

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sofuckingdarling-blog-blog · 3 years

Text

Erwin, Levi and Tea part 2 of 2.

So he told himself safe things, like that his admiration for Levi was perfectly reasonable, after all everyone admired Levi, even people who didn't much like the man admired him. His yearning for closeness was just a result of that admiration. But Erwin knew better and a part of him had known that he was drawn to Levi in a more passionate way then admiration would dictate, that he had felt something there that was strong and unyielding since he first set eyes on the way Levi flew. But Erwin tried his best to be careful during tea time, he focused on moderating himself, perfected the timing of his stares. Sometimes though, he felt himself to transparent, a gaze lingered to long an accidental touch that caused a bright red flush to become obvious on his pale cheekbones, but each time he thought he may have outed himself. Levi was as unaffected as ever and Erwin could internally sigh with relief.

Erwin was always the one to approach Levi and that didn't change until Levi lost Petra and Farlan. He remembers clearly the urgent knock at his door and the shock he felt seeing the smaller man's eyes bloodshot and rimmed red looking frantically around , trying to avoid looking at Erwin altogether As if somehow looking at him would hurt. Erwin just opened his door and offered to brew Levi some tea, his brewing skills had gotten better thanks to Levi's detailed and somewhat impatient instruction. Levi nodded still refusing to look at him and he left his office and came back with two cups and pot of chamomile tea, hoping it would help soothe Levi's nerves. The night was long ,countless cups of tea were drained and Erwin sat at his desk mindlessly going over the same pieces of paperwork, thoughts focused solely on the man in front of him. It seemed odd that hours earlier this same man held a blade to Erwin, furious and half in shock with grief, needing an outlet. Levi had lashed out .

Erwin was actually happy to be the recipient of that violent grief stricken action, it gave him a chance to let his comrade know the depth of his importance in the fight for humanity, it allowed him to express to the Levi that holding on to regret would only hurt him and the people depending on him. He was able to tell him with sincerity that they would push forward together and make sure that the death of his loved ones has meaning. He did his best to give Levi clarity and a solid goal while he was floundering in his grief. That this incredibly powerful man listened to Erwin's words through his pain set his soul alight. it was shaky, new and hard won, but Erwin knew that a certain amount of Levi's trust had been given to him in that moment.

Still as they sat facing each other mugs of tea in had Erwin was afraid to make a wrong step, to somehow damage his hurting comrades trust before they had a chance to build on it. He felt at a loss, his heart and guts felt tight and twisted up. Erwin knew to well that there was nothing anyone could say that would really help ease the pain. So Erwin was quiet, and as with most things in their slow blooming relationship, He let Levi take the lead. He remembers hoping that night that the warmth from the chamomile was comforting to Levi that somehow the familiarity of their interaction would help ease the frantic mans tension. At that moment Erwin wished he could infuse the tea with every warm thought he held for the man in front of him. He knew it was a stupid silly vain thing to wish for but the twisting in his gut relaxed at thought.

It was as though his body was calling out for him to comfort the grief stricken Levi. But he knew that they were not at such an intimate level and the knowledge was bitter in his throat, it pricked at the corners of his eyes and he had to compose himself subtly before looking back at the narrow steel grey eyes. His eyes seemed less frantic and more resigned underneath the delicate furrowed brows, and Erwin's stomach clenched at the thought of the turmoil Levi was experiencing. Erwin knew that Levi's heart was more tender then his in dealing with this sort of loss, not that Levi was in any way weaker because of it, just newer to the Corps and with a heart more decent then Erwin, Levi's heart to Erwin was a very clear indicator of strength, because despite all he had experienced it was still so full of the capacity to love. lost in these thoughts Erwin almost missed it when Levi said "Farlan, Isabel and I, we were saving up to go to the surface, you know? We were going to be filthy rich, the sort of rich where we wouldn't even have to wipe our own asses if we didn't want to." his fingers traced the outlines on a fancy tin of tea. "It seems stupid now, I'm sure it sounds stupid, but It wasn't about being rich, it was about comfort, if we could fantasize about a life that we didn't have to struggle through everyday just to be constantly shit on it was easier to wake up in the mornings."

Erwin blinked, shocked at the unprompted confession, in awe over the heart wrenching honesty. his heart pounding in his chest. Erwin hadn't known about the specific aspects of their plans to get to the surface, he knew the surface was the end goal of getting the bounty on Erwin but he didn't know the details. They came as a bit of a surprise to Erwin, but the comfort aspect made complete sense to him, having to live everyday struggling to survive carrying around the burden of a growling stomach would be hard without a fantasy to sustain you. That they fantasized about wealth was unsurprising. Full stomachs everyday, safe comfortable places to sleep, the ability to indulge in the things that made them happy. No longer being powerless.

Levi continued fingers still tracing the fancy lettering on the tin of luxury tea face resolutely pointed downwards "I wanted to tell you thank you though, for the tea, I don't actually care about being wealthy like the pigs in Sina but I didn't think someone like me would get the chance to look at some shit like this, and here I am drinking it almost every week, i mean shit its unbelievable, Isabel and Farlan were impressed, they didn't really like the tea very much but I'd bring some over to their ungrateful asses anyway, they were happy for me that I got to drink fancy ass tea. They were good people like that." Levi's laugh is hollow "Thanks Erwin" he gets up suddenly and walks to the door.

"We can drink tea whenever Levi" Erwin blurts out and before he can stop himself "Whatever tea you want, any sort of tea in all of Sina in all of the walls" and Erwin feels absolutely ridiculous and disgustingly bare under Levi's steady gaze. but to his massive surprise and relief the smaller mans lip curls up so slightly it would be easy to miss and Erwin probably would have missed it had he not spent so much time studying Levi's expressions. "Sure Erwin, whatever old man don't have a stroke" he closes the door behind him with a thud.

Erwin is left with his thoughts and the rising sun, he feels stuck to the spot behind his desk. His ears are red and he thinks about how Levi and his friends had dreamed of luxury, his friends are no longer around but Erwin is grateful that for the duration of their time with the Survey Corp they had full bellies and warm safe beds and even according the Levi got to try some of the luxury tea's that Erwin had bought. Erwin had no idea how Levi managed to sneak them out without him knowing but he suspects a lock picking kit and graceful, nimble, fingers that are all to familiar from Erwin's observation of them griping a tea cup by the rim or tracing over beautifully decorated packages. One day Erwin thinks he will manage to pluck up the courage to ask Levi why he holds his cup in such an odd way. Erwin shakes his head free from his frivolous thoughts, thoughts that are caught up in Levi completely.

Erwin knows that its selfish but he is so happy that Levi is still here living, breathing, and with him in the Survey Corp. He wasn't lying when he said that humanity needed Levi's strength, but Erwin knows that isn't the only reason he wants Levi around. He decides then that life really is to short, especially for them. In the short time they have left, since being in the Scouts is like living on borrowed time, Erwin wants to be the one that indulges Levi, he realizes this like a smack to his face stinging, bright and obvious. He wants to be the one that exposes Levi to every luxury possible given his budget. He may not be wealthy like the nobles in Sina but he has a fair amount of money, he is well connected, motivated and talented in scheming.

So when Levi comes to him a day after his night spent grieving in Erwin's room, Erwin is relieved. He let out a breath he had been holding since he stupidly let words naked with the desire of Levi's company spill from his mouth. Levi asks him if he's ever heard of tea that blooms when its brewed and Erwin smiles. He tells Levi he actually know where to get some, and Levi looks up at him through his fringe which looks like it needs a cut soon and says "Great lets get some of that shit" and Erwin's entire frame feels electric. He follows the request up by asking Erwin if he would be wiling to brew some tea in an hour or so, after dinner, and Erwin is sure his body is made of something capable of creating sparks.

He feels the desire to shower Levi in good things as something sharp and warm, almost possessive almost jealous. It's the part of him that guards his observations of Levi and each cup of tea he drinks with a feverish tenacity. That feels pleasure curl as deep as his bone marrow each time Levi requests a specific blend of tea, or lets out an obviously pleased sigh after sipping from his cup. That Levi had ever had the desire for luxury is a blessing for Erwin who delights in every good thing he can give the small man. Erwin who is awestruck by the wonder that colors Levi's expressions at things he never thought he would see or experience underground. He wants to keep those expressions to himself because there is something so fragile and breakable in those expressions of contentment, pleasure, excitement, wonder and awe that he has to fight back his instincts to protect and remind himself to enjoy the time he has with this incredible person. Erwin is no longer a frugal man, as Levi has unleased every indulgent part of him.

#eruri #eruri feels #levi/erwin #erwin/levi #erwin smith #erwin danchou #levi heichou #levi ackerman #aot #aot imagines #aot headcanons #snk #Levi/Tea

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dyde21 · 3 years

Text

Learning 2

Read on AO3 HERE

Summary: MJ is worried about Peter, and when she goes to check on him the next day she finds things are worse than she feared. Now can she help him see he needs help?

Michelle Jones was a bit scared by how easy it was to love Peter. What had started out as a simple fascination with an honest nerd with a bright smile turned into a school girl crush, and ended up with them falling in love and being happily together in college. Growing up, MJ never expected herself to end up in a gushy romance story. It wasn’t that she didn’t think she would fall in love, she just figured she’d be older and have a more mature, graceful descent into it.

But life didn’t care about her plans and she found herself lost in Peter’s smiles and safe in his arms. Something she honestly never expected was that her boyfriend would be an actual superhero. That really was less of throwing a wrench in her plans as much as blowing them up all together. But she was Michelle Fucking Jones. She could handle it. She’d learn, make a plan, and deal with it just like everything else in her life.

It definitely wasn’t easy at times. Having to learn basic first aid to help treat him when he stumbled into her apartment beat half to death, learning to keep up to date on all sorts of crazy villains so she could help him when he needed it, whether or not he asked for it. Having to accept that choosing to stay with him meant that there would be an unfortunate number of missed dates, or early departures. A constant worry that he might face a threat he wouldn’t be able to overcome, and the acceptance that her life may be thrown in the crosshairs eventually too.

But that didn’t matter to MJ. Not as much as he did. The way he listened to and absorbed every word she said, earnestly caring about what she was passionate about. The way he did his absolute best to be there for her when he was able to, and almost never blamed her for being upset with him. The way his eyes would crinkle when he laughed, or he’d see past her harsh words or thinly veiled lies to see what she truly meant and was scared to say. His understanding of her defensive habits built up from a rough childhood, and his patience to get through her walls. The way he gave himself for the city, while never asking for anything in return even when he deserved so much more than he had.

Her biggest gripe with him was probably that he tried to shoulder everything on his own. He had lost so much in his life, and she knew he felt like if he tried to reach out too much for someone, he’d only lose them too. He didn’t care about taking care of himself because there was always someone else he could help first, and he saw that as more important. She admired how selfless he was, but it also frustrated her because it went beyond being humble into being neglectful of himself and harmful. But he didn’t seem to be able to accept that fact no matter how hard they all tried to get it into his head. It hurt to be with someone like that, especially because of how much she loved him. But Michelle Jones was not a quitter, and nothing was going to get in the way of them. Not her own defensive nature or his self destructive habits, they’d learn together.

When she heard a knock on her door early on Saturday, her first thought was to look around the room to find a blunt object to bludgeon them with in return. Pulling down the hood of Peter’s hoodie that she had stolen, and needed to replace soon because it was losing his smell, she shuffled her way to the door.

Opening it, she was surprised to see her golden retriever of a boyfriend standing there looking shocked that she answered the door. She realized it had been the first time she had seen his face since he had bailed on their dinner to fight the Rhino. She couldn’t help the flash of frustration that boiled up. She had gone into the night expecting to be disappointed, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still sting when she had to send him off to save the city.

She knew, she knew perfectly that he really didn’t want to leave. She saw him starting to resign himself to staying with her. But she also knew that if someone died because they were having dinner, it’d destroy him on the inside, and she couldn’t help but feel guilty too. Reasonably she also knew that it wasn’t their fault. Neither of them had an obligation to drop everything, always, to deal with every problem. It was impossible to solve crime in New York completely. But she also knew he had to try, so she had sent him off and tried not to let the disappointment sting too much as she paid for the dinner and left, head hung high in defiance.

Then she saw his face though. The way his cheeks seemed a little more sunken, his beautiful brown eyes seeming just a little bit dimmer. Beyond just nerves, he was seeming even more ragged lately, and she doubted it was just because of the dinner. She felt concern growing in her chest at his state. But she was at least glad to see him. She really did miss seeing him, even if they were busy. Even when they were tense around each other, the first person she always wanted to go to for comfort was him.

