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biggest-stupidhead · 3 years

Note

more modern au levi x reader!! is it okay where reader makes petra jealous???

Just a reminder: WE DO NOT CONDONE PETRA SLANDER IN THIS HOUSE!!!

with that said, I will write this heavily focused on Petra to make it a lil angsty, hope you enjoy!

Summary: Petra watches her ex fall for another

Word Count: 1.7K

It had been two long years since Petra and Levi ended things. It wasn’t messy but it was painful, she had seen it coming from a mile away. He had grown just as distant as he had been when they first met. Staying late at work, texting her dryly, and using terrible excuses. Although she had known it was coming, she still was a wreck when he actually ended things. She spent the months following the break up drinking wine and crashing at Oluo’s place regularly. After two years she was finally feeling better, dare she say, ready to get back into the dating scene? Or at least that’s what she thought, she was scrolling through her instagram feed when she stumbled across Hange’s page. It was someone’s birthday, someone she wasn’t familiar with.

A woman with bight eyes and an even brighter smile was in the center of the group photo. On her right was Levi, who had an arm thrown casually over her shoulder, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. Petra pinched the screen to zoom into Levi’s side, where she saw a feminine hand on his waist. She stared stupidly at the image. She shouldn’t feel jealous, she had no right. It had been two long years since the break up. But the picture only dredged up old memories of times when she would hold Levi that same way. When that smile was directed to her. She then turned her attention to the caption, which read:

Happy Birthday (Y/n)! 24 never looked so good!

She then scrolled through the comments, many of them consisted of birthday wishes and support. She lost interest when she didn’t see Levi’s username and instead went back to the collection of photos, three of them in all. The group one that she assumed had just been taken, the second one was a picture of Hange and you on the beach, Petra felt a involuntary wave of self consciousness wash over her at the site of you in a swim suite. The final picture was the one that hurt the most though, it seemed to be a very old picture of you, maybe from your early years in college? You were sitting on a couch with younger versions of Hange, Erwin, Levi, and Moblit. Levi’s arm was casually thrown over your shoulders. Why had he never mentioned you before? Were you the reason that they broke up? No Levi had assured her that it wasn’t like that, said he wasn’t seeing anyone else. She tried to stop herself from going down that rabbit hole, but she couldn’t seem to. Before she really knew what she was doing, she had clicked on your profile which she was almost disappointed to find as public. This meant that there was nothing stopping her from judging every perfect image that was posted, and to her pleasant surprise, there was only one photo of you and Levi. The photo was posted the week prior, the two of you were hiking in the mountains, the dusty trial behind you. Your face was flushed from the exertion of the climb, Levi seemed cool as a cucumber, his face blank and void of emotion. She scrolled through the post and found a video, the sound of your shoes crunching and Levi talking behind you were clear as day.

“I mean come on, who uses fucking Lipton? Have some god damn class.” Levi spat, as you snorted in amusement. Petra found herself chuckling along with you at Levi’s little rant. She felt a rogue tear slide down her cheek when you showed the phone to Levi, who’s face fell from being mildly animated to apathetic once more. You cackled as he swiped the phone and the video ended abruptly. It was so innocent, it was clear from the rest of your page that you were a private person, much like Levi. With little indication that you were dating him, it left her wanting to know more. More about the girl that had taken her place, had managed to worm her way into Levi’s heart of stone and make herself comfortable. As soon as these thoughts crowded into her head, she deleted instagram all together and powered her phone down, determined to wipe her memory of the images she had seen.

The music was a nice distraction from the awkwardness that hung in the air. You had arrived uncharacteristically early to Hange’s party, and consequently meeting a whole group of people that you had never met before. The new people were about your age, three young men and one stunning young woman. It was early fall and Hange’s annual bonfire bash as you all had dubbed the event. Basically you lit a massive fire, when you were younger it was your past assignments from your pervious school year, then it became just regular old wood. You tapped your finger against the cool beer bottle as you leaned up against the counter, the men were laughing obnoxiously as they dropped the alcohol that they’d brought into one of the many coolers. The woman was looking at you almost nervously, she seemed extremely on edge, shifting her weight back and forth, eyes wandering around the room in a jittery manner. You frowned, wondering what was bothering her, but ultimately deciding that it was not really your business. Erwin shimmied behind you, his hands on your shoulders as he slide past you into the kitchen. You caught his arm, clinging to his familiar presence.

“Erwin.” you hissed as he stooped to reach your level.

“Who are these people?” you asked as you held his bicep firmly in your grasp. He pulled away and looked at you with a confused expression.

“You mean Levi didn’t tell you?” He said slowly, clearly he was unsure if it was his place to speak on the relationship between Levi and these people.

“No....” You said carefully, not wanting to make Erwin uncomfortable.

“Oh well they used to work in the same department before Levi switched.” He said, he looked over to the men and motioned for them to come over, they ambled over with curious expressions.

“What’s up Erwin?” the dark haired man asked as he looked between the two of you.

“Just thought I’d ought to introduce you to (Y/n) here, she’s an old friend of ours from high school.” Erwin explained, his hand still comfortingly placed on your mid back. You waved shyly and smiled at all of them, including the girl.

“Pleasure to meet you.” The blonde with a ponytail said, outstretching his hand to shake yours.

“I’m Eld, this is Gunther, Oluo, and that fine young lady over there is Petra.” He said, pointing at all of them respectively.

“It’s so nice to meet you guys!” you said sweetly as you struck up a conversation with Oluo about what they thought about the department that they worked in. It didn’t go unnoticed that Petra remained nearly silent, her amber eyes wide and a bit fearful. When the interns arrived, the men were quick to go help them carry in the alcohol that they brought, leaving you and Petra alone in the kitchen. You cocked your head at her as you poured some pretzels into a large bowl. The warm glow of the setting sun cast a halo over her head and you couldn’t help but voice your admiration for her.

“You’re really pretty.” you gushed as she blushed at your words and turned to look at you with wide eyes.

“So are you...” She returned the compliment and you smiled, feeling more at ease now that the two of you were alone.

“So how long have you known Hange?” You asked conversationally as you crumpled up the bag and tossed it into the trash.

“Hm let’s see...about four years now?” She responded with a bit of a wistful tone.

“Really? I’m surprised we haven’t met sooner!” you chuckled as the two of you opened a bottle of wine and poured it into two large glasses. The two of you strolled out into the bark yard, where Hange and Moblit were chucking large pallets of wood onto the fire pit. You and Petra sat down in two lawn chairs watching as Hange and Moblit bickered over if it was safe enough to light the fire with gasoline.

“I am too, you seem....like a really nice girl.” Petra said a bit downcast as she looked deeply into her wine.

“So do you! We should grab breakfast ooo or maybe even brunch sometime!” You said excitedly and Petra sat there in awe, wondering if there was even a mean bone in your body. Or if you had any clue that she had dated Levi.

“Yeah...this is kind of random but...are you dating Levi?” She blurted out, her face turning to look at you with a flushed expression. You nodded nonchalantly and took another sip of your wine.

“Yeah we just started dating about a year ago.” You said with a shrug, Petra inhaled, readying herself for the next words that would either make or break the future relationship between the two of you.

“Did...you know we dated?” she said, cringing when the words left her mouth. She sounded crazy and she knew it, but she felt obligated to clear the air between you before it got bad.

“Hm I think he mentioned it once or twice, and Hange told me about you when you first started dating.” You said looking up thoughtfully, your tone held no malice or any sign of ill will.

“You’re not...”

“Insecure? Nah, and don’t take that like I’m being cocky! I just mean that...”

“No, no let’s just not do this. I’m sorry for bringing it up. God I’m such a bitch.” Petra went to stand and you followed her, catching her wrist.

“It’s alright really, I don’t care about what happened between you and Levi. It’s frankly none of my business, I just...wanna be friends with you.” you smiled at her sheepishly as she looked at you with wide eyes.

“Oh” She managed to say dumbly.

“That is if you want to be friends.” You said, letting go of her hand and giving her some space.

“Yeah...I think that I’d like that very much.” Petra said with a bright smile.

In honor of Women’s History month, I couldn’t bare to write something that was a stereotypical jealous ex, so I did the next best thing and wrote this more geared towards the reader and Petra bringing each other up instead of tearing one another down. As someone who was apart of the fandom back in like 2014 I am way too familiar with writers turning Petra into a psycho bitch, and I don’t like that. SO I hope that this is good enough to fit the prompt!

#levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi x you #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman #jealous petra ral #modern au #erwin smith #hange zoe #moblit #aot fanfiction #aot fandom #light angst #fluff #women supporting women #no petra slander allowed #womens history month

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cosmiclatte28 · 3 years

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Forced Marriage (Baekhyun, Sehun, you)

A/n : hey so this story was written last year when SuperM drama was out, but I never continue it and I just checked this again because of the WIP tag. (once again thanks to @yutahoes ) and I want to post this to see if actually there's still EXOL here who wants to read a fanfic

I will write the second part (ending) for this, after hearing if you want to end with who

tagging @yutahoes coz Sehun is a major role here hehehe and i don't really know other exols but @neopalette usually wants to read my fics (thanks honey!) and @swagmonsterofficial also could help

trigger warning: strict parents, old-classic ideology of arranged marriage

Here we go..

“Let’s get married, (y/n)!” The cheeky boy beside you blurts out and stops you in your track.

Your eyes widen, your steps taken to a halt, and his smile? His smile is still there.

“A wedding?” you turn your body to face him. Earlier you are walking ahead of him into the woods, running away from your parent’s “important talk”.

You live in the big house on the end of the road, where wilderness is still a thing. An hour ago, your parents told you to get dressed up as an important guest is coming, and you’re expected to look decent for lunch.

But here you are now, thirty minutes into the invitation, you’re walking in the woods with your best friend of a lifetime, or so you hope.

Baekhyun has been your neighbour since you moved in. His house is just one throw of pebble. Your bedroom window and his are face to face and that makes your friendship with him totally wonderful. When phones are not yet a thing, you don’t have trouble to see what he is doing at night, talking through written messages on a paper has been a way you two “chat” late at night.

Baekhyun nods his head and reaches for your hand, he guides you through his imagination of what he calls “our future small family”

“Yes, we will get married, in the same way you’ve always wished! In a garden, with a priest blessing our vows. You will wear your dream gown, with flower crowns like how you read in your princess tales! I got to pick you up in a carriage! Dad can work it out, what colour do you want for the carriage?” Baekhyun sounds so happy and innocent.

You hold yourself from tears, well he doesn’t know yet the reason why you run from your house’s back door to the woods. Baekhyun happens to see you run from his bedroom and he decides to follow you. You did not say anything, just replied to his surprising greeting with a surprised tone. Other than that, you’ve kept your mouth shut. Now it questions you why Baekhyun suddenly asks you for marriage.

“Umm why are you suddenly asking me this Baek?” a glint of hope reflects from this seeming normal question.

“Hmm maybe because I don’t want to lose you?” He shrugs playfully and swings the intertwined hands as he drags you for a deeper walk.

You think it is not a good idea to walk deeper, since you need to return after this if you did not want to end up with bruises.

“What kind of mind is that Baekhyun! I am here!” you try your best to sound happy.

He stops walking and faces you, gently he bends down to match your shorter height and he cups your face. “You know sometimes what we think won’t be gone, might be gone in a blink of an eye when one forgets to hold on tight.” He gives a small force to squeeze your cheeks and he giggles, ‘Hey since when did your cheeks lose their squishiness? You got thinner! Come join me for dinner mom can cook your favourite steak!”

Baekhyun did not know the reason you’re thinner is because you’ve skipped dinner. Fighting with your parents made you lock yourself in the room, skip dinner and lost appetite.

“Well, I’d love that but right now is not the time. Besides, what time is it Baek?” you ask him a new topic so you don’t have to answer his proposal.

Baekhyun glances at his analogue, “It’s ten minutes to twelve.”

You gulp and know you’re screwed. Returning to the house and dressing up will take some time and you’ll most likely show up at the dining table 15 minutes late. Like it or not, you have to go back now.

“Um Baekhyun I have some things to do, catch you later.” You quickly turn your heels and dash through the woods. Baekhyun frowns, but also follows your steps.

“Hey slow down! You’ll fall and get hurt.” Baekhyun yells to you, who is already a few steps ahead of him. This is so weird, you usually always ask him to accompany you, since you’ve once got lost in the forest. Come to think of it, you left by yourself today here. Why? That is unusual.

All these questions remain unanswered as Baekhyun sees you from the mouth of the forest, running to the back door and rushing all the way to your room.

You disappear from the veins covered gates of your backyard, and lonely Baekhyun takes the left path to his house. He smells the delicious lunch his kitchen is making. Well, as his stomach grumbles from hunger, Baekhyun tosses aside his problems and dash to wash his hands and dress for lunch.

Your expectation and calculation were accurate. You got to your room five minutes after twelve right at the time a car entered your porch. You quickly change your dress to the one your mother has prepared and as much as you hated laces, the dress was covered wit lace. You step to the mirror, tidy your look, powder up and brush your hair.

A hurried knock echoes in your room and your mother’s voice enters your room.

“Coming, wait a second.” You yell as you struggle to put on your shoes while making sure you look flawless already.

Once the door flies open, hey your mom knows how to pick locks, you’ve already forced a smile on your face, and she doesn’t look that mad.

“Nice, you didn’t disappoint me. Now gently do down, your fiancé is waiting for you in the dining room. Remember..”

You cut her in “No loud voice, no improper language, tidy eating manner, and agree on this thing.”

She smiles proudly at you and runs a soothing hand down your arm. “Hey, everything will be alright okay.”

You exhale a long breath and with a heavy heart, walks down the stairs to meet the man of your future.

If this was not reality, you would already run down the stairs with joyful steps to reach the man of your choice, sadly this is not your own story to write.

No, your father is dying and his last wish was to see you marry the guy he has set up for you. You remember what he said last week, “Please the man I’ve set for you will be a good man to continue the business I had started. Not that I don’t believe in you taking after, but he will be a good leader. His family also owns a strong business and together, you will live a good life. Trust me darling, I want this for your happiness.”

You remember him saying that to you, one cold night beside the fireplace when he invited you for a game of chess. You belong to the noble family; you have private teachers coming in to tutor you; unlike ordinary girls who need to stay home to cook and wash laundries. Chess is your dad’s favourite game and he always teaches you how to advance the game. Your heart tugs a little when his weak state flashes in your mind.

The last chess you played with him was that same time he proposed to you this whole arranged marriage idea.

You reach the last step of stairs and see the new family seated elegantly on the big table. Your father despite his weak state, still manages to look handsome. You spot the empty seat next to a tall man with strong face lines and a cold smile. He looks smart, strong, but lacks warmth and love. Your face shows a pretty smile, but deep inside your heart you’re crying as you can totally see your future won’t be different than what you have right now.

“Nice to meet you, Miss (y/n), I am Oh Sehun, your fiancé” He stands tall on his legs and after receiving your hand, he presses a light kiss on them. You greet him back and take your place beside him.

Lunch begins and all the time, you only open your mouth when direct questions are given to you. Sehun mostly takes over the questions about the wedding party, saying that he will let you choose what kind of party you want. You just nod and say you will think about it.

“Right, please make up your mind as soon as possible. The wedding will happen in 15 days and I hope we can get this over really quick.” Sehun’s father ends the talk of the wedding.

The choice of food for today was not your preferred dish. You only eat a small portion of the food and try your best to swallow this bitter lump.

Main course went well with Sehun getting engaged to business talks with your father and you were interrogated for your social life by his mother.

Luckily, your mother is there to help you lie. You’ve never really put yourself into the rich girl’s society, you’ve always lied to your mom. You lied about going to the social house, just to run away elsewhere with Baekhyun or simply attend last minute.

Strawberry panna cotta is your favourite dessert; however, today you cannot find the joy of sticking that sweet pudding into your mouth.

The suffocating tension grows thicker when you are sent to take Sehun for a walk to the festival reoccurring in the centre of the town.

Your mind is busy thinking of something, yes you remember Baekhyun is taking care of one event there. He is assigned by the Mayor to lead the talent show performance tonight. Now you remember there is no way you’ll meet him in the town with a new man by your side. He would totally rant to you for not telling him your new friend.

“Umm Sehun, can we go somewhere else instead.. I don’t think the festival is suitable for us to talk with one another. It’s loud.” You bite your lips nervously.

Sehun quirks his eyebrow, “Oh? Well then where should we go?”

His voice is icy and cold, even standing beside him sends shivers down your spine.

“We can go to the quiet hill a few miles from here, will it be okay?”

To your surprise he is okay with walking a few miles. You really think he would deny it and just ask you to talk here in the garden, but no, he didn’t waver at all.

So you begin your hike to the hill where you usually escape when your mind is not clear.

“And… this is it, the quiet place I always go when I have much in my mind.” You spin around once and smile when you close your eyes and feel the gentle breeze blowing.

Sehun takes off his mantle and lays it down for you to sit on. You looked puzzled and he chuckled at your confused face.

“I’m sure your mother wouldn’t want that dress to be dirty.” He helps you sit over his mantle and soon joins you down on the other side.

“Sorry for making you do this.” You point at his clothes and mantel, you did not expect going to the hill will cause him much commotion.

Sehun shakes his head and begins asking you questions to know you better.

“I know you did not like this marriage, but I will try my best to be a good husband.” Sehun said that to you, but things were not as beautiful as his promise.

Baekhyun enters his house and finds his dog already waiting for him

“Ah my sweet mongryong! You’re waiting for me!” Baekhyun kneels down to pet his excited puppy just to be run over and he ends up giggling on the floor.

“Baekhyun hurry up! Your brother and father are waiting for you! Go change to a clean shirt and wash your hand. Hurry or your plate will be clean!” His mother cheerfully kisses him and pushes him to change his attire.

Baekhyun laughs at the warmth this house can never fail to give him, he runs to his room on the second floor and quickly changes for a fresh linen. Just as he glances over to the mirror, he notices a foreign car on the porch of your front house. With a confused look, he tries to remember if you told him anything about a guest or a new tutor maybe.

The cheerful boy makes it to the dining table looking clean and handsome.

“Sorry for making you gentlemen wait and my beautiful mother too. Now shall we eat?” He grabs his utensils and a hearty lunch happens right at the same time as yours (the cold and tense one).

“Looks like our neighbour has a big news coming around!” his father starts the topic for today’s lunch.

Baekhyun’s ears perk up, “Oh yeah? A party? I thought they have their birthday already.”

His brother shakes his head, “No, something else. That car is new. We never see anyone visiting her in a fancy car.”

Baekhyun still enjoys his food, “Maybe a new tutor. She told me the last French tutor moved and her mother is busy looking for a new one.”

“Maybe…” his brother leaves a lingering statement and soon their discussion changes to the perfect seasoning their mother did on the food, or just random small talks.

“I am going to the town! I need to make sure the talent show will be perfect tonight!” Baekhyun bids farewell to the family as he takes his bike and pedals all the way to the town hall.

