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imagineteamfreewill · 3 years

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A Good Kind of Not Okay

Title: A Good Kind of Not Okay

Pairing: Nanny!Reader x Director!Sam

Word Count: 4,414

Warnings: A little bit of pining

Square Filled: Director!Sam

Summary: Sam is a single dad who also happens to be one of the world’s most famous movie directors. When he struggles to care for his daughter like he wants, he hires the reader to help care for his pride and joy.

A/N: This is a submission for the 2020-2021 SPN AU Bingo (@spnaubingo). Please let me know what you think. Enjoy!

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Sam was running late. Again. Filming was behind schedule for the third time that week, and as the director, he had to stay until everything was finished. Of course, he was part of the reason why the filming was behind schedule. He couldn’t help it. Sam was a perfectionist, and he always had been. That’s what got him hired.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Sam said. He glanced down the street and then turned. “I’m on my way, I should be there in ten minutes.”

“Mr. Winchester, we’ve talked about this.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll be there soon.” He ended the call before the center director could chew him out any further. He felt bad enough as it was, he didn’t need more reminders and warnings about being late. He really did try to keep a normal schedule, and he always made arrangements if the filming was scheduled to go late into the night or early in the morning, but there were some things that were out of his control.

The roads were blessedly empty and Sam pulled into the parking lot in just over five minutes. He wasn’t normally one to speed, especially if Elsie was in the car with him, but it was times like these when he was thankful for the extra horsepower. The Charger was the last big thing he’d bought for himself before his daughter was born and he rarely took advantage of its capabilities. Dean constantly nagged him about it.

Climbing out of the car, he grabbed his phone from the cupholder and rushed inside where he knew Elsie was waiting. The day care was completely deserted except for her and the director, who was sitting in one of the waiting room chairs, alternating between watching the front doors and the small child perched at the plastic drawing table beside her. Even the lights in the back playrooms and the office were off.

“Mr. Winchester, I’m glad you made it here okay.”

“Daddy!” Elsie bolted from her chair, abandoning her backpack and leaving the crayons to roll off the table and onto the floor. Sam crouched to scoop her up as soon as she was in arm’s reach, and his daughter immediately wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her face against his shoulder.

“Hey, sweetheart. I’m sorry I’m late,” he murmured, and he cradled the back of her tiny head in his hand. He still couldn’t get over how tiny she was, even at four years old.

The director stood from her seat, clipboard and radio in hand. She gave him a scolding look. “Mr. Winchester—”

“Please, call me Sam,” he interrupted. “And I know, you can’t keep waiting with her. It won’t happen again.”

Her expression turned withering. “That’s becoming a catchphrase for you. I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester, but Elsie can’t keep coming to Gilded Hearts after the end of this week. We have very strict policies about parent pick-up and you signed a contract agreeing to uphold them. You’ve broken that contract multiple times this week alone, and I can’t count the number of times you’ve broken it otherwise.”

Sam frowned, shifting Elsie in his arms so he could pick up her backpack with one hand. “You’re kicking her out? Please, don’t kick her out just because I messed up a few—”

“It’s been more than a few times,” the director pointed out. “If it had been an emergency, it would be a different story, but we can’t keep staying late with her because you can’t seem to be able to pick her at the time you agreed upon when Elsie first started coming here.”

Lifting her head, Elsie looked up at Sam with big, hazel eyes. She’d perfected his own puppy dog expression solely to use on Sam and her Uncle Dean, and Sam’s heart sunk. The guilt settled in and suddenly all he could think about was how selfish he’d been. He’d been putting work in front of his daughter, something he promised he’d never do, and now he had to face the consequences.

“Okay. You said the end of this week?” Sam asked, sighing. The director nodded and gave him a polite, albeit tight, smile. “Alright. Thanks for staying with her. Have a good night.”

The director waved goodbye to Elsie, then watched in silence as Sam carried her out to the car. It was still sunny out and Elsie squinted, whining a little when he stepped out of the shade provided by the enormous oak trees that guarded the day care’s entrance.

“I know. Your sunglasses are in the car, honey.” Sam dug his keys back out of his pocket and unlocked the backseat, then carefully situated Elsie in her carseat. The tiny pair of Minnie Mouse sunglasses were right where they always were, and once his daughter was buckled in, he handed them to her so she could slip them on. She did so immediately.

“Are you sad, Daddy?” she asked. Elsie reached out a hand, grabbing onto Sam’s coat before he could back out of the doorway and go around to the driver’s side.

“I’m not sad, babygirl. Daddy’s just tired from work. Are you hungry? You ready to go home and eat?”

After a moment, Elsie nodded and let go of his coat. Sam shut the door and let out a long sigh as he went around the back of the car. His head was pounding and he was exhausted from shooting in the heat all day, but getting food in his little girl’s stomach and making sure that she got everything else she needed before bedtime had to be his priority right now. Then he would have to figure out where she was going to spend her days after the week was over. She couldn’t exactly come to work with him on an R-rated movie set. The impending migraine would have to wait.

_______________

“What’s your name?” the little girl asked, and you raised your eyebrows at her for a brief moment, then crouched down to her level.

“I’m Y/N. What’s yours?”

She held onto the door handle with both hands, swinging her weight on it as she stared at you. “I’m not supposed to tell strangers my name.”

“That’s very smart,” you replied, smiling. “Is your daddy home?”

“Who’s asking?”

A laugh almost slipped out at the cliché response, but you carefully held it back. You started to answer when a very tall, very handsome man in a suit stepped up behind the little girl in the tutu.

Nodding, you stood and held out your hand for him to shake. “I’m Y/N, from the nanny agency. Are you Mr. Winchester?”

The man smiled politely and shook your hand before reaching down to scoop up Elsie. He held her on one hip and stepped aside, gesturing for you to come in. He didn’t even seem to be bothered that his shirt and jacket were now rumpled from being squashed by the little girl and her very fluffy tutu, nor did he seem phased when she reached out to hold onto the tie around his neck.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. Please, call me Sam. I’m glad you could come on such short notice.”

“It’s not a problem,” you replied. You glanced around the entryway of Sam’s enormous house, a little surprised. It was grand, but compared to some of the others in the neighborhood, this house seemed more… lived in. Turning around, you smiled politely. “Is there anything you wanted to ask me that wasn’t in my file? I know that they already sent over my resume, references, and bio, but there’s always something that people want to know.”

Sam gave you a once-over before closing the door. “You’re a live-in nanny, right?” he asked. You nodded. “I don’t have any questions, but how about you check out the guest room before you decide if you want to stay? The last nanny we tried had some issues with it.”

“Issues?” you repeated, suddenly a bit more hesitant, and Sam gestured for you to follow him up the stairs. You did, glad that you’d left your suitcase in the car. The staircase was immense and it would’ve been a pain to drag it up all the way.

As you walked, Elsie chattered to Sam, who glanced at her and replied when necessary. You couldn’t hear everything they said, but it was clear that he cared deeply for her. Every nod, every thoughtful reply, every second of eye contact he offered her reassured you that this would be a good family to work with for your next position. It would certainly be better than your last one, that was for sure.

When you finally arrived at the opposite end of the hallway, Sam pushed open a door and gestured for you to enter first. You did, taking a look around. The “guest room” was more like a deluxe suite and you had to remind yourself not to let your mouth hang open as you took it all in. It made you wonder if there was some sort of housekeeper or maid that cleaned Sam’s house, because there was no way he kept the room as beautiful as it was, worked, and took care of his gorgeous little girl.

“It’s got an attached bathroom with a shower and a tub, and you’ll have your own private balcony. It overlooks the backyard and the pool, which you’re welcome to use at any time. There’s a walk-in closet through that door,” Sam pointed to a closed door off to the right of the bathroom, “And there’s an office across the hall you can use if you want. There’s a printer and internet hookups in case you’re having problems with the WiFi. You shouldn’t, but it never hurts to be prepared. Of course, if you don’t like the furniture I’ve got in here we can move it and you can put your own things in. I hired a decorator for the whole house when I first moved in and I haven’t done anything with the room since then.

You nodded, a bit overwhelmed. “Right. Can I ask what the issue was? That the last nanny had?”

“She didn’t like the view from the balcony, apparently, and she complained that she was too close to Elsie’s room.” You frowned and Sam shrugged. The distaste was clear in his voice as he continued, “She said she preferred to have a room near the other adults in the household instead of the child that she cares for. My room is on the other side of the stairs we came up.”

Elsie started to wiggle in his arms and he set her down, not looking away from you. She instantly ran over to the bed and climbed on top to sprawl out over the plush white comforter.

“The room is great, Sam,” you replied, nodding. “It’s amazing, actually.” You glanced back at Elsie and sat on the edge of the mattress. “How’s the bed? Comfy?”

Elsie giggled and nodded before rolling onto her stomach to look at Sam. “Is this my new nanny?”

“I think so,” Sam replied. He looked over at you and you nodded. “Looks like it, Elsie girl! You can show her your room and your playroom in a few minutes, okay? First we gotta do the grown-up stuff.”

Grinning, the little girl scrambled off the bed to run off to another part of the house. She shouted a quick “Okay!” on her way out of the room.

“So, you think you’d be okay being her nanny? Obviously I’ll let you look over the contract and you can take it to a lawyer if you need—”

“That’s not really necessary,” you told him, holding up your hand to stop Sam from going any further. “I’ll look it over downstairs if you wouldn’t mind getting me something to drink while I read.”

“Water okay?”

You nodded, and you and Sam headed downstairs where the contract was waiting.

_______________

Working for Sam was one of the best things that had ever happened to you. Not only was Elsie adorable and one of the smartest, funniest kids you’d ever nannied, but her dad was amazing, too. He never failed to make you laugh and though he was constantly overworking himself during the day, you admired the way that his focus was entirely on Elsie and his homelife as soon as he parked in the garage. Even if he finished work at three in the morning, he came looking for his daughter the minute he was home. If she was awake, she was always more than happy to cuddle up and watch a movie, go swimming in their pool, or just show him the pictures she’d worked on for him during the day. Then, as soon as the little princess was in bed, Sam’s attention turned to you. That was one of the best parts of your job, though it was becoming a problem. No matter what Sam did and despite your best efforts, your crush kept growing. He was just too great, and you worried that someday you’d be heartbroken when he brought home some gorgeous movie star. Then you’d have to quit, and not only would you be out of a job, but the best two people in your life would immediately become a part of your past. That was the last thing you wanted.

It wasn’t until you’d been the nanny for eight months that Sam asked you to bring Elsie to set. The request caught you off guard—usually he avoided involving Elsie in anything that had to do with his work because of the nature of his films—but you knew that he was a smart guy, so you loaded up the almost-five-year-old into your car and drove to the address he’d texted.

“Daddy!” Elsie squealed. Sam’s head turned towards you and he smiled wide when he saw Elsie dragging you by the hand across the packed dirt of the filming site. She had insisted on wearing her princess dress, and the sight of her in the poofy, sparkly dress and Minnie Mouse sunglasses was enough to make anyone laugh. You were thankful you’d put your own sunglasses on before you’d climbed out of the car, otherwise the sun’s glare would have been too bright for you to even see Sam. He had his glasses on as well, and you briefly wondered if he’d take them off at some point so you could see his eyes in the sunlight.

“Hi, Bug!” As soon as she was within his reach, Sam picked her up and swung her up onto his shoulders. The move was almost one fluid motion and though he did it all the time, you still marveled and Elsie still giggled.

The man Sam had been talking to—you vaguely recognized his face from a magazine in the grocery store checkout—was dressed in an elaborate suit of leather armor. He glanced over at you as you approached, but he quickly turned his attention back to Sam.

“So what are you going to do about her?” the man asked.

Sam glanced at him before looking up at Elsie, smiling wide. “We’ll have a talk. Don’t worry about it, Erick.”

Ah, so he’s the action hero, you thought, and you looked the actor up and down. He looks shorter in person.

Erick turned and caught you staring at him, and his lip curled up in disgust. “Who are you?”

“She’s my best friend!” Elsie replied before anyone else could. You smiled on instinct.

“Right...” Erick drawled. He looked up at Elsie and the disgusted look on his face didn’t fade even as he walked away to a u-shaped cluster of chairs and makeup vanities. He was immediately swarmed by women fussing over his hair, makeup, and costume.

Once he was fair enough away, you turned towards Sam with raised eyebrows. “So. This is the movie business,” you retorted.

He laughed and adjusted his grip on Elsie’s little legs. “Something like it, yeah. Don’t worry about him, he’s always like that. It’s not one of his redeeming features, but he was the favorite for this role. Do you guys want a tour of the set?”

Elsie cheered and wiggled a little on Sam’s shoulders, and he tightened his grip accordingly. You nodded in agreement.

“A tour would be great, Sam, but aren’t you on your lunch break?”

Sam shrugged and started walking. You followed close behind as he began to explain the set in terms that Elsie could understand. She was smart, and she loved big words, but she was still just a kid. After a while, he managed to commandeer a golf cart for the three of you, and you ended up riding around not only just the set, but in between all the trailers and the service roads that surrounded the site. You had to admit that the area was beautiful, even if it was hot and dusty.

Eventually, you, Sam, and Elsie ended up outside his trailer. It was smaller than the actors’, but he explained as you followed him up the steps that he really didn’t use it much, and he only had one for this part of production because they were filming in a more remote location than usual. Food was waiting for you on the small dining table inside, and all three of you breathed a sigh of relief at the air conditioning.

“Can I come to set tomorrow?” Elsie asked as she climbed up onto the couch.

Sam handed her the hot dog from the container marked with her name and smiled a little. “Not tomorrow, Ells. Maybe another day,” he said. He picked up the two remaining containers and held out the one with your name scrawled across the top.

After murmuring your thanks, you settled down on the opposite side of Elsie from him and opened the styrofoam box. Your favorite sandwich was inside and you smiled over at Sam, a little bit surprised that he’d remembered. He didn’t make or order you food often, since you normally ate with Elsie during the day and on your own at night so that Elsie’s attention wasn’t divided between the two of you.

“You mentioned that it was your favorite that one time we went to the boardwalk,” Sam said, noticing your surprise. “It just kinda stuck in my brain, and I saw it on the menu when I was ordering our lunches before you got here.”

“I can’t believe you remembered that,” you replied, honestly shocked. No one had ever remembered your usual order. “Thank you.”

Sam nodded in reply and the three of you dug into your meals in relative silence. Elsie finished first, like usual, and she was starting to dig through the things in Sam’s trailer when there was a knock at the door.

Elated, the little girl ran over and tugged it open, the force of which pushed her down to sit on the top step of the entry. “Hi!” she cried, and you sat up on the couch to see who she was talking to.

“Hi!” a woman chuckled. After a second, Elsie popped back up and led the short-haired woman into the trailer by the hand. “Is this your daughter, Sam?”

“No, this is a monster!” Sam grabbed Elsie around the waist and pulled her into his lap, growling playfully. Elsie squealed and squirmed as he tickled her, and the woman laughed. You smiled too, but you reached over to move Sam’s half-eaten meal out of the way. You’d seen this play out too many times to think that he and Elsie would be able to avoid knocking it onto the rug.

Elsie finally freed herself from Sam’s grasp and scrambled into yours. You wrapped them around her, hugging her tightly, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Sam caught your eye and grinned wide before looking back at the woman still standing in his trailer.

“What’s going on, Jody? Are we having a wardrobe problem again?” he asked, getting to his feet.

She shook her head. “No, but I heard a certain someone in here really likes princesses, and I thought I could give her a little tour of the wardrobe trailer,” Jody replied with a slow smile.

“Right, the wardrobe trailer with all the princess dresses…” Sam looked back at Elsie, who was watching him and Jody with wide eyes. She’d cued in on the key words in their conversation and was practically vibrating with excitement in your arms. “What do you say, Elsie? Would you like to go with Miss Jody to see the princess dresses for daddy’s movie?”

Elsie nodded vigorously and you let her down off your lap. She grabbed Jody’s outstretched hand with a wide smile and waved at Sam as she was led down the steps that led out of his trailer. The door slammed behind her and Jody, and after a second, you stood and gathered up two of the discarded lunch containers.

Sam stared at you as you carried them over to the trash, and finally you looked up at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he quickly replied, shaking his head. “Nothing.”

“You’re staring at me, Sam. There’s not something on the back of my pants, right? Or shirt?” You twisted, trying to get a look at your back just in case, and your face grew hot at the idea that you’d been walking around with Sam-freaking-Winchester, the super hot, award-winning director, all the while looking like a slob.

“No, no. I just…” Sam sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He watched through the window as some of the crew members walked by outside, then dropped his hand back down and looked back at you. “We need to talk about something.”

Oh no.

“Sure, is everything okay?”

Sam sat back down on the couch and gestured for you to return to your own seat. You did, and you purposefully folded your hands in your lap so that you wouldn’t fidget and give away how nervous you felt. Your stomach was twisted up in knots.

“Yes. I mean, no, but… It’s a good kind of not okay.”

“Oh…Okay.”

“That didn’t make sense,” Sam said after a second.

“No, it didn’t,” you agreed, smiling a little. “Is this about Elsie? Is there something different you maybe want me to do with her? Or do you think it’s time for her to go back to a daycare, or even a preschool? She’s almost in Kindergarten anyway. I really don’t mind just watching her in the mornings and afternoons, if that’s what you need.”

“Do you not want to work with Elsie anymore?” His eyebrows furrowed and you quickly backtracked. “Because if you don’t—”

“No! No, I love Elsie. She’s an amazing kid, Sam. I just… I’m trying to figure out what you mean. A good kind of not okay?”

Sam sighed and nodded. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees for a few moments as he thought, then leaned back and relaxed against the couch cushions. You watched in silence, and with each passing second, the feeling that you might puke just from the suspense of the whole thing grew.

“I like you, Y/N. I like you a lot,” Sam finally said.

“I like you and Elsie too, Sam, but what’s that got to do with this?”

“No.” He shook his head, reaching over to put one large hand over your folded ones. You froze, absolutely stunned. Sam had never touched you except for handshakes, or maybe in passing when he took Elsie from you.

“Y/N, I really like you. I like you in the non-professional sense.”

Oh.

“I like you in the romantic sense,” Sam continued. “And I’d really like to see you romantically, but you’re my employee. I don’t want to cross any boundaries, and the only reason I’m telling you this is because I think that you might want the same thing.”

You swallowed, looking down. Slowly, you relaxed your grip on your hands and let him take one of them in his. After a second, his thumb began to rub over your skin and the feeling was hypnotizing. “I do. Want the same,” you added. “I’ve liked you a long time, Sam.”

“I don’t want you to feel pressured, Y/N.”

Looking up at him, you shook your head and squeezed his hand. “I don’t. I don’t feel pressured, Sam. I really do like you, and I was honestly worried I’d have to quit if you ever brought home some famous movie star or something. I wouldn’t have been able to handle it.”

Sam smiled wide, his eyes lighting up. “Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to hear you say that?” You shook your head. “A really long time, Y/N. Almost the whole time you’ve been Elsie’s nanny,” he admitted, and you grinned back at him.

Any nerves you’d had were completely gone now. Sam’s touch—even though it was just his thumb on the back of your hand—was more soothing than you could’ve ever imagined, and though the butterflies in your stomach were alive and well, you’d hoped for a while that you and Sam would have this conversation.

“Really?”

He nodded and brought your hand up to his lips to kiss it. The butterflies leaped for joy.

“That’s a long time. I didn’t even catch on,” you told him.