“Hi.” She offered, seeing as he was still seemingly reeling from being pulled out of whatever internal spiral he had found himself in.

“U-uh hi. Yeah. I just…” He rambled, making her raise an eyebrow. She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms.

“I’m kinda busy.” She said, before wincing. That didn’t come out right. She knew he came over here to properly apologize, and probably had something else to tell her. It wasn’t that he was unwelcome, she just had a lot of studying left to do, and the lack of sleep and stress had made her snappy but she didn’t want him to think she was still angry about the dinner. That fight wasn’t worth it, and she had been the one to give him permission to go instead of making him choose between them that night. Ugh, emotions sucked sometimes.

“Right! I know.” He cleared his throat. “I know. I promise I’m not here to bother you. I just… here.”

Peter offered her one of her thermos he had borrowed one night. She took a sip a bit confused until she felt the familiar taste of her current favorite tea. She couldn’t help but smile as she knew he remembered her favorite tea, even if she had a habit of changing it monthly. He still always listened and committed it to memory as if her preferences were something he needed to know more than the material for his midterms.

“Also these. And an apology. I’m really sorry. I know I say that a lot. And it sucks. But I am.” Peter added as MJ found two boxes shoved into her arms too. Looking down, she was surprised as she saw they were boxes of that tea as well. Even when things had been tense, he still went out of his way to bring her a thoughtful gift he really didn’t have to. She wasn’t even waiting for an apology or some sort of peace offering. He had apologized plenty before and after he had left, but he still felt determined to make up the perceived slight to her.

She saw his gaze fall to the floor and she could practically see the crushing guilt he felt for literally saving people’s lives. He really was too kind for this stupid city that did nothing but chew him up and spit him back out. Moving forward, she tilted his chin up after moving her thermos to her other hand and shared a kiss with him.

After the kiss, he stared at her with that adorable slightly dazed expression he always had after they kissed. “I know you have work so I won’t distract you. I just… wanted to give you a little care package, and say I know you’ll rock this. I can proofread your article if you need me to too. Or just to get an opinion.”

Jesus, how did she end up with someone so sweet? He knew she was busy, despite being incredibly busy himself, and just wanted to support her without getting in her way. He also knew she liked getting a second opinion on her writing, and wanted to be there for her despite everything on his plate. Moments like these made her want to ask Stark for a suit just so she could beat up anyone who would dare hurt this man, just so she could keep him safe and give him the world.

“Thanks, Tiger.” She said. She couldn’t get past how ragged he looked though. The bags under his eyes were getting worse and his shoulders were sumping lower than they usually did. “Are you okay though?” She asked as she reached out to gently turn his jaw to get a better look at his profile. What normally made her heart flutter (he was very pretty) was now just making her concerned. His cheekbones weren’t normally this pronounced either, she had sketched them enough times to know for sure.

“Have you been eating? Sleeping? You look like shit.” She called him out, reading his expression to look for any of the rather obvious tells he had for lying. It really was a miracle more people didn’t know his identity because he sucked at lying. Or she had just spent too long staring at his face that she could read him like he was her favorite book. (He was)

“Oh, ouch.” She rolled her eyes, that little shit. He knew exactly what she meant. “Midterms.” Peter brushed off her concerns with a shrug. “Happens to us all. I mean you always look beautiful. But you also look a little less beautiful. Only stunningly gorgeous today.”

He had the audacity to look smug while trying to flatter his way out of her interrogation. No matter how sweet he was, she wasn’t that stupid. She gently shoved his shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t try to make myself look nice hoping you’d drop by unannounced.” She replied in a dry tone. “But Gwen and I are making sure we take care of each other. You’re still living alone since Ned moved in with Betty. I’m worried.”

MJ was straightforward like always, knowing beating around the bush with Peter didn’t usually lead anywhere. They resolved things better when they got straight to the point, that’s how they functioned as a couple. Peter would be too flighty if you let him when he was trying to hide something. His solution to hiding something was to leave, which always only made it more glaringly obvious.

“I’ll be fine. Just gotta get a lot done this weekend. Then I’ll rest next week sometime. Maybe we can have a night in, no suit, no alerts.” He said with one of the fake smiles MJ hated. She hated seeing him bottle up what he was feeling, and she was pretty sure even he knew she wasn’t fooled by them.

But she was also a little startled by the desperation she could see in his eyes. She was used to seeing some sort of exhaustion, all college students had it. Even the non-super powered ones. But this almost scared her a little. Like the light in his eyes was flickering out and he was desperately searching for something to hold onto. A sort of lifeline to keep him going.

“Yeah. Sounds nice. I’d like that.” She said, honestly meaning that. She wasn't sure if they’d actually get to have that night, but she was desperate to give him the comfort he so clearly needed right now.

She leaned in for another kiss when her eyes saw his collarbones. “Pete, you need to eat. You’re losing weight again.” She scolded. She had also drawn his collarbones to know that they weren’t usually that pronounced either. (She drew him a lot, okay?)

She could see his own walls starting to form as he was rejecting the truth he was running from. That he needed help, like every person on this freaking planety did. “I will! I bought stuff today.” he offered, and MJ was not impressed.

“I can’t wait to read your article. You better send it to me!” With that he was off down the hallway, leaving MJ to watch him leave and lean against the doorway with a sigh. Her thoughts were now on him, and she could tell he was falling into a rut again. This happened occasionally when everything in his life seemed to pile on.

Stepping back in, she set the tea down and texted Ned.

Peter just brought me a gift and offered to help me with work. Lemme know if our little santa shows up at your place next.

There was a beat before Ned responded.

Oh shit, is he doing rounds again? He’s not Mr.Stark he can’t afford to give gifts every time he’s stressed.

MJ knew that was true and walked back over to her work station, chewing her lip. Stressed out Peter around midterms was bad. But he was also left alone now, which meant it was even easier for him to push everyone away with his bad habits. MJ knew she had to talk to him tomorrow, check in just to make sure he was actually okay. Even if just for her sanity. She’d really rather find out she was reading too much into the situation and be wrong, than realize she was right.

But that meant she had to finish her work tonight, so she could focus on him properly tomorrow. She didn’t moonlight as a vigilante, and she was a good student, so she was actually not too worried about her midterms, she had been studying properly. She just had to finish this article and she’d be good. Though some of that credit went to Gwen cause while it kinda sucked to keep yourself on track, it was easy to keep someone else focused so they worked together this term.

When she got the text from Ned a little later, that he had indeed shown up, MJ felt more fear creep into her heart. That meant he was doing his rounds. This wasn’t just thoughtful Peter, this was panicked Peter. She just hoped he would take care of himself and get through this weekend in one piece.

MJ had to employ every trick in her book to stay focused to get through the article and not let her day be wasted worrying about Peter. There wasn’t much she could do right now, other than set herself up to be in a good position to help him.

When she finally heard Gwen come home a little later she looked up and offered a smile.

Gwen turned, one earbud in as she sang along to the music in her ears. A song her boyfriend Miles had shown her recently she recognized. She paused when she saw MJ, and her brow furrowed. “What’s wrong with Peter?” Gwen asked, setting down her stuff and moving to sit across from MJ.

Scowling at being read so easily, she crossed her arms a bit defiantly. “What do you mean?” She asked, just to be a little difficult.

Gwen rolled her eyes, not impressed with MJ’s show of bravado. “You have your Peter scowl on.” She explained simply.

“I don’t have a Peter scowl.” MJ replied.

In return, Gwen gave MJ the flattest look she had ever seen on the girl. “You’re chewing your lip, your shoulders are hunched and you keep glancing at your phone. You wouldn’t look at the phone if it had to do with your work, and Peter would be over here too if it had to do with Ned. Seeing as I haven’t gotten any major news updates it means Peter’s not kicking butt right now either, which meant something is wrong with him.” Gwen reasoned annoyingly well.

MJ just sighed. “I hate you sometimes.”

Gwen shrugged, a cheerful smile on her face. “You’re not that complicated once someone gets to know you. But what’s up, is he okay?” Gwen asked, leaning forward.

MJ thought about being stubborn for a little longer, but realized she was just being moody because she was in fact worried about Peter. “I don’t know. He’s doing his rounds again.” MJ said, motioning to the tea boxes on the counter.

Gwen looked over before she sighed. “Ah, I see.”

It turned out Gwen and Peter got along pretty well, and she had joined the Friends of Spider-man club pretty quickly. In true Parker fashion, it had been an accident. He had climbed into her window one night after a fight with the vulture, half dead and bleeding. Gwen had heard the thump and MJ’s freaking out, and came to investigate. The blonde had thought she was killing Spider-man until she saw who it was with his mask off. Since then, MJ was actually grateful she had someone else to freak out with when stuck watching the news during a nasty fight, or someone she could openly complain to when it came to the more difficult aspects of dating a superhero.

Peter had apologized about potentially putting Gwen in danger by knowing and Gwen shut that shit down hard, scolding him almost as bad as MJ had about not getting to choose whether she stays involved with him for her. That was when Gwen had cemented herself as MJ’s number one female friend.

Gwen leaned back on the chair, twirling her hair as she thought through the situation. “I assume May is okay?”

MJ nodded. “He doesn’t hide stuff like that. If she was sick he would have told us straight up. I don’t think it’s Avengers related either. He’s gotten better about telling us when he can’t give us specifics.”

Gwen nodded, sighing. “Maybe it’s just midterms? We’re all kind of a mess right now.”

MJ sighed, running her hand through her hair with frustration. “Maybe. I don’t know. He hasn’t been sleeping and he’s lost a lot of weight. Again. The idiot is also trying to hide it.”

Rolling her eyes, Gwen stood up. “Like he’s good at hiding things.” She put her hands on her hips and looked at MJ. “Come on, you need a break. I’ll order some chinese food, you choose a movie. You’re not going to get any work done like this, and I’m putting off studying.” She replied cheerfully, making MJ laugh.

“Fine. Fine.” MJ reletened, saving her almost done article and closing her laptop. She needed a distraction and to process the new problem in her mind so she could get back on track.

By the time Gwen had finished ordering their usual MJ had chosen a movie and was curled up on one end of the couch, clutching the pillow close as she stared at the TV.

“Aww, you don’t even realize you’re doing it, do you?” Gwen said, sitting on the opposite end and nudging MJ’s thigh with her foot.

Returning fire with a confused look, MJ tilted her head slightly. “What?”

Pointing at the pillow MJ was clutching to her chest, Gwen waited.

Looking down, MJ saw that she was clutching the Spider-man throw pillow Gwen had gotten her as a joke gift for her birthday after she found out about Peter. Petulantly, she turned her head back towards the movie, but made no attempt to hug the pillow less. She did however scowl when Gwen’s laughter rang out.

When her phone let out the jingle set only to Spidey news, her heart sank. “He’s not stupid enough to go out this weekend, right? He has midterms and he looked like he was barely holding himself together. He’s not that fucking stupid, right?” MJ asked herself mostly as she dove for her phone. Sure enough news reports of Spidey fighting the Rhino were at the top of her notifications.

“I’m gonna kill him.” MJ said, glancing at Gwen who had already paused their movie and was turning on the news.

Gwen winced as she saw Rhino throw the car at him. “Looks like you might have to get in line.”

“GWEN!” MJ shrieked at her, still staring at the screen.

“Sorry, wrong time.” Gwen offered, her eyes glued to the shaky footage.

They both gasped as Peter was slammed against the wall by the car then the Rhino and from the helicopter footage there was a heart-stopping moment where it looked like he had been impaled. Before MJ could even begin to process that horrible reality Peter had kicked him off and continued the fight.

When Rhino was finally down MJ felt like she had lost another year to her life. “He’s so freaking stupid. I’m switching majors and becoming an architect so I can build him a special prison so he can stay there and be safe. I’ll build him a fucking jungle gym so he can still feel like Spider-man if he wants to. I’m never letting him go out into the fucking streets again.” MJ ranted as Gwen rubbed her back.

Then they saw the cops pointing guns at Spider-man and MJ was on her feet. “Are you serious? The fucking cops are going to shoot Spider-man because they can’t do their goddamn jobs? That they have to let a student clean up the messes they can’t with their defense fund of a budget in this freaking city?”

Gwen stayed silent. Her dad was a cop, and she knew most of the cops did like Spidey, but she also knew that orders were orders. She was also aware MJ was still in one of her spidey-panics and not actually looking for a calm rational debate about police funding.

Luckily they watched Peter vanish and they switched back to the movie, Gwen stealing glances occasionally as she saw MJ slowly come down from the rush. They finished their movie and food and both went back to work.