He can’t wait to meet you tonight in the town hall!

But Baekhyun didn’t meet you at all that afternoon. Instead he found another friend of his, Park Chanyeol.

“Hey! You’re by yourself? Not usual eh?” Chanyeol nudges his shorter friend, who is busy moving things around to set up the stage.

“Oh hi there Yeollie, well yeah It’s me and the team, who else are you expecting?” Baekhyun stops bending and straightens his back.

Chanyeol rolls his eyes, “I mean where is your girlfriend you always have by your side…”

Baekhyun secretly smiles but he shakes his head, “She’s not my girlfriend… we’re neighbours and yeah good friends, you miss her?”

Chanyeol awkwardly laughs, “No, I am not looking for her. Just feels weird… maybe she’s coming later. Now let me help you fix this place! We only have several hours to go!”

Baekhyun nudges off the odd feeling in his stomach. Come to think of it, you’re not the type to not come and help him. He tries to think that maybe your mother or father is acting up again.

You spend a good two hours of talking and planning with Sehun. As you feel wind more breezy and Sehun notifies you it’s almost tea time, you finally stand up from the ground and with the help of Sehun, you stretch your stiff body.

“It’s almost tea time.” Sehun says while putting on his mantle.

“Oh right… Will you join us for tea?” a question of formality.

You wish he would just reject it and go home, but no this guy accepts the offer.

You can only force another fake smile and return to the house.

“Great to see the two of you back on time for tea! We think it is a bit too late already for the Oh family to go home, so they might be staying for dinner and the night.” Your mother greets you and Sehun over the door.

Your mouth falls open and with one glare from your mother, you pull yourself back together. Before she can pull you inside the room, you quickly glance to your neighbour’s house and notice the lack of a bicycle. Hmm Baekhyun must already be in the festival.

Tea time is better since Sehun was called for a talk with your father and his. You are left alone with your mother and Sehun’s mother. The ladies engage themselves in a deep conversation of a recipe and you just sit there quietly. Pretending to listen to their fun discussion, while actually thinking how you will spend the night. There’s a very big probability that you are told to bring Sehun to the carnival and that means meeting Baekhyun. It is not a problem if you’re the only one, but coming with Sehun will be something deadly.

You’re not stupid. You know the feeling Baekhyun has for you. You know he was not 100% joking when he proposed earlier in the woods. You see how his eyes always show hearts when he is with you, you realize the protective voice he always has when you show up to him with fresh bruises. You may be over confidence, but his flirting game is a hint to you. You feel it, you too cannot lie that there’s something different you feel for him.

That night, you thank heaven for not sending you to the carnival. No, Sehun did go there, but you lie while feeling sick. Lucky, they bought your lie and let you rest at home. Sehun goes to see the town with his family, for you also learn today that he will move in here later on. This house will be for you and Sehun the day father passed. The Oh family is checking out the town and you… you’re now facing the floor while trembling in fear when your parents called you with that tone.

You enter the study room shaking. You can see what’s coming… seeing your dad seated on his big chair and a belt. The night will be long.

You earn fifteen tonight, for showing up late to the table, for not showing interest to Sehun, and for not being so lady-like or elegant.

“I thought we raised you nicely to be a lady with a class, but what’s that messy hair! I know you’re sneaking out again right?! There’s no way your hair will be like that if you take your one-hour preparation nicely.” He emotionally launches his belt to hit you. You’re standing up, tonight you did not let out a tear. Your lips are bleeding from the pressure your teeth do to ensure you’re quiet. No, you’ve run out of tears. You’re angry… not only did he force you to marry a boy you don’t know, but he was still picking on you.

“You know if the next time he comes here and you have not improved or put interest in him, you’ll meet another belt of mine. FIX YOUR MANNERS MISS. DON’T BE A DISGRACE!” He swings his last whip and leaves the room with a loud slam.

You fall to the carpet, curling yourself into a fetal position. No matter how many whippings you’ve grown up with, fresh bruise is always burning.

You lay down for a while, streaming your face with tears and as you hear the clock chimes seven, you know soon you’ll have to move to your room. The guest must never see what’s behind your dress.

You stare blankly into the wall, back facing the bright night sky shown from the window. It’s already 8.30, you hear the footsteps of people moving around the house. Great the guests must be here already. You remain silent in your room, hoping that your pain and fatigue can bring you to sleep quick. Laying down sideways to not touch the burning pain on your back and thighs.

Your eyes almost close and bring you to dreamland if not for the soft knock on your window. You peek from your shoulder and see Baekhyun’s window bright and he’s throwing you pebbles.

You did not turn on your lights, though Baekhyun can see your night lamp is still on. You feel like a jerk leaving him to work by himself tonight and not giving him any news at all.

The rock hits one to two times again and you finally turn the lights on and opens your curtain. There, you can see the brightest smile from your best friend blinding you.

Baekhyun raises a paper with a note

“SICK? YOU MISSED THE SHOW!”

You wince and try to reach for the board you’ve hidden under your bed. You open the curtain and flash your answer “GROUNDED”

That’s bullshit.

“OH? NEW CAR IS IT YOURS?” He shows you his board.

You hesitate, “A GUEST’S”

“SORRY. YOU OKAY?” he flashes his board up when he feels you’re not as quick as usual in replying.

“THE BELT’S OUT TONIGHT”

Baekhyun grits his teeth when he knows that code. He discovered your father’s bad habit of violence long time ago when you fell from a climbing tree and Baekhyun accidentally saw your scars and bruises. Since then, after you get punished, you usually run to his house and he will sneak you in and when you’re younger he would help you with healing and taking care of them. However as you mature, you only go to his house for mental support. Baekhyun used to promise he would bring you away from your violence father and he promised you to start a healthy family like his.

“We can start a healthy family! I can be a loving dad… I never hit people! I am raised to be a gentle man. I shall never raise my hand to any girl or child or anyone!” He once told you that with fires in his eyes, promising you he will get you out of that hell.

“WANNA COME OVER?” He flashes his board after thinking for a while, why did you earn whipping. Coming late to lunch must not be a big deal right? Unless…

Baekhyun shakes his head, trying to get rid of the silly idea he has in his mind.

“Is the guest so special?” he mumbles to himself.

“I DON’T THINK TONIGHT IS THE RIGHT TIME. SORRY ☹ AND THANKS” you raise your board the last time, before closing the curtains and shutting off the lights.

Baekhyun keeps his eyes on your window for a longer time, he doesn’t want to miss it if you’re sneaking out. But five minutes with no action, Baekhyun gives up and closes his curtain too soullessly.

The conversation he had with Chanyeol earlier lingers in his mind.

“Hey Baek, have you ever seen that man before?” Chanyeol points to a tall figure dressed nicely in an expensive coat. Taking time to stroll from one stand to another, seeing things and trying things.

“Hmm nope. Must be a visitor! He looks so expensive right Yeol?”

“Uh-hum, who can have that kind of guest here….” Chanyeol regrets saying that part out loud, for the slightly surprised look on Baekhyun's face is enough to make Chanyeol feels guilty.

In Baekhyun's mind, suddenly flashes the expensive car parked on your house porch.

“Must be Suho’s” Chanyeol quickly covers up his mistake and pushes Baekhyun away to start the talent show.

tbc

yes or no??

#exo series #baekhyun x you #baekhyun x reader #sehun x you #sehun x reader #baekhyun angst #exo angst #exo scenarios #chanyeol fanfic #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun scenario #sehun scenario #sehun imagine #baekhyun series #sehun series

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impossiblelibrary · 3 years

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Today's rant brought to you by: Queer Eye Japan, can we all just try to be as kind as they try to be?

After watching the Queer Eye Japan super short season, I wanted to google to see the overall reaction to the show, make sure that my western eyes were correct in seeing the care that was given to the culture. Were cultural taboos, other than being outwardly gay, crossed? So I find this article in the top results and other than the perspective, why tho? Tokyoesque.com had an article with a higher reading level, with surface level appreciation but at least better written.

I can't get over this hate article though. Unfounded, dumb, wrong and incorrect. Do not go forward unless you like that blistering kind of anger from me.

But the reasons just get weaker as the article extends: "Hurts the country it set out to save?" Looking for white savior much? They did not go to save Japan, they gave some free shit to like 4-5 people, think smaller.

Their culture guide wasn't gay enough.

You want to suggest any lgbt insta models or celebrities, use your platform to raises some up?

"There is a growing sexless culture in Japan for married and unmarried people, and it is perilous watching Queer Eye present this without any context behind what is driving this behavior."

Sexiness is what the fab 5 embrace, unfortunately and it was probably discussed behind the scenes of how much talking about sex was allowed or polite and the conversation of not having sex is closer to the tip of the tongue rather than the feeling of sexiness. The West is not the ones blasting that information. It is across multiple Japanese printed newspapers and online stories by now and the "context" is still being discussed and debated amongst Japanese. So I don't think any outsiders should be weighing in or "explaining" this phenomenon. We can repeat what we have been told but guessing at the reasons is not our place. The reasons illustrated by the author of the article seem lacking, a take but not the only one, but who am I to speak on that being in a sexual relationship with someone who pulls from that culture?

Kiko begins to lecture Yoko-san on how she “threw away her womanhood” (referring to a Japanese idiom, onna wo suteru) by going makeup-free and wearing drab, shapeless clothes.

The mistranslation by the subtitles fixed by this author was necessary information. But Kiko didn't lecture her on it, it was brought up by Yoko before any of them arrived, that was her theme, that was what she had decided to focus on. Meanwhile, if you watched Jonathan, he understood there was no time to spend on makeup and skincare so provided her a one instrument, 3 points of color on the skin to feel prettier. That and the entire episode being the 5 treating her like a woman on a date, not trying to hook her up, which is what they did in American eps.

"In teaching a Japanese woman, who already struggles to find time for herself, how to make an English recipe, Antoni is making great TV and nothing more."

So Antoni shouldn't have taught her apple pie because it's too exotic for a Japanese woman. (Can you smell the sexism?)

He didn't make an apple pie, altho Yoko did mention her mother made that for her when she was a kid. He made an apple tartine after going to a Japanese bakery who makes that all the time. Then highlighted the apples came from Fuji in true Japanese media fashion. Honey, American television doesn't usually highlight where the ingredients come from. A Japanese producer told him to do that. So all worries handled within the same ep. She got Japanese ingredients, had the recipe shown to her and then made it for her friends in her own house. Did the author actually watch this show or nah?

"beaten over the head with his western self-help logic. “You have to live for yourself,” he says."

The style of build up the 5 went for was confrontational but in a "I'm fighting for you" way. It's hard to describe, but the best I can say is, a person has multiple voices in their head, from parents, siblings, society, and maybe themselves. By being loud and obnoxious, American staples right there, they are adding one more voice. You deserve this, you are amazing, you are worth it. I know this is against most Japanese cultural modesty, but maybe it shouldn't be.

Sarcasm lies ahead:

Apparently: mispronunciation is microaggressions, not just someone who had a sucky school system. Yea okay, They're laughing at the language not at how stumbling these monolinguals are with visiting another country. Mmhm. Japanese don't say I love you and don't touch and that should stay that way instead of maybe, once in awhile, feeling like they can hug. Yeah, let's just ignore Yoko's break down that she had never hugged her lifelong friend after hugging strangers multiple times. Maid cafes are never sexualized in Japan ever, just don't go down that one street in Akihabara where the men are led off by the hand sheepishly blushing. Gag me. And Japanese men love to cry in front of their wives and would never break down once the wife leaves. I have never seen a Japanese movie showcase that move. Grr.

"I identify as many cultures."

So you're a Japanese man when it's convenient for you to get an article published? Are you nationally Japanese or just ethnically or culturally?

Homeland is an inherently racist word?

"After the Bush administration created the Department of Homeland Security after the 9/11 terrorist attacks, a Republican consultant and speechwriter Peggy Noonan urged, “the name Homeland Security grates on a lot of people, understandably. Homeland isn’t really an American word, it’s not something we used to say or say now.”

Yes, let's use a Washington Post article rather than a etymology professor. Yes, the google search results increased after 2001 Homeland Security was used but the word has been around since the 1660s and I've read multiple turn of the century lit on white people returning to their homeland, i.e. the town off the coast they were born in.

"But" is not disagreeing. I think the repeated offender for the author is the not acknowledging the makeover-ees feelings. But, that is how LGBT have decided to deal with the inner voices that invade from society. They are just that, not our own, they are the influence of society, and we can choose, we have to choose, to be influenced by someone, anyone else.

Karamo can't speak about being black when an Asian is speaking about being Asian, even though the Asian gay man was feeling alone. It's called relating bitches, and I'm done with people saying that is redirecting the conversation, it's extending the conversation. That's how we talk, the spotlight is shared, especially when someone's about to cry and doesn't want to be seen as crying, time to turn the spotlight.

The gay monk wasn't good enough, you should have invited the gay politician.

Yeah, causes I'm sure a politician has all the time in the world for a quick stint and cry. They picked a Japanese monk who travels to NY because they had a guest who travels to the West too. Did you want him to stop traveling back and forth? Did you want a pure, ethnic and cultural Japanese gay man who has no ties to the west to talk to this Western educated young man? Seriously?

This is just not how it works in Japan.

Being in a multi-cultural marriage between two rebels, discussions on facets of culture are plenty in my household. Culture should be respected enough to be considered but not held on a pedestal like we should never adjust or throw some things out. LGBT being quiet and private for instance. "Being seen" was Jonathan's advice, and a good one especially for a Japanese gay man that was called feminine since he was a kid. Some gay men can hide, but as Jonathan said, he couldn't hide what he was, he couldn't hide this. So fuck it. Don't hide. It's actually more dangerous for a feminine man to come off as anxious rather than gay and proud. It makes you more of a target if they think you won't fight back. Proud means, Imma throw hands too, bitch.

This is also from the civil rights playbook going back to Black America: never hold a protest or a fight without the cameras, without being seen. LGBT have found the more seen they are, in media, in the streets, the better off we are. When LGBT Americans were being "private" about our lifestyles, we died, a la 1980s. They won't care if you start dying off if they never saw you to begin with.

And hence why I think the author's real anger is from these 5 being seen dancing flamboyantly in Shibuya, in Harajuku, afforded the privilege of doing this safely because of their tourist status, cameras and very low violence rate in Tokyo, loud and obnoxiously. Honestly, they wouldn't have been invited or nominated if they didn't want that brash American-ness coming into their home, just for a taste, at least.

Here's my real anger, my own jealousy: Japan's queer community currently does not have marriage or adoption rights. US does, so we have progressed further. But we are also not that many years from being tied to cow fences with barbed wire, beaten with baseball bats and left for dead overnight. If things are so bad over there, maybe take a few pages from the civil right playbook we took so much time to perfect and produced by the Black Americans who fought first. But so far, I only hear loss of jobs and marriages, which we still have here too. Stop trying to divide us, we are one community, LGBT around the world and we are here to try to help. Take it or leave it, it's not like we're going to go organize your own Pride parade for you.

Rant over? I guess. Is this important enough to be put in the google results along with his. Hell no, anyone with half a mind can see he's reaching more than half the time. And any argument about: this wasn't covered! There are a shit ton of conversations that are not covered in the 45 min they have. They are not a civil rights show, it's a makeover show, doing their best in that direction anyway. Know what it is.

Next blog post, what research I would guess was happening behind the scenes for each of the 5? I'm pretty sure I saw Jonathan doing Japanese style makeup there...

#queer eye #Queer eye Japan #original #rant

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helenarlett-rex · 3 years

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Time for an annoyed author to make a little rant...

So I have a certain client who keeps commissioning me to write stories for them. A lot of the stories are not what I would normally write. This client has a highly specific fetish and I’m not very good at it. Not saying it’s a bad fetish or anything, just that it’s outside my realm of experience so I don’t know what I’m actually doing. (I was literally born without the ability to experience the particular thing theses stories center around. Picture asking a blind man to describe color... That’s not what’s going on here because I’m obviously not blind, but it’s a fair analogy of what I’m being asked to do.) But I value anyone who is willing to hire me and pays me well, and the client is a very nice and understanding person, so I don’t want to say anything bad about them. But there is one thing that kind of bugs me. And it’s the fact that this client wants the stories I write for them to remain private. That’s fine and all. They are paying for the work so they are entitled to have it kept private if that is what they want. But they are literally the only person I’ve written for who ask for this. Everyone else I’ve written commissions for love having their stories posted on my eka’s gallery. And that’s really great for my advertising too. Because then other people can read it and be like, wow, I can get a story like this commissioned? And it brings in more business for me. Just like when you see artwork from someone and you like how it looks so then you want to commission that person to make artwork for you as well. But with written story commissions I feel like having the ability to publicly post those stories is even more important than it is with artwork. Because, yeah, they can read any of my non-commission stories and see what my work is like, but with the commissions it also allows others to see my ability to write from instructions instead of just writing whatever I want to write. It shows my ability to work with characters that aren’t my own and stories and situations that aren’t my usual style. (I don’t know... Maybe that is the same with art, but either way I feel like it’s still important for people to see that.)

Still... the client comes first so if they don’t want that work shown to anyone, then I won’t do it. But it’s still annoying, especially when 90% of my commissions tend to come from that one client. Every time I make a post saying, hey, commissions are open, I generally only end up with like, one commission (if I’m lucky) that I can actually post publicly and the rest of the slots all end up going to that one person who wants them private. I’m really worried about the kind of image that is giving other perspective buyers. There are all these people on this website I use who follow me, so they all see it every time I make a post about commissions being open, and then they will maybe see one commission following that at most. Sometimes they don’t see any commissions follow such posts. And I’m really worried about how that must look... Do people see that and start to think that the reason I don’t post any commissions after opening up commissions is because no one will commission me? Do they start to think that maybe no one will commission me because I’m not good at working with commissions? Everyone seems to love my work, but maybe they see my lack of posted commissions and think that I’m no good at finishing stories that I’m not personally interested in writing. Or maybe I’m a pain in the ass to work with and so no one who had commissioned me in the past will ever commission me again... Meanwhile I’m sitting over here like, I really am taking in a lot of commissions, I promise... It’s just that every time I open up for them this one person buys up all the slots right away and won’t let me show anything I write for them...

This is really annoying. Especially when I work really hard to produce quality work for this person even when I’m having to write about something I can’t physically experience myself. Like, seriously... The rest of y’all have five senses. I was only born with four. But I’ve still been able to take the one I don’t have and turn it into something (that I’m told at least is) sexy. That feels like quite an accomplishment to me and wouldn’t it be great if I could share that so other potential buyers could see what I can do? Instead I have a whole folder full of stories that I’ve spent days and weeks crafting that no one will ever see outside of that one person.