“I had to be careful. And to be honest, the only reason I suspected you liked me back is because Elsie started talking about how you and I act like one of her friend’s parents whenever we’re together. She started asking questions and it made me think.”

You laughed. “That little girl has got a brain bigger than yours. She’s gonna grow up amazing.”

Sam hadn’t stopped grinning at you and you felt your face grow warm under all the attention. If this was an old black and white movie, you would’ve swooned by now, but now his smile was beginning to fade. You sensed that the other shoe was about to drop and your own smile wilted.

“I’ve got you to thank for a lot of that,” Sam said, his voice softer. “We can’t be together if you're my employee, Y/N.”

“We’ll figure it out,” you murmured. After a second, you gave him a sly smile. “You and Elsie just need to put your big brains together.”

_______________

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iidiotkid · 3 years

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Okay I kinda wanna talk about Tim because this is my account and I do what I want

On one hand, I understand why people hate him. He’s a Rich White Sad Boy, and we have plenty of those, but like,,,,,, I think Tim as a character is a pretty interesting move for the batman universe. At least in concept

He’s written to be a self-insert. It’s obvious. He’s a boy with a neglectful family life (which is far more common than the other batkids), who gets noticed by the heroes he adores and they think he’s smart, who has very little personality traits other than that, etc

But that’s exactly why I think he’s interesting. Because a lot of the things interrelate and if they had actually been explored it properly it would have been so cool.

To start off, the child neglect. This is a kid who has had limited social interaction his entire life. The two people who are supposed to love him the most didn’t care enough to even call most of the time, and most of the kids that talked to him would have been doing so because of his parents, how would that affect a person?

He, like many batfamily fans, fixates on a family situation he perceives as healthy. He follows them around, watches the Robins and their interactions with Batman, takes pictures of everything and keeps them in a scrapbook like someone would do their own family photos. He projects himself onto them, pretends like he’s a part of them, wishes that his own life could be like that...

But then something happens. Jason dies. The only true family he’s ever known, even if they never knew him, is fractured. Dick stops coming by as often, Bruce starts getting suicidal. Everything’s gone to shit and he’s desperate to fix it. He knows what’s wrong and, after a lot of convincing, he manages to get Bruce to let him correct it.

Which means he’s officially a part of the family he’s always wanted to be in! The childhood dream that he never fully dared to allow himself to wish for has come true! Sure, Bruce is still a little hesitant about him, but he’s officially Robin!

Now what?

Now he hits a problem. Everything he defines himself with are mostly just his status — he’s the heir to Drake Industries! — and that’s all. But now he isn’t really a Drake anymore, he’s spent more time with Bruce in the past few months than he has with his biological parents since he was a baby. So, who is he?

Robin, of course! He can’t call himself Bruce’s son, the man hadn’t adopted him and it felt a bit like he was betraying the Drakes by considering himself that, so he latched onto the only other thing present. He was Robin.

And this made him fear losing Robin even more. Because, if he wasn’t Robin, then who exactly was he? He knows he wasn’t chosen, that Dick and Jason were and he WASNT, he’s so painfully aware of it. Bruce didn’t want him, not really.

And that was fine, he was used to people he loved not wanting him around.

In fact, this situation was even better than the usual. At least Bruce was willing to deal with him! Of course, he doesn’t know how long that’ll last, so he tells himself he has to work hard. If he messes up too much then Bruce will realize he’s more trouble than he’s worth, just like every parental figure always realizes given enough time, and he can’t deal with that.

Obviously, he becomes a perfectionist. He had already been pretty obsessive, this was almost inevitable. Late nights poring over files, unfocused in his classes, but a he’s damn good Robin. And Bruce is noticing! He’s praising him for figuring things out so fast, he’s thanking him for his help!

But Tim is a growing boy, and growing boys need their sleep. Poor reflexes, stunted growth, gradually declining ability to think... all bad things when you’re Robin. And Bruce is noticing, because of course he is he’s BATMAN, but he hasn’t said anything yet so it’s fine and really Tim can just deal with it —.

Enter one Dick Grayson. He sees this kid take a pretty bad blow in a fight, sees this kid in the Robin suit nearly die while he’s unable to do anything, and all he can think about is Jason dying alone in that warehouse while he was unable to do anything in space. He couldn’t save Jason. He can save Tim.

Visits from Bludhaven become more common despite all the tensions between Bruce and him. Tim doesn’t know why Dick is suddenly so interested in him, hardly anyone ever is, but he is more than happy to accept it for now.

Dick takes him out to see Gotham, not as vigilantes but as civilians. Tim has never seen Gotham like this, not really. His parents had never been all that interested in showing him, and school field trips are always spent bitching and moaning about how boring they were or stressing out over worksheets, so he hadn’t had a chance to really enjoy Gotham for what it was. A gorgeous place despite the circumstances.

He starts spending more time out in Gotham simply for himself, even when Dick wasn’t around. He starts meeting new people. He learns that he’s a listener. Watching people talking about things they loved, seeing the way their faces light up and their hands move around wildly in their excitement, it becomes one of his favorite pastimes.

And, of course, they make life sound like so much fun. He starts doing even more. He visits the arboretum, the planetarium, the zoo, he loves them all. Nature was so gorgeous, and in Gotham it was such a rarity to see any of it that every time he visited he could feel the breath catch. He wants to make Gotham better. He knows not everyone can afford to go to these kinds of places all the time, so the only solution is to try and better the city.

He’s no longer Robin for the sake of being Batman’s Robin, he’s Robin to help Gotham.

He’s doing it purely to be helpful, because he genuinely likes helping people now. He’s seen their smiles, he’s heard their stories, and he wants to protect them.

But he can’t do that if he keeps working himself half to death (literally), so he starts allowing himself some proper rest. He is surprised to learn he’s actually doing BETTER as Robin now. He’s a better fighter and a better detective, sure, but he’s also more concerned about collateral damage in fights and he’s better with victims.

And Bruce notices. Of course he does, he’s Batman, but he doesn’t say anything again. Tim is doing well, and he was usually quiet about most things so he can leave him be.

Or, at least, that was the plan until a particularly adamant Dick drags him out of his brooding to talk to Tim. Bruce, however awkward and stilted, asks how his day went.

So Tim tells him that he doesn’t have to do that, that they don’t have to force a relationship. They were Batman and Robin, and that was enough for him, they didn’t need to be Bruce and Tim, too, if Bruce didn’t want it to be that way.

Bruce’s breath catches just like Tim’s does when he sees the stars and the plants and the animals as they truly are. And then Bruce slowly draws him into a hug, it’s painfully awkward and a little uncomfortable with all their armor, but then Bruce says that he does want it. That he wants Tim.

And Tim realizes then, with his face buried in Bruce’s cape and promises of a better relationship with Bruce, that he isn’t Robin. Because Robin was little more than an idea.

He was just Tim. And maybe Tim was enough.

#man i hope this makes sense #anyways dc write tim well challenge #actually write everyone well challenge #dc has such good concepts and for what #tim drake #dick grayson #batman #batfam #batdad #batfamily #bruce wayne #robin #red robin #nightwing #is this a fic?#i’m counting it as a fic

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angelanimedesaray · 3 years

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Wings in the Dark Chapter 5: Camaraderie

AN: More Cat and Mouse. I swear its gonna start to crescendo, guys, we’re almost there XD There’s just so much to establish!

Characters: Fem!Vampire!Reader, Levi, Petra, Oluo, Gunther, Eld

Pairing: (Eventual) Levi x Fem!Vampire!Reader

Warnings: Language, Loneliness, Depressed Thoughts

Word Count: 8146

<----Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter---->

*Reader’s POV*

While it wasn’t the most shocking thing that had ever happened to you, being instated as a member, but not technically a member, of the Special Operations Squad was definitely up there on your list of most surprising things that had happened to you. The weird in-between position they gave you to try and mediate how unprecedented it was to have a rookie join Levi Squad after just one expedition may have been a glorified lackey, but it was still a position with Captain Levi’s Squad.

Of course, right now, that consisted of doing the menial chores, message delivery, and other small tasks like that, but you were still a part of the team. They’d only given you this aid position they’d made on the spot because you were so new, and it did a decent job of putting you at the bottom of the food chain until you were more seasoned. However, you were still considered part of Captain Levi’s Squad--you had your own private chambers and everything, which meant you wouldn’t have to worry about not waking up anyone while you snuck out of the barracks every once in a while to get something to eat.

Also, now that you were officially being placed with a squad, you knew what people you had to try and made friends with. Before you’d been hesitant--sure, you understood that the Scouts operated in a way that was going to make teamwork and camaraderie important, so you were going to have to be more social, but you still wanted to be careful about who you let get close. You still had an instinct to keep everyone at an arm’s length besides those you /had/ to keep close, which you had rationalized would include whoever you were put under and the rest of your squad.

While you’d known Levi was watching you and the rumors had been running rampant that a rookie would be joining his squad, you’d been well aware that he wasn’t watching you because he wanted to add you to the group--he was suspicious of you. That sparring match you’d had with him had tipped him off, and he hadn’t relented in his pursuit ever since then. In fact, when he’d told you that you were going to be a part of his squad, he didn’t look entirely pleased about it. Sure, Captain Levi was usually hard to read and usually appeared distant or unapproachable, but the look in his eyes had been...colder. It made you suspicious that having you on the squad had not been his decision, or at the very least it had been one he’d made despite his reservations.

Keep your enemies close, right?

Once it was on the table that this might be a position meant solely as an excuse to keep a closer eye on you, it made your skin crawl, and you approached every situation with caution. You had to watch every step, like you were walking across a tightrope and would drown if you slipped and fell into the waters down below.

When you’d joined the Scouts, you knew that it was going to be difficult to balance being a Scout with hiding your true nature, but this was far beyond what you had expected. It made you dearly wish that you had thrown that match back on the training grounds, that he’d never gotten a sense that you were hiding something so fiercely.

Soon, you were going to be kept up at night with an internal struggle to either stick it out and try to endure so you could do what you came here to do, or if you should just take off and slink back into the shadows.

But you couldn’t bear the thought of going back to that life, as much as it might have been ‘safer’ in a way. You wanted desperately to be here--but did you want it bad enough that you were going to throw all caution to the wind, risk the Captain getting too close to your secret. In the past, before you’d joined the military, you’d killed the people who came too close to exposing you. But that wasn’t an option, here. You knew how valuable Captain Levi was to the Scouts--humanity couldn’t afford to lose him, so you couldn’t afford to touch him. Your only choice was to play this god forsaken cat and mouse game and pray that you came out on top.

Thankfully, the other members of the squad weren’t aware of the cat and mouse you and Levi were caught up in--not yet, anyway. Though they were understandably confused and even a little irritated at the inclusion of a still-green rookie, even if it was as an aid. Maybe the aid position caused a bit more tension, because a new position had been created just so you could be added to the group.

Give it time, you told yourself as you continued cleaning your private room that had been assigned to you, currently working on cleaning the desk off until it had a polished shine to it. Even if Levi hadn’t added you to the squad because he necessarily wanted you here, you were still going to prove that you could belong here, if they would let you.

“Did you finish with the stables?”

“Yes, sir. Mucked out, equipment cleaned, horses fed, watered, and brushed, shoes cleaned, all of it.”

“What about cleaning inside, have you done all the tasks you were assigned?”

“All except what Oluo asked me to do. I haven’t got there yet."

"Well, get to it. And when you're done come down to the training grounds for some training."

"Yes, sir!"

As you walked away from Eld, your ears picked up on a passing comment he made to Gunther when he thought you were out of earshot.

“Is it just me, or is it frustrating how easily and quickly she tends to get all of her tasks done? I can’t even find anything wrong with it, so I can’t claim she’s rushing through it!”

"You too? I thought it was just Oluo complaining about that."

Just as you'd suspected. The others weren't pleased with your easy access to this position. They weren't going to say anything because they trusted Levi’s judgement and as far as they knew it was his decision, but that didn't mean they weren't going to be at least a little irritated. How long had it taken before they'd been added to Levi’s squad? How many expeditions, how much hard work? By all accounts, it looked like you'd had smooth and effortless sailing into a position among the elite.

The fact they kept having you do the shit chores was just a way to kick you back in the dirt and remind you that you were still a rookie, and they were the veterans with experience.

However, you didn't complain. You could do the jobs faster than anyone without loosing accuracy because of it. Not to mention you felt it might be cathartic for their frustrations. Though, now it seemed they had a new reason to be frustrated.

You'd tone it back to appease them, but Levi already knew what your full effort looked like with the cleaning jobs--he'd know you were holding back, and you highly doubted he'd appreciate that when it came to cleaning, knowing his standards.

Quickly, you made your way back inside and up to Oluo's chambers, stopping outside the door and giving a firm knock.

"Who's there?"

"It's L/N, you said you had a job for me to do?"

"It's about time you showed up. Get in here!"

After he'd officially invited you inside, you opened the door, stepping inside and expecting to see paperwork or supplies or something else you would have to deliver or put away.

Nope. Oluo was standing there with cleaning supplies presented in the middle of the room. You immediately knew where this was going, and even you could tell it wasn't going to end well.

"Start cleaning, rookie. I've got more important things I have to get done, and I want it shining by the time I get back," Oluo ordered, complete with a puffed out chest.

You were supposed to follow their orders without question, but you knew Oluo was taking advantage of that fact. Maybe he was hoping having you clean his quarters before Levi inspected them later today would help him look better to the Captain. But you were also certain that Levi would recognize that it was your work and not Oluo's

For Oluo's sake, since you were certain he would be the one getting in trouble, you pushed back slightly.

"Doesn't Captain Levi prefer if we clean our own spaces?" You asked as you picked up the broom. Oluo turned by the door, fixing you with the imitation of an expression befitting a superior who'd just heard a subordinate talk back.

"Huh? How long have you been here, rookie, compared to me?" Oluo challenged. You shrugged, turning back to the cleaning supplies and the room you were supposed to clean.

His funeral.

The window was open to let in natural light and try to chase away the gloomy atmosphere in your room, silence filling the space except for the birds outside and the scratching against the paper you were currently drawing on. Your eyes, however, were unfocused, looking past the piece you were drawing and instead getting lost in the sea of your depressed thoughts.

For three years you’d been back among people, mingling and being a part of society, but never had you felt so...ostracized. You were among people, but you weren’t close to anyone. Your peers thought you were a haughty perfectionist ice queen and were irritated by how easily everything came to you, Captain Levi was suspicious that there was something you were hiding and was watching your every move with a coldness in his eyes, and your new squad mates were currently using you as the gopher to dump all the chores they didn’t want to do onto you while giving you examining, dubious looks from a distance trying to figure out why you were even here.

You sat alone at meals, you didn’t go anywhere on your days off--the closest thing you had to a companion were the horses, and most of them were still frightened by you.

You wanted to be here, but...it was getting so hard just to be here. Was it really worth it if you were going to spend your days feeling like this?

On the paper spread out in front of you, you had a picture drawn from the mental image in your mind’s eye--a single flower in a barren spot surrounded by lush field. The sun shone everywhere else, but this single spot was cast in shadow. Despite the barren ground and the lack of sunlight, the flower was trying to bloom, partially budded, some petals trying to uncurl, but ice covered it’s petals and held prisoner it’s stem, restraining it in the icy chill, needing assistance but nothing around it willing or able to help.

You put down what you were drawing with, a lump in your throat and tears in your eyes as you headed over to your bed and stretched out on top of the neatly made covers, arms digging under the pillow you buried your face in before tears could overflow.

You were surrounded by people, but you’d never felt so lonely, and you wanted it to change. Even though you’d signed up for this and known it would be difficult, you couldn’t take living like this anymore. Something had to change. You didn’t know how you were going to keep your secret while trying to let people in enough to form bonds, but it was the only real option that you had.

The guys were all dubious of you, you could tell from overheard conversations and the looks in their eyes, but Petra...well, you thought if you were going to start trying to build a friendship somewhere, she might be the one to go to. She’d been a bit more...open, about the whole arrangement, and she was actually asking for help and trying to get a feel for you while everyone else seemed to be going out of their way to remind you that you were at the bottom of the food chain right now.

Starting tomorrow...you were going to try and be a companion and hopefully manage to find some friendship. Starting with Petra.

*Petra’s POV*

The mess hall was noisy as ever, making it a little surprising that Captain Levi was still sitting with them at the table after repeating the lecture he'd given Oluo later about doing his own cleaning. Now that Oluo had attempted to have the rookie clean his space and then pass it off as his own, the rest of them got to get the warning to do their own responsibilities without shoving them all off on the new girl.

Petra had felt bad that she seemed to be getting all the crap jobs nobody wanted to do and then some while the others seemed determined to make sure she knew her place, but she hadn't said anything because not once had the woman complained or looked the least bit upset by it. Until today, Petra had been unsure how to even approach her, something about her making her seem closed off and unreachable.

However, today she had approached Petra, quietly asking Petra if she would teach her the nuances for how everything was cleaned around here. Preferences of soaps and organization, what went where and the like. You could clean till everything shone like a new coin, bur preferences had to be taught or learned. She'd been aware of it, and she had been humble enough to approach Petra for answers.

It was only when she was approached that Petra suddenly realized how alone the woman seemed. She never ate with them--in fact she was certain she ate alone--and she was never seen around anyone from her years as a cadet, she didn't seem to leave headquarters to visit family, and if you needed to find her she was either alone in her room or with the horses in the stable. She was never with someone unless she was doing her job.

The thing that made Petra realize all this was how she was approached. The woman shifted her weight, a white knuckle grip on the broom in her hand despite visible restraint, her eyes fixed down and to the side, a slight tremble in her hand and a hunch of her shoulders like she was anticipating some negative reaction, or at least reluctance.

It wasn't right. She was part of their squad, and it was their job to make sure she felt included. Captain Levi must have felt that she was ready on some level to be here, and they were her comrades. At the very least, she should have a place among them--she shouldn't be so alone.

So, while everyone else was chatting as usual around the table, Petra kept an eye out for their new squad member. It took a while, but when the woman finally appeared and left the line to get her food, Petra attempted to catch her attention without the others noticing.

They locked gazes, and Y/N hesitated before she approached their table, making the others look up as she came astride the table.

"May I sit here?" she asked hesitantly, gaze flickering around at the others and lingering briefly on Captain Levi at the head of the table.

"Of course," Petra said instantly, gesturing to an empty seat beside her and flashing a look at the others daring them to disagree while Y/N was taking her seat. "It's about time you started sitting with your squad."

Her cheeks tinged pink in mild embarrassment, Y/N took a few bites of her meal, clearly uncertain about what to do next.

Well, if everyone else was just going to sit here in awkward silence, and Y/N wasn’t going to take the initiative because she wasn’t sure how, Petra would just have to do it herself.

“So, where are you from?” Petra asked her. It was probably the best, simple answer to get the ball rolling on conversation.

“A small town in Wall Rose--it tends to get overlooked, and it's usually quiet around there except the occasional scandal.”

“Do you have much family back home?”

“No, it’s just me.”

The way she said it was short, clearly ending the topic there, but she managed to not make it sound mean--just that she wasn’t entirely comfortable talking about it, which made sense. Petra continued to chat with her, asking simple questions to try and learn more about her, basing some off her observations of the woman--like if she was good with animals. Apparently animals weren’t always that fond of her, but she had a soft spot for them despite some animals distaste of her. She thought she might be good with cats or birds, but hadn’t really had the opportunity to test her theory out.