By the time MJ had finished her first draft of the article she felt like she had calmed down. She knew Peter would be back from patrol by now, and hopefully eating and taking a rest so she sent him a text.

Saw the alert. You okay?

She knew he was probably fine if he hadn’t come crawling in her window asking for help. Which was good news. But she also always wanted to just pull him into a hug and keep him safe after she saw him on the news which she didn’t get to do when he was back at his place.

I’m fine. Nothing broken this time. Promise. Was his response. She stared at it for a moment, as if the text on the screen would reveal more information if she intimidated it enough. She was pretty sure he was telling the truth this time at least. “Nothing broken, he says.” She relayed to Gwen, who let out a sigh of relief.

You better not be lying. Wanna read my article? Are you caught up on midterms?

She responded, already pulling open an email to send it to him. She knew his response before he even typed it.

Yeah, doing surprisingly well. I can use a break. Send it over.

Thanks, Tiger. She responded and stared at the body of the email, debating what to say.

Part of her wanted to scold him for going out when he had so much on his plate. Wanted to tell him he was being reckless. Another part wanted to praise him and leave him a sweet message. Hopefully give him something to smile about when he saw the message after the long fight, but that felt too cheesy.

She typed some stuff, staring at the blinking cursor.

Here’s the essay. Lemme know your thoughts. Make sure you drink water tonight, and go shower. I know you’re lazy about it after patrol.

She chewed her lip, hovering over the send button. Was she too pushy?

“Oh my god, just hit send.” Gwen said, not even looking up from her own laptop.

Reflexively MJ hit the send button before she even realized she was. “How did you know?”

“Because if you stared any harder at the laptop without typing anything it was going to catch on fire.” Gwen said, only glancing up to give her a smug smirk before looking back down.

MJ flipped her off, which Gwen cheerfully returned.

Managing to review a few chapters from the notes she had, she finally got the email back from Peter. Scanning through it, she couldn’t help the smirk on her features. Sometimes fighting crime in spandex and geeking out over the newest electronic thing Tony made made MJ forget how smart Peter was in other fields as well. His points were well reasoned, and his critiques honest but fair. She found herself agreeing with pretty much every point he made, and almost felt dumb she didn’t catch them herself.

“I take it he sent back useful notes?”

“Stop reading me, Gwen.”

“Then make it at least a little bit of a challenge.”

MJ just scowled but texted Peter.

Thanks Tiger, you’re the best. You actually made good points, I’m impressed. Need me to check over your essay?

She couldn’t help the smile as she doodled a little spider in the corner of her notebook, spinning a web in the shape of a heart.

It still needs some work before I can show it to anyone. I’m good, thanks though. Love you. Her phone buzzed.

This made MJ frown again. “Needs some work” was his slang for not done at all. He wasn’t shy about showing her unpolished writing. He was shy about showing unfinished writing. That meant he was behind. And he still went out fucking patrolling. MJ threw her pen down, leaning her head back and rubbing her face. Was he trying to stress her out or was that a natural gift that came with the spider bite. That meant she needed to make sure he actually got some help with his essay tomorrow so he could get some much needed sleep.

Love you too. Get some sleep, okay? I know the Rhino is annoying and I saw you get hit with that car. I can help you study tomorrow so get some sleep. She practically ordered him. She knew the chances were slim, but she hoped just once he’d be a good little spider and listen to her when she was making sense.

You still have studying to do too, don’t worry. I’ll be fine. So much for that. She couldn’t think of a response that wouldn’t end up with them arguing with each other over text so she just set her phone down. His inability to accept help was seriously a problem and she was going to have to confront him about it after midterms. She’d drag in the whole FoS group if she needed to, because this wasn’t healthy. She knew he knew better, and she really didn’t want to date someone who couldn’t take care of themselves. Especially when she knew he could, but wouldn’t. That was the most frustrating part of it.

Gwen must have read she was at her wits end because she closed both of their laptops. “That’s enough for tonight. You look like you’re about to kidnap Peter yourself and I stopped caring about my grades about an hour ago so we should sleep. Tomorrow we can figure out how to download the latest update of common sense into Peter, okay?”

MJ nodded, leaning back in her chair. “Yeah. You’re right. Thanks Gwen.” She got up and pulled her friend into a hug. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Gwen returned it and shrugged. “Either kill Peter, or kidnap him and put him in a zoo for safety, probably.”

MJ laughed. “We have some unused space here. We could build a nice little enclosure for him.”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Please, we both know whenever he’s over here he stays in your bedroom.”

MJ flushed red. “Shut up!”

Gwen just laughed and walked away, waving her hands as she disappeared into her room.

MJ made sure the apartment was locked up safely before she went to her bed, pulling the little Spider-man plushy she had gotten to see the reaction Peter would make when he saw it a little closer, and was out within minutes.

XxXxXxXxX

The next morning MJ found herself making the trek to his apartment. She had her backpack with her work in it, one of his favorite coffees and some bagels for breakfast. She thought it might be a little early, but also knew that he was probably already up because he was allergic to sleep even when he didn’t have nightmares. What she didn’t expect to see when she made her way up to his floor though was a couple of neighbors standing nervously in the hallway.

She approached a little faster. She quickly made her way to his door, knocking on it. “Peter?”

She tried knocking again when one of his neighbors approached. “You’re his girlfriend right. Is he okay? We heard shouting and a loud crash.” They said a bit nervously. MJ’s heart kicked into overdrive. Peter almost never shouted and crashing in a superhero’s house usually meant very bad things.

“PETER!” She called out, fishing out his spare key he had given her and unlocked the door, closing it behind her to keep out prying eyes just in case.

Setting down her bag, she looked around and felt her stomach sink lower and lower with each thing she saw. His place was a disaster, but it didn’t look like a fight had happened. It just looked like a mess. But even just a messy apartment, it was worse.

Then she saw the pan sticking out of the broken cabinet and she gasped. Peter never abused his super strength. He was also so careful with it, always terrified of hurting or breaking things.

She finally found him next to the counter on the ground, violently shaking and she could see the tears streaming down his face. “Peter?”

“MJ…” His voice sounded so broken she felt her throat tighten at the sound and it terrified her to her core. Even injured she had seen him with more life than this. She rushed over to his side, trying to find any injuries before she touched him but he seemed fine physically.

But this apartment… she saw the pile of trash, the dirty dishes, the laundry. This wasn’t a healthy space to live in, and was way worse than anything she had ever seen before. Peter was normally a bit of a mess, but all genius’ tended to be. This was different, this was scarier. They often said a person’s workspace is a reflection of who they are as a person, and she prayed that wasn’t true in this moment because she was terrified for Peter if it was.

“Are you okay?” She asked gently as she saw him, still shaking, still crying. MJ knew just how much he hated her seeing him like this, but he wasn’t even able to put up a front. Just what was going on?

“No…” His voice confessed and MJ pulled him into her chest, hugging him as tight as she could. She kissed the top of his hair, just holding him while he shook in her arms and she tried desperately to stay in control of herself.

How much did Peter have to be hurting to fall this far? What kind of hell was going on in his head that led him to this situation. A part of her wondered how she hadn’t noticed the signs earlier. What kind of girlfriend was she if she couldn’t even tell her boyfriend was falling apart at the seams?

She forced those thoughts deep down inside. Now was not the time to dwell on insecurities. Peter was falling apart right now and Goddamnit she was going to fix it. She was going to help him fix it himself. Peter needed help, and there was no force in the world that would stop her from getting him the help he needed. Whatever it was, whoever it neede to be, MJ vowed as she held her shaking boyfriend that she was going to make sure he got what he needed and what he fucking deserved.

But she needed a plan. This entire situation was almost overwhelming, but she had to get a grip on things right now. Help him get his feet underneath him, so they could start to rebuild.

“S-stove…” He choked out.

MJ nodded, kissing the top of his head one more time before she stood up and turned off the stove that was emanating heat. She felt his hand resting around her ankle, desperate for contact still and a lump formed in her throat. How the hell had he gotten so low without anyone noticing?

She crouched down next to him, seeing him shaking still. She recognized that too now. It wasn’t just sadness, he had gone into a full blown sensory overloaded, because of fucking course Peter wasn’t in enough hell right now.

“Peter…” She whispered as quiet as she could, knowing he would hear her just fine. “I’m going to turn off the lights then I’ll be right back.”

“I-I fi-” She cut him off with a brief kiss to the lips, staring directly into his eyes.

“I love you so much, Peter. But I swear to God you are not allowed to use that phrase for the next week or I’m putting on the Rhino outfit and kicking your ass myself.”

Thankfully her little threat got the tiny smile she was hoping for and she quickly made her way over to the light switch, flicking off all the lights in the apartment so only some light filtered in from the windows. She saw the pancake on the ground, and the plate on the edge and was able to piece together what had happened. She gently picked it up and set it on the plate before she sat down next to Peter again slowly wrapping an arm around him and letting him lean into her.

MJ could feel his fists balling up in her (his) sweater and he continued to sob into her shoulder. She whispered the quietest reassurances and just let him get it all out. She knew how cathartic a cry could be, and she wanted to just let him ride the wave and let out whatever had been building up for so long.

“It’s okay, Tiger. Let it all out. I got you. You don’t need to be strong right now. I got you.” She reaffirmed, kissing his head again.

MJ wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, and honestly she didn’t care. He needed her in that moment, and that was where she would be.

Eventually though it seemed like Peter was able to slowly piece himself back together enough for the sobbing to become occasional sniffles. He started to move back, but she held him in place for just a moment longer, not wanting him to rush into putting up any walls. They clearly needed to have a talk, and it was going to happen now.

Scooting over, she sat so she was in front of him, letting her legs spread on either side of his legs so they could sit opposite in the tiny area between the island and the counter.

He stared at her for a moment, and she saw him open his mouth once or twice to say something before he closed it.

She raised three fingers. “3 rules, okay?”

Peter seemed surprised, but a little grateful for her making the first move. He nodded after a moment, still quiet.

“Rule 1. No apologies. Not right now. I love you Peter, and I’m here to help. I know you feel bad, but you do not need to feel sorry for crying, or for needing my help. You can make it up to me later, deal?” She offered, watching his reaction very carefully. She knew Peter, and she was pretty sure what he needed right now was some structure and order. If she felt like her approach was wrong she’d stop immediately, but she slowly saw him nod.

“Okay.”

MJ beamed at him, squeezing his knee reassuringly. “Good. Rule 2. For the next week, you are not allowed to say the phrase ‘I’m fine.’ I don’t care if you are, in fact, fine. You can’t say that. Be more descriptive, and be honest. I won’t use that phrase either, deal?” She offered, waiting, watching.

He looked at her for a moment, before he nodded again, another small smile. “Okay.”

MJ grinned and reached over to hold his hand on the floor, entwining their fingers.

“Good. Rule 3. We’re talking. Right now. About everything we can. No running away, no getting mad, no assigning blame. Either of us. Nothing else matters right now. Not midterms. Not Spider-man. Not even the next season of the Great British Bake-off. Just us. Right here, right now. I’ll be honest with you, and you be honest with me. Deal?” She asked.

She could see the battle in his eyes. The desperate struggle between asking for the help he needs, and his desire to avoid being a burden to others.

She waited patiently, but continued to squeeze his hand and beg him to reach out.

“Please, Tiger. Let me in.” She said softly.

She saw another tear escape him as he nodded.

“Okay.”

Getting up awkwardly, she managed to lean over and share a quick kiss with him. She tried her best to convey how grateful she was, how much she loved him. Eventually she sat back and watched him carefully. “I’m proud of you. So much. I know how hard it can be, but you’re not alone.”

Peter nodded, resting his head back against the cabinet.

“How are your senses?” She asked, still in that same barely audible whisper.

“They’re better now. You noticed right away.” He offered with a small smile that brought just a little bit of light back into MJ’s life right now.

“I always was observant.” She offered, earning a bigger smile from him.

MJ gently knocked her knee against his. “So what is going on?”

She could see the battle that raged in his eyes. Years of desperate self denial warring with the knowledge he needed help.

“Peter, you know I love you right?” She offered and he nodded.

“I can’t stand to see you like this. I can’t date someone who won’t take care of themselves.” For the briefest moment she saw something she almost never saw on him. Pure, unadulterated fear. She’d seen him stare down villains with more tech than him and a single desire to kill him with less fear. Stamping out the flames of any doubt she had just caused with her point she rushed on.

“Peter, listen. I love you. And I am never letting you go. Not now, not ever. But you need… help.” She said carefully. She felt like she was walking a tightrope. There were a million ways this conversation could go, but she knew it had to happen. It was probably long overdue too.