And you know what I’ve noticed... I’ve noticed that every time I open up commissions I get less and less inquiries about it. I never have to worry about not being able to make money because that one person is always there to buy up any untaken slots, but less people in general ask about commissioning me. I’ve reached the point where I never have to turn anyone down because all the slots are full. And that seems like a bad thing... That tells me the lack of proven work from commissions really is starting to have a negative affect other people’s opinion when it comes to hiring me. I mean, I’m grateful for this client always being there to pay me for personal stories every time I’m in need of some quick cash... But what if one day that happens and for whatever reason that client isn’t there anymore? What if I’m in a bind and I open up commissions to help pay for some immediate expense and no one is willing to hire me because, “Every time she opens up commissions she never gets any. Her work is really good so if people won’t hire her there must be some kind of serious problem with working with her.”

I just delivered a commission to this client yesterday and it was one I was extra proud of. The client asked for a female character to interact with his OC in the story and gave me no details about what he wanted for the character other than the species. So I was left to create a character all on my own. And I really liked this character I created. I also really liked a certain scenario that I wrote with the character. I’m sitting there thinking, Oh god... I may be Ace but this is fucking hot... I liked it so much that I was like, I’ve got to find a way to post this.

So I asked my client if I could post it if I swapped his character out for a different character and changed the ending and a lot of other things (Because the ending I originally wrote that had me so turned on ended up being something my client didn’t want and I had to write something else.) So basically I wanted to write a totally different story, the story I actually wanted to write, about this character I created, which would have been very different from the one I delivered to the client. I asked him if he would be okay with that, since I would end up copying and pasting the text from that one scene to make it... And he says he guesses he’s okay with that, but I would also have to change the species of the girl in the story because, and I quote, “Peeps will know it's me. I've com'd that exact scenario recently like 12x”

First of all, I’m like, what...? You’ve commissioned 12 different people for twelve different versions of the same story...? Wow, umm... okay... Whatever floats your boat... But then it dawns on me that I’m wanting to write a story about a character I created and own, and just used in your commission because you didn’t give me any details for the female part, and you’re telling me I have to change her species if I want to write it... First of all... this is my character... You just borrowed her... and secondly... nothing about the scenario I wrote and want to share even works if she is a different species...

So honestly, I’m understandably upset... First I’m losing business in the long run because this client won’t allow me to share their commissions... something literally everyone else does... And now I’m being told that I can’t even used my own character in a particular scenario because I’ve already used it once for them. As far as I know, no one can own a scenario... a situation... That would be like Bozo the Clown telling the Three Stooges they can’t hit anyone in the face with a pie because he owns that. Or me telling everyone they have to get around in wheelchairs now because I wrote about a character walking so I own walking now and I’m not willing to share it. It doesn’t work like that... And to tell me that I can’t use my own character in said scenario... This client has requested other characters of mine in stories as well... Next am I going to be told I can’t use Molly the Mouse in any more of my Miss Smalls stories because they have requested her in two of their commissions before?

I’m wondering if I should just change my commission policies and refuse to offer private stories anymore. But at the same time, I do kind of rely on the money I make from this client a bit more than I would like to, and I’m worried that if I stop offering that, and he stops commissioning me, that I won’t be able to get by on commissions anymore. Like the damage is already done... I just don’t know what to do...

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flowerslightning · 4 years

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Have you heard about PFA and MFA?

or the full name is ‘Psychological First Aid’ (PFA) and ‘Mental Health First Aid’ (MFA)

Can we relate it with Cloud Strife? As we all know, Cloud had mental illness and was struggling alone. Let’s take a quick look on this topic then and see if characters in FF7 ever give PFA/MFA to Cloud or to each other. This is going to be a looooong post although I tried to simplified it, so, yeah. Good luck reading this !

Disclaimer : I’m not a psychologist. I’m still a student and psych is not my major field. During my intern, other than we got exposed a lot about psychiatric disorders and ways to deal with them, we also got trained psychological first aid in emergency department. If it wasnt because of this quarantine, i would have finished my training in emergency field. There might be false interpretation here or there, forgive me for that and pls correct any mistake in this post

This will probably trigger LTD. Sorry, but I had to, Pls read this post with open mind. Keep in mind I like both Tifa and Aerith, i have no grudges agaisnt Barret, Vincent, Nanaki or Cid so I am not being bias with any of them. I forgot a lot of stuff in OG (I played it when I was really really small), so I will be using lots FF7R and AC references here (and a bit from OG, depends whatever I remember)

Good to go? Allow me to rant. Read it slowly and if u skip some of it, u’ll probably mislead my actual words, and u’ll be triggered af. Don’t come at me with madness if u dont read the whole post properly

What is PFA and MFA? Generally speaking, if Basic First Aid is about covering the wound to prevent further bleeding, then PFA (Psychological First Aid) and MFA (Mental Health First Aid) is like applying a bandage on ur mental to avoid u continue being distress.

Usually, PFA is often associated with disaster event or terrorism, where large number of people got affected. Meanwhile, MFA focus in one person who is developing mental health prob or already in mental crisis due to certain traumas, such as vehicle accident, house burned and etc

Pls note that, certain people NEED MFA while the others may NOT NEED it. It is important to respect their needs/wants. Some victims may refuse verbally but they ACTUALLY NEED it (CLOUD STRIFE) and maybe some victims look like they dont need it, but they want it, and its super fine to give it

PFA/MFA not only done by the professionals and it is not a professional counselling, although necessarily training is needed if u want to approach deeper in this field. PFA/MFA is also not a psychological ‘debriefing’ - in which MFA/PFA doesnt need to involve a detailed discussion of the trauma event with the victim, but instead, it is an alternative way to psychological debriefing that helps for long-term recovery. (unless if ure a pscyhiatrist, then u have to forget about MFA and ask detailed questions regarding the events to help the patient to recover)

MFA and PFA both almost the same, but I will mention more about MFA here.

MFA (Mental Health First Aid) is not just about comforting “Oh, are u alright. I’m sorry for what u’ve been through”, but it is also about assessing their needs and concerns, protecting them from harm, provide practical support and support them feeling able to help themselves and others.

The main key for these two term is RESPECT - respect victim’s dignity, respect both parties safety and respect victim’s rights to make decision. Even without the PFA, we should respect these three in whatever circumstance we are in.

A lot of us honestly were born with natural skill of MFA bcause of our own empathy, instinct or experiences and some got trained professionally. Some of them already had MFA due to high common senses they have.

Some of the Do’s and Dont’s when giving MFA include;

Do’s : 1. Be trustworthy | 2. Respect their decision | 3. Be aware of and set aside ur bias | 4. Make it clear to them u are available for help even they push u away | 5. Respect their privacy and personal space | 6. Do remain calm and soft when the person in distress | 7. Listen and don’t interrupt their talking | 8. Help in terms of basic needs | 9. Create connection the person with others | 10. Give hope to them | 11. Provide private place to talk about the event | 12. Respect their strenght | 13. Advice small necessary matters or give simple words of encouragement | 14. Acknowledge positive features of what victims have done

To simplify, there are 3 ways for MFA to begin, and I will only talk about one of them, the one that is the hardest to do, that is when u notice someone looks distressed and ure concern about them, and leading u to approach them first without them noticing ur concern. [Am I putting the right words here?]

In Cloud’s case, who do u think the first noticed Cloud behaved oddly and went to help him first ? - yeah Tifa. U probably would say “OFC she went to help him, she met him first at the train station. That guy looked sick af, who wouldnt ask if he was alright. If Aerith/Yuffie/Jessie met him first, they would do the same”. Okay guys, that was not my point.

Let’s focus one by one characters and see what Do’s and Dont’s MFA (Mental Health First Aid) they’ve done to Cloud and other charas. Keep in mind, none of them know what Cloud had gone through, but Cloud had showed some obvious sign he was unwell and only a few of them noticed that and took action for it.

The symbol [X] means the Dont’s in MFA and ( ✔) means the Do’s in MFA.

Biggs Jessie Wedge -

I know there’s a thing about man helping man’s psychology and Jessie being flirty with a guy.They [X] thought Cloud was like how they saw Cloud. and they considered it as normal. They didnt see Cloud under distress so they dont have the need to concern his mental status. The good thing about them was, the three of them (✔) respect Cloud’s strenght, giving Cloud the confident to be in action. But, Jessie [X] had zero respect on Cloud’s personal space

I wanna highlight about Biggs. Biggs had an attitude of overthinking stuff, but it wasnt so bad that would cause him harm, he just cared too much about his friends. So I believe Biggs was the type that would notice immediately when his friend being strange and would give MFA (Mental Health First Aid) with his own instinct even without the person asking it.

During the Sector 7 Plate attack, where Biggs was severely injured, when Cloud said he was not a fan of kids and Biggs said Cloud had so much in common (in common of what? Cloud with the kids or Cloud with him?), Cloud gave him ‘a sad look’ and Biggs reached out his hand to Cloud’s head. Biggs (✔) remain calm and soft when dealing with Cloud’s feeling (who faced traumatic event but Biggs didnt know about it) on that moment despite his current physical status. And also he (✔) wished goodluck to Cloud, leading to prevention distress on Cloud

Marle -

Marle [X] judged Cloud for someone who had no skills, but she entrusted Cloud to take care of Tifa’s well being. Not knowing who Cloud was, Marle noticed Cloud looked glum, she (✔) offered her ear for Cloud to rant and knew right away he was not having enough sleep, then (✔) advising him to sleep more . Lol, she was [X] biased with Cloud and Tifa. Not her fault, she only knew Tifa’s story, not Cloud’s. After the Sector 7 plate fall, we saw her being the most active member to help with the remaining citizens there. Marle without a doubt had given the citizens there PFA (Psychological First Aid) , by helping them with their (✔) basic needs, (✔) create connections, (✔) put away bias, (✔) remain calm and soft.

Barret Wallace -

Barret was the same like Biggs Jessie Wedge. I’m sure Barret thought Cloud was just fine. Barret saw Cloud as a mercenary with stinky attitude,[X] judging him like that causing Barret to gave him the same attitude too. But overall, he (✔) respected Cloud’s strength a lot

However, after the Sector 7 plate fall, Tifa and Barret were the one that hurt (mentally) the most, Tifa as usual locking her emotions, there we could see how Barret comforting Tifa by (✔) giving words of encouragement and proceed on (✔) hugging her to show his empathy. Barret also (✔) remain calm and soft spoken when talking to the survival victims of Sector 7 citizens. He also (✔) acknowledged what the citizens had done to survive

Vincent Valentine -

Don’t be surprise Vincent was listed here. This guy here was like another version of Cloud but more mature. In addiction, they both kinda share the same pain. So, I personally think Vincent understands Cloud pretty well. In AC, where Cloud was mentally ill, Vincent saved Cloud from Kadaj and brothers and (✔) took him to safer place. That was a common thing to do. But let’s go deeper, Cloud never told him about himself, but Vincent already (✔) aware of Cloud’s trouble with the geostigma stuff and Cloud’s current mental status. Vincent, (✔) calm and soft like always (✔) didnt hesitate to asked if all of these were just about ‘fighting’ and it made Cloud to ‘re-think’ further about his problem. He (✔) didnt pressure Cloud here, instead he was (✔) helping Cloud to understand the condition he was facing, and this lead Cloud to avoid distress.

Aerith Gainsborough -

I know Aerith was special. She was an important character and devs created her to be ‘loved’ by the fans so that her death would be tragic. Aerith did almost all the things that shouldnt be done when giving MFA to mentally ill person. Some of u may say “Duh, Aerith didnt know anything about Cloud thus she had no intentions of giving him MFA”. Yup, ure right. Aerith didnt know about Cloud’s mental status but so as all the other characters in the series.

Aerith was [X] being pushy with Cloud, in lots of ways, from making him as a bodyguard for free to forcing him to wear a dress. She [X] forced Cloud to accept her idea about meeting Andrea, dance and gown. She also [X] forced Cloud to help picking the flowers. Aerith [X] didn’t let Cloud to have his own decision [X] neither giving him a chance to talk, and [X] abandon his feelings (cough..uhm, Aerith resolution). She also had [X] no respect on Cloud’s personal space and [X] too much touching and leaning to him. Aerith also [X] put herself in danger and that worried Cloud. She [X] looked down on Cloud in someways too

However, at the Sector 5 slum, where the hooded man appeared, Aerith noticed Cloud was having trouble with himself, she (✔) encouraged Cloud to keep himself together. Also, throughout the entire game, Aerith always remind the team to (✔) have hope in everything. Her positive vibrant attitude was what (✔) made everyone able to believe in themselves. She also (✔) ensure Marlene’s safety and protected her. She was able to (✔) remain soft and calm when approaching Marlene. Remember Betty? Aerith took her time to helped her out and she even (✔) respected the little girl’s strength, (✔)slow and steady when saving her and (✔)soft spoken

Tifa Lockhart -

Tifa met Cloud at the train station, saw him being ‘not-so-fine’ state despite Cloud claiming he was completely okay. Tifa didn’t know what Cloud had gone through and she (✔) didn’t pressure him to talk about it. She even helped him to (✔) find a place to sleep even when Cloud never asked for it. Tifa unconsciously was the first person to give Cloud MFA without knowing what Cloud had faced previously. And Cloud, on that moment, he really needed a help. Tifa also (✔) stated that if Cloud need anything, she would help him with it

Tifa (✔) remain calm everytime Cloud had sudden headache, she didn’t leave him alone and (✔) didnt put any pressure on him by asking question. During the (✔) Alone At Last, they had privacy Tifa asked about what happened after he left Nibelheim. She (✔) listened and didnt interrupt him, (✔) neither pushing him to talk more. Moreover, Tifa (✔) put a distance with Cloud, dunno if she was the one who was being uncomfortable or she actually (✔) respect Cloud’s personal space and privacy. Tifa (✔) didn’t force him to stay at Midgar, she asked him and was glad Cloud would stay for a while. Tifa was no doubt (✔) respect all Cloud’s decisions too. Also, don’t forget, Tifa also helped Cloud to help (✔) make ‘close connection’ with the Avalanche members and people in Sector 7 slums. She also (✔) didn’t do much touching with Cloud (Well, I mean, she didnt touch him in clingy way)

In AC, Tifa (✔) encouraged Cloud to have hope for Geostigma and the family

Tifa did [X] put herself in danger by becoming Corneos bride participant and that gave Cloud trouble (but Tifa ensured him she would be fine on her own previously) And btw, in OG, I read about the fans questioning why Tifa [X] didnt tell Cloud the truth. I would like to argue this matter. TIFA IS A CHARACTER WITH REAL HUMAN FLAWS, she too had her own traumatic event and was not really sure of herself on what to do. However, considering what Tifa had done for him, Tifa had helped with Cloud’s psychology the most.

I know Cloud was putting up a font, and that made him to have condescending attitude, and people couldnt see what Cloud was hiding behind the the bravery face. However, all of us as fans acknowledged the pain Cloud was suffering in the entire FF7 story. Some of the characters like Tifa, Marle, Vincent, Biggs noticed it and they took actions for it, while others, I do personally thing, they were hurting the Real Cloud’s mentality more.

Long story short, Tifa was the one who gave mental health support the most to Cloud, followed by Vincent (AC), Biggs and Marle. Aerith did the worst with Real Cloud's mentality + she then died, mking Cloud be more miserable,

However, Aerith actually had the best way to give MFA/PFA to children, but maybe the worst to Cloud. While Tifa gave the best MFA to Cloud which helped him to get himself together through out the entire time

Alright thats the end of my talk. Thank you for being with meee

#final fantasy 7 #final fantasy vii #cloud strife #character analysis #final fantasy theory #advent children

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all-things-fic · 5 years

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can you write a blurb where you're talking shit with harry and like bitching with him? i just really wanna see that one.

Just a little something I’ve put together.

Shit Talking

~*~

You closed the door, immediately resting against it as it shut to, head knocking back to lean against the glass.

With your eyes closed you took a deep breath in, smelling whatever masterpiece was being put together in the kitchen.

Heavy bags still hung to your body, thick winter coat sitting against your shoulders, shoes that were way too high on your feet.

You couldn’t help but smile as you heard him muttering something to the food he was cooking, obviously wanting to take away some of the stress that you were feeling and wanting it to be perfect in the process.

Resting your bag next to Harry’s shoes you reached down and pulled off your shoe, moaning under your breath as your feet hit the floor, toes curling to help continue to relieve the tension that you heels had brought.

As you reached for your second heel, hopping on your now bare foot, you let that one you had removed haphazardly drop to the floor slowly giving less and less of a fuck as the tension dissipated.

Walking through the house, you watched him quietly for a moment dressed in some shirt that should be worn by a convention dad but probably cost more than your most expensive designer handbag (which he had also bought you). There was the faint sound of Van Morrison coming from your lounge that he was really zoned in on as he faintly sang along with the lyrics.

Your eyes took in the kitchen once they had moved away from Harry. The mess that was left in the sink, the way whatever was on one of the hobs bubbled away. Extractor fan above the cooker turned on, two plates set out on the side ready to be plated up.

He must’ve sensed you, glancing over at you waiting in the doorway before looking back to the food. You watched him still before he looked back at you, his eyes holding yours softly.

You’d been texting him whenever you could today. The stress of work positively getting to you. A deadline that was unmeetable being handed over to you to sort out.

He’d phoned you a lunch time, a growled “again”, leaving his lips when you spoke about the boss at work that was once more making your life a living hell.

Quickly, he reacted, standing behind the island of the kitchen and grabbed the large glass of wine that sat next to the one that he had clearly been sipping while he cooked.

Walking to you, he handed over the glass which you gratefully took off him with ease. You closed your eyes as you drank, taking the largest sip you could muster. Even that seemed to take too much energy.

“Let me take your coat,” he mumbled, shifting along with you so you could place down your wine and feel him slip the heavy item off your body. “‘M making a roast.”

“Beef?” You asked, knowing that it was his favourite.

He didn’t respond straight away, quickly moving around the house to hang up your coat. He was back just moments later, “No, ‘ve done chicken.”

That was your favourite. The soft smile hit your lips involuntarily but you wouldn’t have fought it anyway.

He placed his hands on your shoulders, thumbs massaging slowly close to your neck and you turned to look at him. “Thank you.”

“S’fine, ‘s’nothing,” he responded. He squeezed lightly at your shoulder as you turned your head to slightly look at him, “Gimme a kiss.”

He puckered his lips gently in a way that always made you soft for him, eyes knocking up to look at his. With a slight nod, he was leaning in and pressing his lips to yours lightly, tasting the faint crispness of the white wine against your mouth.

“You alright?” He softly asked, cupping your face.

“‘M so fuckin’ tired, H.”

You were honest. It wasn’t like he couldn’t tell, just like you could tell how worried about you he was.

“Lay it on me,” he responded, pressing his lips to yours again before repeating his words. “Come an’ tell me, what’s going on.”

Reaching for his glass of wine, he rested against the kitchen counter opposite you, watching the way you spoke about work while you casually undressed in front of him in the middle of your kitchen.