After a bit of back and forth between Petra and Y/N about their lives and learning about one another, the others started to join in as well--aside from Captain Levi, who seemed content to just focus on his meal and listen while everyone talked around him. As the conversation flowed a little more naturally, Y/N started to loosen up and relax, taking charge of the conversation a few times to ask about the others as well as she bloomed from a closed off background character in a novel to a more outgoing and engaging individual. It was quite the change to witness. She still withdrew into herself with more personal questions, especially about her past before joining the Scouts, which gave Petra the impression that the Scouts were a sort of fresh start for the woman. She shared with them why she’d joined the Scouts, which none of them could deny was a valid enough reason after seeing her in action. She had skill, and if she wanted those skills to be put to use, the Scouts were arguably the best place for them, and the faction of the military with the strongest need for them. Besides, who didn’t want to feel useful? Unfortunately, many Scouts died, and some died so quickly it was easy to wonder if their deaths ever had any meaning to begin with, if it had been worth it. However, Petra had the feeling this one wasn’t going to be one of those recruits that appeared and disappeared without ever leaving much of a mark. She just might be around for a while, especially if she was going to take the time to learn from the elites she’d been placed with and stayed grounded, level-headed, and smart.

As the questions drifted away from the personal, in part because of Y/N’s continued reluctance to delve too deeply into the personal, they started peppering her with the twenty-questions kinds of inquiries. What were her likes and dislikes, favorites, hobbies, fears, aspirations, that kind of thing. Some she was able to answer relatively quickly, even if it wasn’t simple, such as having no clear favorite because she liked so many, and other times she hesitated, such as when she was asked aspirations, because she hadn’t given it much thought, being so focused on this current stage of her life.

“What about biggest fears?”

“Oluo!” Petra protested, giving him a dirty look. They were all eating, and this question alone could get extremely dark considering the horrors they faced every day outside the wall.

“What? It’s a legitimate question. Some people are scared of spiders, others heights--though you don’t get much of that one in the military, I think--it could be all kinds of things.”

"I think the answer to that is a little too morbid for dinner conversation," Y/N said with a slightly weak smile, which made Petra think it might actually be something to do with Titans. If it was, it was probably best they didn’t hear it, just in case.

"Nah, it's fine, we're sharing--so what is it? Fire? Dolls? Dead fish?" Oluo asked cheekily.

"Um...being buried alive, actually," Y/N answered, looking down and picking at her food.

"Damn, that is a pretty scary thought. Wasn't expecting that one," Oluo muttered. Petra wasn’t paying attention to him--she was reading Y/N’s body language, how she’d seemed to withdraw into herself and her hand was trembling as she pushed around the food left on her plate. It was most likely at the thought of this fear of hers, if Petra had to guess. The mental imagery alone was terrifying.

At the other end of the table, Levi was staring at Y/N intently, having noticed the same things, and a little more.

“Now that Oluo has officially tried to sabotage the evening, let’s try some gossip: I hear you had a knack for sneaking out in the Cadet Corps and never got caught. What were you doing? I’ve heard some interesting theories,” Gunther said with a perceiving glint in his eyes. Y/N sighed even as everyone’s attention centered on her.

“God damn those rumors are going to follow me for the rest of my life, aren’t they?” she mused, not denying that she snuck out as she took a slow drink.

“Well, Rookie? Care to share?” Oluo asked as she sat down her drink.

She turned to look at the rest of the group, and then with an unreadable expression and in a completely deadpan tone, stated, "I strip naked in the pale moonlight and conduct blood rituals to achieve perfection."

There was a heartbeat, and then snorts, chuckles, a ripple of amusement through the group at the joke.

"Rookie's got a sense of humor," Oluo mused.

Y/N’s lips quirked towards a half smile, taking another drink. "Wish I could say the same for you."

There was a bit more laughter this time, even as Oluo scowled, no one bothering to hide their amusement at the comment.

"And some snark, to boot," Gunther snickered as Oluo sulked. “But really, though, what were you doing?”

Y/N sighed, setting down her drink again. “It wasn’t...actually, you know what,” she said with a sparkle in her eye and a mischievous smile. “I hear there’s a pot for the theories. Place bets on it, maybe one day I’ll actually tell you. Maybe I won’t.”

“Oh, come on,” Oluo complained loudly.

“Now that’s just mean,” Petra said with a cluck of her tongue and a shake of her head while Y/N settled back down, visibly proud of her teasing.

Caught up in their banter and companionable discussion, no one noticed how at the head of the table, laid back in his chair, Levi showed no sign of amusement, his gaze fixated on Y/N with a sharp, cold look.

*Reader’s POV*

After you’d taken your first steps towards developing a warmer relationship with your squad mates, things started to go a bit easier for you. You were still at the bottom of the food chain, and the responsibilities as an aid hadn’t changed, but you didn’t think you were getting as much shit dumped on you. It probably helped that Captain Levi had apparently given them a lecture about doing their own chores instead of getting lazy and shoving them all off on her.

For the most part, it was Petra that you were getting close to. The others were becoming cordial, and you had even approached Eld asking him if he could give you lessons on ODM gear technique after hearing he was quite skilled at utilizing the ODM gear. That seemed to have helped the relationship there--frankly, whenever you showed a bit of humility about still having a lot to learn, they warmed up a bit more.

It seemed there had been concerns that you would be an arrogant big headed pain in their asses with how quickly you’d shot into the elite squad, and showing them that you still considered yourself in a learning position and not above anyone helped assuage those fears.

Captain Levi...was as suspicious of you as ever. Except now you were around him enough to feel the chill in his gaze even after you left his presence. That was a relationship you weren’t sure you were in a position to improve. You’d given him plenty of reasons to be suspicious of you, but you were still trying your damnedest not to give him a reason to mistrust you. Maybe it would just take time to prove yourself in his eyes, but at this rate, it was looking like a /deep/ hole you were going to have to climb out of, and for some reason, it just kept getting deeper.

Since it was going to be the more difficult task, you resolved to worry about making a better relationship with Captain Levi later and instead focus on improving the relationship with your squad mates. Firstly, you didn’t want to be a kiss ass, especially cause you knew it would be obvious. Second, ideally by the time you set about improving your relationship with the Captain, he might have warmed up a bit to you.

At the very least, it would be nice if that chill wasn’t in his gaze anymore.

Right now, Petra was the closest thing to a confidant and friend that you had. After you had initially approached her about learning the nuances for cleaning, she’d taken the initiative to help you learn the ropes and adjust to the other nuances of being in Levi Squad, which involved a lot of dos and don’ts. She’d even pulled you aside one evening and sat you down so she could teach you how to properly make Captain Levi’s tea how he liked it, so that if or when he asked for it--and apparently he eventually asked everyone at some point, at least to gauge their tea making skills--you would be ready. You’d been down in the kitchen for a surprisingly long time for that one, since apparently Levi liked his black tea made a very specific way, and additives weren’t usually his preference, so there would be no masking any off taste.

Shortly after, you’d decided to let Petra know about your secret little garden with your tea making herbs. You’d gone when you both had some free time to spare, crouching down beside the garden and talking with her about the different herbs for your blends you’d added and why, complete with a prepared excuse about why the white sage was so far away from the rest and why you wore gloves when handling the plans at all times.

The white sage you told her needed to stay separate because it was aggressive and you didn’t want it taking over the smaller herbs, when you really kept it separate because it burned at the touch and you didn’t want to risk even accidentally brushing against it while you were working on this hobby of yours. As for the gloves, it was the same concept--it let you handle the sage safely without harming yourself, though you told her it was for cleanliness and to keep your natural oils off of the tea herb plants.

As you’d chatted about the herbs in your garden and potential additions (With Petra suggesting adding the plants necessary to make some black tea blends of your own), you’d caught a familiar scent on the breeze, which led you to hone your senses on the individual’s breathing and heartbeat. They were staying a safe distance away so as not to be noticed, but close enough that if something happened they would be there in an instant. They were tense and cautious, listening intently to what was being discussed.

It seemed Captain Levi had reached the point he didn’t trust you alone with the other members of Squad Levi in places that were hidden from the public eye. Your best guess for his presence was that it was out of concern for Petra, wanting to make sure the other woman was truly safe in your presence.

Once again, you understood his cautiousness, and he wasn’t wrong to be cautious...but the level of distrust still cut.

After about a week or so spent developing a stronger bond with your new squad mates, as the time for another feed drew closer, you decided to confide in some of your concerns with Petra regarding Captain Levi--that you felt you might have made a bad impression on him early on and wanted a way to thaw some of the ice between you two that wouldn’t look like bribery or like you were trying to kiss ass. You’d tossed a couple ideas around, already reassuring her that you were already intending to let time tell and let your own personality and abilities do most of the work, but that the chill was getting a little too uncomfortable on your end for you to keep going without making some kind of first step.

With an upcoming holiday and a debate about the best approach, you’d eventually settled on putting together a small gift of personalized tea blends. Since you didn’t have anything mature in your garden for black tea, you had to go into town to get missing ingredients, going with Petra to get her opinion on the best leaves, best tea bags, any additions that you didn’t have in your garden back with the Scouts or that hadn’t matured enough to use anything from it yet like your rosebush. After you had all of your materials, you’d headed back to HQ and stowed yourselves away in the kitchen to get to work.

Petra had the idea to make a couple different variations--there would be plain black tea, of course, but you’d also had some personal blends that you two decided on, mostly based off of Petra’s experience making Levi his tea when asked to, and her past observations of the few times he’d added something to it. You would have to divide and label the different teas in the container, but it would make it a little more personal.

However, you got her attention when you brought out the white sage, gloved hands grinding the herb up into a fine powder with a mortar and pestle.

“What’s that for?” she asked with a slight frown, watching you intently grinding at the white sage to make sure it was all powder and there weren’t any chunks left.

“I’m going...to add a light dusting of the white sage over the tea bags. Hopefully not enough to alter the taste, but it will still be in there,” you murmured, covered fingers running through the powder to check how fine you’d made it.

“I know there’s superstitions about white sage cleansing of evil and bad spirits, but I know the Captain isn’t, and you didn’t take me for the superstitious type. I just figured you had a fancy taste in tea,” Petra mused. You almost snorted, but stopped yourself short considering you were currently directly over the powdered sage and didn’t want it to go everywhere.

“While I’m sure the superstitious intent of cleansing and warding off evil adds a bit more personal good intent, the short version is that it’s also supposed to do wonders for your health. At least according to that book that’s still stashed in my desk,” you chuckled.

“I didn’t know that...a fine addition, then. You really pay attention to that herbology book of yours,” Petra quipped with a friendly smile, which you returned before setting the white sage aside for later, when your tea bags were finished.

Though only you would know it, if he kept the tea and used it frequently--which was fairly likely with how much tea he drank--then he would have white sage in his system frequently. That alone would protect him substantially from any other vampires lurking in the darkness. You couldn’t predict the actions of other vampires, especially with how impulsive they could sometimes be, but if you were this deep in the Scouts, you would rather be safe than sorry, especially if someone with ill intentions managed to work their way in.

Sure, white sage helped with general health, but the real reason you were adding it was for your own peace of mind to help protect Captain Levi. Why not take the opportunity to do so now that it had presented itself. If you were in the position to, you would give similar gifts of secret protection to more than just him, but you only had so much white sage, and right now, he was the one you had an excuse to do this for.

Now you just had to hope he would accept it.

*Levi’s POV*

As much as Erwin had a point about being able to keep a closer eye on L/N by having her in his squad, Levi was finding the arrangement to be...complicating. The way she presented herself, interacted with the others, the hard work she was putting in, he kept finding himself softening towards her because of it. She was a good soldier who truly put in the effort and then some, and she was quickly growing on the rest of the team. She was observant and thoughtful, and she paid close attention to the needs and preferences of the people around her. She wasn’t boastful or arrogant, and apparently was trying to learn something from every member of the squad. Petra had already taken her in like the natural mother hen she was and was around her quite often, but L/N could be seen around the others as well, just not as much.

For fuck’s sake, she’d even befriended his goddamn horse--he’d caught her in the stables sneaking him some oats and getting playfully nuzzled in return. From her track record, he knew she had to have put in the effort for that to happen, too, considering the horses started off at least spooked by her.

But he knew she was hiding something. He couldn’t ignore the signs he’d picked up on until now, how she dodged the personal and tried to keep her past hidden and buried, couldn’t forget the smell of the Underground and blood on her cape, her lack of a past, her unexplained, effortless natural skills, the regular sneaking out to do who knew what. Maybe it wasn’t as insidious as he kept thinking it might be, maybe he should ease up a bit instead of freezing her out and treating her like an already convicted traitor. But he couldn’t shake this feeling that whatever she was hiding was far from innocent, and he didn’t want to risk the betrayal, or getting his squad any more mixed up in it than they already were.

Though how well they were starting to take to her and how she was already being included into the fold, he was starting to get the sense that he was on a time limit before uncovering her as a traitor or something else terrible would cause unexpected damage.

Of course, he could take the paranoid route and assume that it was all clever, carefully planned movements, actions, and words meant to manipulate everyone around her into trusting her and letting their guards down. Unfortunately, not only was that extremely paranoid, but she didn’t lack the sincerity behind much of what she did like certain psychopaths he’d met in the past. She was very clearly hiding things, and she knew she was being watched, but her sincerity didn’t ring hollow because of it.

Fuck, he hated being in this position. And he really hated that he’d agreed to Erwin’s idea to put him in this situation. Even he knew he was being especially cold to her as if it would help put some distance between himself and the warm individual who was working her ass off for him and his squad in case the worst happened. If he was wrong, though, and what she was hiding wasn’t as malicious as he felt it might be, then he was going to have a lot of reparations to deal with going forward, especially since she was already on the fast track to be a part of his squad for a long time moving forward so long as she continued to survive the expeditions.

It would be so much easier if she just came clean. They wouldn’t have to do all this back and forth, cat and mouse, and they could move on. Unfortunately, even though she knew she was being watched and Levi was suspicious, she wasn’t saying anything beyond that comment she’d made the night before the expedition. Just another reason to believe whatever she was hiding was ugly.

There was a knock on his door, and his gaze flickered up to the shut door across from his desk, a faint frown on his face and Erwin’s findings about L/N spread out in front of him as he was in the middle of contemplating next moves.

“What?” he asked, squinting slightly at the door.

“It’s Y/N L/N. May I come in, Captain?”

Instinctively, Levi covered the documents he’d been looking at with anything that didn’t have to do with her, from supply shortage lists, reports from Hange and Erwin about the Scouts in general, anything but what he was looking at about her, knowing she had a sharp eye and not wanting to risk her seeing just how much he was aware of.

“Fine, come in,” Levi muttered, arm lying against the desk as the door opened after he spoke, and L/N came in hesitantly, something in hand.

A delivery, then. It was too much to hope she’d come to finally confess her secret to put an end to their unspoken chase. A pity.

As she approached, Levi noticed that she was rather fidgety, obviously nervous or at least a little embarrassed, and she was clutching the tin box in her hand rather rightly. What the hell was this about that suddenly she was a nervous cadet instead of the relatively calm and steady individual he’d been chasing secrets over up until now?

And then he remembered what day it was.

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me...

As understanding lit up in his eyes, he held up a hand. “If this is an attempt at a bribe, L/N--”

“It’s not,” she said firmly, and Levi had to give credit to the balls she had to cut him off like that. She didn’t even seem to regret it, plowing forward before he could start down the path of rejection again.

“It’s a gift, no strings attached or anything like that. Petra and I put it together, it’s for the holiday...and it’s also partially a thank you, on my part,” she said before taking a deep breath, setting the box down on his desk neatly on a clean space front and center before stepping away. “I know I haven’t made the best impression, and you didn’t have to put me with your squad in any capacity, but you did, and I intend to make sure it’s not something you end up regretting.”

It seemed they were both well aware of the game they were trapped in, and she was well aware of her position. He had to give her credit for not bolting, if she knew the position she was in and how much scrutiny she was under. Either she didn’t feel what she had to hide was that serious, which wasn’t likely with how hard she was trying to hide it, or she was that confident in her abilities to keep the truth hidden.

He still wasn’t sure he could entirely believe that this wasn’t a bribe, though. It could very easily be taken as one, or at least a thinly veiled attempt to get him to like her--or at least not be as cold with her. And she’d involved Petra. It was almost like she’d name dropped the other woman in order to prevent him from immediately rejecting the gift, because it wasn’t just her that had put effort into it.

Levi stared her up and down intently, eyes narrowed slightly out of suspicion as he tried to gauge her intentions and sincerity. After a few tense moments where she simply endured his piercing stare without so much as a tremble--there was the collected individual he’d seen up until now--he looked away, down at the papers across his desk.

“If that’s all, you can go,” he said bluntly as a way of dismissal. She was lucky he wasn’t telling her to take it back. He wasn’t openly accepting it, either, he was still going to decide what to do with it, but he wasn’t sending it back with her, either.

It was the closest she was going to get to accepting a gift right now.

L/N snapped a salute, apparently deciding it was better not to say anything and to just take the semi-win and leave. Once the door shut behind her, Levi waited a few more moments before he put the random papers he’d grabbed back where they belonged, pulling the tin close so he could get a look at what was inside now that she’d left.

Opening the tin, the fragrance that escaped immediately told him what the gift was--black tea, but a variety of different blends. And it was good tea, too, if the scent was anything to go by. Groups of the tea bags were sectioned off, labeled by the variant they were, such as the one blend that included lemon, or the one that seemed to have blackberries in it. The tea bags were definitely homemade, telling him the blends were specially made by her and Petra, thought going into the ingredients. There was a white powder dusted over all the tea bags that turned out to be white sage upon closer inspection.

An odd choice...especially since it was on every tea bag and not certain blends.

The wild thought crossed his mind that they might be poisoned, and he scowled, attempting to brush aside the paranoia with the thought that it would be far too bold and obvious of a move, especially with Petra helping put it together. He doubted she would have been able to get such a thing past Petra, too, considering the woman’s experience making Levi’s tea.

I’m going fucking crazy, he thought to himself as, despite his rationalization, he pulled out one of the tea bags and started methodically pulling it apart piece by piece to make sure there wasn’t anything fatal slipped into the homemade blend. He made sure to avoid touching it as little as possible so it was still usable when he was done, shifting through the ingredients in the blend and making sure he recognized every one.

Nothing suspicious about it. Aside from the odd choice of white sage.

If it really was meant to be a bribe, though, did he want to take it? He didn’t want to waste the tea, so he wasn’t going to just throw it out. He could re-gift it to Hange or Erwin, but he knew that would be a slight, and L/N hadn’t been the only one to make it--Petra had helped.

Dammit…

He’d just have to let it sit there until he could figure out what he was going to do with it. He could speculate on conspiracy theories about what it was meant to be, if it really was anything more than a gift, until he figured out how he was going to handle it.

It really could be what she said, though--a gift for the holidays and a thank you, maybe even a peace offering in the hopes things wouldn’t continue to be so tense between them. The contention would continue, though, until he found out what she was hiding.

Levi settled back into what he’d been doing before she came to his office, looking over the details Erwin had provided him, a small frown on his face as he looked over official documents and police reports that were roughly forty years old about a double homicide in the town that had spawned local legends and horror stories to frighten children. Why was this included in the report Erwin gave him? One of the two victims was the girl that L/N shared a first name with, the only thing resembling a tangible connection to the town she claimed as her hometown that Erwin could find.

He was going to have to talk to Erwin and try to get a day or two off so he could go investigate in person. He needed more information than what was in these reports, and he would only find what he wanted by going there in person.