“I can manage…” Peter tried weakly, and she could still see the warring desperation on his features. That was one look she never wanted to sketch.

She gestured around a bit. “Tiger, things look a little… rough.” She squeezed his hand, trying to pour as much reassurance as she could into him. “We all need help, Pete. If I called you crying because the stress of finals was too much, would you break up with me?” She asked patiently. A little smirk came to her lips as she saw the instant call to action as he almost looked offended at the suggestion.

“Of course not! I would nev-”

“See?” She asked, knowing this point had been made before but hoping it stuck a little better this time. “Tiger, you have more on your plate than anyone else I know. You save the city nightly, you’re taking advanced chemistry classes, you’re dating a high-strung girlfriend, and you’re living alone. We can’t do everything alone.”

He was quiet, letting the words sink in.

“I’m not alone…” He replied in a soft voice.

“Exactly. But you act like it.”

Peter’s eyes widened as he looked at her for a moment, and she could see thoughts forming and bursting in his head as the realization set in. She gave him the time he needed to process it. She wasn’t trying to catch him off guard, or trick him into accepting anything. She needed him to understand and accept the truth he was hiding from. The truth he thought he had to reject.

“How do you feel right now? Before I showed up.” She asked once she saw him relax a little.

“...tired. I’m so fucking tired, Em.” He confessed after a moment. MJ knew exactly what he meant. It was beyond physical.

“That’s fine, Peter. You deserve to be after all the work you do. It’s normal to feel tired. But it’s also normal to do something about it.” She said and MJ could see it happening. She could see him slowly accepting the truth, slowly reaching out for the help he needed.

MJ knew Peter’s struggles weren’t unfounded. They weren’t from a sense of laziness or pure stubbornness. Like her own struggles with emotions and letting people in, they were formed as a natural response to years of life battering the lesson into them. Losing his parents, then Ben. Having to hide his identity from the people who loved the most in order to keep them safe because there were people out there who would use them in a heartbeat to get to him.

Peter’s walls weren’t just him being stubborn. They were a desperate survival instinct to prevent him from losing anyone else. But that had to end. He had some many people in his life who loved him who would be more than happy to help him out just a little of the amount he helped them. He just had to let them.

“... I don’t know what to do.” His voice was a little louder, as if he was accepting the words finally. “MJ, I promise you I’ve been trying. There’s just so much. There’s just so fucking much right now. I swear I wasn’t trying to let you do-”

MJ silenced him with a kiss, knowing he was on another spiral. She leaned back after a moment, making eye contact with him. “Peter. I know you have. I’m so fucking proud. I know you have been trying. You’ve done so much Peter, I know that. You’ve managed more than what many people could with half of your responsibilities. You’ve always been my hero.” She said with as much conviction as she could possibly muster to get the message across.

Because she was so fucking proud of him. For both trying as hard as he did, even if it had been a little misguided. She knew how earnest he was in trying to do what he thought was right, and that was what mattered. But she was also filled with pride for him accepting that he needed to change too.

Peter lowered his legs and MJ sat on his lap, straddling him. “It’s okay to not know what to do either. I don’t either. Gwen is half the reason I haven’t dropped out of my classes, and you’re the other half. Peter, you’re the reason I’ve been able to make all these connections in my life. Because you had the answers I needed about opening up, and you helped me.” She admitted, kissing him again. “Peter, you’re the voice in my head when I’m filled with doubt. It’s your red and blue spandex butt that gives me the kick I need.”

Peter laughed, but his eyes were shining at her, like she had just told him the secret to the universe. God, she was so hopelessly in love with her dork.

She pressed on just a little more, knowing they were finally there. “You know what needs to happen next, right?” She asked, reaching up to cup his cheek and give him the permission she knew he was still desperately seeking.

“I…” He trailed off, chewing his lip. “I need to ask for help.”

MJ kissed him. Hard. God, she was so fucking proud of him. It was such a simple statement, and the farthest thing from a secret. But she knew how hard that statement could be. She knew how hard it was for her when she found herself in college still pushing away anyone who attempted to get close to her and clinging to Peter. Putting yourself out there was one of the scariest things a person could do.

When she pulled back, she gently wiped away some of his tears. “Correct.”

Peter laughed, his arms sliding to her waist. “I should be correct more often, then. If that’s how I get rewarded.”

MJ felt her heart soar that he was making jokes again. That he was slowly pulling himself back together.

She felt his fingers fidgeting on her side. “Do… you think they’ll still help me? I don’t know how much help I need but I’m worried it’s too much…”

MJ couldn’t control the laughter that escaped her as he stared at her, utterly bewildered.

“Peter…” She said, slowly regaining her composure. “You sweet summer child, you have no idea how many people are in your corner and ready to help you.” She said, reaching her arms up to his shoulders and rubbing her thumbs over his collar bones. “We’ve been waiting for you to ask us.”

Peter’s eyes brimmed with tears again as he nodded. She could see there was still some disbelief. She didn’t blame him, it wasn’t like you could completely change years of habits in one conversation. But she could see his determination there, to make a change. That was all that was ever needed.

“Peter, I’m pretty sure you could declare war on a country and you have enough people to overthrow it on your side.” She teased, only half joking though. She’d been around the Avengers enough with him to know they would literally walk through hell for him.

“I have had my eye on Canada…” He muttered and MJ laughed again, maybe a little harder than the joke deserved but the rush of endorphins of this conversation and breakthrough had her on an emotional high.

“So what now?” He asked, and she could see the yawn escaping him. She knew just how tiring emotions could be, let alone the fact he clearly had been putting his body through hell if that bruise that she had been doing her best to ignore was still that bad.

MJ’s mind was already off to the races though. Plans were forming, she knew who she needed to reach out to. The love of her life needed help, and finally, finally asked for it. She was going to make sure he fucking got it. She knew he had to be in control, he had to make the choices if he was going to learn, but she was going to give him every fucking option out there.

MJ saw him watching her patiently, a slightly goofy smile on his face as he must have known she was deep in a plan.

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, MJ knew it was show time. “Okay, how much can you trust me this week?” She asked, a fierce determination in her tone.

Peter cocked his head to the side like the fucking golden retriever of a boyfriend he was. “Completely.” Jesus, how did he answer that so quickly and so honestly like that? He was way too good for this hellhole of a city.

Not even bothering to hold back the smile that she was pretty sure was most of her face now, she nodded. “Okay. You’re in complete control this week. You get the final say in everything, but I want you to just listen to me for now and I will do everything I can to help make things better anyway I can.”

She saw his eyes regarding him, flickers of an old doubt creeping in.

“You’re busy with midt-”

“Neither of us will fail our midterms either. I promise you this won’t be putting me out, deal? Let me help you, please. I promise you I want to be doing this, more than you know.” God, it was true too. She finally had a chance to give him just a little bit of the world he deserved, something MJ had been wanting to do for years.

Peter slowly nodded. “Okay, I trust you.”

She gave him a quick kiss before standing up, taking his hand and helping him up.

“Okay. First things first, this place needs… help.” She said gently, and Peter laughed.

“That’s an understatement. MJ, I appreciate you being gentle, but your snark won't scare me off. Promise.” He said, squeezing her hand. MJ couldn’t help but smile in return. Even when she was trying to be accommodating to him, he was still trying to reassure her that she didn’t need to change for him.

“Okay, this place is stressing me out just standing here. You need to survive midterms and you’re not going to do that here. So pack your duffle bag you use for trips with some clothes, and bring all your Spider-man stuff too. You’re staying with us this week.” She ordered.

Peter’s eyes widened but he slowly nodded. He moved to his room to start, but he emerged a second later, eyes downcast. “I… my clothes… laundry…” He muttered out, and MJ could see the shame rolling off of him. She walked over, nudging his shin with her foot until he looked up at her. “We have washing machines too, dork. Just bring some stuff, preferably whatever doesn’t have your blood on it.” She offered with a smile.

He slowly nodded and went back to packing. MJ was hardly going to fault him for not doing laundry. She understood how with everything piled up, it could just be another knife of shame in his gut, but it wasn’t like she had never had to steal Gwen’s clothes because she had nothing clean.

MJ glanced around the apartment while she waited and felt the lump come back in her throat. She wasn’t grossed out as much as sad. She knew that for it to get this bad, everything really must have piled on. He was usually pretty good about cleaning, from helping his aunt while growing up. The place was also barebones now. It hardly looked lived in as much as just where he crashed between activities. But she already had plans on how to help turn this into more of a home, and knew two women who would be more than eager to help him.

When Peter returned with the duffle bag she saw him glance around. She could tell he was hating himself again so she stepped up. “Now get all the stuff you need for school, okay?” She ordered, snapping him out of his monologue as he nodded and started to gather his laptop and textbooks. MJ walked around, making sure nothing had to be unplugged or was left on, knowing he wouldn’t be here for a while.

A couple of minutes later and he was done. He stood near the door with his two bags, looking at the pile of dishes with unbridled disgust. She stepped into his line of sight, smiling at him. “Everything Spidey is hidden?” He nodded. “Good, now come on. Don’t worry about this place, I already have plans for this, okay? You’re not the only college kid with a dirty apartment.”

Peter looked at her a bit wary of her plans but nodded with a smile. “Thanks MJ. I’m s-”

“Rule 1.” She interrupted, crossing her arms.

He rolled his eyes but nodded. “Thank you for helping me, MJ.”

“Better.” She offered, kissing him before turning him and shoving him out the door. “Let’s go, we still have work to do and my place smells better cause Gwen is obsessed with those air scent things.”

Peter laughed, and they were able to make small talk as they made the trip back to her place, as she sent a text to Gwen.

Peter is staying with us for the week. He finally asked for help. Time to rally the forces.

A block later she got a text.

Thank God. He can learn! I assume you have plans? We’ll have a war council later.

So many. Operation Fuck-Parker-Luck is a go.

I’ll leave the fucking to you.

Gwen! I hate you. So much.

Love you too, I’ll bring home his favorite pizza tonight.

MJ rolled her eyes, but glanced back at Peter who was looking at her confused.

“Gwen is getting Pizza tonight for us.”

“She doesn-”

“Peter, do you really wanna tell Gwen not to help right now? You’re gonna be locked in an apartment with us for a week, I think you’re better off staying on her good side.” She offered and saw Peter let out a defeated sigh. MJ just smiled and squeezed his hand. “Good boy. I really don’t wanna listen to her yelling at you again.”

“Me neither.” Peter said, but she still saw the smile on his face. She knew Gwen was probably the best person to counter his chaotic energy with her own. MJ was probably the most stubborn out of all of them, but Gwen definitely was the more fiery. She remembered one time after a stupid fight she had with Peter, where it had really boiled down to her taking out frustration with school on him, and Gwen had literally locked her out of the apartment until she went and apologized to him.

By the time they made it back to the apartment, Peter looked practically dead on his feet. When she had done her check of his place to turn stuff off she saw how little food he had. She knew his physical state had to be awful as well.

Ushering him into her room, she let him store his stuff while she moved back to their kitchen and made a quick sandwich. She knew he needed to sleep but wanted him to get a little more food in him first. She could worry about stuffing him full of food properly later. At least this week would give her plenty of time to try out the new recipes she had been collecting.

She knew the first problems she would tackle if she was going to get help for Peter, so while her zombie munched away on the sandwich with his eyes closed, she sent texts to Nat, Wanda, and Pepper. Just to give them a heads up that Peter had to talk to them later. She wasn’t going to make choices for him, but she knew the opportunities he had but was refusing to see so she just had to present them for him.

By the time she had shuffled Peter back to her bedroom and into comfier clothes she had gotten back affirming messages from all of them to meet later. For now though, she got Peter to lay down and cuddled next to him in the bed, pulling his head against her chest as she carded her fingers through his hair.

“My paper…” he mumbled out, barely conscious.

“Just sleep for now, Tiger. I got you. Everything will be fine.” She muttered, kissing the top of his head.

“I know.” He muttered, pulling himself a little closer and he was out cold.

MJ just continued to run her fingers through his hair, so proud of him. So ready to help him. So full of love for him. She knew she had a long week ahead of her, but with him in her arms she never felt more ready for it.

#spideychelle #michelle jones #peter parker #fanfiction #gwen stacy #MCU #marvel spiderman #spider-man

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pumpkinpaix · 4 years

Note

Sending all the good vibes your way!! ✨✨ Wangxian + laundromat prompt, but only if you’re feeling it!

happy birthday sarah~~ (*´▽`*)

(crossposted to ao3)

—

Someone has taken Lan Wangji’s laundry out of the dryer and dumped it all on the counter in a haphazard heap, even though he started heading down as soon as he received the notification on his phone. He frowns. The clothes are still warm, and the room is empty but for the steady whirs and thumps of the machines. And—it’s fine, it’s just that he always comes promptly when his clothes are done to avoid this exact situation. He likes being the only one to touch his clothes, to know where they’ve been and how they’ve been handled. It hasn’t even been two minutes.