Hands fiddled with the zip on the back of your pencil skirt, as you quickly spun it around and unzipped it from the front before you could get too irritated at a piece of clothing. It fell to your feet, revealing your nude tight covered legs to him, next to the silk blouse that had crumpled throughout the day.

He didn’t bat an eyelid in a sexual way, like he usually would. His casual grabbing at your waist with some comment that warmed your through as you would most likely laugh, tilt your head back at how he had tired to be sexy but instead sounded dorky but highly attractive with. Even more so when you considering the two of you hadn’t seen a lot of each other lately. You knew you didn’t need to worry though, that would come, now just wasn’t the right time.

“And I mean, this bitch seriously just does not have a fucking clue,” you ranted, cupping at your wine as your side rested into the kitchen counter. “I’m actually fucking sick of her and her stupid glasses-“

He snorted at that, smirking against the rim of his wine glass. Here came the pettiness to your rant.

“They’re so fucking thick and black and way too harsh on her face,” you continued, “and don’t get me started on how she has her own mugs in the kitchen and no one else is allowed to use them. I went to use one the other day and someone from HR was questioning me why I was using her mug. Like she has ownership on all the mugs!”

You flung your arms out. “No one wants your “I’d rather be sipping prosecco” mug anyways, Karen!”

He stayed silent as he watched you, arms flying everywhere before you turned your attention to the envelope that was you post from that morning as it sat against the work surface.

“You should just bin it when she’s not in the office,” he mischievously quipped. “Throw it away so when she comes back she can’t find it.”

Your eyes lit up at the thought, and he laughed - a belly laugh - probably harder than he should. “No,” he wheezed as he slowed his laughed, his hands quickly coming up in front of him. “No, don’t do that. Don’t be petty like that. Fuck her, let her get on with it.”

“I can’t,” you whineed. “She’s driving me mad with her constant switching of goal posts and changing what she requires of my team.”

“Then go above her-“

“She’s the CEO, there is no one above her,” you respond, probably a bit more harshly than you should have. You meekly looked at him but he waved you off, he’s okay to take a battering tonight, if it’s needed.

You, however, weren’t okay to deliver that battering.

Pushing yourself up onto the kitchen island, you beckoned him to you, watching as he pushed himself off the counter. He stood between your legs, wine glasses resting beside you and placed his hand against your nude tights, enjoying the smoothness beneath his hands.

“Sorry,” you mumbled with a heavy sigh.

“‘S’fine-“

“‘S’not-“ you countered.

“Let’s go back to the idea of you binning her mug,” he joked.

You looked at him, enjoying the way he was now leaning into you, hands presses heavily into the kitchen counter beside you making him all hunched but so incredibly manly.

“I’m totally going to do that, I am at that level of petty right now-“ you felt slightly sad.

“You’re worn out and need a break,” he acknowledged. Eyes meeting his, he slid his hand against your neck and into your hair at your nape. “Go in tomorrow and request some leave-“

“‘M so busy, I can’t take some leave, just like that,” you clicked your fingers.

“Can,” he argued, childishly. He saw the stress hit your face, watching worrying your bottom lip with your top teeth at the thought of leaving it all behind, probably only to come back to even more work that has mounted up while you were away. “Fuck this, I’m going to go in for you and bin that bitches mug for her-“

You stifled a laugh at that, knowing how concerned he was now that he was swinging for jokes, left and right.

“Darlin’, please,” he begged. “Book a week off, let me take you somewhere-“

You felt your lips downturn, how was this man stood in front of you even real. “Hey,” he coaxed, taking on this dreamy tone, “Back to that little private island in Amalfi.”

“That was ridiculously priced, you’re never taking me there again.“

He chuckled now because he didn’t pay for it last time, perks of being part of a fancy record label and knowing people in high places. Being gifted that is one thing but going of your own accord is completely different.

“Well, maybe not a whole week but take a couple o’days,” he started, hands moving to your outer thighs and softly rubbing. “Maybe we could drive to Soho Farmhouse and disconnect.”

You closed your eyes when you see him lean in and press a peck to your lips, dropping his head to yours. “That sounds idyllic,” you whispered.

“Maybe go to the spa, enjoy a nice facial or two,” he tried to hide the twitch of his lips, the splitter of his laughter gives him away.

You whined, “How are you still such a boy?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he raised his hands for a short amount of time.

“You are not sorry,” you whined again as pressed his forehead into your temple.

“No ‘m fuckin’ not,” he husked, nudging his nose against your cheek, trying to goad you when your stare went far away and you don’t seem to blink for a while.

“‘M worried ‘bout you,” he admitted, watching as you eventually blinked yourself out of your daze. “Gimme a long weekend. A Friday and a Monday. Think you could stretch to that?”

You hummed, scratching at his neck, as he nuzzled against your nose. “I’ll drive us down on a Thursday night, get you nice an’ relaxed.”

“How’d you on plan on doing that?”

“Know a few things, got a couple of tricks up m’sleeve.” You bit back your smile at his drawl, knowing that he wasn’t wrong about that.

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry blurb #sunday writing #My writing

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polandspringz · 4 years

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Haru Gets Kidney Stones- A Balance: Unlimited Crack Fic

Did I write this? Yes. Do I regret it? Yes. Does it now exist? Yes.

At long last, I return to the Balance: Unlimited fandom with my promised (albeit cursed) fic, and just in time for the series to resume its broadcast! This fic was suggested to me by my beta-reader, Tom, after I made him read two fics in which I broke Haru's ribs, and he suggested a more "creative" way for me to injure my characters. As much as I found this idea completely cursed, the response on my last fic was that people were interested? So, here it is.

This is a relatively short fic, so I’ll post it below. Please consider leaving comments on AO3 using the link in the notes!!! It will help my writing gain more readers, and you can find my other, more serious Balance: Unlimited fics there too.

“You know, Katou-san-”

“Shut it, Kanbe-san. I don’t want to hear anything out of you.”

Haru folded his arms and settled back against the pillows of the hospital bed, eye twitching as he glared down the white sheets that seemed to stretch on endlessly. Daisuke’s eyes skimmed over the IV tube sticking out Haru’s arm as it made a jostling noise with his movement, the plastic bag it was attached to crinkling when it knocked against the stand after being tugged.

“Katou-san-”

“I said be quiet, Kanbe.”

“Katou-san, unless you want the nurses to get mad at you again, I suggest you take better care of your IV. Or do you want them to have to administer the needle in your arm when you accidentally pull it out again?”

Haru shivered, the memory of the nurses jabbing him with the syringe making him cringe and he sunk further into the pillows. He did loosen his arms a little bit, letting them both lay flat on either side of him. Daisuke, who was still looming over him, sighed and pulled up the cheap plastic chair to sit down.

“You could get better treatment at one of my private hospitals. You could be back at work within a few hours if you really wanted to.”

“As if I would want to be anywhere near an institution you own,” Haru scoffed, “You’ll just peek at all my medical files and use it to lecture me on more things while we’re on a case.”

Daisuke felt it best to withhold the fact that he had purchased the hospital this morning, upon learning from the HUESC that Haru had been admitted there. He had not had time to switch the staff though, as he knew Haru would get suspicious if a new doctor was assigned to him coincidentally around the time that Daisuke arrived.

And he may have had a look at Haru’s medical records. But that was simply because he wanted to know whether he should force Haru to be airlifted to be treated by his personal doctor. Instead, he was met with a diagnosis that was…

“Besides,” Haru grumbled, “They said it’s better to see what they can find after the IV… you know,” he gestured with his good arm, “flushes it out. I don’t need surgery yet.”

Daisuke took a deep breath and folded his hands in front of his face, tapping his two forefingers against the bridge of his nose.

“I still cannot believe you got kidney stones.”

“Hey! It happens to a lot of people my age! And what are you surprised about?” Haru sat up in the bed and violently pointed an accusatory finger at his partner, “Weren’t you about to go on a tangent about this being because I eat ramen all the time?”

“While I was going to comment on your diet,” Daisuke said calmly and slowly, “I don’t think you should consider this ‘normal’ for someone like you.”

“The doctor said-”

“I know what the doctor said,” Daisuke held up a hand, and pinched in between his eyes as he felt a small headache ebbing at Haru’s shouting, “But Katou-san, you are a detective, and are quite physically fit. Even though you’re not in First Division anymore, I’ve seen you chase criminals down-”

“Yeah, meanwhile you’re watching from a car or some fancy helicopter-”

“-And it doesn’t make sense. Why are you always overworking yourself trying to do things the hard way?”

“You know why!” Haru started to sit up even more, folded his knees under him as he shoved the finger even more in Daisuke’s face, “It’s cause you never communicate with me! You’re always off doing things on your own and never listen to me! I’m older so-”

“-and stubborn, and I could fairly say you just as equally don’t communicate with me.”

Daisuke grabbed ahold of Haru’s hand and pushed it down so he could stop leaning away from the finger trying to poke his eye out.

“Katou-san, I respect you, I promise. But you are never willing to listen to what data I’ve gathered, which could significantly speed up our time spent solving the case.”

“That’s because your data is always gathered using stupid, disingenious methods with your money-!” Haru suddenly grabbed his stomach, and stumbled backwards. Daisuke stood up, hands following him to help him ease back into the bed, being careful of the IV tube that was still being dragged about carelessly by the older man.

“Do you want me to call the nurse?”

“Ha, no. I would rather die than let you see me weak.”

Daisuke’s eyes narrowed, and he placed a hand on either side of the hospital bed railing, caging the other man in.

“Katou-san, are you not feeling weak now? You’re sweating.”

“I am not!”

“You’re obviously in pain, and I am concerned. I came here before work to check up on you. Why are you being so obstinate?”

Haru raised his hand and pushed Daisuke’s shoulder, shoving him off, “Ugh, I get it! I get, okay! Stop being so weird about everything.”

“I’m only being weird, as you put it, because I am worried. I do not want to have my partner out sick more days than necessary.”

“As if you need me,” Haru scoffed again, holding his stomach as another sharp pain went through the back of him.

“Stop that.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“Stop saying things like that. Stop acting as if you’re disposable.”

“Well to you I’m sure I am-”

“Katou-san, for the last time, listen to me.”

Daisuke was standing beside Haru’s bed like he was when he first came in, but something about his tone drew Haru out of his ranting and made him pay attention. Daisuke’s face was schooled though, the only place giving away any emotion were his gloved hands, clenching at his sides as he stared down at his partner.

“It is not good for you to keep acting this way. I know we may have different approaches to cases, but I truly do respect your opinion. I value you as a partner, and would be devastated if something happened because of your own stupidity and obstinance. Please understand, I just want you to start listening to me. I’ve been watching you for months now, and I’ve seen the way you throw yourself into every case. The little things, like you living off of ramen and junk food, it’s led to this. I’m not saying that those specific things will lead to your downfall, but if you keep running yourself ragged with no sleep and stressing out about everything, it’s going to add up.”

Haru blinked at Daisuke, stunned, but when Haru didn’t respond, Daisuke turned and started to stroll out of the room.

“Wait! Kanbe-san!”

Daisuke paused at the foot of the bed, hands in his coat pockets as he regarded Haru with a cold look.

“What?”

“Listen, I’m-”

“I’m always listening to you, Katou-san.”

“No, I-” He threw his hands in the air and groaned, “You know what I mean! Look, I’m sorry. You’re right, I’m an idiot, I’ve been eating nothing but junk for the past year or so, and now I’m stuck here. You’re completely right.”

“Alright,” Daisuke said, shifting his foot as he turned to face Haru again. He was waiting for more, and Haru tried to not let out another groan as he realized this.

“I’m in a lot of pain right now, but I promise I’m not just saying this because I don’t want you to use your money to make my treatment a living hell or anything-”

“Katou-san, if you think I would do that, then you clearly didn’t hear what I-”

“I promise, I’ll listen to you when I’m back at work. I can’t promise I’ll do it all the time, but I’ll make an effort to hear you out more.”

Haru looked to the floor beyond the bedside railing, “It’ll probably take some practice, I’m still going to be pretty opposed to your underhanded tactics, but if we start small, then maybe I’ll be less likely to run off without you. I know I’ve done that a few times.”

Haru lifted his head, and gave Daisuke a small smile.

“Understood, I’ll start by telling you when to start eating healthier.”

“Good. Now, Kanbe-san, can you do one thing for me?”

“Hm?”

“Get out of here so I can call the nurse without seeing your smug face.”

“As you wish,” Daisuke said, and as he walked towards the door, one of the doctors nearly banged into him.

“Oh, Kanbe-san! Good thing I caught you. Katou-san’s test results just came back and-”

Daisuke leaned over the clipboard as the doctor began to flip through the papers, and Haru rose like the dead off of his pillows as he grabbed the tissue box on the nightstand and chucked it at Daisuke’s head.

“I knew you read my files! Asshole!”

Haru ended up getting his IV reinserted for the third time that day.

If you liked, please consider click the link to AO3 in the notes to leave a kudos and/or a comment!

#tom i know you said today $5 for the exploding confetti fic but im pretty sure you promised me $5 for this too #balance unlimited #fugou keiji balance: unlimited #fugou keiji balance unlimited #the millionaire detective balance: unlimited #the millionaire detective #katou haru #kambe daisuke #kanbe daisuke #my writing #fic #my fics

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rhaellatully · 4 years

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Strings’n’Drums Chapter 9 (Fanfiction)

FF.net:https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12814422/9/Strings-n-Drums

AO3:https://archiveofourown.org/works/13991202/chapters/53107363

Summary: AU. In 1969, Lucy runs from home and becomes a journalist for the magazin Strings'n'Drums, this will lead the young shy girl in the world of rock music, to meet the colorfull caracters that populates it. In between running from her father and living new experience Lucy will make friends, gorw into an adult and maybe have some romance. Will include Nalu and mentions of other parings

Chapter 1:https://rhaellatully.tumblr.com/post/170156396003/stringsndrums-fanficition

Chapter 8:https://rhaellatully.tumblr.com/post/189997948033/stringsndrums-chapter-8-fanfiction

AN: I'm back! And it took less than two weeks! I'm so proud of myself! I can't promise it will happen again though...

When Lucy got to the festival that morning, she was so excited she could barely stay in place. Today was going to be a great day. She was going to see Erza Scarlet live and after that she would finally see Guildarts, the bleus man who had been a source of inspiration for so many of her favourite artist. And best of all, she was going to spend the day with Levy. They hadn’t gotten a proper chance to talk yesterday, they hadn’t seen each other in so long, they had to have things to tell one another.

As she got to the meeting place they had agreed on, she heard rather loud voices, like a couple fighting. As she got closer she saw Levy speaking agitatedly to none other than Gajeel Redfox. Lucy couldn’t understand what any of this was about, since in their respective anger their sentences founded themselves being distorted. It didn’t take long before Levy shouted at him “Go! Just go away!”

He left and they were tears in her eyes. Lucy rushed to her friend and as she put a hand on her shoulder she asked her “Levy, are you alright?” Of course she knew she was not alright but this was the most polite way she knew to ask if she wanted to talk about it.

“Lucy” she said and you could see that as she spoke holding back tears became more and more difficult “it’s stupid, it’s so stupid.”

“Let’s go somewhere else” said Lucy before taking Levy to a more private place in between some trees.

Levy was whipping her tears away quickly and violently “He doesn’t get it” she said, “I try and I try and he just… doesn’t understand. It’s like he’s not even trying to! Or maybe I’m doing it wrong, I don’t even know how to do this.”

“Do what?” asked Lucy who had only found herself more confused by Levy’s rant.

Levy looked at Lucy than rapidly looked away, her lips were pressed and she wrapped her arms around her self. She breathed slowly and once she had seemingly calmed down she said, “Ask a guy out.”

Lucy froze, the first thing that crossed her mind was “Levy has dated guys before why wouldn’t she knows how to ask them out?” followed closely by “Levy wants to go out with Gajeel Redfox!”. Lucy was just as confused as surprised. Levy and Gajeel, Levy and the man who had her calling Lucy in tears. Why would she want him?

“Gajeel Redfox?” she asked hoping she had misunderstood.

Levy sighed and said, “Yes.”

“Why?”

She pressed her lips together, “I like him.” she said firmly.

Lucy stood there staring at her, she couldn’t think of reason why Levy would like that man. He was mean and rude. He didn’t seem to have respect for anyone and definitely wasn’t attractive. Why would Levy like him? She could tell that asking her why one more time would only anger her friend, so instead she tried to calm down.

As gently as she could she said, “So, how did it happened?”

Levy’s posture relaxed and she answered “ After a while of me following them, we started to sympathise, you know just talk about nothing and everything. I can’t say we were often on the same page but I like a good argument. And” a smiled appeared on her face “the way he treated me started to change, it’s not that he became nicer, but he started treating me as an equal. And I did the same. We do share a lot in common, on a more fundamental level. I’ve earned his respect and he seems to think highly of me. The way he talks about me, it’s “ she paused searching for the right word and then her smile grew bigger and she said “it makes me feel strong.”

Lucy was taken aback by what she was hearing, but she did her best to insure that it wouldn’t show. The way she described Gajeel Redfox was something she never though could have been associated with the man. But then again, Levy had spent much more time with him than Lucy ever had. Perhaps he was nicer once you got to know him. She really hoped that he was, she wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to Levy.

“It makes me feel strong.” It was the sentence that stayed in Lucy’s mind. How did he do that? How can one make someone else feel strong? And how did it felt? Lucy had rarely felt strong, but she remembered the unnatural feeling that had came to her when she ran away from home. That was strength and excitement. If Gajeel Redfox made levy feel anything like what she felt that day, then she was truly jealous.

They’re was still a mystery in Lucy’s head, if Levy liked him and wanted to go out with him, then what was the matter?

“What’s wrong then?” she asked.

“What is wrong, is that he doesn’t notice me!” she answered angrily “He notice what I do, what I say. But it’s like it all goes over his head! I don’t now what to do. I mean I’ve never done this before.”

“I though you had dated men, you told me you did.”

“Yes but they always asked me out, I’ve never had to make a move on anyone. I never though I’d actually have to.”

“I… can’t help you with that.” Lucy admitted. Sad but true she had even less experience in that domain than Levy. As much as she though of herself as a feminist she had to admit she too had always thought that man would be asking her out. If she were in Levy’s position, she’d probably be even more lost.

“I know” she said nicely “I asked Cana, but the only advice she gave me, was to sneak in his bed without clothes on.”

“I think you should just be honest with him” as she said it Lucy realised that if she were in Levy’s place she would never be brave enough to do so. When she though about being in her place she found herself thinking of Natsu, that was odd, she barely knew him, she did found him attractive but that wasn’t enough to desire a relationship with someone right? Maybe for other people, but for Lucy this was unthinkable. As a matter of fact considering the issues with her father it was probably best to avoid dating for now. It would make things just too complicated.

“You have no idea how much I just want to do that, but the second I’m with him I don’t know what happens, I just want to be… I don’t know he thinks of me as someone strong and capable and I want to stay that way in front of him, I wouldn’t want him to see me as someone vulnerable.”