Once more, there was a knock on the door, this time followed immediately by a familiar voice calling, “Captain?”

Ah, this was a meeting he’d been waiting for.

“You can come in, Petra,” he called, finally putting away Erwin’s reports in a safe place as Petra entered the room and headed for Levi’s desk. She didn’t bother asking why he asked her to meet him, simply took a seat and waited for him to speak.

“What do you think about our new member?” Levi asked after he got settled in his seat. Petra’s surprised eyes wandered to the gift still sitting on the desk, a questioning look in her eyes even though she complied to answering his question.

“Do you mean in skills or compatibility?” Petra asked for clarification after a moment’s hesitation.

“Compatibility.”

He was already well aware of her skills--she wouldn’t have even been placed as an aid in the squad if she didn’t have skills to become one of the elite. Skill was one of the first things he looked at when choosing squad members.

Petra seemed even more confused that he was asking after her personality more than anything, but again, she didn’t question him.

“She’s quiet and reserved, for the most part, but after spending a couple weeks with her, once you manage to get her to open up she has a warm and caring personality. She’s a little socially timid, though, I’m sure you’ve noticed; like she’s thinking of how she should act before she does or says something. At least at first, before she gets more comfortable and gets into the flow of conversation.”

Petra paused to consider, a small frown on her face. “She’s a creature of habit, that’s for sure--she’s always wearing the same necklace, all the time--I’ve never seen her without it, and there’s certain places she’s always at during certain times of the day. I’m a little worried about her health, though. I didn’t notice it at first, but she hardly seems to eat. She doesn’t get much on her plate, and she’s always smuggling things that are safe for horses to eat to the stables to bribe the horses instead of eating it herself. She doesn’t seem affected, not yet anyway, but I’m still worried about it.”

Taking the mental notes for later in case that information proved important, Levi pressed a little further. “What about the others? It seems like she’s fitting in well.”

Petra nodded. “She’s getting lessons of some kind from almost everyone, and she’s been a lot better about being social. She’s making a genuine effort to be a part of the squad, and to be perfectly honest, I like having her around.”

“Anything else?”

Petra’s gaze flickered over to the box sitting on the desk again. “If it’s not too presumptuous, Captain--I don’t know what impression she made when you two first met. She mentioned it may not have been the best first impression, but...she really is trying to be worth the chance she’s been given to be a part of this squad, and her attempts appear genuine to me. Perhaps give her another chance to make a better impression.”

Levi didn’t answer her, and he kept his expression unreadable so she wouldn’t see his reaction to her words. It was more incentive for him to close this messy chapter, and it helped clear up his thoughts on how to act going forward if this secret didn’t turn out to be something crazy like treason or murder.

“Thank you, Petra. You can go, now,” Levi finally answered in an indifferent voice. Petra got up and gave a quick salute, then quietly left the room without any further comment. Once she was gone, Levi got to his feet with a slight sigh.

He needed to see Erwin.

Next Chapter---->

Levi Tags: @clary-quinn @humanitys-hottestsoldier@whalerus @sunny-flo @thirstyforsometea

Wings in the Dark Tags: @regalillegal @animeluver23 @theshylittleelfgirl @queenthorin1 @dilucs-thighs @sociallyanxiousmouse

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pkg4mumtown · 3 years

Text

Signs of Attachment - Ch. 2

Summary: Having an auditory processing disorder never slowed you down, but it mean you were confined to the Temple when the Clone Wars started. Will the frustration of not understanding people at times make for a rather lonely existence?

Chapter 1

Pairing: Obi-Wan/Reader (Gender Neutral)

Rating: G (for now)

Warnings: Hard of Hearing Reader, Fluff, Gender Neutral Reader

Taglist: @trash-dino-5000

A/N: Thank you to everyone who’s read and been super kind so far!!

Just a reminder:

“Text.” Means someone is speaking.

“Text.” Means someone is speaking and signing.

Text, Means someone is signing.

Chapter 2 - Challenge Each Other

Over the next few days, I mysteriously started seeing Obi-Wan more and more. Thankfully, not because he was continually being injured, but on my route to the Halls of Healing in the morning. I’d never come across him on my journey before, surely I would have remembered his face among the other Jedi I normally see on my route.

I had first noticed him a couple days after his healing, his bright auburn hair standing out in a crowd. I paid him no mind, though, thinking he just happened to be passing through to a different part of the temple. It wasn’t until I saw a hand flapping up and down and a distant call of my name that I realized Obi-Wan was much closer to me now. It was easy to lose his signature, which I was not entirely familiar with despite having my own force so intertwined with him during the healing, amongst the crowd of Jedi. His face brightened as I finally laid eyes on him, his stride slowing considerably so as not to pass too quickly. Before I could wonder why he was so intent on staying in front of me, he surprised me.

Good morning, Obi-Wan signed slightly clumsily but the sign was right nonetheless.

An echo of his voice saying, “Good Morning, Y/N,” floated through the sea of chatting Jedi, noisy boots, and giggling Padawans. His smile at my shocked face barely registered before he was picking up his stride again and disappearing into the crowd.

This continued every morning that he was at the temple, allowing me time to discern his signature and become familiar with it. I could feel when the crowd was missing just that bit of extra brightness and serenity. After the first time, my shock wore away and I had the brain capacity to respond.

Good morning, he signed rather smugly.

Good morning, how are you? I signed back, delighting when he had no idea how to respond. It was only a few more signs but to a beginner, it was a lot. You need to keep studying, I smirked and left him there in the walkway.

Obi-Wan did just that, signing something different every day and impressing me to no end. Was the Council slacking on his missions? This man had far too much time on his hands to be learning a whole new language on top of the ones he already knew. Clearly, his Padawan was picking up a few signs as well, because when I would see both of them together, Anakin always signed a quick greeting accompanied by a knowing smile.

Months passed and I almost envied how well Obi-Wan was taking to BSL because he was just so good at everything. He would stop by when he was at the temple to brush up on his conversational skills with me or ask for pointers or help. I tried not to speak when I was helping him so he wouldn’t rely on speech to translate what I had signed. His nose would scrunch when I laughed at him for a messed-up sign, but I always helped him after or demonstrated. He was a perfectionist to say the least.

I packed away my data pad, making sure the rest of the examination room was in order before leaving the Halls of Healing for the day. I felt Ob-Wan’s force signature moving quickly in my direction, only for him to be right outside the door as I was ready to walk out.

“Obi-Wan,” I nodded at him, stepping out and round him, What can I do for you?

“Sparring? I wanted to show my Padawan that the rumors of you were true,” Obi-Wan smirked, falling into speaking and signing, which he had picked up from me when he saw me having a conversation with Master Plo.

“Like a glorified party trick, Master Kenobi? I’m offended,” I knocked my shoulder against his as we had started walking and I could no longer see his signs.

“Don’t pretend like you won’t enjoy it,” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. He had caught me training with my ears covered and a training mask on one morning with droids, with me seemingly unaware of the crowd I had amassed but he knew I could feel all the signatures around me gathering to watch.

“I wasn’t going to deny that part, Obi-Wan, but who will I be fighting?”

“Me,” he revealed arrogantly and strode ahead of me.

When we reached the salle that Anakin was in, I deposited my belongings and strode over to the stored equipment.

“Training sabers?” I asked Obi-Wan over my shoulder.

“It would ease my mind considerably,” he spoke and signed in case I couldn’t quite hear him.

“Scaredy loth-cat,” I called back.

Rude, he replied.

“My old Master uses the same form as you, Anakin, so naturally I learned it, too. I’ll use it here so you can see how you, too, can blindly defeat Master Kenobi,” I smirked, placing ear plugs in before Anakin could respond.

Arrogance already? Obi-Wan shook his head.

Pulled the training helmet over my head, not closing the visor yet, so I could still see.

It’s called confidence. See you soon, I smirked and slapped the visor down over my eyes.

With my vision cut off, I took a deep, calming breath and felt out with the force. I suppose it could be compared to Obi-Wan's battle meditation that I’d heard spoken about recently, but with a lack of certain senses. I had started training this way as a Padawan, when Master Plo discovered how much my disorder confused me as I fought. It started with ear plugs and graduated to both ear plugs and a training helmet by the time I was an adult. I could see Obi-Wan through the force, not quite exactly how he looks with my eyes, but his overall shape and signature flaring out from him, with his training saber as an extension of that. That, along with the force guiding me, allowed me to fight as if nothing was wrong and, in some cases, better than if I wasn’t blinded because of all of the visual distractions.

I ignited my own training saber and dropped into the starting stance for Form V, while he automatically dropped into Form III. With a nod from me, we started circling one another. I attacked first, wanting to get a feel for his form. While I had studied about it, I had never fought anyone who used it. He blocked every hit with ease, as was expected, and I knew I had to be careful because he could block all day with this form.

Obi-Wan would have to attack at some point, so I tried to bait him into it, not an easy task but it was easier than tiring myself out against his defense. Finally, when he did attack, he took a few quick steps forward so I let my saber go long enough to tug him forward with the force. He stumbled, allowing me to strike but he was able to block, recover and step back.

“Don’t go easy on me, now, Kenobi,” I taunted, or at least I hoped it sounded that way since I couldn’t hear myself.

His signature flared competitively, so I knew my words had worked. From then, he was less defensive, which worked in my favor even noticing that he slipped into his old Master's form a few times. He kept himself mobile, which wasn’t harder for me to track but I had to be aware of my footing and balance more. Obi-Wan ended up behind me, potentially thinking he had the upper hand because I was still facing the opposite way, but I felt his strike through the force before it had even been executed. I blocked my back easily and spun around, surprising him with a few more attacks. I had been so focused on overwhelming him that I didn’t notice his hand draw back before I was being force pushed away so hard that I fell backwards as I landed.

I kicked myself up back to my feet quickly when I felt his force signature charging at me. I blocked too late while steadying myself, his rush turning into a disarm so quickly that I barely dodged his next attack. I slid and jumped away to put some distance between us, my saber having flown too far away to pull it to me without him intercepting.

I dropped into a hand-to-hand stance, keeping my hands close to my body. Smugness rolled off Obi-Wan in waves as he stalked toward me. Until…

His training saber disappeared from his signature and his defense dropped. His posture straightened back to normal, his head turned to the side like he was speaking to someone, Anakin probably. I turned in the direction he faced, yes, definitely Anakin.

“Hey, I haven’t yielded yet!” I called out.

Obi-Wan’s head turned toward me in surprise, seeing me still in a fighting stance. He turned his head back toward Anakin briefly.

“Less chit chat, more fighting,” I said impatiently.

Obi-Wan dropped back into a starting stance, hesitantly this time because I was still disarmed. His saber ignited, flaring back up with his signature.

Good boy, I signed, noticing a slight waver in his stance as I did.

With me still disarmed, he was less guarded and more aggressive in attacking. I kept light on my feet, dodging where I could but there was no way I’d land anything without a proper deflection. So, I baited my time and waited until he swung at me head on. I deflected his hand to one side and forward with the force and stepped to the opposite side, bending his wrist enough to drop the saber and using my other hand to force push it away. I grappled him to the floor, easy when he was so surprised, not feeling much resistance until he was nearly on his back. I kept hold of his hand and slung a leg over his neck and another around his torso, using the force to help me yank his arm back toward me into an arm bar.

The force swirled around the both of us, using it to fight the strength of the other. I pushed my leg further against his neck, but gently so, not wanting to actually hurt him. That extra push did the trick, cutting off his air for a few seconds until I felt an incessant tapping against my leg.

I immediately released him, and moved my legs off his body, flopping on my own back to catch my breath. I ripped the training helmet off and caught my breath, not realizing how tired and sweaty I was from all the jumping and dodging until now.

My eyes fluttered open, a concerned Obi-Wan staring back at me as soon as I opened them. His chest was still heaving slightly, his cheeks red and damp. His hair was darker, soaked with sweat and plastered to his forehead. He was a sight. I stared up at him, looking dazed out of my mind but it was really all because of him.

Are you okay? He signed.

I couldn’t even pick my arms up to sign back, “Just give me a minute. I’m tired.”

A grin spread over his face, a soft shake of his head barely moving the damp hair from his forehead. Obi-Wan put a comforting hand on my forearm, before standing up on shaky legs.

He held a hand out to me to help pull me up, immediately seeing Anakin picking up the training sabers and helmet and putting them away.

Obi-Wan helped me over to some benches on the side, both of us collapsing next to each other.

That was so—awesome! Anakin signed as he came back, stumbling over how to sign “awesome”, which he failed at but I understood it anyway.

I didn’t want to take my ear plugs out yet, knowing the sound of my blood rushing through my ears would drown out everything anyway. When my adrenaline died down, I’d take them out.

Thank you, I bowed my head to Anakin. I turned my body toward Obi-Wan, How's your shoulder?

Fine, he replied, his face indicating that he wasn’t too worried about it. I watched him rotate and stretch it a bit to test. A little discomfort but not bad.

Can I? I asked, reaching my hand out until it was hovering over his shoulder.

He shook his head violently, You’re tired and drained, you’re going to hurt yourself.

I moved to sign back but he put his hand over mine.

If it hurts tomorrow, yes, he raised his eyebrows and smiled so I would stop worrying.

I nodded and turned back toward Anakin, who was staring at the both of us suspiciously with a smirk. He opened his mouth, clearly talking to Obi-Wan because of the direction of his head. I glanced at Obi-Wan, who was unusually slouched in his seat out of weariness, but was responding to Anakin. He nodded to something his Padawan said, promptly followed by an eye roll. He waved his Padawan away, the younger of which laughed brightly and took off with a group of Padawans standing off to the side. You had been so focused on beating Obi-Wan that the crowd barely registered in your head.

How was that? I smiled tiredly, barely angling my head toward him.

His head was lolled to the side to face me, his hands lazily hovering to sign, Better than I could have imagined.

You imagined me pinning you on the floor? I laughed, covering my mouth because it was a fairly wild laugh as the implication of what I signed dawned on me.

Obi-Wan was still deciphering, but I knew he had understood when he went red from the neck up to his cheeks.

Oh, stop. You know what I meant! He signed frustratedly at being embarrassed.

I nodded with mock sympathy, nodding my head gently and patting his hand.

You’re terrible, he shook his head, a smirk coming back to his lips. I’ll walk you back to your quarters.

What a gentleman, I signed as he stood and offered me his hand.

I gathered the belongings I had come with and looped my arm though his, both of us leaning on each other for support as we hobbled out of the salle.

Chapter 3

#obi wan x you #obi wan x reader #obi wan x y/n #obi wan kenobi #gender neutral y/n #gender Neutral reader #gn!reader #gn!mc #hard of hearing reader

39 notes · View notes

starrynite7114 · 4 years

Text

Headcanon: Art Day

A/N: A headacanon! This idea was given to me by @carlaangel86 and @justahopelessssromantic . We were watching some Tiktoks and well, here it is. Hope you all enjoy this update!

Laughter and Snapshots will be posted next!

Hope you guys had a good week!

Masterlist

Request tagged list: @justahopelessssromantic : @ifoundmyhappythought : @carlaangel86 : @woahitslucyylu : @encounterthepast : @enamoured-x : @thewarriorprincessxo : @briana-mishell24 : @bribri-82 : @chibsytelford : @agirllovespasta : @twistnet : @everyhowlmarksthedead : @trulysuccubus : @jadert15 : @sammskellington : @cind-in-real-life : @claytoncardenasbabymama : @sadeyesgf : @thickemadame : @summertimesadnesswithadashofsass : @gemini0410 : @elcococruz : @samcrobae : @sesamepancakes : @iambabyharry : @blackmissfrizzle : @soamayansfangirl : @1-800-imagines : @phoenixhalliwell : @lady-pswrld : @dazzledamazon : @getyourcrayoncas : @fvckthisbxtchup : @lukealvxz : @scuzmunkie : @lilac-tea-time : @danie1432 : @cocotheclown : @soaronmywings : @my-rosegold-soul : @buttercup812 : @itskiranbitch : @angelreyesgirl : @sheeshgivemeabreak : @vicmackeybullshxt : @bigcreatorwombatdreamer : @khyharah : @strawberrywritings : @cherry-icetea : @fuzzy-jellyfish : @losolvidad0s : @brownsugarcoffy : @courtrae89 : @prdsdjarin : @blessedboo : @marvelmaree : @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat : @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead : @thesandbeneathmytoes : @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind : @maddie-georges :

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please let me know!

CREDITS TO THE ORIGINAL GIF MAKER!

You and Angel have had a good quarantine so far.

Meaning you two didn’t kill one another and actually enjoyed one another’s company.

Maybe the reason you two have yet to kill one another was due to the fact Angel locking himself in the third bedroom in your house, painting.

Which you two recently purchased at the end of last year and now, you two were able to renovate as you two had planned.

With the quarantine, your days were spent either painting a room, placing the hardwood floors in the kitchen and living room, or changing the cabinets in the kitchen.

Overall, it’s been a productive first two months of quarantine

Now, the Santo Padre head was seeping in and you were not a happy camper.

Though, another reason quarantine didn’t make you two hate one another, was because you and Angel love being in each other’s company.

You two appreciated the days you two have together since you were always at work and he was always on a run.

Living apart the first three, living together the last three, six years together in total, you and Angel knew how to avoid killing one another.

Also, it helped that you were a respiratory therapist and worked almost six days a week. They tried to push you for more hours, but there was so much your body could take.

Now, after being on for six, you were off for four.

On your first day, you were nursing a margarite that Angel made for you while you watched a 90s Romcom on Netflix while he was in his art room.

You loved coming in Angel’s art room since his masterpieces gave you glimpses of how he was feeling.

When the whole thing with EZ went down? Everything was dark, upsetting, but you knew he had to let it out.

It lasted for a few months, but eventually the colors came back.

You didn’t know how to help him, you knew Angel was hurting then, but the best thing to do for him was to be here and you were.

Angel never changed towards you, he was always silly, loving, and your Angel.

But you knew he missed his family as well.

Your glad EZ manned up and spoke to Angel.

You were in your room, waiting for glasses to break, but you didn’t hear anything. When you came out after EZ left, Angel held you, sleeping on the couch that night.

And you also loved the artwork you inspired for Angel.

It always made you smile shyly at him when he would tell you about the artwork you inspired him to do.

They were vibrant, so full of life. They varied as well.

Some were sketches of you that you knew he was doing since he asked you to model for him.

Others were candid sketches he took of you. Some of them you don’t even remember him doing since there was no sketchbook in his hand then.

“It’s from memory baby, EZ isn’t the only one with photographic memory. Though, you’re the most prominent image in my mind, it isn’t hard.”

You would blush and kiss him.

Angel was too sweet for his own good.

He didn’t draw often since the club took him away often.

So when he could, he dedicated a day for his artwork

And today was that day.

While you enjoyed your margarita, Angel was enjoying his beer in his room.

You wanted to take a peek since he’s been in there since eight this morning and it was already one in the afternoon.

You figured you should think of making lunch soon, but you weren’t hungry since you and Angel had a big breakfast.

“Babe!” You called out to Angel who left his door slightly ajar in case you needed him.

“Yeah?” He answered.

“You hungry?”

There was no response and just as you were about to get up, you felt Angel hold your shoulders down and kiss you.

“Jesus Christ Angel!” You placed your hand on your chest.

He sat down next to you, your shirt was now dirty with the paint he was using.

“Babe, you got my shirt dirty.” You pouted, not really caring, but you loved to give Angel flack every once in a while.