As it is, they’re now on the counter beside another heap of clothes, these ones cold, wrinkly, and probably still a bit damp. He suspects the owner overloaded the dryer, actually. Lan Wangji sighs, lifting his clothes into his basket just as he hears the door bang open and raucous footsteps running down.

“Oh, Lan Zhan, it’s you!” Wei Wuxian says cheerfully, bounding his way over to the counter.

Lan Wangji takes a moment to control his traitorous racing heart, like he always does, before turning to face him. “Mn.”

“Did your laundry just finish?” he asks, grabbing the pile of wrinkly clothes in both arms like a gremlin, instead of loading them into a basket like a human being.

“You’ve dropped a sock,” Lan Wangji points out. “Two so—three socks,” he corrects as more fall to the floor.

“Ahahah, Er-gege, won’t you pick them up for me?” Wei Wuxian asks, probably pouting if his tone of voice is to be trusted. Lan Wangji can’t actually see his face around the mountain of clothing in his arms. “I can’t reach.”

Lan Wangji acquiesces because he’s weak. “Next time, bring a basket,” he suggests.

“Jiang Cheng’s hamper was full,” Wei Wuxian says, shrugging dangerously. Another sock falls to the floor. Lan Wangji picks it up and puts it back on top of the pile.

“Next time,” Lan Wangji repeats.

“Yes, yes, next time!” Wei Wuxian says. “Thanks, Lan Zhan! See you around!” And then he’s gone in a teetering whirlwind.

Lan Wangji takes another breath to steady himself and picks up his basket.

–

It takes a few moments for Lan Wangji to realize something is wrong. He pours the fresh laundry onto his bed to fold it and grabs a shirt, then another, and then catches a glimpse of unexpected color in the pile.

He blinks and sets down the shirt to reach for the corner of red sticking out amidst all the white.

He finds himself holding a pair of bright red briefs that definitely do not belong to him.

Were they in the dryer before he loaded in his clothes earlier? He thought he had checked, but perhaps not thoroughly enough. He sets them aside to bring back down to the laundry room later, and continues folding.

He finds another pair of briefs, these ones patterned in… lily pads? He puts them on top of the red ones.

It’s when he finds the third pair (a deep violet) that he finally stops folding and starts digging through the pile, discovering, to his increasing horrified bewilderment, that no fewer than twenty-three pairs of briefs and one pair of boxers have made their way into his clothing.

He also appears to be missing all of his underwear.

This doesn’t make any sense. This doesn’t make any sense! He stares at the pile of offending underwear with a sinking heart. He knows exactly who they belong to—it’s obvious enough from the aesthetics on display, and when he gingerly picks one of them up, he discovers “wwx” written in fat black marker on the inside of the waistband.

Wei Wuxian writes his initials on his underwear?? Why??

Lan Wangji stands helplessly amidst his unfolded laundry, Wei Wuxian’s underwear, and his own messy feelings.

–

Lan Wangji knocks sharply on the door to the suite that Wei Wuxian shares with Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang, stack of neatly folded underwear in one hand, ears hot and embarrassed. The hallway is blessedly empty, but he still feels ready to crawl out of his skin.

There’s the sound of what sounds like a rapid argument and brief scuffle before the door is wrenched open.

“Oh, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian says, hair mussed and clothes askew.

“Did you… just have a fight over who would open the door?” Lan Wangji asks in lieu of a greeting, definitely not looking at Wei Wuxian’s exposed collarbone.

“Yeah, and he lost,” Jiang Cheng calls out from inside the room.

“You and Huaisang ganged up on me!” Wei Wuxian protests. “But since I’m honorable, I opened the door anyways.”

“Aren’t you glad? Turns out it was for you in the first place,” Huaisang says with a sly bent that Lan Wangji doesn’t appreciate.

“How do you know that?” Wei Wuxian demands. “Maybe he’s here for you guys!”

There’s a disbelieving, ringing silence that follows.

Lan Wangji clears his throat. “I came to return these to you,” he says, trying very hard to meet Wei Wuxian’s eyes as he offers the pile of underwear.

“Return—wait, what?” Wei Wuxian stares at the tidy stack. “What the fuck? Is that—is that my underwear? Is that all of my underw—hold on—wait—”

“It was mixed into my laundry,” Lan Wangji explains. “I came to see if you had mine.”

“Uhh—” Wei Wuxian glances over his shoulder, and Lan Wangji can see that he’s thrown his laundry in a pile on his unmade bed without touching it. “Y-yours? Why would I have—are you missing yours?”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji says, offering the underwear again because he really, really does not want to be holding it any longer.

Wei Wuxian unfortunately doesn’t take them, instead dashing back inside to start digging through his pile of clothing.

“You don’t have to do it now,” Lan Wangji says, starting to panic a little because frankly, he’d prefer not to be present for this. “I can come back later if you find—”

“What the fuck?” Wei Wuxian demands, pulling out a pair of white boxer briefs, and Lan Wangji sort of wants to die, actually, thanks. “Wait, are there more?”

“Really, you don’t have to right now,” Lan Wangji says, a little desperately, though he’s hoping it doesn’t show in his voice.

“Wow, Wei Wuxian, did you steal all of Hanguang-jun’s underwear?” Jiang Cheng remarks snidely. “You know that’s not what people mean when they talk about trying to get into someone’s pants—”

“Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian snaps, sounding genuinely angry which… well, it hurts. A little. Lan Wangji isn’t going to dwell on it.

“What?” Jiang Cheng retorts unrepentantly.

“You can’t—apologize to Lan Zhan!”

“For what?” Jiang Cheng demands. “It’s not like I was saying anything about his honor.”

“For fuck’s sake—I’m going to—Lan Zhan, let’s talk outside,” Wei Wuxian says, coming back out and slamming the door behind him, muffling Nie Huaisang’s cackling.

The hallway is silent.

Lan Wangji offers him the stack of underwear for the third time.

Wei Wuxian takes it, looking a little dejected.

“Sorry,” he says.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Lan Wangji replies automatically.

“You can’t listen to anything Jiang Cheng says, okay? He just likes to rile people up.”

“He likes to rile you up,” Lan Wangji corrects.

Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes, a small smile sneaking its way back onto his face. “Yeah, you’re right. Everyone else is just collateral damage. Still. Sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Lan Wangji says. “I’ll come back later to get my clothes.”

“How did you know they were mine?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Lan Wangji resolutely does not say, I know what you like to wear. “Your initials are on all the waistbands.”

“Oh, right!” Wei Wuxian says laughing.

“Why?” Lan Wangji asks before he can stop himself.

“Jiang Cheng got mad that I kept borrowing his and marked them all saying I wouldn’t have any excuses in the future.” Wei Wuxian brightens. “Joke’s on him though! He forgot this one was originally his.” He points at the one patterned with cute cartoon lotus root slices.

Lan Wangji isn’t sure he wanted to know that, but they are very cute and he’s trying very, very hard not to think about Wei Wuxian wearing them. It’s a losing battle.

“Anyways, thanks,” Wei Wuxian says. “I’ll come by your room with your clothes in a few minutes. There’s no need for you to come back up here.” He reaches behind himself for the door handle.

It’s locked.

Wei Wuxian rattles it incredulously.

It really is locked.

“What the fuck!” he shouts. “Jiang Cheng! Huaisang!!”

“You aren’t allowed back in,” Nie Huaisang informs him with irritating cheer. “Not until you take care of this situation.”

“I need to come in to get Lan Zhan’s clothes! How the fuck am I supposed to resolve this situation from out here?”

“We’re taking drastic measures,” Jiang Cheng cuts in. “Obviously.”

“Wait, are you the one who switched our—Jiang Cheng! Let me in! I’m going to strangle you!”

“You’re not allowed back in until you get a goddamn date with Lan Wangji,” Jiang Cheng says imperiously.

There’s a full five seconds of absolute silence. Lan Wangji thinks his heart has leapt up into his throat.

“Excuse me?!” Wei Wuxian demands, voice at least two octaves higher than usual, tinged with an uncharacteristic alarm.

“You heard the man,” Nie Huaisang says with the enthusiastic energy of a sports coach. “Get a date, and you can come back in.”

“You can’t be serious,” Wei Wuxian says. He rattles the door handle harder, as if this will change anything.

“If,” Lan Wangji hears himself say. His throat is dry. “If that’s all it takes, that’s fine. I’ll do it.”

“What? Do what—a date? No, don’t let them bully you, it’s fine, I’ll just break in through the window,” Wei Wuxian says waving his hands. “The latches are broken.”

Lan Wangji pauses. “We’re on the third floor.”

“Yeah, that’s fine, I’ve climbed higher.” He perks up. “Wanna watch?”

Lan Wangji can think of almost nothing he’d like less than watching Wei Wuxian literally risk his life to avoid going on a date with him.

“No, thank you,” he says politely to cover for his wounded pride.

“Oh, okay.” Wei Wuxian actually seems to deflate very slightly, which is—huh. “That’s fine. But—oh, but here, you’ll have to take these back.” Wei Wuxian holds out the stack of underwear, not quite looking at Lan Wangji directly. “I can’t climb while holding them. Just uh, take them back to your room? And I’ll break in and bring you your clothes in a few minutes and we’ll swap.”

“It’s dangerous,” Lan Wangji says.

“If you try to break in, I will push you off the building and break both your legs,” Jiang Cheng threatens helpfully.

Lan Wangji opens his mouth, but Wei Wuxian rolls his eyes. “Ignore him, he wouldn’t dare. Here.” He all but shoves the underwear back into Lan Wangji’s hands. “I’ll be quick.”

Lan Wangji catches him by the elbow before he can take two steps. “Wei Ying,” he says, because—because.

Wei Wuxian flinches, but doesn’t yank himself away. “Lan Zhan,” he says nervously.

“I would rather go on a date with you than have you risk your life over some underwear,” Lan Wangji says, which—well, it’s not exactly what he meant to say, but it is true.

Wei Wuxian looks away, but Lan Wangji catches the flashbulb flicker of disappointment on his features, and wait, wait—

There’s a scream of frustrated rage from behind the door.

“LAN WANGJI, FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE JUST ASK HIM.”

“Don’t bully Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian says automatically.

“IT’S NOT BULLYING IF IT’S FOR HIS OWN GOOD!”

And Lan Wangji might be bad at using his words, and he might be bad at confronting his own feelings, and he might be really, genuinely terrible at reading social cues, but at this point—maybe—

“Wei Ying,” he says, fingers tightening around the crook of his elbow. “Please go on a date with me.”

“Lan Zhan, really, you don’t have to listen to them—”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji repeats, forcing the words out past the terrifying anxiety. “I want to.”

Wei Wuxian finally looks at him, really looks. “You want to?” he echoes.

Lan Wangji nods because he doesn’t think he’s physically capable of saying it again.

“Oh.”

“So?” Lan Wangji prompts after a moment, because he’s not sure he can continue to take this.

Wei Wuxian blinks, and then suddenly looks very, very intense. “Okay, hear me out,” he says, which usually doesn’t bode well. “What if you go back to your room, I break in anyways, and then I come down with your clothes, and we make out in your bed for an hour?”

Lan Wangji feels like he’s had all the breath punched out of him.

There’s a disgusted, wheezing gurgle from behind the door. It opens just wide enough for a toothbrush to be flung violently outside before slamming shut again and locking with a resounding click.

“Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian protests, but he’s grinning now, so wide his eyes are crinkled into little crescent moons. “You said I could come back in if I got a date!”

“I fucking hate you! Don’t bother coming back tonight! Fuck this! The things I do for you! Fuck!” There’s the sound of another door slamming.

“Congratulations,” Nie Huaisang says drily. The door opens again, and a box of condoms comes bouncing out. Slam. Lock. “Don’t forget to use protection.”

Lan Wangji’s face is burning, but Wei Wuxian laughs as he bends down to pick them up without a hint of shame, and Wei Wuxian smiles at him like that when he links their pinkies together, and well. Lan Wangji could be convinced to forgive them.