Lucy had no idea what to tell her, she knew what it was like to want to look strong in front of other, but what Levy was describing was different. Lucy didn’t know how deal with this, she barely knew how deal with her own issues how could she help other with theirs.

“Why don’t we go see The Front Doors, the Strauss are their background singer for the festival, that ought to make me feel better.”

Lucy followed her to the petite scene where the band was preforming. She knew of both The Front Doors and The Strauss. The first was a soul band from America, they were quiet wonderfull and had a quite amazing saxophonist. The second was a background band, made of siblings, they each got singular and powerful voice, they match together pretty well and lots of musicians liked having them around, especially when it came to recordings. They made everything sound great and everyone wanted a piece of them. They were basically the most prolific background band around. They had release they’re own albums which mostly featured covers, it didn’t sell very well but it was excellent sample to show other musician. The fact that Mira Jane Strauss had dated a bunch of famous musician also made for brilliant advertising. Nowadays, they could basically choose whom they would work with, and if they had chosen The Front Doors it went they were good.

The journalist in her was delighted to go to this concert and was impatient to get her impression of this band. But at the moment Lucy didn’t felt like a journalist, she felt like a friend and as such she was far more concerned with Levy’s mood. She said this would cheer her up, and Lucy hoped that she was right. She knew how powerful music could be and how it could take over your own emotions to make you fell something. She only hoped it would be enough for Levy.

There wasn’t that big of a crowd in front of the stage. Which turned out to be a positive thing since it allowed the audience to dance freely to the music. Levy was the first to join in. It was as if she was taking out her frustration in her steps and Lucy was happy for it. She couldn’t dare to join her though. Her anxiousness was still present and even if the music was slowly making it disappear, she wasn’t quite there yet.

When the music shifted to a slow song, Levy came by her side with a smile on her face. Lucy was glad to see that her friend was feeling better. She hoped she’d stay that way for long. Maybe she should just hope to not run into Gajeel Redfox.

“I’m sorry I worried you.”

“It’s fine.”

“The Strauss are great.”

Lucy agreed, this was one of the best performances she had seen since she got here and she didn’t need to be a professional musician to realise the background was responsible for most of it. The performance given by there voice made every song more powerful than the last.

“Lisanna is really doing great since the break up.”

“The break up?”

Levy paused and her eyes widen, it seemed she just realised she said something she shouldn’t have. She then leaned toward Lucy and whispered, “She and Natsu broke up about a year ago.”

This revelation gave Lucy a strange feeling she couldn’t quite place. It reminded her a bit of disappointment, she didn’t understand what she could be disappointed about though. That Natsu and Lisanna Strauss used to be a couple? Why? She had only met Natsu a few times and she didn’t even know Lisanna, there was no reason for her to care.

She looked at the stage, toward the three platinum blond that were singing on the left. She had seen enough pictures to recognise which one was Lisanna. The small one with a very short haircut. She seemed so happy, radiant even. Lucy could easily understand why Natsu would want to date her. The weird feeling came back in her guts, she didn’t like it, she didn’t understand it.

As she though about it something crossed her mind, the fact that Natsu had been one of the few people to have ever been genially nice to her. When you put it that way it didn’t seemed like mush, but Lucy had always none they were some cruel part in the world and always expected the worst to happen. Natsu was one of those people, like Levy, who simply choose to show kindness to other. Of course it had impacted her, and the fact that he was handsome hadn’t help. He was pretty, kind and accessible. Someone you felt at ease with, it was normal for her to have this attraction toward him. But the reality was that she didn’t know him, and probably never would, he was a famous singer and her a beginner journalist. The cute affection she had toward him at the moment was nothing more than that and it would disappear just as fast as it had come.

During an upbeat song Levy grabbed her hand and tried her best to make her dance. Lucy danced little but she kept a bit of restrain, she was far too afraid of appearing ridiculous to dare let herself dance in front of people. The fact that her friend was making her do so made more nervous than anything, but she understood why Levy did it. She wanted to see Lucy have fun for once. But truth was she wasn’t ready for that kind of fun.

When they walked away from the stage, Lucy didn’t know what to say to Levy. She felt like she should do her best to avoid the subject of Gajeel Redfox, and at the same found herself incapable of thinking of anything else to talk to her about. The smile that had been on Levy’s face as she danced had disappeared and she now wore a though full look on her face. Lucy felt she should say something but came short. In the end, it seemed better to just ask her if she wanted to talk about something.

She was about to do so, but was interrupted by a voice shouting, “ There you are!”

Lucy turned and saw Natsu coming toward them. She expected him to go to Levy but instead he grabbed her hand and told her “Come on I need to show you Erza.”

“What?” asked Lucy.

“She’s over there waiting” Natsu explained.

Lucy was shocked, did he mean Erza Scarlet? Was she about to meet Erza Scarlet? The Erza Scarlet! She didn’t feel ready for this. She wasn’t prepared for this. What was she supposed to say? How was she supposed to act? Was she dressed correctly? What if it went wrong? What if she said the wrong thing? What if she made a fool of herself?

She started breathing fast and looking around, she couldn’t tell if she was searching for Erza Scarlet or an escaped. Which ever it was she didn’t find it. But Natsu made a stop.

“What’s going on?” he asked visibly confused “Didn’t you want to meet her?”

“I do” chocked out Lucy “but… I’m scared.”

“I get it Erza is pretty scary, but don’t worry it’s fine as long as you don’t steal her cake”

Lucy laugh, hard. What was that? As long as you don’t steal her cake it’s fine. It sounded like he was talking about a child. More laugher escaped her. This was the last thing she had expected to hear at this moment. This was the last thing she had expected to hear about Erza Scarlet. She couldn't stop herself from laughing, this was so ridiculous. Now Natsu was laughing with her, or at her, she wasn’t sure which.

They laughed and laughed. A few eyes stopped on them but didn’t linger too long. They probably looked like they had taken some substances. Lucy didn’t know why she couldn't stop laughing, this hadn’t happened to her a lot in her life. She had been forbidden to laugh in public before, and had learnt to make herself as discreet as possible about it. But, for unknown reason, at this moment, all of this had disappeared and she was just having a good laugh.

When she stopped laughing and managed to catch her breath, she felt fine.

“Can we go now?” Natsu asked nicely and she nodded as a reply.

They reached a meagre group of tables; at one of them there was a woman with long red hair sitting. Natsu and Lucy sat around the table and he said, “This is Lucy.”

“Nice to meet you.” said Erza Scarlet while extending her hand. There was a small smile on her face, and Lucy could understand why she was considered to be one of the most beautiful women in the world. Lucy shook her hand, it was firm and strong, which she hadn’t expected.

Ever since she had liked music, and even more once she became a journalist, she had heard things about Erza Scarlet. She had heard rumours that were the nicest and most naïve girl in the world. She had also heard that she was a perfectionist monster that all should fear. She had been told she used more than thousand beauty products a day. Or that it was just her natural beauty. She had heard man claim that they had had sex with her. And women swear that she had complimented then on their dress, or make up.

Lucy had learned a long time ago not to trust rumours. Now that she was in front of her, of the Erza Scarlet, the singer who already had three golden disk, and two Grammy Award, the woman who had become a millionaire at the age of 22. One of the greatest artist of their time. The voice that anyone could recognise. The face that she had been able to recognise from far away. Someone she had seen on the telly and the covers of magazine but could never have hoped to see in real life.

She was lost for words there was so much she wanted to ask and had no idea where to start.

She did managed to tell her, “Nice to meet as well.”

“I really like your dress.” she said.

Lucy felt a bit shy, she wondered if she might have been saying that just to be kind. After all, the dress she wore today had nothing special. It was just an A-shaped dress with a flower patterned. She guessed the patterned was likable, but there wasn’t more to it than that.

“Thank you.” she said nonetheless.

“Did you buy it yourself?”

Lucy was a bit taken a back by the question; she had a hard time seeing how she could not have bought it herself. Was she asking if it was gift, or if something like that?

“Um… Yes” she stuttered, “I bought in a small shop not far from flat”

“You have quite an eye, I’m afraid that not my case, I’m awfully bad at following trend, my agent buys me cloth most of the time.”

Lucy was a bit surprised by this, but she supposed that when you were an international star you had to be careful how you appeared in public. She wondered just how deeply her agent was involved in her life. Did they also decided what she ate and she where she went?

“Well, we can’t all be David Bowie.” she said to ease things.

“Quite right.”

Natsu was looking back and forth between them; there was a tiny smile on his face and his chest out. Lucy didn’t perceive what he was hoping to get out of this meeting. It’s when considering his that she realised what she could gain out of this meeting. She hesitated; Natsu seemed to notice it and gave her a big smile.

She felt a little warm inside and said, “Could I get an interview?”

The smile left Natsu’s face “Does that mean I have to leave?”

Lucy suddenly felt very cold. This perhaps hadn’t been the right moment to ask.

“It’s fine,” said Erza Scarlet “you can come back when we’re done.”

Lucy was surprised, did this mean she had gotten the interview. She couldn’t believe how easy it had been. Usually when she wanted an interview she would ask it on the phone with a professional tone and lots of arguments. Here she had just blurted it out during a normal social moment and she had it. Maybe she had been worrying about nothing.

Natsu got up and left but he warned them that he would be back soon.

“So where would you like to start?”

She now remembered the other reason why she planed interview over the phone, it supplied her with plenty of time to prepare. She didn’t have time to search for question right now, she just had the time to take her notebook and a pen out, if she waited to long before asking anything she’d looked like an idiot. She remembered that she did have a question, the one she had been asking herself barely a minute ago.

“Let’s start with your agent, the fact that you told me they buy your cloth makes me wonder just how deeply they are involve in your life.”

“He is pretty involve, his an old friend, after all. He mostly helps me a lot. He helps me with the cloth thing but he also lots of places and people. The moment I need something all I have to do is ask and he gets it for me. I try not to abuse of it though.”

“How did you meet him?”

“We’re both from a small town named Magnolia.”

“So he’s a childhood friend?”

“More of teenage hood friend, but yes.”

“How did he end up becoming your agent?”

“Well that actually has to do with the creation of Great Tales Records. You see, the producers with whom I first work were not… they were a bad experience for me. But my foster father had been a musician so he knew the business and along side other friend who had had the same problem, we decided to ask him if, with his help we could create our own record company with people we trusted. During that time we were looking for people to come work with us, and Max, my agents, had experience in sales and that sort of things so he joined us.”

“You have a lot of friends in the company?”

“It feels like a big family.”

Lucy wondered if she was honest. The idea that a company that had signed some of the most popular artist of her generation was like a big family, didn’t seem quiet believable.

“How about we talk a bit more about music, tell me how are you enjoying the festival so far.”

Erza Scarlet provided her a long speech about all the artists she had seen, talking about their qualities what she though they could improve and of course which one she would like to work with in the future. Lucy wrote everything down as rapidly as she could, as she listened to her she realised that Erza Scarlet would have made a great music journalist. She mentioned something about the qualities of the lyrics of one band, which made Lucy look up and ask “Speaking of lyrics you don’t write any of your songs?”

Erza Scarlet glanced down at her feet and admitted, “Yes I’ve collaborate with lots of very talented writers and I have to admit I’m incapable of writing a good song. I’ve tried many times but I never seem to get it. I turning my thoughts and feelings into music is natural to me but I’m completely unable to do the same with words.”

“How does that usually works, are you given the lyrics, or do you work with the writers on what you want to express?”

“It depends, sometimes I get offered a full song and I then decides if I want to sing it or no, and sometimes I ask for a writer to put into words what I’m looking for.”

Lucy took notes, and she still had a question to ask on that subject, but she wasn’t sure if she should, this one came from deductions she had made and wasn’t fully sure of. Her curiosity won over her doubts and she asked, “Are all of your writers listed on your albums?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well it’s just that they are some of you songs that are written in a style very different from the other and it doesn’t match with the other works of the writer mention on the back of the records.”

Lucy listed the songs she had noticed, or at least the one she could remember. Erza Scarlet eyes had gotten as wide as saucers and she was staring at Lucy.

“You’re very impressive.” She marvelled “Yes these songs were written by someone else but we can’t put their name on the back because I don’t know who it is. I’ve received them through the post by an anonymous fan, I have no way of knowing who they are and they said they wanted to stay anonymous and didn’t want any credits.”

Lucy was astonished by what she was hearing. This wasn’t what she had expected for an answer and it only served to build a bigger mystery. She was extremely excited to write an article about it. And she was filed with the wonderful pride you could only feel from being right.

“Which do you prefer? Your anonymous writer or the one you usually work with?”

Erza Scarlet gave her a full and fascinating answer. She talked about the different writers she had work with and their manners of work. She ended by saying “Writers are cruelly underappreciated, they are praises for the singers and the musician but rarely for the writers, unless they are also the writers. Honestly I’m just a performer I don’t believe I should be given that much credits.”

“I wouldn’t call you just performer, finding the write words is very difficult but its just as hard to say or sing them right. The performances you give are always right and powerful. There’s a reason why you receive song from anonymous writers.”

At this Erza Scarlet looked away and thanked her. This was strange to Lucy; she hadn’t thought that someone like her could talk that way about herself. Self-loathing was familiar to Lucy and she had never imagined it could come out of a successful person. It was a strange reminder that Erza Scarlet, Natsu Dragneel and all the others were humans, like everyone else.

“I have another question to ask you, it comes from something Natsu Dragneel told me in an interview. He said that the industry didn’t appreciate you to the full. That you were one of the greatest musicians he’s ever met but that you are only allowed to be a singer. Is this true to you?”

Erza Scarlet smiled “A lot of that is just Natsu exaggerating. I’m not a bad musician, but when I started I couldn’t give my best at singing and playing at the same time, so I had choose, and I decided to be a singer, now I can do both at once but I’m not sure how my public would reacted if showed up with a guitar on stage tomorrow.”

“You play the guitar?”

“Yes as well as the bass, the drums, the piano, the saxophone, and the harmonica.”

Lucy froze. Six instrument. Erza Scarlet played six instruments. Lucy had heard of multi instrumentalist who played two or three instrument, but six! That was insane! Lucy had to agree with Natsu, someone capable of playing six instruments not using any on stage that was unbelievable, laughable even.

“Why did you choose to be singer?”

Erza Scarlet’s face changed, it was very hard to read, it somehow close of the emotionlessness of Juvia Locser but it was not quite it. “I had bad experience trying to be female musician.”

“Would you mind elaborating?”

“Yes.”

Lucy didn’t know what to say, she would have wanted to press her but she could tell she would receive no answer, actually she was afraid she’d never get an interview with her again if she did.

“They are female musician who have made their way in the industry today.” Lucy said, it was her way of encouraging her to assert herself as a musician.

“You mean like Juvia Locser?”

“Yes.”

“I admire her in a way.” She stopped to observe her watch “As much as I would love to continue I’m afraid I must get going”

“Of course.”

Lucy watched her leave and wondered if she truly was in a hurry or if her questions had made her run away. I this was the case than this could be a remarkably bad news for her carrier. She looked at her own watch and realise that Erza Scarlet’s concert would start soon enough for her to have needed to leave. She trully hoped her questions hadn’t made her uncomfortable.

Natsu came back not long after that, he asked how it had went and she told him about her worrying. He assured her that if she had made Erza uncomfortable she would have known. He was so certain of this that she started believing him. He invited her to join him secure a nice spot for Erza Scarlet’s concert. When they got close to the stage she noticed that they were already quite a lot of people here. And not just anyone. There was indeed lots of random people but among them some of another calibre. Natsu, who was here with her was a good start but in the crowd she noticed many more. Cana Alberona was taking sip from a bottle in the middle of the crowd. Toward the back there was the Strauss talking happily among themselves. Toward the right she spotted Lee Richard. John Fool was on the left side of stage. At the other end you could find Juvia Locser, Gajeel Redfox and Levy. These were the one she had seen but she wouldn’t have been surprised if they were more.

She though of joining Levy to make sure she was okay, but on closer look her friend seemed perfectly content. She wondered if they had talked while she was with Erza Scarlet. She was a bit curious but didn’t want to bother them.

Erza Scarlet delivered probably the best performance of the entire festival. She had that passion that none could match. Has she listened to her Lucy was transported. She did hope to see her take out an instrument, but it never happened. This didn’t prevent the show from being perfect. If her interview had disturbed her it didn’t show.

After her show, she grabbed something to eat with Natsu. She was less tens than the first time. She talked to him quite easily. They talked mostly about Erza Scarlet’s performance. They had both enjoyed it and were talking with lots of excitement. Natsu was incredibly eloquent when describing her performance, to the point that Lucy asked if she could quote him. Music was amazing; Lucy knew that if they had not just been to a concert she wouldn’t be able to speak so freely.

“Are you going to see Guildarts afterward?”

“Yes, you as well?”

“Yeah we go together?”

“Sure.”

It was strange, seeing to concert in the company of a famous musician in a row. The stage were Guildarts was playing was much smaller than the one Erza Scarlet had been at. But he had quite a crowd as well. If Erza Scarlet’s crowd had fifteen per cent made of famous musician, Guildarts was forty per cent. Many of the same faces as the one who had been at Erza Scarlet’s were also here, along side a few more. There was religious silence among them. No one said a word. Not even when Guildarts got on the stage, just respect full claps, not even a whistle. Once he started playing the silence came back. There was none of the occasional shouts you would usually hear. All eyes were focus on the man on the stage. His strings rang sad and true. His voice was low and carried the sorrowful truth of the world. Songs about poverty, the passing of time, hookers and the fear of a new war succeeded themselves. Lucy didn’t know when she started crying; maybe it was around the part about the death of his first love, or perhaps the one about coming back to his hometown in ruin. Lucy had no idea how to describe this experience. She thought that this was how she should have been feeling in church. She understood why so many musicians were inspired by him. She felt inspired at that moment, inspired to do more, to show her best, no matter if she failed.

Never had she had had more enthusiasm to check her notes when she got to her hotel room. She went through them, underlying the important part, placing little numbers here and there to remember which part should come first. As she went through them something intrigued her. It was in her interview with Erza Scarlet. She listed every concert she had seen and told her thoughts on them, but there was no mentions of Fernandez, even though she was sure to have seen her there.

#fairy tail #fairy tail fanfiction #nalu #nalu fanfiction #lucy heartifilla #nastu dragneel #levy mcgarden #gajeel redfox #gajevy #gale #fanfic #erza scarlet

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heyoricohannah · 5 years

Text

Post Bar Mitzvah Part 13:

When it’s time for Buffy to go, since Andi was informed on Marty’s plan, she’s still bugging him about giving her the letter before it’s too late, as a way to distract herself from bursting into tears for obvious reasons.

Unluckily enough for Cyrus, he has the disadvantage of being in the room with them.

“Alright alright. I’m gonna do it, okay?” Marty agrees. “God, I like her so much.”