“You mean my shirt?” He teased.

“We’re partners, what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours.” You paused. “Except for the GT, that’s all mine.”

Angel laughed. “I swear, you love that car more than me.”

“No, of course not,” you looked at him. “Maybe just a little bit, but you’re still the number person to me.”

Angel rolled his eyes. “Yeah okay.” He looked at what you were watching before taking a sip of your margarita. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really, but I know you’re a bottomless pit.”

“I’m not that hungry yet, we can swing by Pop’s store and get a few steaks.”

“We do need some meat, we might as well stock up so we don’t have to go out again.”

“Great idea.” Angel kissed your cheek. “But, before we go, can we do something real quick?”

“Sure.”

He took your hand and pulled you up. You two made your way towards his art room where there was a plastic table at the center and a LunaBean in the middle. You looked over at Angel who smiled at you.

“Oh god, are you sculpting me again?”

Angel chuckled. “No, and you literally we’re not complaining the two times we did.”

“Angel, we ended up fucking both times.”

“Like I said, no complaints.”

You laughed.

You stopped in front of the table, Angel letting go of your hand so he could stand across from you.

Looking inside the bucket, your nose scrunched up at the mixture below. You weren’t sure what the material was, but it was light pink in color.

“Um, I’m not sure I want to know what we’re going to do.” You eyed him suspiciously.

Angel chuckled. “Come mi corazon, you trust me?”

“Um, that’s a hit or miss.” You stuck out your tongue playfully. “Alright, I do, what are we doing baby?”

You love being a part of Angel’s art process. It wasn’t rare you were able to do it, but you were glad you could do it now.

“Give me your hand.” You gave him your left hand, his right hand intertwining with yours. He dipped your hands inside the bucket till it was on the bottom. “Stay still.” He instructed you.

For five minutes, you and Angel remained still, Angel watching your hands, while you watched him. He was a perfectionist with his art. Everything else, he was laid back, but when it came to art, he was a perfectionist.

He pulled your hands out, wiping your hands, he handed the cloth to you so he could pour the casting stone mix inside. Once he filled it, he placed the second bucket down and smiled at you.

“Let’s go.”

“Is that supposed to create a mold?”

“Maybe, you kind of moved, so you might have fucked it up.” He teased.

“You’re so lucky I love you.”

You two went to Carniceria Reyes, and kept your social distancing as instructed along with your mask. You missed Felipe and the stories he told you about Angel.

How much of a pain of the ass Angel was, but how he was such a sweet kid who always looked out of his younger brother.

He also told you how much Angel loved drawing more than he did sports, but Angel also liked popularity and art wouldn’t win girls over.

EZ was at the store helping their father as well.

It’s been a rough year between EZ and Angel, but you were glad that things were better.

“So, am I getting a quarantine niece or nephew?” EZ called out before you two exited the story.

You blushed while Angel just laughed, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

When you two arrived home, Angel put the groceries you two decided to get since you two were out anyway.

You sat back down on the couch, resuming your movie.

Angel eventually joined you and soon, you two fell asleep.

Angel woke up first, watching you as you slept. His favorite sketches of you were of ones while you were sleeping. You looked so peaceful and carefree.

He carefully maneuvered you, so he could lay your head on the pillow.

Once he was certain you wouldn’t wake up, he took his sketchbook, sat on the armchair and began to sketch you.

A few hours later, you woke up to Angel banging around the kitchen.

“Babe, if you were trying to wake me up, you’ve succeeded.”

“Good, dinner is ready.”

Angel was a tremendous cook and one of the things you two picked up whenever you were off work was cooking together. It was definitely fun.

And you may or may not have started painting with Angel, though, he was a strict teacher, sort of.

You two always ended up naked.

After dinner, you washed the dishes as Angel busied himself in his art room again.

His art ventures were usually an all day thing, so you were surprised you two even went out.

But with quarantine, he had more opportunity to work on his art.

He always told you, art was a process, so you never went inside his room unless there was an emergency.

When you were done, you sat back on the couch and browsed through your phone, seeing what you missed in the social media world while you were asleep.

“Mi dulce, can you come over here?” You heard Angel call for you.

“Sure babe.”

You entered the room and found Angel standing beside the plastic table. You joined him, looking down at the molding of your hands together.

“Babe, this looks amazing.” You studied the molding. Your hands were perfectly intertwined, the details were absolutely amazing.

You then noticed there was a sketching of you in front of it. Curiously, you picked it up.

You took in the details, always in awe of Angel’s work.

You loved it when he shared his work with you whenever he finished.

Self-esteem issues were a bitch, but every time you saw a piece Angel did of you, you felt like the most beautiful woman in the world.

Turning it over, there was a note behind it.

‘Every time I look at you, I’m reminded of our meeting at the carniceria years ago. How you gave me that shy smile, tucking your hair behind your ear, thanking me for the suggestions I made. I began to look forward to your visits, trying to work at my pops’ shop as often as I could just so I could get a glimpse of you. After our first date, I knew this was it for me, which was fucking insane. These past six years have been the happiest I’ve been since my mother passed away. I’m not really certain what I did to deserve your presence, but I’m thankful every day. We’ve had our ups and down, but this quarantine made me realize that you’re the person I want to spend the rest of my life with, especially since you haven’t killed me. I love you, mi vida, mi alma, mi sol, mi todo, will you marry me?’

You looked over at Angel, and he was on his knee, a black velvet box in his hand.

“Will you marry me, Y/N?” He asked, the nervousness clearly evident on his face.

“Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Angel stood up, picked you up and kissed you. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling away so you could bury your face on the crook of his neck.

You couldn’t believe it, it was finally happening. Angel proposed to you.

Placing you back down on the floor, you smiled up at him, looking back down at your left hand.

“Fuck, babe, I can’t believe it.”

“You better, because once this quarantine is done, we’re getting married.”

You laughed.

“Guess we gotta make a new molding once we’re married.”

“No babe, this can be our memorabilia of the day we got engaged.”

Angel took one of his thin brushes, writing the date on your hand molding.

“This is the beginning of our forever.”

Angel smiled. “It’s been us since the first day we met at the carniceria.” He softly began kissing your neck, making you moan. “What do you say we end this day like how we always do during art days?”

You two always ended Angel’s art days with sex.

You never asked questions, you were a willing participant.

And you were a willing participant again.

#angel reyes #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes fic #angel reyes fanfic #Mayans MC #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc fic #mayans mc fanfic

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hopingforjustice · 3 years

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@solar-pxwered said: Choose a partner to do each others' portraits, their teacher had said as if it was no big deal. But it WAS a big deal! No way was his perfect face going to be subjected to the stick figure level of talent of someone such as Okuyasu or Hazamada! This was his best choice, and even Reimi's dedication wasn't up to snuff... He swore he had more artistic talent in his pinky than the whole class combined. ❝ Reimi, we’re partnering up, grab your supplies. ❞ (Rohan for that art class AU we discussed!) unprompted ask / always accepting.

ㅤ ㅤ The teacher's words were like a spark starting a fire, a cheerful mess that only good old-fashioned pairwork could cause. Since the choice was free, people turned to their friends with enthusiastic voices, it was no different with her. Any proposal would make Reimi happy, but doing another person's portrait would be so fun! The class had some pretty faces that could provide them with masterpieces... And the best of them all approached her right away, a disgruntled tone as a preview of the hard time that was yet to come. ❝ When you ask so nicely, what other choice do I have? ❞ She said after a while, turning on the seat to look at Rohan — a playful tease seemed the best way to deal with his sourness. Truth be told, she couldn't quite understand his dissatisfaction. Anything he drew would be more than enough, a straight A and plenty of praise were already guaranteed. A suitable partner, on the other hand... It wasn't necessary to know him intimately to notice that the choice was the result of an eliminatory process in search of the least mediocre student, something not so flattering for sure. It hurt her pride a little bit, luckily not to the point of ruining her excitement about the good results she could get here. Better to focus on artistic performance, or things would go off the rails.

ㅤ ㅤ But could she expect anything different after all? If Rohan were a little more approachable, some classmates desperate to escape failure would throw themselves at his feet — begging for the unexpected opportunity to please the teacher with acceptable schoolwork. Just being his partner would guarantee a generous grade this semester, if she managed to survive the torturous process. Such a perfectionist, he wouldn't stop pestering her until her stroke could do justice to his handsomeness (never, she already knew, not even da Vinci could measure up to his high standards). With these discouraging thoughts swirling around inside her head, she began to organize the drawing material with barely concealed dismay. ❝ I imagine you already have some incredible ideas for us... ❞ More guidelines to follow than possibilities to explore, she supposed. Reimi had no problem dealing with strict rules, as long as they were discussed in advance. After a pause she glanced up at him, an eyebrow raising subtly. ❝ But first of all, how good is your mood today? I want to make sure what I’m getting myself into. ❞ Because hearing him complain about how painful it was to be a demigod walking amongst mere mortals wasn't in the plans.

#solar-pxwered #solarpxwered #( ✥ touching the other side. / answered. )#( good thing she doesn't read minds lol )#( this is going to be really nice or a complete disaster. no middle ground )

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jadekitty777 · 3 years

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On Your Six, Chapter 2

And thus we come to another day, another chapter.

Day 2: Stealing Hoodies for @taiqrowweek

Rating: T for this chapter, M for overall

Words: 3k

Summary: Qrow was what most of society would call a small-town criminal. But to those oppressed, he hoped only to be a healer. In an effort to make a change in the world, he moves from kingdom to kingdom, searching for branded omegas in need. His goal? To turn the derogatory words the reformatories forced them to bear on their skin into works of art.

Then one day, his past catches up to him in the form of Taiyang, his former best friend, with a brand of his own stained onto his skin and a plea for help in his eyes. Qrow has no choice but to answer, even if it means he’d have to face his mistakes once and for all.

[An ABO-style universe in a modern-day style Remnant. No Grimm, because people are the real monsters in this one]

Ao3 Link: On Your Toes

Tai rolled in Sunday with a brisk breeze and a hint of last night’s rain following him. The awkward timidness he’d had, had evaporated quicker than the puddles outside, burned away into steely determination as he got right down to business. “Alright, so, how do you want me?”

Qrow nodded to his bed, the recliner having been pushed up alongside it. His kit was sitting on the nightstand. “Take off your shirt and lie down.”

“Gee, at least buy me dinner first.”

He supposed he walked right into that one.

“Hah. Let’s see if you have any jokes left after we pass the fourth hour.” He strode over to his chair, fetching a roll of paper towels on his way. “I told you we’d be at this for a while. Trust me, you’ll be glad to be in a more comfortable position.”

Qrow had calculated it. He’d have six sessions per letter. At eight to ten hours per session, he’d have a range of 48 to 60 hours per design. It seemed like a lot of time, but drawing on paper wasn’t quite the same as drawing on people. Paper didn’t need potty breaks, for example, and it tended to stay stationary the entire time. Add on to the fact this was easily the biggest project he’d ever undertaken, and he knew he was going to need every second he could get.

At least I won’t be enduring it alone, he thought as he watched Tai kick off his shoes and shirt and climb onto the bed. Qrow poured the alcohol onto one of the paper towels, and as he dabbed at the other’s skin, he noticed the face the other man was making. “Sorry, guess it’s a little strong.”

“It’s not that.” Tai said, rubbing his nose. “Uh, not to be your maid or anything but, you really need to wash your sheets.”

For a split second, Qrow was offended. Then the realization hit. “Oh. You’re smelling the ink.” He indicated the row of bottles organized in the case. The only one he’d need today, the black, was sitting next to his rotary machine. “I mix it with my own pheromones. It helps neutralize the stench.”

The omega reached for the little bottle, giving it a whiff. His eyebrows shot up and suddenly, he was staring at it like it held the meaning of life. “That’s… incredible. But won’t that give me away?”

“Not when your RO can’t smell her way out of a canteen.” They were all betas. Being the neutral dynamic meant there was no risk of ‘going soft’ on their parolee like an omega might, nor get over-protective like an alpha absolutely would. But it also meant that after Qrow finished relining the tattoos, the dramatic shift to Tai’s scent would be almost undetectable. “And if she does notice, just tell her you’re trying out a new perfume.”

“That smells like matchsticks and blueberries?”

“You’ll be fine. You’re good at improvising.”

As Tai eased himself back down, he finished sanitizing his back, then moved on to getting himself ready. He double-checked the machine, made sure the parts were in place and the wire running back to the outlet was untangled and slack. Taped the paper copy of the design over the edge of his nightstand and uncapped the ink bottle. “So, this is how this works.” Qrow said as he pulled on his gloves, “You need to be as still as possible. We’re gonna have a five-minute break every hour, give you a chance stretch and move around. We’ll stop a bit longer half way in or so to eat. But if you need me to stop for any other reason just let me know. And uh, fair warning – when I start tattooing over the letter itself, it’s gonna hurt like a bitch.”

Tai nodded. “Got it.”

“Okay.” He dipped the needle and turned on the pen, the quiet buzzing filling the room. “Here we go.”

The moment needle met skin, he felt muscle tense under his hand. Spotted the way Tai’s toes curled in his socks and his face screwed shut. Qrow continued on slowly as he looped one line from the top of the S and connected it to down the middle, then did it again from the bottom part of the S. By the time the S had turned into an 8, the omega had relaxed again, sighing softly. He took that as a sign to continue and started coloring in the new side.

Hour one passed in complete silence.

“So, how’s it looking?” Tai asked, swiveling his head around. If he tried any harder, he might become an owl.

Qrow watched him from the stove. “Most of the line art on the top is finished.” He turned on the burners for the kettle and pot of water. “Should be fine to get the rest done in a few hours.”

“I can’t believe how fast it’s going.”

“Yeah well, this is the easy part.” He opened the pantry, eyeing over the options. “Wait until we get to coloring. I have to switch between needles for shading and clean between them.”

There was a dragging noise as one of the dining room chairs was pulled back. “I’m sorry it’s so much work. We don’t have to do all that, if you don’t want.”

Qrow was grateful only his shelves could see his scowl. He breathed out slow, pulled down the pork-flavored ramen packets, saying casually as he went back to the stove, “I mean if you’re too scared to keep going…”

“I didn’t say that! I’m just trying to be nice.” Tai grumbled the last past.

I don’t need you to be nice to me! Frustration welled in him, but he forced it back down. Getting angry wasn’t going to help. Even if this extremely complacent, easily guilted Tai made him want to go out and burn down every Gods’ damned reformatory there was. “Forget about it. I’m too much of a perfectionist to half-ass my work anyways.” He tried to brush off. But now Tai had that kicked puppy look that told him he was feeling bad, which only made Qrow feel bad in turn, so he deflected instead, “I mean, unless it’s too much for you. You’ve been quiet. Is it hurting that bad?”

“Oh, no it’s fine. I, uh,” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Didn’t want to distract you.”

“You won’t.” He cracked the bags in half twice, tearing open the pack. “And it helps pass the time.” He dropped the ramen noodlesinto the water that was just starting to bubble and got the mugs down for tea, absolutely refusing to look at the other lest he read all over his face just how much he missed talking to him.

“Well… besides illegal tattooing in the tiniest apartment known to man on the shady side of town, what else have you been up to?”

The kettle was picked up just as it began to whistle. Like the cups filling with water, Qrow opened his mouth and let the words flow out just as easy.

As evening approached, another storm blew in. Rain drops smattered against the window every time the wind picked up, drowning out the noise of his pen. Qrow had rearranged his furniture, putting the recliner and nightstand in opposite positions so he could work on the lower half of the design in the 8. His focus was completely on the coastline coming to life over tanned skin.

“Remember that time we snuck out your window so we could put all those plastic rats on Professor Port’s porch for April Fool’s Day?”

Well, maybe not completely.

Qrow snickered. They had camped out in the bushes until dawn, just so they could take the TA’s picture when he came out to get his morning paper. “His face was priceless.”

“Not sure the punishment was worth it though.” Tai bemoaned.

“It was only a week’s detention.”

“For you. I got three month’s grounding on top of it.”

He reinked his pen. “Which you immediately broke by coming to my house every day.”

Tai took the brief pause as a chance to scratch his nose. “I never would have got caught if dad didn’t go home early that one time.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. My ears are still ringing from that lecture.” He flipped back on the pen and continued working on the islands that would split the sea from the sky.

The omega cleared his throat, deepening his voice just enough it was an almost disturbingly perfect imitation of his father, “‘If you don’t want to land yourself into juvie, then you’ll stop leading my son into a life of delinquency.’”

Qrow grinned, continuing for him and really hamming it up, “’Don’t you know my delicate boy’s future depends on finding a proper and upstanding alpha?’”

“He didn’t say delicate.” But Tai was laughing with him.

“Might as well have.” It wouldn’t have been too off-base for the Xiao Longs. They’d always been the traditional, overbearing types, trying to jumpstart every little bit of their only son’s future in every possible avenue. When they’d been young, it always seemed like Tai was going to some lesson or appointment. Swimming. Woodworking. Jeet Kune Do. It had been so excessive it had given his own mother ideas – but at least she let Raven and him choose what they wanted to learn.

After looking through the primordial alpha courses, Raven had chosen fencing.

Qrow had wanted to go with her but there was nothing like that in the omega pamphlets he’d been given. In the end, he kicked his feet all the way to his first few art lessons.

His dad had been pretty ticked off they’d wasted the money when, a few years later, puberty had Qrow shooting up past six feet and presenting as an alpha.

But that was nothing compared to the nuclear war that went off when, just shortly after his fourteen birthday, the Xiao Longs discovered Tai was an omega. The lessons stopped and the strict rules started. No going out past seven o’ clock. No cursing. No dating. No kissing. No sex. And especially, no alphas in the house. Ever.

By the time Tai was fifteen, he’d already broken every single one of them.

Qrow, who hadn’t exactly been an angel himself, thought it was hilarious and maybe encouraged him a bit more than he should have. But honestly, what did anyone expect of either of them? After being caged in like a defenseless pup, he was finally allowed break free and be a little reckless. Meanwhile, Tai refused to be shoved into that same cage, smashing through the doors all on his own. They’d been quite a pair, back in the day.

Nostalgia hit him in a wave. “How are your folks doing these days?”

“They’re fine. Dad’s started a new garden. And Mom’s been talking about renovating the old cabin house we used to vacation at. Said it would be a good place for the girls to enjoy. I was gonna help but…” Tai trailed off, his eyes glazing over a bit. “They wrote to me a few times while I’d been…. yanno.”

Something bitter built in his chest. A long-forgotten fury that had weighed on him when his mother had likewise been ripped from their family to stay at a reformatory and the only comforts he’d got was from the Xiao Longs reassuring him she’d come back as a ‘better omega’. “I’m certain they were just bursting with encouragement and support.”

“Definitely isn’t winning any motivational speech awards.” He joked humorlessly.

There was a quiet lull. Qrow took it as a chance to re-ink and stretch out the crick stiffening his fingers.

As he lowered the needle once more, Tai spoke up, hesitant. “What about you? Heard from your family at all?”

He frowned, knowing there was only one of those two people he actually cared to hear about. He indulged him regardless. “Well, you know my old man. Probably still doesn’t even know I’m gone.” He tapped his pen down, drawing the m-shapes that were meant to be a couple of gulls flying away in the sky. “As for Raven, haven’t seen her for years. Not sure she could find me.” When he paused to survey his work, he couldn’t help but think that the shapes really could have been any birds. “Even if she could, doubt she’d want to.”