—

* jiang cheng and nie huaisang have been FULLY planning this for like, two months, including but not limited to: stalking lwj’s laundry schedule, timing how long it takes for him to get from his room to the laundry room, pestering wwx to do laundry on the exact day that they know lwj is going to be washing his clothes, hiding in the laundry room to leap out and perform the swap in an absolute mad frenzy so they could escape before lwj saw them at the scene of the crime—

* there’s a lot of chaotic dumbass energy in this scenario ok

(prompt list || other ficlets || ko-fi)

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #wangxian #mdzs fic #wei wuxian #lan wangji #jiang cheng #nie huaisang #I HOPE YOU LIKE CHAOS SARAH #BECAUSE THIS IS FULLY JUST DISASTER CHAOS ENERGY #sarah-yyy #asks and replies #sarahyyy #this has taken me like at least 45 minutes just to format for posting tumblr WHY #mine #myfic #myficlet #cyan writes

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metaphorical-love-for-a-car · 4 years

Text

Sunshine After Rain-- Connor (RK800) x Reader (Part 5)

Summary; After the death of your little brother, Cole, your dad hated androids. He blamed them for Cole's death. Hank couldn't stand to be around them. How the hell are you supposed to tell him that your soulmate is an android?

Warnings; swearing

Word Count; 2.3k

Notes; A big thanks to everyone who has stuck around and read this fic!! It was my very first reader insert, so it isn’t the best... but I still love going back to it and seeing how far I’ve come since. I’m glad that I was able to re-upload it to this blog, all these years later :)

Connor squinted up at the gray sky as snow slowly fluttered down. He glanced around his surroundings. The small pond had frozen over, and almost all the trees were barren. He walked along before him until he came across an open area. "You've been avoiding me, Connor," Amanda hummed. Her eyes were as cold as the snow beneath their feet. "And at a time like this? We are on the verge of a civil war. The machines are starting to rise up against their masters. Humans will have no choice but to destroy them." Connor explained that he thought Kamski might have the answered they needed but was wrong. He avoided her gaze, like a child being reprimanded by their mother. He then started asking her questions. She avoided all of them. His voice began to rise alongside his frustration. "I expect you to find answers, not ask questions. You're the only one that can prevent this war from coming. This is your last chance, Connor. Don't forget what you are and let meaningless people prevent you from completing your mission."

You bobbed your head to the beat of the music. The headphones covering your ears silenced the world around you. Bending over, you shoved a handful of files into a drawer. When you sat up, you saw Connor standing in front of you. You paused the music before pulling the headphones off. "Hey, Con. What's up?" He glanced around as if he were making sure no one was listening. He sat on your desk and leaned forward.

"I need your help."

"On a scale of slipping laxatives into Gavin's coffee to committing treason, how big of scheme do you have going?" You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms. A small smirk twisted the corner of your lips. Connor raised a brow at you.

"I need you to distract Perkins while I sneak into the evidence room." You hummed, intrigued by his request.

"Alright... I'm just gonna not ask any questions in case things go south and I get interrogated." You pushed yourself away from your desk, imagination running wildly.

You slinked off into the kennel as Connor made his way to the other side of the room, waiting for your distraction to come. A tennis ball bounced its way through the bullpen. A few people raised a brow at it but overall did nothing. Connor frowned, was that your idea of a distraction? Without warning, a group of younger dogs barreled into the room. They were all barking and fighting over the ball. You poked your head around the doorway, tossing another ball in Perkins's direction. The dogs thundered toward him. He shouted and tried to brush them away. Several officers circled the dogs in an attempt to grab them, but the pups evaded their capture. You noticed Connor slip into the evidence room and put your fingers to your mouth. A sharp whistle echoed through the precinct. The dogs looked in your direction. "Attention!" you called out, marching to the group. The group younger dogs sat, looking prim and proper. You picked up the tennis balls and turned to Perkins. "Sorry about that. Playtime can get out of hand," you said with a shrug. He grumbled something about keeping the dogs under control.

"Don't let it happen again." You mockingly saluted him.

"Sir, yes, sir!" You turned your back to the man as he put his phone to his ear again.

You herded the dogs back into the kennel before separating them into their pens, making sure each one was secured. You quickly walked out, hoping that you were able to give Connor enough time. As soon as your marched out of the door, you collided into someone. “Shit. Sorry, I— Connor! Did everything work out?” He nodded, glancing over his shoulder.

“We need to leave. I need your help with something else.” You raised a brow at him, not moving. He sighed.

“I need new clothes. I discovered where Jericho is, but I need to get out of my uniform in order to blend in with the deviants.”

“Okay.” You glanced at your watch. “Dad is probably at Chicken Feed right now. We can go borrow some of his clothes, I’m sure he won’t mind. I mean, he pretty much wears the same two outfits over and over again.”

The two of you slipped out of the precinct before anyone could ask where you were off to. When you arrived at Hank’s house, you quickly raided his closet. Pulling out anything you thought might possibly work for the situation, you tossed piles of clothes onto the nearby bed. “If you find anything you like, just try it on” You threw a shirt over your shoulder. “Anything of his is probably going to be pretty big on you, but it should be good enough for tonight.” You turned and gave him a smile.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

You chilled on the couch while he changed. Several minutes passed by before you heard the door creak open. Connor sheepishly walked around the corner, tugging on the clothing that hung loosely around his body. He almost looked embarrassed by his appearance. “Now you’re lookin’ like a deviant,” you joked.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, totally! Just need a finishing touch…” you trailed off, looking around you. A smile crossed your face as you spotted it. A gray toboggan with a little puff on top sat on one of Hank’s bookshelves. You accidentally left it and had been meaning to pick it up, but this seemed like a better opportunity. You snatched it up and secured it over Connor’s head. “There! Perfect,” you said with a laugh. You tugged Connor into the bathroom where he could get a look at himself. When he saw his reflection, he grinned. You put a hand around his arm. “Connor, I don’t know what’s going to happen when you get to Jericho, but I just…” you sighed, “I just hope you do what’s right. Who knows? Maybe androids deserve a chance to be free.” You carefully watched Connor’s expression, staring into his brown eyes. He looked sympathetic for a second, but it was washed away by determination.

“I know what I’m doing, (y/n).” You nodded, giving him the benefit of the doubt.

“Stop by my apartment when you’re done, okay? Just so I know you didn’t get destroyed or anything,” you said in a joking tone while being completely serious. Connor nodded, his grin returning.

“I will be fine, (y/n). There’s no need to worry about me. I can always be repaired.” You rolled your eyes. You patted his shoulder.

“I know that. Now, go get ‘em, tiger.” You pecked his cheek. His eyes widened for a moment, and he almost looked like he was short-circuiting. Connor quickly turned on his heel, but you noticed the deepening red tinting his cheeks as he left.

It was nearing midnight. You were on your fifth cup of coffee. You were fighting back sleep with a broom, wanting to stay awake for Connor. You were curled up on your couch and having a Disney movie marathon. You figured that singing along to the songs would help keep you alert. It worked... for the most part. Your eyelids drooped as your head slumped over. Suddenly, someone knocked on your door. You jumped to your feet and answered it as fast as your tired body would allow. You perked up the moment you saw the RK800 standing on your doorstep. "Connor! Did everything go okay?" His eyes were wide and frantic.

"We don't have much time. They're going after anyone they believe I have emotional attachments to. I need to get you somewhere safe," he quickly explained. You nodded, slipping on a nearby pair of sneakers and a jacket. You locked your apartment door behind yourself as you followed Connor out. The two of you quickly jogged out of the apartment complex.

As the building started to fade into the background, you felt a hand wrap around your arm. You furrowed your brows. The world around you stayed in its usual gray hues. A terrible realization sank to the bottom of your gut. This wasn't Connor-- not your Connor. You stopped in your tracks and tried to wrench yourself out of his grip, but the android was stronger than you. "Let go of me, jackass!" You swung your fist at its face. The imposter caught it easily. With a swift movement of its leg, it knocked you to the ground. You wheezed, trying to regain the breath that had just been knocked out of you. The android kneeled beside you, holding you to the ground. Its eyes narrowed. It leaned close to your face.

"I'm not sure how you figured out I'm not the deviant RK800, but no matter. You're sleep deprived, causing your moves to be sluggish and highly predictable."

"Predict this, motherfucker." You jerked your head forward, headbutting the android. Alas, androids do not feel pain the way humans do, so it just blinked down at you.

"I recommend you do not continue to resist. I will not hesitate to harm you in order to complete my mission." The android stood, hauling you up to your feet. You thrashed around, hoping that something you did would at least loosen the thing's grip so you could get away. The RK800 had enough of you. Without warning, a fist cracked down upon your face. You yelped in pain as your head recoiled. Blood slowly trickled from your nose. When you looked back at the android, it held a gun to your forehead. "As I said, do not resist," it growled.

The android shoved you forward. You stumbled but managed to find your footing before you could fall. You glared daggers at it. "(y/n)?" You turned to see Connor, the real one, standing with his arm outstretched to an android on standby. Worry filled his features. The imposter held its gun to your head. It taunted Connor, telling him that its time for him to decide who he is and what matters most. He was clearly overwhelmed, eyes flickering between you and the imposter.

"Connor, look at me." His eyes landed on you once more. "You don't have to worry about me. Just do what needs to be done. It'll be okay." Connor turned his focus to the other RK800. He tried to explain to it that there was more than just the mission, but the android just wasn't giving in. It pressed the gun closer to your temple, causing you to flinch. You were beyond terrified. You didn't want to die, but you also didn't want to jeopardize everything the deviants had worked towards. You closed your eyes to keep the tears that were threatening to form at bay.

"If I surrender, how do I know you won't kill them?"

"I'll only do what is strictly necessary to accomplish my mission. It's up to you whether or not it includes killing this human." A second passed where no one dared to move. "Enough talk!" the android suddenly shouted, "It's time to decide who you really are. Are you going to sacrifice your so-called soulmate's life, or are you going to sacrifice them?" Connor didn't even hesitate with his choice.

"Alright, alright!" He held his hands up in surrender, backing away from the android on standby. "You win."

You opened your eyes. Why was he giving up so easily? Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a swish of movement. The RK800 had moved the gun away from your head. You took your chance and leapt at it, trying to wrangle to weapon from its hand. The android shoved you to the ground, and Connor barreled into it. The two faced each other off. Two equally powerful androids, each blocking the other's advances. You watched the two struggle for a moment, mind racing wildly in an attempt to formulate a plausible plan of attack. You noticed neither of them was holding a weapon and immediately began searching for the gun. As soon as you spotted it, you dove for it and hopped to your feet.

"Enough!" you shouted, aiming the gun in their direction. The two androids looked at you and slowly stood. You chewed on your lip. They looked exactly alike.

"Good job, (y/n), I don't know how I'd have managed without you. Get rid of him, we have no--" You pulled the trigger. The bullet ripped through the android's forehead. It fell flat on its back. Connor gaped at you.

"How did you know that was the fake?" You wiped away the blood that had gathered around your top lip with the back of your hand, grimacing at the sight of it. You tucked the gun into the waistband of your sweatpants.

"That son of a bitch talks a lot more than you usually do." Connor quickly swept you into his arms. He placed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.

"I'm sorry, (y/n). I shouldn't have let you get wrapped up in this mess." You cupped his face with your hands.

"Hey, don't sweat it. I mean, the worst that happened to me was getting punched in the face, but I'm okay. We're both okay." He opened his eyes and stared into yours. Connor slowly leaned forward, pressing his lips against your own. The kiss wasn't hungry or overly passionate. It was gentle and sweet, almost innocent. When the two of you parted, a smile crossed both of your faces. "I guess this means you're a deviant now, huh?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

~*~*~

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sp00kworm · 4 years

Note

Aaa okay so I saw this on tiktok, where each time you get your heart broken a heart appears on your face/body, and if one appears on your lips you’re silenced until true love’s kiss. Would you mind writing smth about reader pining after 1A’s big three/Kirishima (you pick idc) and getting heartbroken since the boy goes on dates w other people and not them and eventually has the heart appear in their lips? Tysm I’m sorry 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

[Cont]: Would Amajiki be okay? Or Fathum. I’m sure I’ll love it either way! Your writing style is just really nice. 🥰

A/N: And now my Boomer ways will be shown. Thank you for the compliment though anon! I hope this lives up to your expectations? Also it was hard to choose here to I went for Tamaki, but rest assured I will write Fatgum soon because I absolutely adore Fatgum.