“God, I like him so much!” Buffy is ranting to Jonah and TJ out in her driveway, where her car sits behind them with her things all dreadfully packed inside.

“Then tell him!” TJ exclaims.

“Are you kidding? No! I don’t want him to reject right before I leave looking like some loser nobody.”

Both boys roll their eyes at her.

“She can’t say no!” Back inside, Andi is talking Marty up while Cyrus stands there silently. “Do it!” She beams.

“Okay. I’m gonna do it.” He grins, looking to Cyrus who forces a smile, watching guiltily as Marty bursts his way out the door in a hurry.

“Hey.” Andi assures to Cyrus, making him look at her in embarrassment.

“I know how you feel.”

“Huh...?” His entire face flushes.

“About Buffy.”

Well, her moving isn’t exactly helping things either.

“Yeah...” It’s not like he’s lying.

“Let’s go see her.” Andi places her hand on Cyrus’ shoulder. “And watch her happy ending with Marty!” She adds on in elation, something that Cyrus wishes he could feel the same about.

It feels like Andi and Jonah all over again, except this time, Buffy and Marty actually belong together. Which makes the whole thing for Cyrus a whole lot worse.

“Buffy, I know I’m doing this right before you go,” Marty is saying to her outside in the driveway, with TJ and Jonah as witnesses along with Cyrus and Andi who are just showing up.

“I don’t have to leave for another five minutes.”

“Yeah, but,” Marty shrugs it off. “I think we should start over, you and I.”

“As friends...?” That’s the last thing she’d want to hear.

“No.”

She lets him take both her hands. “As more.”

It stings more than Cyrus thought it would. The smile on Buffy’s face should have him jumping with joy. But it isn’t, and he couldn’t feel more terrible.

“I think we should too!” She exclaims to Marty, giving him a big squeeze and beaming over at everyone else who’s adoring the sight, except, of course, for Cyrus, who’s doing his best to look excitedly intrigued.

“And you don’t care that I’m leaving?” She asks, ending the hug and looking back to Marty.

“Of course I care, which, is why I want to have a relationship with you. Either way.” He takes out the folded letter from his pocket. “Here.” He hands it over.

“Oh yeah!” TJ remembers, taking the piece of paper out of his pocket that contains his recently recited rap. “It’s a poem.” He walks over and hands it to her. “But think of it as more of a rap.”

She snickers and shakes her head.

To keep things going, Jonah gives her his card, and Andi the collage they had once made. Topping it all off, Cyrus gives the five year old picture of them to her with a sad smile, feeling guilty for struggling to look at her for all the wrong reasons.

“Oh my God, I remember this.” She studies the photo. “This was when we got those snow cones, and when I dropped mine you gave me yours, saying that I could have it all to myself.” She almost tears up at the thought.

“And then you made me share it with you anyway.” Cyrus smirks.

“Yeah!” She laughs. “Aw, Cyrus.” She brings him in for a hug that’s hard to break away from. “I’m gonna miss you all so much.” She says to them, after it ends.

“One more thing.” TJ says, walking up to her basketball net and taking the ball out from behind it.

He passes it to her swiftly, making her and the others snicker, as her smile genuinely increases.

“That’s honestly the best gift you could ever give me.” She says, tossing it back to him and returning his smile as he sets the ball back down.

“Buffy.” Her Mom comes exiting out of the home, leaving the key under the porch mat for her husband. “I hate to separate you guys, but, we have to get going.”

Buffy and Andi have tears in their eyes the moment they look at each other.

“Bye.” Buffy squeezes her harder than ever.

“Bye.” Andi cries and wipes away a few tears. “I’m gonna miss you...”

“You too.” Buffy takes her arms out from around her and studies her lovingly. “Take care of yourself, Andi Mack.”

Glimmering, Andi wipes away another tear.

“Bye boys.” Buffy hugs Cyrus, Jonah, then TJ, who say their goodbyes and how they’ll all miss her.

She smiles at them all. “Don’t annoy Andi too much, okay?” She makes them snicker.

“Just call me whenever they become too much.” She smiles to Andi, who laughs and excessively nods.

Last but not least, she hugs Marty. “I’ll see you soon, okay? We’ll video chat every night.”

“Definitely.” He gives her back a few pats, Andi returning Jonah and TJ’s entertained smirks, whereas Cyrus folds together his hands and shyly looks to the ground.

Their hug ends, Buffy grinning at Marty more than before, until she forces herself to look away and sneak glances at all of them individually.

“Well okay...I’ll talk to you guys soon. And by soon I mean as soon as I’m in the car.”

Their laughter is the last and only thing she hears from them before she goes, which, as far as she’s concerned, is the exact way it’s supposed to be. Until next time, it’s the laughter that will play all throughout her head during the darkest of days.

Until next time, the knowledge of their existences are already more than enough.

Her impact on them is exactly that.

“TJ?” Andi looks at him. “Are you crying?”

“What?” He quickly wipes away the shedded tear, sniffling and coming to his own defense. “N-no! My eyes are just allergenic...”

A text message appears on Andi’s phone, and instead of Buffy, it’s Walker, asking if she’d like some cheering up.

“It’s Walker. He wants me to meet him at The Spoon. Do you think guys Buffy would care if I went?”

“No.” The boys answer together.

“Okay. Do you guys care?”

“It’s okay, Andi. You’re allowed to spend time with him.” Cyrus answers for the rest of them.

“Cool.” She grins. “You guys are the best. I’ll see you later.” She hugs them all one by one, making her way down the sidewalk, where she’s momentarily able to hear Marty asking Cyrus if he wants to hang out.

“Okay.” Cyrus smiles, as Jonah watches in envy.

“Do you guys wanna come?” Cyrus asks him and TJ.

“Oh, uh, actually,” TJ speaks up. “We can’t. You know...Private time.”

This is only exceeding Cyrus’ assumption that something particular is going on between them.

“Um, no.” Jonah frowns at TJ. “We don’t. We’d be happy to join.”

“We would?”

“Yes, TJ, we would...”

Marty’s eyebrows raise at the peculiarly. “Sweet. Let’s go...”

He and Cyrus walk off together, leaving Jonah asking TJ why he was trying to exclude them.

“Because, man, we have to show them that we don’t care.” This is TJ’s explanation.

“But we do...”

“Yeah, but we can’t show them that.”

“We have to stick around them anyway.” Jonah states. “Something could happen. Studies show that people are more likely to cheat when they’re apart of long distance relationships.”

“Jonah, I really don’t think Marty would cheat on Buffy with Cyrus.” TJ can’t even properly process the thought.

“He might...!” Jonah struggles to sound believable, pointing over to Marty and Cyrus walking side by side down the sidewalk with their shoulders touching.

“He won’t.” TJ affirms. “Now c’mon.” He pulls Jonah along with him, catching them up with the other two who already talking up a storm to no one but each other, leaving Jonah to walk forward in defeat which causes TJ to run after him.

“Shouldn’t Marty be talking to Buffy or something?” Jonah mutters.

“He will. Don’t worry. His pining for Buffy will kick in soon.” TJ can feel it. “They’ll go through a long distance honeymoon phase, and Marty won’t have time for any of us.” He predicts.

“I hope you’re right.” Jonah says, looking back at Cyrus and Marty who are more than a few sidewalk squares behind them, currently slowing down with every step so they can focus more on their conversation.

“Ugh.” Jonah keeps his eyes away.

“Don’t worry dude. I’ll cheer you up. Ever hear of vaping?” TJ asks him.

To this, Jonah chooses not to respond.

At their usual booth at The Spoon, Andi and Walker are having a peaceful time, discussing Andi’s feelings about Buffy’s departure, and Walker’s new painting that he’s working on, until that subject in particular brings Andi to an abrupt realization. “Oh my gosh! The portrait!”

“What?” Walker asks.

“That you gave me the other day! I didn’t bring it back with me when we left, I must’ve left it here!” She begins to panic.

“Oh..!” He’s now remembering as well, eerily glancing off into space and trying his best to retrace their steps.

“Well I doubt someone would’ve taken it. Does this place have a lost and found?”

“Amber!” Andi goes running up to Amber, who’s standing beside the cash register and cleaning the counters.

“What.” She makes no eye contact.

“When Walker and I were here two days ago, I left a portrait of me sitting in our booth, did somebody find it?”

“A portrait of yourself?” Amber cringes, looking into her eyes.

“Did you see it or not??” Andi grows heated.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.” Eyebrows raising, Amber says this just to rile her up, which is exactly what happens.

“Amber, I swear.”

“You swear what?” She laughs. “What, you think I took your dumb painting?”

“It wasn’t mine.”

“I don’t care whose it was. You’ll live.” Amber retorts.

“Ughhh.” Andi groans and storms out of the diner, taking Walker with her and claiming they don’t need to pay because they only had one baby tater each.

“You think she has it?” He asks her.

“Probably.” She scowls at the thought.

“I can always paint another one.” Walker offers.

“It’s fine. We’ll get it back. I’m sorry. I—I can’t let her get to us.” Andi looks at him and smiles.

“You’re good. You’re confrontational. I like it.” Walker’s compliment makes her laugh.

“You’re already going through a lot with Buffy leaving. The last thing you need is someone causing you trouble.”

“Yeah...” Nodding, Andi boldly takes his hand. “I just hope that didn’t ruin your time with me.” She says.

“Trust me. It didn’t. Plus, I’d like to see a lot more of you.”

“Yeah?” Andi grins.

“Yeah...” Walker takes a step closer towards her. When they’re about to kiss, TJ and Jonah simultaneously yell out for her, sprinting up and being obnoxiously unaware that they’re ruining the moment.

“What.” She snaps at them.

“Tell Buffy to talk to Marty so it’ll distract him from Cyrus.” Jonah says.

“Do it yourself!” She yells.

“What’s your problem?” TJ takes offense. “Oh hey Walker.” He’s just noticing him.

Andi rolls her eyes so hard that they almost fall out of their sockets.

“Bye!” She exclaims, pushing them along and making the two boys cluelessly wonder to each other what the big deal is as they walk off.

“How about we go somewhere else.” Walker suggests to her.

“I’d love that. I’d love that so much.”

Sick of having to hear Cyrus and Marty talk excessively about anything and everything, Jonah freshly interrupts, “TJ and I are gonna go ahead and take off.”

TJ almost flinches at his pettiness.

“Oh. Really?”

Jonah is surprised that Cyrus cares. “Yeah.” Jonah looks to TJ. “Come on.”

“See you guys...” Marty waves, Jonah forcing a nod and ignoring Cyrus’ blatant stare directed towards him as he takes TJ by the shoulders and walks them far ahead.

“I thought you wanted to watch them.” TJ whispers despite the other two being far out of earshot.

“Not anymore. It’s not worth it.” Jonah grimaces at the ground. When TJ looks back at Marty and Cyrus, they seem to be struggling and stumbling with their words, unlike when they weren’t alone just two seconds ago. TJ doesn’t know which way to take that, looking at Jonah so Jonah won’t look anywhere else.

“I’ll give them a few hours, tops. They’ll die out fast. They already are.”

Looking over at Cyrus and Marty continuing to awkwardly wing their dialogue, he smiles at the scene.

“Good.” He says to TJ. “Let’s go.”

Figuring he might as well, he lets TJ lead the way.

#andi mack

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zirawrites · 6 years

Note

companions react to a reader who is always there for them and comforts them whenever they're feeling vulnerable/hurt/sad.

To quote Taylor Swift… “Honey I rose up from the grave, I do it all the time.” Ya fave fic writer Zira is back with another reaction! I finished my last summer classes, I’m home from England and ready to start being active again. I apologize if I’m rusty, I haven’t done a proper reaction in nearly six months. But I’m tryn’ for y’all!!!!

What really got me back in to reactions is reading some awesome fanfics recently. So as always, my inbox is open and I’ll be working away on my AO3 account for my first full-length fic!

TRIGGER WARNING: This post briefly mentions suicide in Preston’s reaction.

Cait: Before Cait met Sole, she only saw herself as someone who deserved the shite hand she was dealt. Almost immediately after they left the combat zone, it became apparent that Sole didn’t just see Cait as a companion: they really cared about her. Whenever Cait threw a bottle against the bar to pick a fight, Sole was there to defuse the situation. After Cait got them thrown out of Diamond City for calling Myrna “a right ol’ synth fucker,” Sole didn’t get frustrated (probably they were just relieved neither were arrested). Even in her darkest hours of getting sober, Sole was there to stroke her hair and keep her hydrated while she shook in bed.

It took time, but eventually Cait got used to Sole’s gentle touch and soft words. In fact, sometimes Cait acted out just to feel Sole brush the coarse hair from her sweating forehead to place a chaste kiss on it. Cait learned to bite her tongue over minor things like a drifter from Goodneighbor rudely asking for a shag, which pleased Sole. It made the moments Sole embraced her bruised and bloody body after a fight that much sweeter.

Codsworth: Being a Mr. Handy didn’t exempt Codsworth from the woes of life. In fact, the poor robot was probably the most likely companion to be frazzled in Sole’s company. Every time Sole ran too fast or used their fist over a silver tongue in tough situations, Codsworth blew a fuse. Well, not really. He was General Atomic’s finest, thank you very much. The reason Codsworth let Sole get away with so much mayhem was because he knew they always soothed his aching metallic heart after the fighting was over.

When Codsworth was stressed over being dragged along on a dangerous quest, Sole would stop in the shadows of the city and place their hand on his metal side. They let him rant about how foolish they were being. Weren’t they afraid of raiders? Radscorpions? Rogue synths? He would ramble on, his shaky words eventually trailing off as Sole’s thumb ran over the rust stains on his paint. They would tell Codsworth that they always came back unscathed, didn’t they? Codsworth would sigh and say that was debatable, but he trusted their judgement. How could he stay cross with his master/mistress?

Curie: Since becoming a synth, Curie would get overwhelmed with the new emotions she felt. The others in Sanctuary would poke fun at her for constantly overreacting, but Sole knew she just needed a little more tender love and care. When Curie was mad, she was beyond consolable. She would stomp around Sanctuary with balled fists and snap at the slightest transgression (a moment of silence for Sturges asking Curie to help paint the workbench). If Curie was wrapped up in a romance novel Sole had snatched her from a mission, she would curl up under the blankets and sob in to a box of pre-war tissues. For someone with such grace and poise, Curie was a wicked hurricane of emotion.

Sole could always get her to calm down with a voice of reason. They would remind Curie that the characters in her novels weren’t real. That you can’t solve every injustice in the world. And sometimes an innocent Sturges really did need help painting. Curie would take some deep breaths, and occasionally asked Sole to hold her hand. After thinking the situation over, Curie was back to her normal (albeit odd) self, and Sole would prepare for her next confusing emotion to surface.

Danse: Unfortunately for Danse, he really thought he could hide away his emotions. He had a terrible habit of scrunching his unkempt eyebrows when frustrated. If Danse was hurt by someone’s words, he ducked his head down for a few moments to fight back tears. For someone who guarded their heart so closely, Danse was in some ways an open book.

Whenever Danse needed to be vulnerable around Sole, he would try his damnedest to use words. Instead of shrugging his pain off, Danse would grit his teeth and talk about a depressing failed mission or recent nightmare. His favorite response from Sole was when they leaned in to listen closer and he could feel their breath on his neck. He wasn’t the cuddliest in the Commonwealth, but just seeing Sole being attentive to his needs put him in lighter spirits.

Deacon: Everybody’s favorite Egg Man was the hardest companion to crack. Deacon went out of his way to make sure Sole didn’t notice his sour mood. There were times a situation exasperated him, and he’d slip up to make a soft sigh. But those moments were rare. Usually if Deacon felt upset, his first instinct was to crack a joke. He needed other people to laugh as if his life depended on it. Maybe then they wouldn’t see his lips quiver. His posture stiffen. The grey cloud forming over his head.

However, that didn’t mean he didn’t always let Sole in. When his partner pried enough, Deacon would sit them down to vent. Sole would keep a respectable distance, but occasionally placed a reaffirming hand on his shoulder. Minor physical contact, but all of their attention on his story. Just knowing that Sole gave a shit was enough for him to collect his thoughts, boop his partners nose, and tell them it was time to get back to work. He was truly an enigma.

Dogmeat: The lucky German Shepherd had the most attentive master in the world. Sole knew what every individual bark or whimper out of Dogmeat’s mouth meant. When he couldn’t find an irradiated animal to chase on their walk? Sole would start sprinting to Red Rocket truck station for him to go after them. A crack of lightning during a rad storm? Sole was already on the ground supplying an ample amount of bully rubs. There was never a moment the dog felt unloved. After all, Sole was constantly reminding him that he was a good boy.

Gage: The first few times Sole tried to calm Gage down they were met with a prompt, “Aw, fuck off, boss!” Gage really only had one emotion, and it was anger. He took the longest to warm up to Sole, especially because whenever he did show his softer side it made him feel… vulnerable. Gage couldn’t punch his way through a heavy heart.

Whenever he did tell Sole about his childhood, he would stop every few minutes to make sure they were listening. Despite Sole’s initial assumption, Gage did like the occasional physical touch. When Gage was in a mood, Sole would run their hand down his arm or give his hip a light bump. He would blush, and Sole tried their best not to smile like an absolute idiot at their triumph. Gage always scoffed at his Overboss going soft on him, but it did keep him out of a few unnecessary bar fights.

Hancock: Mayor John “Puppy Dog Eyes” Hancock. Hancock never wanted to bring down the mood, but he felt completely comfortable sharing his feelings with Sole. His favorite tactic Sole used was when they ran their finger tips up and down his arm while he wore his coat. Hancock never relished in Sole having to touch his scarred flesh, but the feeling of Sole’s fingernails over the fabric of his favorite outfit was strangely calming.

Hancock always had a flair for the dramatic, and Sole used this to their advantage to calm him down. Whatever exaggerated story he had to complain about, Sole always offered a crazy solution. Were raiders trying to extort money from the Goodneighbor drifters? The two of them should sic the entire Minutemen army on them. When Hancock was insecure about his ghoulish appearance, why didn’t Curie just whip up an anti-ghoulification serum? Sole’s antics always made Hancock chuckle, and then purr when Sole gave him an affectionate squeeze. They reminded him the two of them had time to sit down and think of a plan, and worrying didn’t exactly help his “King of the Zombies” reputation.

MacCready: Unbeknownst to MacCready, his boss had seen through the tough guy act at The Third Rail immediately. But over the course of their friendship, MacCready learned to let his guard down. He was more emotional than he let on. Every time MacCready broke down in front of Sole, he was reminded that he wasn’t alone. Most of MacCready’s rough nights were losing sleep over Duncan. Sole would lay down next to him and talk about their plans for pre-war Shaun. About how Nate/Nora insisted on homeschooling, but they wanted to send him off to private school. How they hoped he inherited their light freckles and sense of humor. MacCready would start to talk about how Duncan had his eyes, and then the conversation would go off from there. As long as Sole kept MacCready calm and distracted, he was able to relax his rugged shoulders and drift off to sleep.