The kicked puppy look was back. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” Qrow lied, as if the last argument he and Raven ever had wasn’t entirely about Taiyang. But he didn’t need to know about that.

“You left? Raven you can’t leave!”

“Don’t growl at me. And anyways, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is Tai’s your mate. You guys have a daughter!”

“And that means I’m bound to him for life? We made a mistake! We were dumb kids. It happens.”

“So you just pack up your shit and tell him ‘good fucking luck’? He loves you! How can you act like that doesn’t matter?”

“…”

“Well?!”

“Really, little brother?”

“Wh-”

“If you want to go and play house with him, be my guest. But don’t project your feelings onto me. This is my life. My choice.”

“…Yeah. Yeah, I guess throwing people out of your life is a fucking choice. Just don’t be surprised when you get the same in return.”

“Are you seriously-”

“Get out. And until you get your head out of your ass, don’t bother coming back!”

Qrow taped down the bandage over Tai’s back, the antibiotic cream he’d spread along the new tattoo squishing against the adhesive. He ran through the aftercare steps almost subconsciously. “Keep this on until you go to bed. When you do take it off, wash it with warm water and soap. Do that a few times a day tomorrow and the next day too. If anything seems wrong, just call me.”

“Got it.” Tai reached for his shirt. At least he’d had the foresight to bring a button up. As he pulled it on, he gave Qrow a crooked little smile that made him look adorably boyish. “Same time next week then?”

“Uh, yeah.” He slipped off the bed, making a great show of looking for the other’s shoes. His cheeks felt a little less hot by the time he was returning to the bedside with them. “We’ll have to work on the U next. I’ll keep sending you designs, but a little direction would help.”

Tai slipped into his shoes, getting to his feet. “I don’t really have the eye for this kind of stuff. Just pick something easy.”

“Feel like I’m having a case of déjà vu here.” Qrow huffed, tapping a finger to the center of Tai’s chest. “This is your body Tai, not mine. So could you please put just a mite bit more effort into something you’re gonna have to wear the rest of your life?”

The other’s eyes widened before he looked away. He made an aborted motion towards his neck, fell short, and worried the corner edge of his collar between his fingers. “Could you do words?”

“Yeah.” He replied haltingly, taken aback by the sudden shift. “I’ll probably want to craft stencils to keep the script nice though – and no, it’s not hard.”

Tai nodded, another one of those not-quite smiles on his face. “Then I think I do know what I want for this one. I’ll send you some pictures later tonight.”

“Well… good! See was that so hard?”

“Immensely.” He answered, laying it on thick as honey.

Qrow jabbed him in the shoulder. “Don’t oversell it prima donna. You should start heading home, unless you’re planning on doing a rendition of Singing in the Rain out there.”

Tai spared a look to the window. “It’s really coming down out there, isn’t it?” The sky had darkened with the setting sun, making the already heavy clouds appear thick and ominous. Rain battered against his window at a continuous rate. The minute the omega left the complex, he was going to be soaked. “Think this’ll be okay?” He waved vaguely to his left shoulder where the tattoo began on the other side of.

“Mm, probably. But I guess a little extra cover wouldn’t hurt.” He crossed over to his little box of a closet, rummaging through the sparse selection. “This’ll work. It’s a bit oversized for me, so it should be perfect for you. Here.”

He snapped the black hoodie off its hanger, tossing it. Tai caught it. “You’re sure?”

“What are you gonna do to it? Dye it pink?”

“Well now that’s a thought. It’d match your eyes.”

“My eyes aren’t pink!”

Tai’s laughter was muffled in fabric as he gingerly slipped the hoodie on, being as mindful as possible of his back. By the time his head popped back out, his hair was all mussed up.

It was unfairly cute and Qrow tried very hard not to think about it as he walked him to the door.

Tai stepped into the hall, then paused, turning back to him. He reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey uh, thank you. For all this. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Qrow was pretty sure the touch was electric, because he was suddenly paralyzed. How he even got his jaw to work was a miracle in and of itself. “Don’t mention it.”

The omega hesitated, as if he wanted to argue, but only said, “Sure. I’ll see you soon Qrow.”

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, but it was long after Tai had left the hall that he finally found the strength to close the door, slumping against the wood with a pitiful groan.

He thought he was over this. He should be over this. He wasn’t a lovesick teen anymore and this wasn’t a romantic comedy where after a bunch of wild, misleading antics, everything came together in the end. He’d lost his chance – twice over apparently. It was useless to try now.

So why did his stupid, pathetic heart still yearn?

“Come on Qrow.” He knocked his head against the door, hoping to rattle some sense into himself. “You did this for six years. You can do it again for six months.”

As he trod his way back to his bed, falling into it only to realize it smelt like Tai and would continue to every Sunday for weeks, he burrowed his head in his pillow and screamed.

Six was becoming a very unlucky number for him.

#qrow branwen #taiyang xiao long #Taiqrow #taiqrowweek #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

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softjeon · 3 years

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Falling for you | Pt. 3

• Pairing: Jimin x Namjoon • Genre: fluff, nsfw-content | Rating: Mature | Christmas!AU / Curse!AU • Words: 12k | AO3 • Disclaimer: mentioning of blood, accidents, alcohol

written with @cassiavioletblue

↳ Everyone told him that love was the highest aim, that it was what completes you and made you happy…but he was never lucky like that. It just took a piece of him and left scars on his heart every time. He was done with that. He had given up on love a long time ago so he should stick to it or else not only he would be affected.

« previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter »

It was a beautiful winter evening; a crisp cold breeze blew around him when he hurried into the massive building again, shaking himself as if he could get rid of the cold like that. With a smile, and a nod towards the doorman, Jungkook went up to Namjoon’s apartment. In his head, he went through their ‘to-do-list’ again, making sure he wouldn’t forget a thing.

“Merry Christmas!” He yelled happily, when the metal doors opened, and he walked in with an even bigger smile. “Or almost Christmas!”

Namjoon just looked up briefly, not really bothered by Jungkook's vocal proclamation of his love for Christmas because he was used to it. “What’s up with you, you don’t even have your reindeer antlers on yet.” He commented dryly - which was not something he had made up. Jungkook did actually own a pair of small, velveteen, light brown antlers that were fixed on a small headband that was decorated further with bits and pieces of dried wintery flowers and moss.

The headband easily vanished under his fluffy hair and so it looked as if the antlers and flowers were sprouting from his head. He’s head business partners who didn’t know Jungkook do a double take on him and then carefully ask if he was a hired actor in some winter play.

“I knew you liked that one!” Jungkook laughed happily, as he joined Namjoon at the kitchen table. “I should get you a pair as well. You’d look so cute in it.” Placing a few folders in front of Namjoon, he leaned his chin on his hand, blinking at his boss dreamily. “Reaaaally cute.” He cooed, before adding a little more seriously. “Those are the ideas from your team for the summer designs.” They were always two steps ahead of the others and while it was Christmas they were already planning their summer releases, the decorations for the stores or the color schemes. Namjoon was a perfectionist.

When Namjoon took the folders without even looking at them, but kept doodling on his tablet, Jungkook leaned in a little more. “What are you drawing?”

“Nothing!” Namjoon flipped the tablet shut so quickly he hit himself on the hand with it. Initially he had started a design for a new couch, but his mind had used ‘couch’ as cue to wander into different territory… like how Jimin had fallen asleep in his arms completely and how he had wished he could stay like this all night but had to get up because of the driver and the fact that he just couldn’t stay there without having been invited by Jimin before. So, he had moved carefully to the side, inch by inch until he could place Jimin down softly and then had walked into the bathroom on his tiptoes to get rid of the waste and get a soft, damp towel to clean Jimin up. Jimin was apparently a heavy sleeper because he hadn’t even woken up, just sighed comfortably and curled a little tighter on the couch. Namjoon had placed the blanket that they had been laying on in the beginning but had fallen down somewhen over Jimin’s body, amazed by the fact that he could wrap Jimin up in it completely. The younger had looked so soft and tiny curled up there on the couch that Namjoon had leaned down and stolen one last, sweet kiss.

Then he had left the apartment with heated cheeks….

Somehow his hand had started to transfer those memories onto the screen, and he had started to draw a person onto the sketch of his couch - luckily not detailed enough for it to be recognized as Jimin.

Jungkook leaned back, confusion written all over his face when Namjoon reacted like that. The other always shared ideas with him. When Namjoon got up, he hurried after him, a million and one questions on his mind. And he couldn’t wait to squeeze the answers out of his boss or snatch his tablet away. There was definitely not ‘nothing’.

…

Jimin took a deep breath but no matter how many times he did, his heart didn’t seem to calm down. He had spent twenty minutes worrying and wrecking his mind whether he had a fever dream or if it really happened – but the bruises around his hips (and his shin, from where he had slipped) showed the truth.

He had slept with Kim Namjoon.

The Kim Namjoon.

His boss.

Hayoung’s Boss.

A curse slipped from him when he pushed down the button of the elevator. He still had a job to do and even though it was only a couple more days, Jimin was really worried. Couldn’t he just stick with the invitation for the Christmas party? Or spending Christmas together? Why didn’t he just marry him right away? Jimin groaned, hating his thoughts for spiraling so fast, making him even more nervous.

What if this was just a onetime thing for Namjoon? No big deal, where he just moved on? Jimin bit his lip. The ring of the elevator sound signaling that he was on his level. When he walked in, he could hear faint noises coming from Namjoon’s office and Jimin’s heart skipped a beat. Quickly, he turned around, putting his own belongings aside to get out the cleaning supplies.

“Oh, I need your signature for the check.” Jungkook’s voice startled Jimin effectively and he hit his head on the cupboard lightly, when the younger one came out of the office, followed by Namjoon. Neither hadn’t seen him yet. “It’s for the Christmas party. I booked a karaoke machine and ordered all kinds of Christmas shaped cookies. You should really come this year. It will be even better than last year!”

“I actually might...” Namjoon murmured, trying to ease himself into it and hoping that Jungkook wouldn’t yell at him in surprise right away. He was focused on holding Jungkook clipboard with the check while singing and walking at the same time that he only saw Jimin when they were pretty close. He froze up. He hadn’t expected to have Jungkook by his side when he’d see Jimin again. Should he pretend that nothing happened so that Jimin and he had the option to talk later in peace? Did Jimin even want to talk about it?

Jungkook, always quick to pick up on mood changes of his boss eyed him warily. What was even more suspicious though was that Jimin behaved strangely as well. “Is... everything okay?”

Jimin was all ears, when Jungkook made it sound as if Namjoon hadn’t been at the Christmas party the years before, remembering their conversation in the elevator. He was still rubbing the back of his head, when they both stared at each other, a little too long for it to seem normal.

“H-hi,” He finally managed to say. “I’m cleaning the floors!” Jimin was about to smack himself hard for that stupid statement, when all of them knew he was there to clean. His cheeks were red and hot, and he quickly turned around to fill up the bucket with water, glad for some distraction.

“Yeah...that’s...kind of obvious?” Jungkook looked back to his boss who seemed still securely rooted to the floor and back to Jimin who was blushing brightly. “Oh! Uhm, boss, I’m really sorry but I just remembered that I forgot something on the second floor. I’ll catch up with you later?” He patted Namjoon on the back, hoping it would encourage him to do something other than standing around silently and then he hurried back to the elevator. It was really difficult to fight the instinct to look over his shoulder to see what they were doing or to hide in the next office to listen in on them.

“So, is this your first year or…” Jimin filled the water up with some soap to clean. “The Christmas party…” His voice was quiet, a little unsure as he turned around to look at Namjoon – only for a few seconds before he averted his gaze again. Taking the filled bucket, he placed it on the kitchen floor, glad that there was his job that he still needed to do and kept him busy.

The Christmas party. That’s what Jimin was curious about. Namjoon wasn’t quite sure if he felt disappointed or relieved that they weren’t talking about what had happened between them. “It’s not the first year, no, Jungkook organizes them every year.” He answered vaguely, leaving his part in it deliberately out of it.

“You said that” Jimin leaned his head aside, “I just wondered if you were going for the first time this year. He made it sound like that and…” He looked down, shrugging his shoulders, “And it made me curious if you want to go for a different reason this year.”

“It’s... yeah, I kind of... I haven’t been there before. Thought I’d let my people have a fun night without their boss, but... Jungkook’s been asking me to come so often now I figured I should attend at least once.” He carefully straightened his tie because lying made him nervous and he needed to do something with his hands.

“Oh,” Jimin had expected a different answer. Something to do with him and Jimin gave him a quick smile before they were back to staring at each other like before. There was the kitchen counter between them, enough space to not feel closed in but Jimin felt it, nonetheless. His heart was racing. “D-do you want to…like talk about what happened?” He awkwardly held onto the stick of the mop.

Namjoon swallowed hard and his heart stumbled as it skipped a beat. “Only if you want to talk about it. I mean... I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, we can... talk here or in my office or we can just...” He didn’t want to pretend it never happened because it did and he was so glad that it happened he would deal with ten times the awkwardness just to be able to remember the taste of Jimin’s lips and the feel of the younger’s skin against his. “Whatever you need...” He finished quietly, careful that no one who wasn’t supposed to hear them could accidentally overhear what they were saying.

Jimin breathed out, putting the cleaning supplies aside, as he stepped a little closer to Namjoon. He looked up at him with a shy smile. “I liked it,” It rolled quickly over his tongue, making his cheeks blush even more. “D-did you like it?” Jimin pushed a string of hair out of his face and behind his ear. “It’s only a few more days until Christmas and...when Hayoung is back...I know we talked about Christmas and the party, but....I’m not sure if it was just us joking because of the situation or because…” Jimin didn’t dare to ask if there was more, if Namjoon felt the tingling feeling inside his stomach too and if he wanted to explore what else there was. He really wanted to know, the curiosity making his heart flutter.

“So, you’d still want to cook for me on Christmas?” If Jimin’s would have been sex then he had no reason to still try and get to know him. A comfortable warmth spread through him at the thought of not being alone on Christmas and even better, spending it with someone who’s company he’d immensely enjoyed so far. “Yes, I liked it a lot. I’d like to repeat it some time. After dinner maybe.” And in a bedroom, staying the night, cuddling... there was so much he suddenly wanted.

“For you?” Jimin raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he pouted his lips. “I thought I’d be cooking with you.” He blushed at Namjoon’s words. It sounded like a date and a lot more than two people just spending time together. And he couldn’t wait to do so.

“Oh, well.. then I have to warn you, I’m not used to people standing in my kitchen while I’m there, I might accidentally run into you.” Or pour something over Jimin’s shirt so that he would have to undress. “Do you have a special menu that you like to make on Christmas? Then I’ll make sure to get all the ingredients.” At the moment his refrigerator was pretty empty.

“I’ll think of something tasty,” Jimin winked, soothing over Namjoon’s arm fleetingly before turning back around to get his supplies. He still had a lot to clean.

…

Downstairs, Yoongi walked in the office complex with confidence, not even answering the security who asked for his name or who he was there for. His gaze fell onto the numbers appearing on the board over the elevator and he smiled. When the metal doors opened, Yoongi didn’t step aside but walked in without looking up, bumping right into someone.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Jungkook immediately apologized out of reflex even though the other had run straight into him without looking. When he finally did Jungkook was sure he had never seen him at the company before. He would have definitely remembered a face like that, soft and pale but with eyes so dark and burning they reminded him of coals after a bonfire when the glimmering heat still lingered. He shook himself out of his daydreams, a little confused as to why he had lost his focus. “May I help you? This is Kim design. I don’t think you’ve got an appointment here.” He would know because he would have put it into Namjoon’s schedule.

“Oh, you may…” Yoongi’s eyes changed from surprise to a pleasant expression. The young man he had bumped into was the prettiest human he’d ever seen. And his voice sounded like honey, the sweetest tone he ever heard. “Oh, I sure have an appointment.” He smiled pointing at Jungkook’s book that seemed to be a calendar. When the younger lifted it, still adamant on not knowing about an appointment, he tapped the cover twice, leaning in just a little. “Are you trying to tell me Mr. Kim forgot our appointment and isn’t here? I’m pretty sure we have an appointment. Why don’t you look?”

Jungkook swallowed down his remark that there was no way he had an appointment because otherwise he would know - but he had learned pretty early on that smiling and doing what Namjoon’s business partners wanted was the better decision if he didn’t want a grown man in a suit yelling at him. Not that the other was wearing a suit...

He carefully eyed the man’s clothes, something dark and shimmering hidden under his coat that looked pretty interesting. Too bad he would have to send the other away in a moment. As requested he opened his calendar with a smile, opening the page for today and pointing at the space for right now. “As you see there’s..” His voice faltered. There was an entry. In black ink. For right this moment. Jungkook stared at it in total disbelief. He could have sworn that the space had been empty five minutes ago and he also knew that he had never ever heard the name Min Yoongi before. But apparently he must have because it was written in his own handwriting. “I’m… I’m... so sorry Mister Min, I didn’t... I must have confused the dates...” He stuttered, still staring onto the page as if he couldn’t trust his own eyes.

“I know, I know it’s pretty late for an appointment but I’m a busy man.” Yoongi grinned, pushing down a button, then another one before pressing almost every single one of them – because he wasn’t quite sure which floor his office was and also he loved peeking.

He hooked his arm under Jungkook’s almost gasping out loud, when he felt the muscles strain against the suit, but he could restrain himself from groping the younger more. “You can call me, Yoongi or love. Babe is fine, too. Whatever you prefer.” He winked at the startled Jungkook, nudging him slightly. “Relax. If you keep me company until Namjoon arrives I’m sure I’ll have a great time, Jungkook.”

Jungkook tensed up right away. Yoongi wouldn’t be the first businessman to try and flirt with him like that but he could always count on Namjoon to make sure that people who overstepped the line would not stay with the company. “I’d like to keep it professional, Mr. Min as I’m sure Mr. Kim would prefer.” He furrowed his brows when he realized that Yoongi knew his name without him mentioning it. He must have told the other when they had spoken about his appointment? It made him feel crazy that he really couldn't remember it at all!

Yoongi furrowed his brows, giving Jungkook a little more distance. “Oh, no…I’m not really a business partner like that.” He chuckled softly, reaching into the pocket inside his jacket. “I’m more of a… consultant. I help Namjoon with decisions on his business or his life. Whatever he needs me for.” He was happy with his quick lie, taking out what seemed to be a simple stack of cards. “You really don’t have to be professional with me or have to be afraid.” When the doors opened again and they arrived at the office, Yoongi began to shuffle his cards delicately. “Tell me Jungkook, do you believe in magic?” He turned around with a warm smile, walking a few steps backwards.

Jungkook definitely knew one thing: Yoongi was…special. He had never heard of Namjoon asking someone for advice about his business and he was pretty sure Namjoon would never let someone mess with his personal life and yet there Yoongi was, talking about Namjoon as if he knew him inside and out, joking around and playing with cards. “I.-. I like the thought of it being true..-” he confessed before he could stop himself. Somehow the words poured out of him without his permission so he quickly added. “I can distinguish between dreams and reality of course!”

Yoongi hummed, drumming his fingers on his cards. “That’s good.” He walked ahead as if he knew right where he needed to be, just taking the route down to the biggest office he could find before walking in and letting his instincts lead him. There was a conference table right beside Namjoon’s office desk, so Yoongi took a seat, motioning for Jungkook to follow him. “You can call him, if you want…” His eyes were piercing right through the youngers and yet, they were warm and inviting, placing the cards out in front of them.