Pairing: Amajiki Tamaki/Suneater x Reader

---

Cupid’s Bow Lips

There was a common folklore all around the globe, one about heartbreak, and how the heart would appear on an individual’s skin, looking like odd freckles, small and perfectly formed until their soulmate broke their heart and sealed their lips with a blood red heart. Never had you believed in it, not until you met UA’s Big Three. The three top students in their final year of highschool. To see little Tamaki Amajiki as part of that trio was amazing in your eyes. His quirk was wonderful though. It was no wonder he was so highly ranked within the school. Yet the stark realism showed you that power and numbers would always be apart of your hero lives. Suneater. The hero to consume even the brightest of stars. You could not wait to see how great of a hero Tamaki would become once you all graduated. You’d known him since the first year, Mirio happily bounding over to introduce his recluse of a friend to everyone in the class, bubbly and extremely people fond. In contrast, Tamaki had stood and shivered, offering only a wave before he jumped and was dragged to the next desk with a friend group clustered around. You’d only spoken to him fully once when he needed to borrow a pencil and was too quiet to ask you without vaguely gesturing to your pencil in your own hand during mathematics.

Mirio had poked his hand through the back of your chair to get you to even notice the floundering dark haired boy.

“C-Can I…borrow a pencil?” Mirio had given him a bright smile and a thumbs-up, ever supportive as you blinked for a moment.

“Oh..Uh…Sure.” You fumbled in your pencil case before offering him a cherry stamped pencil, “You can keep it.” You offered as you went back to following what Ectoplasm was chattering about on the chalk board.

Tamaki blushed at the girly red cherry pencil but nodded his head, “Thank you.” Before looking back at the board, feeling Mirio’s bright smile on his back before a foot poked him in the back. He shuddered in embarrassment, teeth clenched as he tried and failed to follow whatever the hell the equation was Ectoplasm was yammering about.

“FIRST TO THE ANSWER GETS TO LEAVE EARLY.” The pro-hero announced, flicking the chalk rubber in his hand as he settled behind the desk, satisfied with the complexity of the problem for his third years.

It was easier talking after that. Amajiki wasn’t the most easy to get involved in a conversation, but it was very easy to get him to listen. His grades were good as well, so often you found yourself leaning over to ask him about Ectoplasm’s impossible equations. That was the start of you feeling something different for your classmate. Often Mirio would lean over and poke you in the back, fingers permeating your chair, scaring you half to death during class so Tamaki could ask you something. It got even scarier when Mirio popped his head through your door and invited you down to eat with them. Tamaki was a lot chattier in the company of Mirio and Nejire, two people he trusted completely, and you found yourself enamoured with their little group, although many did not like you tagging along with their famous trio. That became apparent the day you watched Tamaki get approached by a group of girls. Mirio was luckily there to disrupt the flow a little, talking loudly and brashly to let Amajiki hide a little behind his form, yet some were persistent, crowding the boy with requests of things.

“Amajiki-senpai, how about you go out with Hiroko? She really wants to speak to you about your manifest quirk! She has a similar thing but with mushrooms and I think you would be adorable together.” The girl cheered next to him. You could see the boy shutting down, shivering behind Mirio like a cowering kitten.

The blond gasped and shook his friend, “Come on Tamaki! I think it would be great!” He cheered before nodding, “Of course he’ll go chat to her! His quirk control is amazing.” Dense as ever Mirio encouraged him until the boy nodded and rushed away, seeking anyone to find refuge with away from the screeching crowd of girls. You felt your heart ache as you saw his blushed face and panicked expression.

Amajiki looked to your locker and panicked when you weren’t there, the door left open as though you had rushed away in a panic. Maybe the girls had gotten to you too? He looked down the corridor shyly, hiding behind the door of your locker before he peered inside. Your textbooks were there and practice uniform, even your school bag. He chewed his cheek as he looked at the pinned-up picture. It was his last birthday party. You were both passed out on top of Mirio’s stomach as he laughed. Nejire had taken the photo for you all before one of herself, peace signing with Mirio’s cheeky smile. Somehow, as he closed your locker door, your bag in hand, he felt like he had done something terribly wrong. Still, he needed to find you, to try and weasel his way out of whatever scary date Mirio had just accidentally set him up on.

He scoured the school before returning to the dorms. You room was locked.

Cautiously, he knocked, “(Y/N)? You…You left your bag.” There was no reply, “I’ll leave it outside.” He uttered, barely audible behind the door. He considered wiggling a tentacle under the door and letting himself in before shaking and chickening out too quickly. Gently, he placed your backpack against your door and left, sighing and grumbling to himself nervously as he tried to think of a way to avoid going out on a very unwanted date. With a sniffle, you dared to look at the mirror again and the burning, blood red heart that covered your lips. It sealed your mouth shut, the skin hot to the touch and sore. The curves moved over your cupids bow and the tip sat underneath your bottom lip, the skin held tight whenever you tried to speak. You could open to breathe and to eat, but to speak, the skin burned as though stuck together with super glue. The folk tale was true, and you were stuck, cursed to never speak to someone again if Tamaki found his love in this girl. Your heart ached as you looked at the littering of heart shaped freckles over your skin. Your chest was laced with them. You felt tears burn in your eyes as you started to cry again, bawling silently into your pillow, the mirror tossed on the floor.

You didn’t come to class the next day. Mirio frowned at your seat and at the gloomy looking Amajiki sat in front of him, hair flat and unbrushed as though he hadn’t slept.

“Are they unwell?” Mirio leaned over to ask him at lunch as they stood from their desks.

Tamaki shrugged but didn’t say a word, teeth gritted behind his quivering lips.

“Are you sure you want to go out with Hiroko, Tamaki?” Mirio asked, a large hand resting on his best friend’s shoulder.

In a sudden deep intake of breath, Amajiki span around to face him, “There’s nothing that would upset me more than having to go on a date with that girl.” He covered his mouth soon after and watched Mirio howl with laughter, the blond leaning back against his desk to try and steady himself as tears escaped his eyes.

“Oh…Oh my.” He wheezed, “That’s…Gosh. Here.” He pushed himself upright, “You go and check in on (Y/N), okay? I’ll go and make an excuse for you not to go out, deal?” Mirio smiled mischievously, but Tamaki nodded and fled the classroom faster than he ever had done before.

The dorms were silent. Everyone was out at lunch. He knew you had to be in your dorm room on the third floor. Only your next-door neighbour has seen you last night. You’d snuck out for a shower very late. Tamaki stood outside your door with a grimace, his fist held close to the wood as he listened to your silent room.

“(Y/N)?” He asked softly, knocking quietly, looking at his feet, “Everyone thinks you’re ill…Are y-you okay?” There wasn’t a reply. He sucked in a breath and summoned the digesting Takoyaki, the octopus tentacle squirming to life on his finger before he reached to the bottom of the door and squirmed it underneath, groping upwards until he could find the lock and handle, flicking the lock open with a clunk before he recalled his finger and opened the door, peering inside nervously in case he saw something untoward, “(Y/N)?” He asked again, looking at the lump laid under the covers of your bed. He dared to come a little closer, hand clutching the covers, giving it a little tug, “Everyone i-is worried…”

Silence. You clutched the covers tight before a tentacle squirmed under the covers, suckers locking tight before Tamaki wrenched the covers away from your face.

The sight scared him, so much so that he let out a squeak at the sight of your face, tear streaked and lips burning with a red love heart.

“Did…Did someone do this to you?” He asked with a shadow on his face as he dared to look at the sore skin again, fingers twitching as he reached for you before falling short.

You shook your head, a tear dripping down your cheek as Tamaki finally dared to cup your cheek and assess the damage.

His voice shook, “Is…This that… t-that myth about.” He gasped quietly before reaching his other hand to your other cheek, “Do you truly like me that way? I-I didn’t.” Too many thoughts swirled in his head, “I didn’t go out with Hiroko. I don’t like her…not like I like you.” He confessed, thumbs nervously stroking the apples of your cheeks before he took a breath, stealing his nerves before he leaned forwards quickly and kissed your lips, eyes closed tightly in case you should reject him.

A shocked noise escaped you before you felt the soreness of your lips ease, the heart fading and your lips parting to let you push back against Tamaki. The man gasped when your fingers gripped his shoulders, tugging him closer. The kiss healed your lips. The soreness escaped and your lips were healed. You pulled away from the kiss with a smile and pushed your fingers against your lips.

“I love you.” You wrangled Tamaki close, nuzzling his hair as you clutched the pointed tips of his ears.

The blue haired male gasped before blushing, “Are you…b-better now?” He asked gently, hands clasping your face with concern, teeth gritted awkwardly.

“Better than ever…Thanks to you.” You confessed.

“Then…Would you like to come and get lunch?” Tamaki asked, fingers playing with your shirt.

“I would like nothing more.”

Tamaki stood before reaching for your hand, “I…I-I…” He took a breath, “I love you t-too.” He stuttered out before tugging you along behind him, face blushing red and hands quaking as you clutched him tighter and followed him for lunch.

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years

Text

The Fast and the Furious: Spectral Drift || Morgan, Nell, & Constance

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @nelllraiser @constancecunningham @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Just gals being pals.

CONTAINS: car theft, drowning

For once, Nell was gaining a moment of mediocrity in her otherwise far too lively existence. Not that she minded the chaos. Parts of her thrived on it, but she’d been learning as of late that not all chaos was good, and a spot of normality was welcome in an otherwise unforgiving world. She and Morgan had gathered at Coffee Plus, taking advantage of the quiet day to do a bit of catching up between one another. Leaning forward to take a hearty bite of her chocolate muffin, Nell finished chewing and swallowed before finishing the story she’d launched into. “I’m just saying- maybe if he couldn’t handle the whole sandwich, he shouldn’t have stuck his fingers in the hanyo.” Her tone was bright with a laugh as she remembered the ridiculous expression that had been on the man’s face. Ready to launch into another joke about the poor guy’s predicament, she stopped mid-sentence— realization dawning over her as movement caught the corner of her eye. “Morgan...isn’t that...your car?” Pointing towards the vehicle in question, Nell stood to get a better look. Sure enough, she recognized the license plate that was ever so slowly inching away from the curb, the back of a mysterious head seeming to fumble with the controls. “Someone’s taking your car!”

Morgan was relieved that Nell wasn’t so bothered by her Constance drama as Blanche had been. She missed her young friends and whatever good she was able to imagine she did for them by being around. They certainly did plenty enough for her. Nell, especially, never backed down from a fight or a favor if it seemed right to her, and she could brighten any day with stories from her daily whirlwind adventures. Even though Morgan couldn’t really enjoy anything at the cafe, she didn’t feel ill at ease slurping at her seltzer water with Nell across the table. Listening to the latest turn, Morgan couldn’t help but snort. “You know not everyone is in your league, right, Nell?” She asked. “A lotta guys who call themselves brave would pee their pants getting up to some of the stuff you do. Although, gotta say, even I’m not woman enough to go anywhere near that ‘hanyo’ stuff, even for money.”

She had another question on her lips when Nell’s face changed. “M-my what?” She couldn’t have heard that right. But she followed Nell’s finger and— “That fucking bitch,” she hissed, tearing her bag off the chair. “I gotta go, I’m sorry, Nell, you might wanna run.” She stumbled outside in disbelief. “You’ve got three seconds to get out of my fucking car!” She cried.

Constance jumped, startled at the fury in the woman’s face. She was still getting used to being seen by any old soul, and not just her fellow damned and dead. She could still get out. Apologize for the mischief. This crime was small, impulsive, childish. She had only been wondering at the miraculous contraptions since they had first frightened her months ago. And seeing Morgan, this other Agnes, slide in and out of hers with more pride than any girl she’d seen give to a bicycle. It hadn’t even been locked. How grateful could this woman be for it if she didn’t think to have it locked? Thus, Constance’s resolve solidified. “I think you’re wrong!” She called. Her foot tested one of the pedals and a delicious roar came out of the engine. “I only need three to get away with it.” She moved the lever next to her and pushed the pedal again. The automobile shot backwards, crunching into something behind her. Constance fixed the lever again and she was flying forward, into the road like a comet. “Try and stop me, Bachman!” She cried.

Immediately electing to ignore Morgan’s recommendation of running, Nell’s head whipped around in search of something that might help, an idea that could get Morgan’s car back, and possibly give Constance some hell at the same time. It came to her in the form of a bright and shiny sedan someone was just pulling up in, putting their own vehicle into park alongside the curb. They didn’t have a chance to take the keys out of the ignition before Nell was on them. “Can I borrow this?!” she yelled at the startled driver who was frozen in shock. His confused voice matched the hopeless alarm on his face.

“Wha-? No! It’s my car! Who the hell are you?” Without answering, Nell wrenched open the driver side door, grabbing the shirt of the poor man to firmly remove him from his seat, and deposit him on the asphalt. “Sorry!” Nell quickly apologized, another idea quickly coming to her. “Uh- official police business! Detective Vural thanks you for your service and so does White Crest!” It’d only taken her a quick second to Summon the fake badge she’d magically made when she’d pretended to be police to Regan and shove it into the face of the driver. As Constance and Morgan’s car rocketed down the street, Nell quickly put her ‘borrowed’ car into gear, also ignoring the fact that she didn’t have a license, and had mostly driven tractors. “Morgan!” she called out, rolling the car to her friend. “Morgan, get in! We’ll catch her!”