Preston: Despite his soft demeanor, Preston is battling an arsenal of demons. When Sole learned about his suicidal past, they made sure that they always approached his low mood swings with care. Sole knew those types of feelings don’t always immediately go away, so they made sure whenever they talked to Preston about his depression in a safe space. It sometimes was the chambers of the Castle, or even at the picnic bench behind Sanctuary. Whenever Sole wanted Preston to feel loved, they took the time to get him alone and really listen to his troubles. Whenever Sole squeezed his hand and told him they were proud, Preston couldn’t hide his swelling chest.

Piper: It was no secret that Piper was high-strung. Not only did she have a business to run, but there was a little sister always nipping at her heels. Sometimes the responsibility got overwhelming, even for Diamond City’s greatest reporter. During the times Piper felt like the world was crashing down, Sole got Nick or Ellie to babysit Nat. They would turn on the radio, grab a bottle of (albeit cheap) wine, and let Piper unload on them. The reporter would pace around her office screaming about a false lead or uncooperative interviewee, then take a gulp of her drink. This would go on until Piper felt a little buzzed, and she was forced to retire to the couch.

That was when Sole would soften the mood. Sole would play with Piper’s hair or hum a pre-war song that made Piper sigh in to her friend’s shoulder. “Damn, Blue,” Piper sometimes whispered. “Life’s always a little lighter with my favorite popsicle around.” Her jests didn’t phase Sole, who returned their friend’s joke with an elbow to the arm.

Nick: Nick only likes to show his ruffled feathers around Sole when they’re alone in the office. He’d lean back in his chair, hang his hat on the nearby rack, and blink up at his partner with concerned yellow eyes. Sole knew that was Nick’s way of saying he needed some reassurance that the world wasn’t going to blow up (again).

During Nick’s vulnerable moments, Sole would try to talk about anything positive. Literally anything. Maybe Dogmeat had sat still for his weekly bath, or Shaun drew them a fridge-worthy picture. Nick’s posture would visibly relax, and he would get lost in some happy news for once. Sometimes he wouldn’t notice Sole was trying to calm him down. When he occasionally did catch on, Nick would never call Sole out. Instead, he’d add an anecdote of his own, like how he caught Ellie humming his favorite song as she cleaned the office.

Strong: Strong was easy to piss off, but just as simple to calm down if you knew the right thing to say. Whenever Strong got upset it was obvious to even the dumbest supermutant. He would try to get a rise out of Sole by calling them weak, or charging out ahead of them during a fight. To settle Strong down, Sole just needed to tell him in layman’s terms he wasn’t completing his mission. They couldn’t find the milk of human kindness if he kept acting out.

Strong never actually sought real emotional advice or showed any signs of being discouraged, but if he did Sole would be ready with open arms.

X6-88: Just because X6 is reserved doesn’t mean he doesn’t share his feelings. In fact, X6 is blunt about everything, including his current state of mind. Whenever X6 comes to Sole and says his morale is low, Sole reminds him of what an asset he is to the Commonwealth. How strong his passion for making the future safer helps Sole’s own optimism. When X6 feels useful, he almost always feels better. There was even an occasion where Sole almost heard X6 thank them for a pep talk.

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ficdirectory · 6 years

Text

Somewhere Inside (Disuphere series #4) Chapter 44

(To listen, click here) - 12:57

When the knock sounds on the front door of Grandpa’s cabin, Jesus doesn’t know he’s going to move until he does. Dudley’s at his side.

Pearl’s out of the bedroom for the first time all day. She looks rough. Wrecked. Red, swollen eyes. Pale. Exhausted. Devastated. The bedroom door is closed behind her, and Jesus knows Pearl has told Francesca to stay put there.

The knocking is constant. Irritated. Jesus can see her through the window. It’s definitely Pearl’s mom.

“Jesus, what are you…?” Pearl asks, but when he turns to look at her, Pearl falls silent.

“Levi, go hang out with Francesca,” Jesus directs softly. But there’s no movement behind him. Jesus is pretty sure Levi couldn’t move if he wanted to.

Pearl is in no place to deal with her abusive as hell mother today. But if Jesus knows anything, it’s that he’s capable of dealing with a ton of stress. It actually feels normal to him. So, even though his body’s still killing him. Even though he’s still not even close to okay. He can deal with this.

“Mariana. Dominique. Please. Go hang out with Francesca. Take Levi and Pearl, too.”

“No, Pearl’s staying,” Pearl objects, her hands shaking, even as Cleo is in her arms. “She’s my mother. I brought her stress here. I can deal with her.”

“You asked her to stay away and she didn’t listen,” Jesus points out. The knocking is getting to him. Between Dominique and Mariana, they have managed to encourage Levi to come with them, with promises they can all watch some Disney movie together. “Please trust me. I can deal with her. Just go wait.”

“Fine,” Pearl nods.

Jesus is vaguely aware of Pearl going into the bedroom. Of the fact that he does not hear the bedroom door close behind her. Knows Pearl is listening. (Knows it’s her right. It’s her mom, but Jesus finds himself with his fingers crossed behind him that he can do a good enough job warning Pearl’s mom away. That she doesn’t end up coming in here.)

But Jesus is nothing if not determined. He walks to the door, taking deep breaths on the way. Dudley’s right with him.

Unceremoniously, Jesus yanks the door open. Glares at Pearl’s mom.

“What?” he asks, sharp.

“Jesus,” she smiles. “I’m Carla West. Pearl’s mom. Is she here?” Carla asks, friendly.

“She doesn’t wanna see you,” Jesus insists, voice low.

“So, she is here,” Carla says, arms crossed. The act is already falling away. “I need to speak to her.”

“No. You need to get the hell out of here. You need to leave Pearl alone,” Jesus warns.

“Are you threatening me?” Carla scoffs. “You sure fooled everyone, didn’t you? You sure fooled my daughter. With the poor, missing kid act. You’re so traumatized, right? Well, I have news for you. We all go through tough stuff,” Carla insists, lowering her voice. “That doesn’t give you the right to treat my daughter the same way Chris Mitchell treated you.”

Jesus’s eyes flash. “Get out of here. Now.”

“Maybe you have Stockholm Syndrome, like all the news reports claimed. But you know what? That’s no excuse,” Carla rants quietly.

It’s how Carla keeps lowering her voice and glancing around as her true colors show that makes Jesus think of his own moms. It’s Francesca’s observation that Pearl’s mom, and theirs, are alike. And it’s the mention of the news. All of it, in combination, gives Jesus the idea.

“There’s a thing I’ve noticed about small towns being here,” Jesus tells Carla softly. “People talk.”

Carla’s nodding, “Absolutely. They do, and--”

“Gladys...Gary...Steve and Sue…” Jesus lists everyone he’s ever heard Pearl mention from this area, drawing a trail away from Pearl. Away from Levi. Jesus doesn’t want Carla knowing they are the ones he got all of his information from. “Oh, and that nice girl Jolly, at the post office.”

“They all agree with me!” Carla snaps. “A daughter should return her mother’s calls! Not change her number--”

“--And,” Jesus interrupts. “That means I know things. A lot of things. About you. Things that would really suck for you if they ever...I don’t know...went public?”

Carla crosses her arms. “You know nothing,” she spits, her full contempt showing.

“You think? What do you think?” he asks Dudley. “I mean, if you’re willing to risk...say...your local news finding out what local gossip is saying about you anyway? Keep harassing Pearl. Watch what happens.”

“Whoever you’re getting information from is full of shit. No one will believe you,” Carla says, still super pissed, and super quiet.

“Maybe they didn’t believe me Before,” Jesus challenges, looking Carla in the eye. “When I was just a kid with zero power. But I’m a man now. And I have a name. And, believe it or not? People believe the hell out of me when I speak. Because I tell the truth. Even when no one else will. When no one else can. So, I mean, if you wanna test that theory of yours, be my guest.”

“You hate the press. You’ve never done a single interview since you’ve been back. You wouldn’t start now. You’re terrified of cameras,” Carla sneers.

“Doesn’t have to be on camera,” Jesus shrugs. “The written word holds plenty of power. Social media. Your local paper? People read that all over here.”

Jesus sees it the minute he has her. The way fear flickers in Carla’s eyes. How instead of stepping back, she steps forward - toward him - a threat on her lips:

“You wouldn’t…” she laughs, mocking.

Dudley moves in front of Jesus, growling.

“You ever harass Pearl at home? You ever intimidate Levi in town? You do anything to bother them at all...and everything I know about you? Is gonna become everything everyone knows about you. If you see either one of them in town, you’d better walk the other way. Or it’s out.” Jesus assures, taking his own step toward Carla.

“You know what? Fine. I’m done with getting the middle finger from my daughter. I’m done. Keep your little expose to yourself. Pearl doesn’t have a mother anymore. And she can thank you for it,” Carla says, walking quickly down the steps. She turns in the driveway, and calls, “And if I never see Levi again, it’ll be too soon.”

“Hey!” Jesus calls, remembering something. “Key!”

“What?” Carla asks, exasperated.

“The key to Pearl’s cabin. If you’re serious? I want it.” Jesus insists.

Something is pelted at him and Jesus flinches. It lands several feet short, in the grass. Sends Dudley out to retrieve it. It’s a single key on a stretchy band that can be worn around a wrist.

Dudley brings it back. Drops it in Jesus’s hand.

“Thanks, Dudley,” Jesus says, scratching his head.

Jesus stays at the door, watching until she gets in her car and drives out of sight out on the main road. Then, he closes it. Leans against it. Locks every single lock.

Then he goes to the bedroom door and knocks, an all clear.

Jesus is glad to find it closed.

Pearl opens it, worried. “Are you okay?” she asks.

“Yeah. She’s gone. She’s not gonna bother you guys again,” Jesus reassures.

Francesca butts in, beside Pearl. “Levi’s sick in the bathroom. He locked the door.”

“Well, give him space, all right?” Jesus offers. “Let’s all take it easy. Or keep busy. Whatever we need to do, you know, for self care. I gotta get away from this bedroom door for self care,” he tells Dudley.

Jesus is just a little shocked when Pearl follows him out to the living room. “Seriously. What did you say to her?” she asks, perching on the edge of the coffee table.

“Just threatened her with what I figure is her worst fear…” Jesus shrugs.

“Rats?” Pearl exclaims, her eyes wide.

An unexpected laugh bubbles out of Jesus. “No. I mean, I’ve heard Fran say how your mom’s like ours. And our moms’ worst fear is anyone else finding out what they consider private family business. Judging from your mom’s reaction, I was right.”

“You threatened to...what?”

“Go public with what I know about her,” Jesus says, matter of fact.

Pearl’s eyes get big. “Jesus, you promised Levi. You promised me. The Avoiders code of conduct. Was that all a lie?” she asks, devastation evident in her voice.

“Pearl. No,” Jesus explains calmly. “What I told your mom was a risk. A calculated one. I would never out your stuff. Or Levi’s stuff. I threatened to tell what I knew because - with people like her? - their reputation is the most important thing. I knew she’d agree to leave you and Levi alone if her reputation was threatened by the right person.”

“You manipulated her,” Pearl comments, breathless.

Jesus shrugs. “I had four and a half years living around a massive manipulator with a giant ego. I know how to deal with them.”

“Thank you,” Pearl nods, wiping her eyes with shaking hands. “God, thank you.”

“Jesus?” Francesca interrupts. “Levi doesn’t wanna come out of the bathroom ‘cause the thinks Pearl’s mom is really still here.”

“Okay. Thanks for telling me, buddy,” Jesus says. He hopes that soon, the little lurch his insides do when he hears Francesca talk will not be a thing.

Jesus clicks Levi’s name on Messenger, and the video chat option.

In seconds, Levi’s face is there. Almost a twin of Pearl’s. Pale. Devastated. Shaken. His eyes look haunted.

“She’s really gone,” Jesus reassures simply. “You don’t have to stay in there. Come out here with us. Please.”

In response, the screen goes dark. Levi ends the call. But minutes later, Jesus hears the door open. Levi, Mariana and Francesca all venture out together. Levi, casting nervous glances.

“She’s not gonna bother you guys again. If she sees you in town, Levi? She’s gonna walk the other way. And…” Jesus reaches in his pocket. Withdraws Carla’s key. “I got this from her.”

Pearl’s mouth drops open.

“She just gave it to you?” Levi gasps. “‘Cause that’s it. That’s the key she used Wednesday and today…”

“Here,” Jesus offers it to Pearl.

“Levi, will you unclip it?” Pearl asks.

(Jesus doesn’t miss how Pearl didn’t ask him to do it. Is glad that even after all this, she remembers he’s dealing with his own trigger, too.)

Levi unclips the key from the stretchy blue band.

Pearl tosses him something else, encouraging him to clip the key to it, and taking the blue band for herself.

“A cow keychain?” Levi asks, still nervous.

“He’s a stress cow,” Pearl says, like this should be obvious. “You put your key on him and then you can squeeze him whenever you’re nervous.”

“Wait. My key?” Levi asks, incredulous.

“Well, you live there, too. For the last six months I’ve been saying I’ll get you a key and I still haven’t done it. Now it’s even better. You have one. She doesn’t.” Pearl offers a sad smile.

“She’s not coming back to scare us anymore, is she?” Francesca asks.

“No, she’s not. And I’m very sorry she did that,” Pearl says. Jesus can see her shudder a little. “Ugh, I hate that she was inside the cabin for so long. I feel like I have to go next door and disinfect everything…”

“What if she found, like, personal stuff?” Levi asks. “If she looked through and found...I don’t know...something…”

Jesus doesn’t know why, but Levi telling him about the phone he had as a third grader flashes through Jesus’s mind. The one with the video Carla took of him. Jesus casts Levi a sympathetic look. Wishes he had thought to make her turn over anything she had taken from Pearl’s cabin.

“We can walk next door together. You can double check. Make sure she didn’t take anything,” Pearl offers.

“We’ll come with you for girl power,” Francesca offers, nodding at Dominique, who has just joined them as well.

When they’re gone, Mariana sits on the couch with Jesus. He’s waiting anxiously, having sent a question mark to Levi, hoping he’ll find all his stuff still there, including the old phone.

Levi finally sends a thumbs up. And Jesus feels like he can breathe.

“I’ve been meaning to ask...or...I guess not ask...but...check in. If you wanna tell me anything…” Mariana hedges. Jesus can tell she’s struggling to make sure she doesn’t ask him any questions.

“Triggered,” he offers.

“Yeah?” she asks, sad for him. “But you handled Peanut Butter Cookie like a boss, though,” she says, proud.

“Yeah, well, it’s family. Hell, if I’m gonna let some… If I’m gonna let her hurt our family.”

“I’m protecting you, okay? Always,” Mariana tells Jesus seriously.

“Yeah…” Jesus manages, letting out a shaky sigh of his own. “Okay.”

#fic: somewhere inside

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avidfanficwriter · 7 years

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Rollins Vs. Amaro. (Chapter 1)

Characters: Amanda Rollins. Nick Amaro.

Rating: M.

Summary:

Warnings: Talk of abuse. Drinking. Anger. (more to come)

Authors Note: Takes place during the episode Spousal Privilege. Mainly after/During Nick and Amanda’s encounter at the bar which inspired me. (was posted on Fanfic but i lost rest of the story so, I’m reposting here technically)

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3.

Chapter One: Drunken Fights.

Amanda had got at the bar earlier than Nick did, an hour before they were even suppose to met. Drink after drink, she ordered and drank down. By the time Nick arrived, she had a buzz and wasn’t anywhere close to stopping. He walked over to her, smiling; no longer dressed in his suit but now a pair of jeans and a T-shirt with a brown jacket. If she hadn’t of already been drinking, she would have been frustrated that he was late but instead took another long swig of her drink.

“I started without you.” She said as he approached her eye sight, sitting on the stool next to her.

“Went to the gym first.” Was all he said ordering a drink for himself.

He fibbed. He wasn’t at the gym, in fact the last twenty-some times he’d used that excuse it was nothing more than an excuse. Most of the time, he was drowning himself in alcohol or dialing Maria’s phone number begging for her to talk to him. This time he was mentally yelling at himself for screwing up his relationship with Maria and now loosing his daughter. This case wasn’t helping, seeing Paula and A.J. having issues not exactly the same as he was in but they also couldn’t fix them, the only way he found how was the hit Paula. Nick could never allow himself to do that, no matter the problems he and Maria had. He would never lay his hands on her, not even in a joking manner. He wasn’t that man. His marriage was hanging off an edge of a cliff, Maria didn’t want to talk anymore, she didn’t want to see him; she wanted to leave. He didn’t blame her, he allowed it to happen. When he was finally able to talk, she was leaving.

“You okay?” Amanda asked. “That was rough.”

“Well, Calhouns just doing his job.”

“Yeah, but she had no right to go after you like that.” Amanda said taking another sip of her drink then scoffing. “She’s got a point though.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled, trying to hide his confusion. “Yeah, what point is that?”

“That it’s a private---private manner...” Amanda was trying to composure herself, to pass off that she was sober but she looked anything but. The blonde resembled a kid who had just found alcohol, over indulging their selves in it. “between Paula Martin and her husband. I just think we’re over reaching.”

Nick sits up straight, “Amanda, he hit her. End of story.” He couldn’t believe he was having to stress that point to Amanda of all people. He knew he shouldn’t have to, any sane person on this earth would feel the same but her, being an Special victims detective made it worse. She had a job to fight for the victims not the bully.

“So, we get to decide what’s best for her? That’s infantilizing. That’s” She scoffs again. “that’s making her the victim all over again.” Amanda couldn’t help but chuckle.

Nick looked at her, in disbelief. “Take it easy.”

Amanda did the opposite. “You counting my drinks now?” She accused in a annoyed tone. Nick clenched his jaw at Amanda, watching her stare at him in her drunken glaze. “Saint Nick? Right? Savior of damaged women.” She said leaning closer to him.

“Stop.” Nick said in a loud tone. “Look, all I’m saying is: no man has the right to hit a woman.”

“That’s right. That’s right.” Amanda agreed. “But some of us, don’t need to be saved. Okay? Like you married a woman who didn’t. Right? Maria?” She chuckles, proud of herself. “I saw the way she went after you in the squad--”

“I never laid a hand on Maria.” He interrupts her, angered.

She continues egging him on. “Yeah, but you never wanted too?” Not at all?” She asks leaning closer, she not even in her chair anymore, now standing on her own two feet trying to get right into his face. “She got to you.” A wicked smile appears on her face. “She still gets to you.” She pushes him, her hand colliding with his shoulder and shoving him away.

“Right.” Nick agrees, trying to turn his attention back to this drink.

“Huh, that doesn’t get to you?”

“No.”

She pushes him once again, harder this time. “Come on. That wouldn’t get to you?”