Jungkook hesitated, drawn in by the beautiful cards. He had placed them front down on the table as if he were ready to pick one, like a fortune teller ready to tell him his future. “What do you need them for if I may ask?” The backside of the cards was decorated with intricate symbols, some highlighted in a shimmering golden color.

“I need them to answer your questions.” Yoongi leaned his head aside, liking how the younger was intrigued, finally following him, and sitting down at the other end. “Or usually Namjoons, but he isn’t here right now.” He sighed deeply, letting his fingertips hover over the cards. “Do you want to try?”

“You help Namjoon make choices by using your cards?” Now he was hooked. “He never told me any of that! How long do you two know each other?” He leaned forward reaching out but then withdrawing his hand. He had heard that touching the cards just for fun before actually asking a question would mess them up. “I’d really like to... but I don’t have any questions at the moment. At least none that the cards can answer.”

“I help in many ways.” He winked, before Jungkook hesitation made him raise an eyebrow. Leaning his chin on his hands, he locked his eyes with the younger. “Tell me your questions if you’re comfortable with them. Maybe I can answer them anyways.” Yoongi didn’t even mind that Jungkook had completely forgotten to call Namjoon, yet. He enjoyed their encounter way too much.

Jungkook chuckled, “I can but I don’t think you can answer them. I’d like to know if the Christmas party will work out and everyone will have a nice time. I would like to know if Kim design will have a great year again next year and if Namjoon will finally be able to take a bit more time for himself instead of working all the time. I’d like to see him smile more often...” Did he really tell all that to a man he had just met for the first time? His cheeks blushed as he kept his eyes trained down on the cards.

“You really care about him, hm. He really is lucky to have you because he needs more people like you.” Yoongi began to mindlessly push the cards around, sorting them differently, putting a few back into the stack of cards. “I can ensure you; your Christmas party will be amazing. I heard Namjoon talking about it. He really wants to come this year, I think. Do you feel like he’s changing?”

“I do. And I really hope he does.” Jungkook cocked his head, “Not really changing, no, but there is something different about him. I think he might have finally found something else to put his heart onto and instead of being completely consumed by his work he starts to see past it. There are so many more reasons to get up in the morning than just because your work schedule tells you to. I feel like he’s finally starting to get a glimpse of that.”

“You are right,” Yoongi nodded, adding the reason ‘Jeon Jungkook’ as another one on his own list, because that man was the sweetest, kindest person he’d ever talked to. He could feel the warmth and passion radiate from him, the positivity that was surrounding him. He wanted nothing but to make all the people around him happy and Yoongi could feel it resonating within him. But there was something else that made him worried.

“You said he found something…you’re not really talking about a hobby, right?” He didn’t really look at Jungkook, as he turned around three of them. There was a wheel of fortune, but it was reversed, and it was making Yoongi bite his lip, while his eyes flickered to the next card. All of them seemed to be upside down; the second card was showing a hermit and the last one was the chariot. “Oh…”

“What is it?” Jungkook leaned over to get a better look at what Yoongi had picked. To him all the cards looked really pretty but he knew that they could all have different meanings, a pretty picture didn’t necessarily mean a good thing and the other way round.

“I’m not sure what they are referring to exactly…it’s not clear, but this one…” He pointed at the wheel of fortune. “Turned upside down like this, it means someone is losing control. And this one, the hermit, it kind of stands for isolation and loneliness. While the chariot emphasizes the lack of control again. It seems as if Namjoon is quite directionless. Or he will be.” He took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, mumbling something about him telling Namjoon so as he shook his head.

Jungkook shook his head in denial, getting out of his chair. “It’s not fair to read Namjoon’s cards when he isn’t even there and I’m sure the reading would be way better if he was present. Or there was a mistake. Namjoon is fine. I’ll… I’ll get him for you now. Sorry for stalling.” With that he went out the door to call Namjoon - and explain to him why he had an appointment that late that he hadn’t told him about before.

Yoongi looked after the younger, sighing softly as a smile stole it’s way on his lips. He turned around another card, the smile turning brighter when it showed the symbol of the sun. Flipping the card back around, he pushed it towards where Jungkook sat before and began to collect the rest.

…

Carrying the laundry, Jimin crossed the living room again, when his eyes flickered over to Namjoon who was deeply immersed in his work at the kitchen table. When their eyes met, he accidentally stumbled over the end of a rug, giggling the embarrassment away before vanishing into the laundry room.

Just when he was gone the telephone rang and Namjoon picked it up automatically. On the other side of the line was Jungkook, explaining very sheepishly that there had been a mishap and he had forgotten to tell him about the appointment his consultant had made. Namjoon was quiet for a moment. “My what?” There was absolutely no one that deserved that title. He had consultants when he tried working with different materials or when he was trying a new marketing strategy but right now there was no one like that who he needed to meet up with.

“Your consultant? Or...or friend I think. Yoongi?” Jungkook sounded small, the mistake still nagging him and Namjoon’s bewildered reaction aiding further to make him contrite.

“Yoongi… he’s at the company? With an appointment? Right now? And you... you talked to him?” He felt like he had ants running all over his skin. This was the third time Yoongi showed up when normally he only came by like once a month at most. Had he told anything to Jungkook? About the start of the company? “Okay, you can.. you can get off early tonight. I’ll be there in a second.” As much as he hated the thought of leaving Yoongi alone at the company he figured that the other could walk to wherever he wanted anyways with his magic and he rather kept Jungkook away from him. Who knew what kind of deal Yoongi would try to make with the younger.

Opening up the dishwasher, Jimin began to sort the clothes, quietly humming a song to himself. He was lightly dancing, singing a little louder. Leaning back down, he got out another shirt, when Namjoon’s sudden enthusiasm to get up and to his office startled him effectively and he shot up, hitting the back of his head on the edge of the cupboard. He yelped in pain, blinking his eyes because for a moment he saw nothing but a few spots dancing around in front of him.

“Jimin?” Namjoon froze at the younger’s outcry of pain. “Are you alright?” When he didn't get an answer right away he immediately went into the laundry room where he saw Jimin rub the back of his head. “Did you hit your head? I have to get back to the office, but I can get you some ice first. Please don’t hurt yourself again while I’m gone, can you do that?” He teased him a little.

Jimin hummed in response, the pain too evident on the back of his head. “I’ll try not to.” He wondered why Namjoon had to run to the office out of a sudden again but promised that he wouldn’t hurt himself anymore. He was almost done with cleaning anyways, although he had hoped to stall his time a little at the end with Namjoon.

Only when Jimin was taken care of did Namjoon call himself a car. On the ride he was fidgety, trying to calm himself down and not rack his brain about why Yoongi was there, what he might want and what he could possibly do to make him comply.

Yoongi was bored out of his mind, staring at the wall as he swirled around in Namjoon’s chair. He had tried out every single one in his office but this one turned the smoothest.

That's how Namjoon found him.

He was a little out of breath because he had walked as fast as he could to get there (without actually running because running would mean he was desperate and Yoongi might see him with his… third eye or something) “Are you having fun? I hope you didn’t make Jungkook ask me here just because you wanted a new chair.”

“Oh, there you are!” Yoongi came to a halt, motioning for Namjoon to take a seat as if it was his office and not the other way around. “We had an appointment, right? It said so in his calendar. That’s why I’m here…” Leaning over the desk, he let his gaze wander around. “I really like what you made out of our deal, Namjoon. Are you happy with it?”

“You can’t fool me, Yoongi. And please don’t mess with Jungkook again, the poor boy will double check every appointment now and blame himself for it when we both know that it wasn’t his fault he had no idea of that ‘magical appointment’. If you want to talk to me you can just call me.” He took a breath, trying to find a hook in Yoongi’s statement but there was none. “Yes, thank you, I’m happy. Why, do you want to terminate our contract?” He had often wondered how or when it would end - and what would be the consequences. It wasn’t like he was being lazy and letting Yoongi do all the work in his company so even without magical help he should be fine... right?

“Where would be the fun in that?” Yoongi pursed his lips, getting up to look at the designs that were hanging on the pinboard of Namjoon’s office. “I just wondered…you really made a lot of what I gave you. You build an entire empire and dare I say, I couldn’t be any prouder.” Yoongi turned around waving Namjoon off, “Oh no, please. I’m fine. I don’t need to terminate anything. I’m just feeling sentimental this Christmas.” The witch sighed deeply, taking out the three cards he had picked earlier and giving them to Namjoon. “They were turned upside down. I like you, Namjoon and sometimes I worry…if this is really what you wanted.” He patted the other’s shoulder, passing by him.

Namjoon took the cards. There were pictures on it, and he knew that they were probably tarot cards but other than that he had no idea what they were supposed to mean. He only realized that Yoongi wasn’t just walking around in the room than out when there was silence. He turned and Yoongi was nowhere to be seen.

“Wh…wait! What does that mean? What do you want? Did you just call me here to give me those cards? Am I supposed to do something with them? I’m not magic!”

A/N: Happy third Advent! We hope you enjoy this little story until now :)

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razorblade180 · 3 years

Text

Venqua Week:Music

“When you-gah! No, that’s not right. When- ugh! Come on Ventus, you can do this!” The boy said, frustratingly tuning a guitar. He had been at this for months now. It all started when Namine moved into the Land of Departure with him, Terra, and Aqua. The boy had stumbled upon her drawings and by extension, the arts itself. He was completely hooked. Outside of fighting, Ventus didn’t have much time to explore possible talents. He was determined to find a hobby he was good at! It took all of ten minutes of Namine teaching him about color theory for him to realize that maybe literal art wasn’t his calling.

That’s when Namine recommended music. Seemed like a good idea. He didn’t want to brag, but Ventus always thought he was a bit musically inclined. Between dancing and the ice cream beat machine, he thought learning an actual instrument would come easy. Wrong! It was critically difficult! Three months into learning guitar and his confidence was was fading like the golden sunset that washed over him as he sat at the edge of the trio’s stargazing spot. Ventus played a few more strings and sighed. It didn’t sound off. Honestly it never was. The problem was his nerves. Ventus was trying to be a perfectionist with the only song he’s been able to learn so far. All for a special someone, Aqua.

He had always had certain feelings for his friend, but expressing them was beyond impossible. Any time he tried to show her a cooler, more mature side of himself it never worked out. He’d either screw up really hard, or Aqua would do her pretty little giggle while patting his head like he was some sort of puppy. He was not a puppy darn it! Ventus wanted to at least be a cooler, older anime. Something like a fox or a leopard. Just once, he wanted to leave Aqua speechless. He thought a singing to her would be his best bet. His face face grew redder at the thought of her listening to the song in awe, her deep blue eyes captivated by his feelings.

“Geez, I’m so hopeless.” He said, covering his face. Ventus turned his head towards his master’s keyblade that rested peacefully just several feet away. He wondered if Master Eraqus had any hidden talents? No way keyblade wielding was his only gift. If Aqua’s fighting style was any indication, the old man was probably a bunch of fun on the dance floor. The thought of him doing even half the moves Aqua did was enough to make Ventus laugh lightly. Once again he strummed his guitar. “Oh master, you think I stand a chance?”

“Stand a chance at what?” A voice asked from behind. Ven’s face went bright red, then pale in a less than a second when he realized it was Aqua. She smiled her beautiful smile like she always did and held a crown of flowers in her hand.

“A-Aqua!?” He stammered, “W-What brings you up here....!?” He wanted to hit himself right now. The answer to that was quite literally in front of him.

“Changing out Master Eraqus’s flowers” she answered anyways. Aqua walked over to the memorial and did just that. The old ones weren’t dead yet, but their color was obviously starting to fade. Still, they looked rather pretty. So pretty in fact, Aqua took it upon herself to sat right next to ventus and hang it around neck. “Wow, I’m a little surprised it passed your hair so easily. I thought it would sit on top.” She teased, ruffling the wild dew.

“Hey! It’s not that spiky! Also my head would have to massive for it to sit on top!” He pouted. Why is always a head rub!? This time he was minding his own business and still wound up like this. “Do you have a thing with my hair or something? You’re always doing stuff like this.”

“Of course. You always pout and turn red. It’s cute.” She answered, watching him get redder. Aqua couldn’t help herself. Teasing Ven like this was just irresistible. “So, what is it that you were trying to stand a chance in? Maybe I can help?”

“What? Oh! Umm it was nothing! Just talking aloud is all.” Lying was not a strength Ventus had.

“Really?” Aqua said sarcastically. She reached over to the guitar in his arms and ran her fingers across the strings, making a subtle but pleasant sound from it. “Nothing to do with the acoustic currently in your hands?” She looked at the blue eyes that were inches away and avoiding contact. Aqua tilted her head, a bit confused by Ven’s shyness. “Ven, I’m not a mind reader. Tell me what’s up?”

“If you read minds then you know mine only has you in it.” He thought to himself. “I’m just having a little trouble with a song I wanna sing. I learned all the notes and everything, but I get anxious anytime it comes to playing the whole thing.”

“How come?”

“I’m...self conscious is all.” It wasn’t a lie but it was certainly vague. “Any time I think about singing it the way I intend to, I get worried if it sounds bad or if I look like an idiot.” Ven could feel his heart beating so loudly that he was afraid Aqua might here it. Here being this close was nothing new, yet it too much to deal with.m right now moved back a little by pretending to readjust how he was sitting.

Aqua could the boys hand fidget a little. He wasn’t kidding at all about feeling anxious. She had never seen him so flustered when it came to things like this. Aqua had caught him a few times over the past few months really putting an effort into learning when nobody was around. She had even secretly caught him sneaking off early in the morning to find a place to practice. Learning this song must’ve been really important. For Aqua, that only left one response to this.

“Can I hear it?”

Ven was going to have a heart attack. “What!?”

“I wanna hear it.” She repeated, “We’re often our own worst critics. If you only play with no one around then you might always think it needs improvement, so let me hear it. I’ll give my honest opinion!” She said, excited to listen.

“That’s the one thing that scares me!!!” Ventus could not believe this was happening. How was he supposed to explain to her that she couldn’t listen because he was doing it all for her!? She even gave a valid reason for helping! “Oh, no I uh- you don’t have to do all that! Hehe, I just-” he stopped when he saw Aqua move to sit on her knees. His crush sat patiently with her hands resting her hands on her lap, a heart stealing smile still on her face. Here she was. Here they were. Two people bathed in the golden light of a sunset. Warm air and breath stealing views anywhere you looked. A gentle breeze made Aqua run a finger across her face. All attention was on him. Well, no time like the present right? Ven stood no chance of resisting with a face like that.

He sat facing her, legs crossed. He new his face was still red and the sound of his beating heart hadn’t gotten any calmer. However, a comfort came from that with a mix of excitement. An honest truth about his feelings. He really had fallen for her and wanting nothing more to express his feelings with all of his heart.

“Aqua...can I ask a favor?” He somehow managed to say. “Can you...close you eyes while I sing to you?”

The request was surprising but understandable. This was more about sound then sight anyways. “Okay.” She closed her eyes in earnest. “Ready...” For some reason Aqua felt herself get a little embarrassed as well. She hoped it didn’t show on her face.

Ventus took the deepest breath he could. Mustering his resolve and composing himself, Ventus began to strum.

🎶When you walk away, you don't hear me say

"Please, oh baby, don't go."

Simple and clean

Is the way that you're making me feel tonight

It's hard to let it go....🎶

Yeah, Aqua could totally feel herself starting to blush. Ven was only a few lyrics in, but she couldn’t think of a time she heard a more stunning voice.

🎶You're giving me, too many things, lately

You're all I need, oh~

You smiled at me and said...

"Don't get me wrong, I love you

But does that mean I have to meet your father?"

When we are older, you'll understand what I meant when I said

"No, I don't think life is quite that simple"

When you walk away, you don't hear me say

"Please, oh baby, don't go."

Simple and clean

Is the way that you're making me feel tonight

It's hard to let it go🎶

Ventus felt his nerves melt away as he kept playing. His mind was too focused on the notes to worry. Too focused on the girl in front of him. He was starting to find his stride.

The daily things, Like this and that and what is what

That keep us all... busy are confusing me~

That's when you came to me and said

"Wish I could prove I love you but does that mean I have to walk on water?"

When we are older, you'll understand it's enough when I say so

And maybe some things are that simple.

When-🎶

His serenade was unexpectedly cut short. Aqua had reached for his hand and stopped him from playing. Ven’s heart skipped a beat. For a moment, nothing but dread filled his thoughts. Did she hate it? Why else would he stop him midway. He would’ve asked, but Ventus couldn’t find the words. Not out of fear, but because of the look on Aqua’s face. Her calm demeanor was entirely gone. A the warmest smile Ven has ever laid eyes on was on her face with rose red cheeks. “A-Aqua...?” He finally spoke.

“S...sorry.” She spoke, “it’s just...well....” finding the words was a little difficult. Aqua couldn’t help but laugh at her own skittishness. “You confessing to me like this might be a little more than my heart can handle.” There, she said it. She watched a Ven’s eyes start getting bigger and bigger while his face tried rivaling hers in terms of red.

“Y...You knew I-”

“Of course.” Aqua giggled, “I watch you just as much as you watch me you know? Because...I like you...too. A lot.”

Ventus must’ve been dreaming. Chirithy has to have put him in a special dream. It’s the only way this made sense. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Like he was one to talk.

Aqua rubbed the back of her neck, “I’m not very good with this kind of stuff. Even though I had a feeling you liked me, I just couldn’t find the nerve. Then I started thinking about how I could be wrong and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I kept finding reasons to keep quiet. But next thing I know is I started thinking more and more about these feelings sense we got back home and I-” Aqua jumped at the touch of Ven’s hand grab hers. She’s glad he did it, or else she might’ve rambled for hours.

A pressure weighed on their chest. One that was slowly pulling them together. The two of them couldn’t speak, only lean closer. They wanted the same thing. They knew it buy all the blushing moments and not so secret glances. Aqua moved the guitar away from Ven to get even closer. Ven invited the approach by tugging her hand closer to him. Her face had to be only inches away. Way to far for his liking. Aqua finally spoke.

“I think we should both close our eyes this time.” She said, flustered by her own suggestion. She was glad she managed to say it though. The moment his eyes closed, Aqua understood why he asked before. Filled with ease and courage, Aqua pressed her lips against the ones that had just serenaded her moments ago. Neither kept track how long they remained like this and neither cared. The only thing that mattered was it had finally happened; and it was only going to keep happening for many days to come.

[many thanks to @venquaweek because fun fact, I’ve had this music idea for three years and never wrote it 😂]

#kingdom hearts #ventus #aqua kh #birth by sleep #aqua x ventus #venqua #venquaweek

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fabulaee · 3 years

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COFFEE COFFEE COFFEE

// A 🐺 fic based on my Stay journey’s aesthetics which was a coffee shop au bc they remind me of those times when I used to go to the café to draw and would see fellow regulars but unlike y/n and Chan, I never interact with them. We all just share a table 😂😂😂

Monday. Wednesday. Friday

That was the set schedule for your coffee run. MWF from 9 am to 10, then coming back with your study supplies from 1 to 4 in the afternoon. It was routine; the small college café a safe haven from the slight messy floor of your dorm and the formal vibe of the library. Here you were focused and at peace of mind. The aroma of the coffee beans and soft sounds of the coffeeshop’s playlist serving as background noise.

There wasn’t much students at this time of the day compared to the much later prime of the evenings. The café then filled with college youths grabbing a drink after a long day’s worth of lectures and test reminders or staying to cram a night’s worth of information. There was something about cafés that seemed inviting and less suffocating yet at the same time a place where you can find the nursing students with their big thick books opened with streaks of neon yellow running across them.