Morgan screeched with outrage. “My girlfriend bought me that Subaru!” She started pelting the car with whatever she had on hand. Her drinking straw, crumpled up receipts, post it notes, half used packs of Trident, pens, embroidery needles, her planner. They all bounced off the red car and fell pathetically into the road as Constance reversed right into a light pole, switched gear, and drove straight into traffic.

Morgan followed her as far as the stoplight, screaming wordlessly until the car behind her honked. “Hey, lady! Don’t make us late too!”

Morgan stumbled back into the parking lot, just in time to see Nell wielding a police badge as she dove into a random suburbanite sedan. “D-detect--yeah! Detective Stryder thanks you for your service too! Call the station with my name if you have any questions!” She didn’t slide so much as topple into the shotgun seat, junk still spilling from her bag. “And thank you!” She called behind her. They sped off in the direction Constance had gone, fast enough for Morgan to feel plastered to her seat before she could even buckle up. “I uh--didn’t know you had a lot of getaway experience, Nell,” she said, laughing breathlessly.

Broken glass and confused drivers littered the road ahead of them. Skid marks striped the road. Up ahead, the faintest streak of banged up red zig zagged through the lanes before jumping the curb and tearing into the town common.

A snarky chuckle fell from Nell as the familiar name of Marley Stryder was thrown into the mix. “I didn’t know you knew Marley,” she said as casually as a person could while beginning to give chase to a car that had been hijacked by a ghost who could have belonged in Downton Abbey for all Nell was concerned. As for getaway experience… “Oh, I don’t! Unless you count racing games and tractors!” she answered brightly, the rush of piloting a car that was careening down the street in a chase already causing delicious adrenaline to pump through her veins. It’d been a long while since she’d gotten to enjoy a high like this without also fearing for her life. “Actually, I’ve always wanted to drive a getaway car! Or be in a car chase! I just didn’t think I’d get to since I don’t have my license or whatever.” The witch dropped the news as if it were the most inconsequential fact one could say at a time like this, accelerating all the while. A light turned red. Nell didn’t hesitate as she blew through the intersection. Thankfully, Constance had run the same light, clearing the way for Nell to pass through safely. “Don’t worry, we’ll get her!” In a jerky movement, Nell followed the ghost onto the grass of the common.

“We’re acquainted,” Morgan said, wincing at the memory. It clearly wasn’t in any way that could be considered ‘good.’ “Wait, what do you mean you--oh my fuck, Nell, no!” Morgan yanked the wheel, swerving the car away from a tree, bouncing painfully back onto the street. She could see her red Subaru swerving down towards the docks in the distance, the bumper just barely hanging on and sending a fireworks show worth of sparks down the street. “She can’t get much farther like this,” she hissed between her teeth. Morgan let go of the wheel and reached into her bag for her salt pistol.

This wasn’t really the ideal time for Nell to question Morgan further about her and Marley’s relationship, even if her need to be nosy was in full force and trying to get her to ask anyway. Later, she told herself before punching her foot to the gas once more. “Hey!” she objected as Morgan jerked the wheel. “I wasn’t gonna hit it! Talk about a backseat driver,” Nell grumbled. But the disgruntled mood was quickly past her. How could she stay upset when she was zooming along in a car chase? A grin split over her lips as she took the time to roll her window down, laughing as the wind whipped her hair with the sudden gust of air. “What is that?” Nell asked, not entirely sure what kind of gun the strange thing in Morgan’s hands was. However, she did know that if Morgan was going to get any kind of decent shot, they needed to be closer. Yet again, Nell stomped on the gas, laying the pedal flat against the floor of the car. Finally, she managed to catch up to Morgan’s car, the front bumper of Nell’s ‘borrowed’ car kissing against the back of Morgan’s Subaru. The nudge was more than enough to knock the Subaru’s bumper loose. “Ha!” Nell exclaimed as the piece of plastic clattered beneath them before remembering that it was Morgan’s car she’d just tapped. “Ah- I mean- oops?”

Morgan cried out to see her poor bumper. Her fingers stretched out helplessly to the windshield. “S-subaru…” she whispered. That did it. Morgan cranked down the windshield, because of course it still had a fucking crank, and leaned out, pistol raised. Three short pops burst through the air. Three brusts of smoke. The salt rounds exploded against the Subaru. One landed in the spiderweb break in a window, melting on contact.

Constance’s joy was short lived. These monstrosities were no relief, no freedom. The beastly thing seemed to have a mind of its own! Then the windows began to cave in, dripping with salt. “No, no, no, no…” She whimpered. She tried moving the lever, but this only made the car jerk and fit. Panicked, she rammed her foot to the pedal. The automobile screamed as if she’d cursed it and spun out of her control. Constance shifted, ready to drift out like it was no matter of all, but no, her solid form was now her prison. The automobile crashed onto the docks. Wood shattered everywhere in its wake. Finally, it came to a stop, and Morgan Beck, the last of the Bachmans, was right behind her. Constance picked her way out of the debris and stumbled into the car’s path, her body clenched and unyielding. Let her do her worst, cruel coward that she was. To ruin even one of her ill-gotten treasures was worth the trouble this had cost.

As Morgan hung out the window of the car, Nell reached for her own door handle— ready to launch herself into whatever showdown it was that Constance was hoping to have here. What she was going to do she wasn’t all that sure yet. But Nell had to do something. If she didn’t, who knew if there would be another Maxine sooner rather than later? But as her hand reached for the plastic of the handle, she heard a click of the locks, and in a single second the witch found herself momentarily trapped in the car by some no good ghost mischief. If only it had stayed mischievous rather than lethal. Before Nell could so much as search for the unlocking mechanism, a weightlessness overtook her. She was...flying? No, the entire car was flying. Straight over the side of the dock as Constance wielded her power once more, sending the borrowed vehicle right into the hungry fingers of the waiting waves of the ocean. Morgan was gone from the window before Nell could make sense of what was happening, probably thrown adrift by the sheer force of the launch. And then...an icy coldness as water began to pour in through the open window, the car sinking steadily below the surface of the water while Nell remained trapped inside. She jerked uselessly at the handle as more saltwater began to fill the cab of the car, it not taking long to rise to her knees. It seemed whatever Constance had used to keep the doors shut wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Constance, don’t.

The voice wasn’t in Constance’s ears, but it shook through her strange body as she tried to stop the car. Locking it was no matter to her, but the rest, becoming an immovable object to its unstoppable force. If she were her full self, it would already be in the air. If she were herself, she could have gotten hands around Morgan and snapped her to pieces. She could have thrown her across the room, smashed her up and down and gathered the dust of her bones for--

Constance, don’t.

It was the girl’s voice. Blanche Harlow. And in remembering her warning, Constance stepped back from her rage. But the car was already trembling in her grip. There was someone besides Morgan inside. Another girl, as frightened as the school children had been, maybe more. She could see Constance. She knew exactly what was happening to her, and perhaps even why. Constance let go, it was too much, all of this was too much, she didn’t want to be cruel to innocents, but she couldn’t let Morgan cower behind her friends all the time either! Constance’s self-control was like that of a child and the car didn’t come gently down to rest. It soared into the water and crashed through its depth, hard enough to disrupt the waves. Constance watched it sink, helpless to move, to think. “Help!” She screamed at last. “Someone help! There was a crash, did you see a crash? The automobile just-- there’s more than one person inside there! Help!” She sprinted up the docks, arms waving like mad. “Help me, please!”

Even Morgan’s zombie nerves felt her body hit the water. She plummeted downwards, muscles burning as she wriggled to slow herself down. The ocean was veiled in salt and murk before her eyes, but she could just make out the outline of the subaru in the distance. She opened her mouth once to call, only realizing how stupid that was when water rushed into her mouth. Fuck. She had to get to her. She was not losing another person to this spoiled brat of a witch. I’m coming, Nell. I’ll make this right.

As the water got higher, and only the murky depths of the ocean could be seen out her driver’s side window, Nell screwed her eyes shut for a long moment— trying to assess, to find her way out. She hadn’t come all this fucking way to die via being tossed into the ocean by a god damned ghost. The sound of rushing water, and the coldness of it rising to chest height was enough to push Nell into action, and in a quick moment she’d drawn one of her hidden daggers, slamming the butt of it against a backseat window. It did what it was meant to, shattering the glass and allowing more water to fill the car. The witch couldn’t remember where she’d heard it, but somewhere along the way she’d gotten it into her brain that letting the car fill with water would make it easier to open the door and make her escape. A quick spell made easy work of the locks, and the whole handle flew off of the side of the door as the dire need of the situation had given her a little too much juice when it came to casting. Whatever. It would work. She’d been submerged enough to float towards the roof of the car at this point, and now all there was left to do was wait. Wait for the car to finish filling. Wait for the perfect moment to take her last breath and make a break for it. Finally, the moment came— and she took a shuddering and deep last breath of precious air as the car became entirely filled.

Nell fumbled it. Half of her final breath became water where there should have been air, and suddenly a reflexive cough was wracking her. In all of two seconds...her air was spent, and she hadn’t even gotten out of the car yet. It didn’t matter. That was what she told herself. It didn’t matter because dying wasn’t an option. Kicking open the door, it felt like time moved in slow motion as she finally came out from the car. She raised her eyes towards the light filtering above her to find that the sun seemed impossibly far away. Shit. Shit shit shit. Had she really sunk that far so quickly? Should she have tried her chances with getting out of the car earlier? It didn’t matter now. Swimming had never been a problem for her, but the surface seemed impossibly far. Nevertheless, she kicked her legs, making a desperate attempt to live. It wasn’t long before her lungs were screaming for air, begging her to take that breath of seawater that would begin the sealing of her fate and death. Just a little closer. Just a little more. But the little more wasn’t enough. It felt like every gallon of the ocean was pressing on Nell— her eyes, her ears, any crevasse it could manage to find. Dizziness began to take its hold, and Nell vaguely wondered how it was even possible to be dizzy underwater, the inane thought crossing her mind as spots began to appear in her vision. She wasn’t going to drown. She refused to drown. Barely aware of it, sheer will seemed to propel and jet her higher, and whether it was her legs or her magic, she wasn’t able to say.

Morgan was no expert swimmer, but she had determination and stamina on her side. She tore through the water, muscles aching. The pull of the ocean was not her friend this time. It weighed down her arms, making her slower. Salt and floating debris flung into her eyes. Morgan continued to swim. She could see her now, a limp ragdoll figure in the blue.

No. Not today. Not one more fucking person is dying because of Constance.

Morgan grabbed her around the waist and propelled them to the surface.

“There they are!”

“Look!”

“Someone toss ‘em a rope!”

“Grab on, honey! Don’t let go!”

Morgan’s eyes were blurry with seawater, but she made out the shadow of a life preserver flying towards her. Morgan dragged her and Nell towards it, trying not to focus on how much distance there was between them and the shore, the ruin of her Subaru, the weight of Nell’s motionless body in her arms. “We--” she called, her throat choked with salt. “We need-- CPR! She--” Morgan gagged on more seawater. Nothing was moving fast enough. Not her legs, not the human chain forming on the docks, not the clouds gathering over the blinding sun. Morgan kicked in the water to help move them along, but it felt like she was still being pulled down, squeezed until she broke and gave up.

When they reached the surface, Morgan remembered to give a few dramatic coughs and wheezes while a woman she recognized from Amity Row felt for Nell’s pulse. “How did you… did you see? What happened?” Morgan asked.

The crowd looked uneasily at each other. “Just the end,” one of them admitted. “Wouldn’t have seen it at all except for that weird little girl.”

They began to describe her in bits and pieces, red hair, funny dress, maybe a cosplayer, but Morgan had already heard too much. She didn’t care what Constance had or hadn’t done for them, what kind of crowd she wanted to draw for her latest maneuver. If she was still gawking by the time Morgan was through here, she’d take her new solid body and pound it into dough. “Out of my way!” She snapped. “She just needs CPR! Fuck, it’s not rocket science!” She started pumping on Nell’s chest, blocking out the rest of the world. She’d taken this training enough times to remember; she could get this right. “Come on, Nell…” She whispered. “I can’t let her get you too. Come on…” She breathed into her mouth. “We’ve got this, Nell. We got this… we got this…”

#wr nell #wr chatzy #wr nell chatzy #wr constance #wr constance chatzy #wr group chatzy #wickedswriting

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