“Vanilla Bean Cold Brew for y/n!”

Standing up, you went to grab your drink leaving behind the pastel rainbow set of highlighters and gel pens on top of your notes. You quickly thanked the barista as he handed you a straw before plopping back down on your seat continuing where you last went off. Something about the history of impressionistic art. You sighed as you lifted your eyes across the room, it was currently 2:30 pm on a Wednesday afternoon. A good time to take a break before your mind starts to commit brain fart.

Chris Bang. Affectionally called Bang Chan by his friends. Music major with golden hands, a good candidate for the honor roll, member of the varsity swim team, and resident social butterfly. An all rounder any college is proud to have.

You heard about him once or twice from your common friend, Yang Hongseok. They met at the gym apparently and became quick friends through the Japanese exchange student, Adachi Yuto, and their shared love for fitness.

You see him sit at the same spot everyday since the middle of sophomore year. His laptop with the cute decal of Deadpool open and his AirPods snugly tucked in his ears. He's always has his blonde head bopping to a song he's playing on either his phone or his laptop. Always seemed so engrossed in this little world he made for himself across the room, ignorant to the bustling crowd of students that come and go.

He looks up catching you off guard. His lips curled slightly upwards, chuckling to himself as he watches your cheeks turn pink in embarrassment. Great, he must think I'm a weirdo!

With a quick exchange of nods you both went back to doing your own thing. Just a regular day at the coffee shop.

“Do you mind if I sit here?”

It's the Friday following Monday's slightly embarrassing incident. You looked up to find the same Chris Bang, laptop in hand, smiling at you like a friendly yet lost puppy. Warm brown orbs looking back at yours.

“My laptop's about to die and this is the only table with an outlet.” He explains himself, a tiny awkward giggle making up as the period.

“O-oh, of course!” You stuttered, hastily making room for him despite the large space as you swiped for the stray pastel highlighters and napkins closer. “No one's sitting here so go ahead.”

He whispered a small thanks before setting down his laptop to grab his bag from his usual spot while you went back to your notes. It was silent for awhile, only the sounds of pen against paper and the soft tick tack of the keys. At some point you hit a mind block, eyes glazing in boredom as you stared at the blank space of your notebook. You felt your table mate leave his stationary position too. he stretched in his seat before turning his attention to you.

Sensing his sudden gaze on you, you flashed him a small smile. You were never one to start a conversation, often keeping to yourself and minding your own business. A bit of a complete opposite towards the friendly Australian who somehow knows at least three students from each program.

He smiles back at you showing off his cute dimples and an outstretched hand. “Hey, I'm Chan. I never caught your name.”

Again with the cute giggle. It seems to be like a signature to him but it's cute still the same. You grasped his hand giving it a soft shake. “Y/n,” you answered curtly.

The following days you find yourself hanging around Chan more. Afternoon study sessions were no longer a date between you and the textbook or the small watercolor set you laid out on the table. Chan was there to fill the space making the long table that was a party of one to a party of two and maybe some on certain busy hours but mostly it was the both of you in your own tiny world.

You got to know him, his likes and dislikes. His major and passion for music, sometimes slipping in a few complaints about certain homework here and there; What else he likes to do. Apparently mr. Chris Bang was gifted in so many areas you often wondered what good he must've done in his previous life to be this gifted. Not only was he a jack of all trades, he's also the master of all.

You even had a small debate between Deadpool and Spider-Man. God, he's such a nerd it's adorable!

In return he knew these things about you. How you're taking up art as your major hoping to make it out as an illustrator one day—

“it would be so cool if you drew a variant cover for Deadpool!”

“Ha! We'll see about that, Chris Reynolds.”

He knows how you like to collect stickers and are quite passionate about making sure your notes are beautiful. He knows how you loved your drinks iced despite it being the middle of winter.

“Isn’t the weather too cold for that?” He’d ask with a quirk of his brow, amused brown eyes glancing at the iced hazelnut latte you have in your hands.

“Nope!” you replied, taking a sip as you did so. “It’s always the perfect weather for an iced coffee, Bang.”

He only chuckled at that.

It hit you like a freight train. You didn’t mean to fall for him. It wasn’t supposed to happen. You and Chan? No way, it was just supposed to be just friends. The kind where you hang out and have fun, no feelings attached. He was just supposed to be that regular from the café, right?

That was the plan, right?

But you can’t deny the small flutters from your heart much like those newly emerged butterflies. How you can feel that giddy feeling of excitement when you spot his mop of chocolate curly locks outside the café’s window. How you mirror his smile when you get together to talk about anything and everything under the sun. Bang Chan in all his cute dimpled glory, soft curls and hearty giggles was just too much to adore.

Yet it wasn’t that what pulled you in to the Music major. You felt love blossom when you both stayed up late, when the café was quiet after a busy day. The only people around being a couple medical students, some late night goers, and the employees. You felt the tiny flower buds start to bloom when he stayed with you then; keeping you company under the dimly warm fluorescent lights, laptop tucked away and a hand playing with yours.

You felt it bloom when you cuddled on the booth’s sofa one rainy November day. He scoots over next to you when he saw you shiver from the corner of his eyes. He’s naturally warm —you’d often tease him how he made the room hot. Why? well it’s because he’s from Australia! which earned the loud chorus of laughter from his friends and Chan’s ears turning into the color of the fire hydrant.

“Babygirl, you’re shivering.” He mutters as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you gently towards him. You accepted the subtle invitation, sides sticking together as you both went through forgotten notes and half finished coffees.

You felt it when you caught yourself staring at him a little longer than intended. Eyes drifting from Jisung’s expressive face to glance at the older one. You watched him look at the former with such adoration in his eyes; how he looked like a proud dad. You watched him nod along and laugh to Jisung’s animated story about how he and Hyunjin would fight back in the day, a fact that still seemed to shock you seeing how they are the best of friends.

Your eyes would linger on him while he worked on his music; focused and determined, hiding the exhaustion and sleepless nights prominent on the dark circles under his eyes. He was handsome even if he looked like shit. Hell, he was handsome even when he sported the infamous broccoli colored hair. You’d find yourself in a trance, like it was a dream. The world didn’t matter as much anymore when it was only you and Chan in the small dimly table, surrounded by the aroma of coffee beans at the small quaint cafe at the corner of the street.

You loved him. You loved him in the most beautiful of ways; you loved him in the most perfect highs and in all those crevices full of flaws.

You loved him in those bright moments, when the lights were shining on him during a 3RACHA gig. How they made him more beautiful, how they made him stand out from the 2 younger members. You loved watching him do what he loves; how he immersed himself in a world that was different from yours. How his version of colors and dried paint were beats and melodies, rhythm and tempos.

You loved him in the lowest moments; when the tide was high enough to cover you. You loved how you fit perfectly in his arms, how he became a shoulder to lean on when you felt the world was against you and you to him. When he would open up to you about his worst fears and his grandiose ambitions; when he spilled his heart out at the underlaying insecurity that’s been biting him due to his perfectionist attitude. You became his confidante; the one he can trust his heart to.

You loved him in the times he was vulnerable. You loved him when he would bask in glory and shining lights. You loved him like those cheesy lines in love songs. You loved him like how the tides would look at the moon in awe and yearning; gravitating with every push and pull.

You loved him in ways words can never describe. How the seeds he planted in your heart bloomed to the most beautiful bouquet of flowers.

You love him simply because he’s Chan.

You promised yourself you’d be just friends. It was safer that way but then again, what is love when she’s not one without twists and turns?

What is love when she comes to you, sneaky and sly like a weed disguised as a flower, whispering into your ear that it’s him.

It’s him, it’s him, it’s him.

It was always him, it just took you some time to figure that out.

When you first met Chan, he was simply a friend of a friend. Someone you knew because your brothers are his friends. He was the guy you’d hear about in passing, the popular cool guy with a heart bigger than a massive sized teddy bear and a smile that could cure the most depressing of days. Someone who, in probability, would just be an acquaintance to you.

He was that guy you regularly saw at the coffee shop you visited every week. He was just some guy from the music department who would flash you a friendly smile because you were a familiar face.

Funny how fate made him more than what you originally expected him to be.

#Feels like love #🐺97 #amg no idk what happened in thw middle of writing #but I’ll tag if I ever write the letter version which will probably have more #bc it was a bit hard to write in 2nd person #I haven’t written since 2019 😭😭😭 yall will habw to #forgive me #my skills be rusty af #also this wisnt proofread so if there’s any mistakes that’s the work of my sleep deprived braincell #BUHU PLS BE GENTLE WITH ME THIS IS MY FIRST TIME AND IM SHY AF 😭😭😭#but u know what Im not shy of???#MY INTENSE LOVE FOR CHRISTOPHER BANG #amg ok shall hide now ú///ú

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 3 years

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If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Seventy One

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

January 10th, 1997

Remy was looking at the test his latest table-mate had given him and he frowned. “What’s so bad about it?” he asked.

“It’s a ninety seven!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah, so? I barely got a seventy two,” Remy said with a shrug. “It’s okay to not get everything perfect, or even close to perfect. All that matters is that you pass.”

“Figures you’d see it that way,” she scoffed. “You don’t care about grades at all. Do you even know where you’re going to college?”

“Don’t know, don’t care, Cindy,” Remy said. “I’m fifteen. I don’t have to care yet.”

She scoffed again and stormed off as the bell rang and Remy rolled his eyes. Another potential friendship avoided. Good. He had been worried he wouldn’t be able to shake this one. And perfectionists rubbed him a very particular wrong way that was not pleasant.

September 5th, 2002

Remy was working in the kitchen when Emile came up from behind him for a hug. “Hey, love,” Emile said.

“Mm, hi, mio amore,” Remy said. “Decided you’re finally ready for lunch?”

“Yeah. I was just doing some drawing earlier to fulfill the art class requirement I’ve been putting off, but the drawings are done for now. I just want to eat,” Emile said with a laugh.

“What were you drawing?” Remy asked.

“You,” Emile said. “Like, it wasn’t realistic figure drawings because I wasn’t looking at you, but I was working in different cartoon styles, and I figured I may as well draw one of the people I know best.”

Remy turned a slight red even as he continued to work. “Do I get to see these drawings eventually?”

“Yeah, if you want,” Emile said. “So long as you don’t tell me that my imitations of my favorite cartoon styles suck.”

“I would never say that,” Remy said. “You’re a pretty good drawer, actually. Maybe not make-a-living-off-it good, but definitely a your-art-shows-lots-of-care good.”

“Really?” Emile asked, and he looked surprised.

Remy paused in his work and faced Emile fully. “Yeah, Emile. You’re really good at art.” Emile frowned, and Remy mirrored the action. “Is there any reason that you wouldn’t think that?” Had he just found one of Emile’s insecurities?

“I mean, I guess not, it’s just...” Emile shrugged. “There’s a lot of things wrong with it. It’s like when I get a question wrong on a test. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t fix it.”

Remy squinted and walked past Emile, to the card table, where his sketchbook was still open. “Emile, your drawings look fine.”

“Fine, sure. But they’re not exactly good,” Emile said, walking over and pointing. “See, the eyes are slightly off compared to the She-Ra style, and in the Looney Tunes style I can’t get the hands and the fingers properly. And these are just the sketches I’m okay with other people seeing.”

Remy stared at Emile, then at the drawings, then Emile. “Emile, I’m not a cartoon expert like you are, but I know enough about art style differences from comics to understand this was just done by a different artist. It’s not wrong, it’s just a slight difference, like what can happen when more than one animator works on a project. The difference is that in animation, the frames go by so fast that it’s usually imperceptible.”

“No, it’s not the same style if it doesn’t look exactly the same. Otherwise it’s just an imitation,” Emile said.

“Okay...correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought you were just going for an imitation,” Remy said.

“I mean, yeah, but I realized how close I was and wanted it to be in the genuine style...and I couldn’t get it,” Emile mumbled the last part, turning away.

“What do you mean, honey? You definitely got it right,” Remy said.

“But I didn’t,” Emile argued.

Remy blinked. “Okay, maybe it’s not perfect, but—”

“—See?! You just said yourself that I didn’t get it!” Emile exclaimed.

Remy paused. Took a breath. Let it out slowly. “That’s not what I said,” he said calmly. Forcing away the irritation at being interrupted and the annoyance that Emile was apparently not listening to him. “I said you didn’t have it perfect. Not having it perfect doesn’t mean you don’t have it.”

“Yes it does!” Emile exclaimed with a huff.

The irritation faded away and was replaced with a blooming bud of concern. “No, it doesn’t, Emile...why would you think that?”

Emile laughed incredulously. “Do you really not know?”

“No,” Remy said. “I really don’t.”

“When I was in kindergarten the first time around, I was ‘the stupid one.’ I know you’ve heard this before, but listen. When it clicked and I finally knew how to read, I went to the top of my class in just about everything. Suddenly, school was impossibly easy. And everything I did was just considered perfect, perfect, perfect. That’s all it could be, that’s all it can be. I’m not allowed to fail. Because if I fail, then I’m just that stupid five-year-old who couldn’t even spell his own name. And suddenly everyone starts questioning me, saying they thought I was smart, I was supposed to understand this, and isn’t it easy? Why am I struggling?! I just need to push through until I understand, but I’m not even allowed to ask for help, because oh, that’s just for the stupid kids, Emile, and you’re not stupid! If something isn’t perfect, then it’s a problem. And I’m not supposed to have any more problems. Not after that.”

Remy didn’t know what to say. “Christ, Emile,” he breathed. “That’s terrible.”

Emile laughed and shook his head. “Not particularly,” he said, even as he was starting to cry. “Just the burden of being the smart kid, I guess. You have to keep up the appearance even if you have no idea what you’re doing. Because otherwise all the teachers see is that dumb kid who couldn’t tell the difference between an ‘o’ and a ‘v.’”

“I thought only your teen years were traumatic, but Christ. That’s just...I don’t have any words. I was never really ‘the smart kid,’ I never had to deal with that, but...wow, so many things make sense now,” Remy said. He shook his head. “Not the point, not the point. Okay. Emile, I’m going to tell you something, and I want you to listen to me when I say it, okay?”

Emile took off his glasses, wiping away his tears, and he nodded. “I’m listening.”

Remy grabbed Emile’s cheeks and brought their foreheads together. “You have my explicit permission to fail.”

“You...what?” Emile asked.

“You have my permission to fail. Okay? If you don’t get everything perfect, you’re not stupid in my eyes. If your graduating GPA is three point nine, I won’t focus on the one class you got a ‘B’ in. I’ll focus on the fact that all your other classes you aced with all ‘A’s! That’s freaking amazing! I would never be able to do that! If you get one thing wrong, if you ‘fail’ in your eyes, that’s okay. No one can be perfect all the time. It’s okay to need help. It’s not just for people who are struggling. This operates on the same principles as therapy. Therapy is not just for people who are drowning in their own emotions, it’s also to teach those people how to swim, or to find a boat. The same is true if you have to ask a professor a question, or enlist the skills of a tutor. You’re not stupid for doing those things, you’re learning more so you don’t make the same mistakes in the future.” Remy kissed Emile. “You’re not stupid, Emile, and you never have been stupid. ‘Stupid’ as a concept is just...well, it’s stupid. It makes no sense. And getting one or two questions wrong on a test doesn’t mean you’re stupid. It means you got all the other questions right, and you get to learn from those mistakes.”

Emile blinked. “What if I get all the questions wrong?” he asked, voice small.

“You’re still not stupid. You just need to stress less and maybe study harder next time. But I doubt that would happen, okay? You’re Emile freaking Thomas, and you can do anything you set your mind to. Don’t sell yourself short,” Remy said, giving Emile a crooked grin at the end.

Emile slowly removed Remy’s hands from his face and stared at the floor. “Honey, I appreciate the sentiment, but...I can’t just stop this. I’ve been doing it for fifteen years.”

“I know you can’t just stop it at will, honey, that’s not what I’m asking of you,” Remy said. “I’m asking you to go a little easier on yourself. You don’t have to be perfect. If you get everything right, more power to you, but beat yourself up a little less if you make a mistake. If you do nothing else, at least remind yourself that you have my permission to fail? That no one will hate you or think that you’re stupid if you mess up?”

“I...” Emile trailed off, actually considering Remy’s words, which Remy counted as a win. “Yeah, okay.”

“Yeah?” Remy asked.

“Yeah, I’ll try,” Emile said, not looking Remy in the eye, but his tone sounded hopeful. “It would be nice to not feel like everything has to be perfect, I think.”

“You’ll either find it incredibly liberating or incredibly terrifying, I think. Possibly both,” Remy said drily.

Emile snorted. “I’m willing to bet you’re right,” he said with a nod. “I’ve never really considered what it would be like to be allowed to fail. Even when we moved out of the college dorms, I didn’t think about the possibility of failing and not managing our money correctly, because failure just wasn’t an option. And I guess it saved us issues with rent and food and the like, but I’m willing to bet it did a number on my mental health too. Just a hunch.”

Remy laughed. “Honey, you’ve worked yourself sick before because you’re so focused on helping friends and going to work and keeping that perfect GPA. I know for a fact that it’s done a number on you not only mentally, but physically.”

“Okay, I see your point,” Emile said with a slightly sheepish smile. “That was me going a little overboard.”

“More than a little,” Remy said with a snort. “That in and of itself was a bit of a failure. Failure to take care of yourself.”

Emile went oddly quiet, before he softly went, “Oh.”

“Oh?” Remy asked.

“I have failed in the past, then,” Emile said. “And you didn’t change how you treated me. I mean, you might have called me stupid for pushing myself too far and getting myself sick, but you didn’t...treat me like I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“That’s because you do know what you’re doing,” Remy said. “Making one or two mistakes, or outright failing doesn’t mean you don’t know anything. It means you might need things explained to you in a different way, or just explained period, but you know way more than most people, Emile. I would argue you’re smarter than most twenty one year olds I’ve met. At least, academically. Street smarts are another story.”

“Look, that was one time I got lost on the way home from McDonald’s!” Emile defended. “That doesn’t mean I don’t have street smarts!”

Remy burst out laughing. “No, that means that you have no sense of direction, and no street smarts.”

“This coming from the guy who purposefully picked a fight with a guy who was buddies with linebackers from the football team,” Emile snorted. “That’s not exactly prime ‘street smarts’ either, mister.”

“Okay, okay, so we’re both dumbasses coming to street smarts! I still know more than you on that front!” Remy exclaimed.

“Oh, you wish!” Emile declared, “I’d bet actual money that I have more street smarts than you.”

“A fool and his money are soon parted,” Remy said with a wicked grin. “But fine. If you’re so certain, let’s get an impartial party to determine this. Next time we see Bernie, we’ll ask him. But be prepared to lose whatever money you’re betting!”

“We have joint bank accounts in all but name anyway,” Emile said with a shrug. “We regularly buy stuff for each other. What difference does it make if that money is in my account or yours?”

“You have a point,” Remy hummed. “Okay. How about we bet food? If you win, we get the stuff to bake cupcakes. If I win, we get the stuff for brownies. And the loser has to help bake the sweets that we’ll be eating for the next two weeks or so.”

“Oh, you are so on!” Emile exclaimed.

Remy grinned. Emile was hopefully going to go a little easier on himself, and Remy was going to get to eat brownies next week! This was great!

#if there's a place i could be #sanders sides fanfiction #remile #emile picani #ts sleep

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