“No.” ‘

‘Really? How about that?” She speaks quicker now, pushing him harder and harder. Trying desperately to prove her point. “Come on, Nick, I know it does.”

“Are you jealous of Maria?” Is that whats happening now?” He asks in both annoyance and anger, hoping that just maybe this would stop her pathetic attempt to anger him further.

It’s her turn to look at him in disbelief. “Really? That’s where you’re going with this?” She asks.

Nick’s plan failed, miserably. ‘Then what are we talking about here?” He asks.

“You! Nick!” She says pushing him again. Harder, now grabbing the front of his shirt, tightening her grip around the cotton material. “No, no, no, Just drop the rock. No, we’ve just all seen you loose it. The whole squad room heard you yelling at your wife on the phone.” She continues pushing him, pulling him so he has no choice but to look at her in the eyes. “Listen, Paula Martin has the right to choose whether she presses charges or not. Okay? Because some of us don’t want to be victims.” She hit him this time, forcefully colliding her hand with his chest.

“Hey!” He shouts. Rising to his feet so quickly, he kicks his chair back. He walks right in front of her, towering of her. His breathe quickens and he steps back, being a better man than she was expecting to get. He hits his drink, causing it to shatter on the floor. He wanted to yell at her but the last thing he was going to do was give her exactly what she wanted. He was done.

“Alright, I’m gonna do what A.J. Martin should have done” He pulls his wallet out, slamming money on the counter, “walk away.” He gives her one last look, grabbing her drink before walking away. All eyes are on Amanda know, the drunken blonde causing a scene in the bar.

Amanda resumed her seat at the bar, chuckling with amusement. “They’re all alike! They think they can tell us what to do. Order us around and all because of that thing they have in their pants.” She chuckles again.

It wasn’t long before the bartender cut her off, telling her to get home. She argued as expected, going on about how she was a police officer and deserved respect. Unfortunately for Amanda, she was escorted out of the bar and told to come back when she could behave herself. The left her tab open as a courtesy to police officers but took her badge number in case she decided to skip paying it off.

She argued and kicked the whole way out, creating even more of a scene before tossing her jacket over her shoulder and stumbling down the road. She’d taken her hair out of the ponytail, letting her blonde hair flow in the slight breeze.

Amanda was drunk, far to drunk to think right and even worse could barely navigate where she was. Which helped stem her next bad decision. She pulled her cell phone out, after getting into a fight with her pocket. Dialed Nick’s number and held it to her ear.

He didn’t answer. It went straight it voicemail and he rant began. “Hey…. Nick, Nicky, nick.” She said in a slurred voice. “You… You are a good one, you know. Maria.. Maria, she doesn’t deserve you, I know that. Yo–you know that. Maybe you shouldn’t hit her but you should tell her you deserve better, you know? Tha–that you are better.” the sound of a car honking take her voice away from the phone as she shouts at it. “I’m on the phone asshole!” she tosses an arm up in the air angered. “But yeah… ” she says turning her attention back to the phone. “Just say it. Like you mean it. It’ll be fun, Nicky.” she takes the phone from her ear, glancing at the screen, ending the call before she spots another bar.

It was one thing she loved about New York, there was always a bar no matter where you were.

Nick’s eyes slowly fluttered open to the sound of a television in low, his head was pounding and his eyes were dry. Slowly, he sat up, letting the blanket fall from his chest when he noticed Maison was sitting in front of him. She was seated directly in front of his legs, a coffee mug in her hand and her eyes starring at the television paying no attention to him.

He groaned as fully sat up, “He’s alive.” Maison shouted with glee as she finally turned to face him.

Maison had a peculiar sense of humor and most of the time, it came out at the worst moments. They’d meet when she was just a rookie, had two weeks experience on the job when she stumbled upon a crime scene that had multiple illegal drugs and weapons. She was tiny but tall a good 5'7" with chocolate hair and a pair of light brown eyes. She was native to Staten Island but moved to The Bronx when she was eighteen. She joked at the scene in perfect ear shot of nick, “Maybe I should bag me up a few of these drugs for the headache, my paperwork is gonna give me.” Nick jokingly responding: “The dealer would give you hell.” It was a start of a beautiful friendship, with time she’d became a family member. “Aunt Maison.” Who came bearing gifts to make Maria and Nick miserable. As well as an outlet for Nick, when he and his wife fought, Maison would sit along side him listening as he went on and on about their problems. Usually within a few hours, he’d make his way back home to apologizes, coming to the conclusion he was in the wrong and things would be better until next time.

The most recent time, he came out drinking, a pained look on his face as he told the story of his wife cheating on him. Maison denied it, knowing with absolute positivity that she wouldn’t do that Nick or Zara. Only it didnt end there, Nick went full recon, spying on her and ultimately ruining his relationship for good. Rather than taking him home after their night of drinking, she was taking him to a hotel room and making him hand over his gun and go to bed. He was a mess. Which is how he wound up living with her, in her tiny two bedroom apartment. It’d been six months since he officially moved out of his home and into hers, boxes still sat in her living room and the spare bedroom.

Nick put his hand to his head. “How long have you been awake?”

Maison raised her hand, glancing at her watch. “Two, three hours.” She says then pointing her hand at the end table behind Nick. “There’s water and a aspirin on the table for you.”

Nick rubbed his face, breathing deeply and slowly started pulling his tie off. He was a miserable mess and overwhelmed by the fact that he didnt accident my choke to death in his sleep.

“Big night?” She asks, watching him drink the water.

“No.” He nods.

“Maria?” She asks focusing her attention back to the TV.

“Amanda.”

Slowly, she shifts her gaze back to him, confused. “The blonde chick?”

“Yeah.”

Maison chuckles, “Doing real great with the women in your life.” She smiles, taking a sip of her coffee. “What’d you fight about?”

“I think she wanted me… to hit her.” Nick says confused. He wasn’t sure if that was what Amanda was trying to do or if she was simply just angry. It could have been both for all he knew.

“Wait? She wanted you to hit her?” Maison chokes out, blinkly quickly.

“I-I dont know.” He says shaking his head.

“So?”

“What? Did I? Is that what you’re asking?” Nick raises his voice at her, puffing out his chest. “No, I didn’t.”

“That’s not what I was asking and you know that.” Maison objects annoyed. She puts her mug onto the coffee table. “So you what decided to drink besidehe while she tried to frame you for abuse?”

Nick cocks his head at her, “No, I left Amanda and went to another bar.”

Maison nods. The pair sat in silence, Maison returning her attention to the news and Nick laying back down and starring at the ceiling. Maison had only meet Amanda and the gang once or twice around the time Nick has first transferred to SVU. Right off the bat, Maison could tell Amanda was trouble and because Nick was the sweet, far to caring guy that he was he didn't see it.

It was Nick’s first month at the new precinct, he sat at his desk across from Olivia’s, starring at the pile of paperwork. Fin was slowly making his way to Nick’s desk.

“Hey, newbie. What do you say you join us for some drinks?” Nick meet Fin’s eyes and suddenly realized everyone else’s eyes where also on them as well.

“I.. Uh… I appreciate the offer but I’ve got plans with a friend.”

“Bring ‘em.”

“I dont know, she’s homicide. My old squad didnt want anyone who wasn’t narcotics around.” He says, shrugging his shoulder.s

Fin who was now sitting on Nick’s desk, chuckles looking over at his partner, John. “As long as she ain’t the rat squad, she’s alright in my book.” He then glances at his desk, starring at the paperwork he had yet to touch. “But compared to my paperowkr I got, I’ll take your homicide friend and the rat squad any day.”

Nick and Maison arrived at the bar, quickly ordering their drinks and heading over the group of svu detectives. Olivia was the first to introduce herself to the young detective, shortly after Fin and John followed.

“I thought Amanda was coming.” Nick said looking around.

“Running late.” Fin said smiling The detectives all squashed together at a table, sharing the horror stories of past cases mostly at the fault of Fin and Maison. The two trying to top one another. Half an hour later, Amanda walked through the door, smiling as she approached the table. It wasn’t a pretty scene, her hair was a mess, eyes glazed and kept blinking it was uncomfortable yet no one said a thing, Nick however could tell that Maison was starting too and casually stepped on her foot to prevent her from. She gritted her teeth, elbowing Nick in his side while the conversations continued.

As the hours ticked by the detectives made their way home, leaving Nick, Maison and Amanda sitting at a table together trying to make small talk. Maison would have opted to leave shortly after Fin did but Nick was her ride and if she’d taken a taxi, he would have been tailing her, so Maison sat leaning on the wall as she played with her drink watching Amanda pull her lower lip into her mouth. She was flirting… With Nick. Openly flirting. A small smile, a chuckle, a casual hand rested on his bicep and some corny comment asking if he’d been working out. It was pathetic. Nick knew what was going on, he wasn’t furthering it but he also wasn’t putting a stop to it.

“Hey, Nick. Don’t you think it’s time to head home? Zara’s probably not asleep yet, huh?” Maison asks, not actually wanting to go home but wanting to escape the drunken escapade of Amanda Rollins.

“God, what are you his mother?” Amanda retorted, chuckling.

Maison smiled, leaning her arms on the table. “No, just a detective that knows how to handle their liquor.”

“Sure, it’s not Nick you want to be able to handle?” Amanda remarked with a smirk.

Maison cocked her head with an annoyed expression on her face. “Excuse me?” She asked in a tone Nick knew far to well.

“Maison, you’re right. We should start heading home.” He said putting his arm on her shoulder trying to keep her in her seat. “Amanda, this was fun but I’ve got to get home to Zara.”

“Nick, come on. Dont listen to her.” She whined, trying to grab his arm.

“Maison, let’s go.” He said, forcefully pulling Maison out of the chair, making her follow him.

Inside of the car, Nick looked at Maison disapprovingly, mimicking an expression he’d give his own daughter. “How the hell is she a detective?” Maison asked avoiding his gaze.

“She’s a good cop, Maise.” Nick argued.

“Yeah, good at making cops look bad.” Nick didn’t respond.

The memory wasn’t a pleasant one for either of them, Maison nearly ripped Amanda’s head off and Amanda was trying to sleep with him. “I told you something was off about that girl.” She said finally breaking the silence and glancing over at him.

“She’s not off, she needs help.”

Maison stood up, grabbing her coffee. “Amado, you need help now. Drink your water and don’t sleep with her. You’ve got enough problems.” She said leaving the living room.

She disappeared down the hall and shortly after the sound of the shower starting proved she wasn’t planning on coming back at least for a while. He laid back down, checking his cell phone and saw he had five missed call from Olivia. Instead of calling her back, he shut off his phone. He wasn’t going to work today, not with a hangover and not after what happened with Amanda. Instead he was going to lay down… until Maison kicked him off the couch and do nothing all day.

#Danny Pino #Kelli Giddish #Nick Amaro #Amanda Rollins #Spousal Privilege #SVU #Law and Order: Special Victims Unit #Special Victims Unit

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annashipper · 7 years

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V For Vendetta - Well, I read your questions...

V For Vendetta: And had a couple of minutes to kill so hear are my answers, Anna.

Anna: Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

V For Vendetta, it’s been such a long time you haven’t taken the time to send me a submission from another IP because I’d blocked you, I thought you’d stopped reading my blog. Glad to know you’re still a fan!

I’m truly touched! :D

Now, fair is fair, so I’m gonna post what you think passes as answers (even though you obviously don’t understand the first thing about photography and cameras, or makeup or how pictures drop into our laps, but that’s OK, I don’t expect you to know and understand anything about anything really).

Sorry dear, but when I said I wanted answers, I meant well-thought-out ones. Not what you think passes as snark. Nans don’t do snark well. Rethink your approach and try again ;o)

I’m putting your submission under a pagebreak because I can see you’re angry already and the thought of riling you up even more entertains me to no end!

Where is Pilo? - Playing in the grass just out of camera range? Being looked after by someone off to the side? How should I know - I wasn’t there and BTW neither were you so you can’t just say that Christopher (that’s right the boy does have a name!) doesn’t exist just because you don’t see him in either of these photos. And be careful Anna, not too long ago septics were all saying that Sophie wasn’t there because ONE pix was taken that didn’t include her and look what you have now?!?! Ta-da! Sophie and Ben so that little rant of the Septics backfired big time! Who knows, there may be more photos of all the family out there somewhere…

Can’t FrugalBatch afford to rent two babies for a family outing? - Non sequitur! You don’t know BC personally in any way so who are you to talk about what he can afford or not? And the question doesn’t make any sense either because he doesn’t “rent” his children! That is absurd! He is a parent and occasionally will be seen with them on outings. So moving on…

Who took the pics and how did the Nan who ended up posting them on Instagram come about them? A person in the park took the picture obviously! Either a pap or a private individual. The fan could have copied or attained it through the internet. What does that matter? No matter who took it or how it was attained , it doesn’t make it not real! It was obviously taken the same day and time that the icecream pix was taken and NONE of you were questioning that photo like you are freaking out about this one. The only difference - that one you all liked because there was no child or Sophie. This one you don’t like because it obviously contradicts your septic ideas, so now you want to question it up and down. My question right back at you is - how come NOW you want to know so much about the pix when before it was all right and no questions asked?

If the pics were taken with a medium sized zoom lens (and I assume they were, judging by the fact that they’re taken in low aperture as the depth of field of these is quite shallow and they’re too high def to be taken from too far away), how come neither Ben nor Weirdo noticed someone walking around them with a relatively bulky DSLR taking pictures of them and their little bundle of joy from different angles? You haven’t got a clue about what lens that pix was taken with! In fact I have to assume from your use of terms you know nothing about photography at all really! BTW DSLR are not (I repeat NOT) bulky. Many of them with completely professional aspects are very light and compact - do your research! And it is entirely possible to buy a 70 - 300 mm telephoto lens on a very compact camera that also has a sensitivity range from ISO 100-25600 to suit working in a variety of lighting conditions. With built in stabilizers there would be very little “shake” in the camera and it would be able to take very high quality pictures from a long distance. So it is entirely reasonable to think that someone might not notice the camera person around when they were shooting. Absolutely entirely believable. Your question in this regard is only designed to throw some kind of doubt where there isn’t any. More Septic BS made up to baffle those who swallow your crap without questioning it.

These were supposedly taken on the 12th of August. A day when we know Ben wasn’t working. Why was he wearing makeup for a stroll around the Heath with his wife and Rent-A-Pilo-2.0?Who says he is wearing makeup? You? Just because there is a shadow on his face? BTW, I don’t wear makeup very often and yet I have a discolouration on my neck that shows up on photographs.

Where (and who) is blue-shirt-man? The one who was walking beside Ben on the pic the Fail paid the rights for, but didn’t end up using? Wass he the one taking the “sneaky” pictures? The blue shirt man is off camera when these shots were taken. Just exactly the same as Sophie and Hal weren’t in the shots in the ice cream pix. And who he is isn’t important is it? You certainly didn’t care about his name before when you thought Sophie wasn’t around! I doubt he was taking the pictures dumbass! He obviously wasn’t - he was enjoying an ice cream and walking in the park. Yeah right - he walked away and decided to pull out a long range lens camera and take a shot of Sophie, Ben and Hal!!! But not when he was right beside them! Give your head a shake! That doesn’t make any sense - even to a septic!

Why weren’t these high def pics used in the Fail article instead of the stock picture of Sherlock they used after the ice cream scoffing pic was pulled? Well, it could be for a number of reasons (none of which have to do with any “fuckery” BTW!). Maybe the Fail wanted to use them in a later story? Maybe they couldn’t negotiate a price with the pap that was agreeable to both? Maybe… I don’t know! But just because the Fail used a stock photo instead of these pictures doesn’t mean at all that BC isn’t married to Sophie, that they don’t have 2 children and that they weren’t in Hampstead Heath on that day enjoying a family outing.

And as an ending thought… just because Septics don’t like that there are now clear, not blurry (except for the baby’s face), pictures of Benedict, Sophie and their youngest child together having a lovely time in the park, it doesn’t mean that these photos are fake or just PR.The Septics better get used to the fact that this sort of thing is going to be happening more and more as the children grow up (and who knows maybe even more kids in the future - wrap your minds around that!!!). He isn’t going to live his life dictated by the warped imaginings of the Septics. He already told you people what he thinks of your types - delusional, obsessive and scary! Move on and go try slagging some other celebrity… better yet just go outside and get some sunshine

#V for Vendetta anon

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canardroublard · 7 years

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Poco a poco

Fandom: Rogue One (featuring characters from the OT)

Pairings: Jyn/Cassian, background Chirrut/Baze and Han/Leia

Two-shot, first chapter: 8000 words. Second chapter is written and will be posted early next week.

ao3

University/Classical music AU. No wait, classical music isn’t that scary, come back! No knowledge of classical music is required to read, I promise. Slow burn UST, humour, and other good stuff are contained within.

Poco a poco (It.). By degrees; lit. little by little; as in, Rall. poco a poco.

The Student's Pronouncing Musical Dictionary, by Leon Aubry

Jyn, in her defense, is not exactly late for class.

She's just not very early. Music theory doesn't technically start for another (damn it she keeps forgetting to switch her watch to this new time zone which means it's off by...) three minutes. Three minutes to get to Theory 2100. Or at least to get to the room where she thinks Theory 2100 is being held. The Yavin School of Performing Arts had seemed much easier to navigate when she'd been on the new students tour yesterday. Also, who designed this school with so many bloody stairs? She's just rounding the corner to tackle the next set, feeling only slightly embarrassed by how much she's panting after the past three flights, when she bodily slams into someone and isn't that exactly what her day needed right now. For fuck's sake.

"Sorry, I'm late for theory," She says, hoisting herself off of the dark-haired man who is now crumpled against the wall, groaning slightly. She notices the case in his arms. "Oh shit, your violin -"

"Viola, actually," He says with the sigh of someone who knows he should give up trying to correct people on this issue but keeps on doing so out of pure bloody-mindedness. Grabbing her proffered hand to pull himself back up (wow, he's pretty tall), he continues. "It's fine. Theory 2100?"

"Yeah."

"You're going the wrong way. It's down a floor," He seems to take her in for the first time, frowning down at her slightly. "I'm going there now, you can follow me." She's only a teeny tiny bit distracted by the way his hair flops over his forehead when he turns away to start down the stairs.

"So, what are you?" He asks.

"Piano," Jyn says, falling into step beside him. The man's head bobs, nodding to himself as if she's just confirmed a hunch.

"No instrument with you, and most vocalists aren't so," He makes a circling gesture with the hand not holding his viola case, searching for a word. "Scrawny."

"Um, thanks?" Scrawny? Fortunately she's spared the pressure of further response when he pushes open a door and gestures brusquely for her to go in first. The small lecture hall is mostly full, with about thirty students sprawled in their seats, pulling tiredly at their Starbucks cups. 9 AM classes are hell. Jyn slides into the nearest available seat at the back, but her new acquaintance begins walking down to the front of the room.

"Ah, Mr. Andor," Says the professor in a tone of such condescension that Jyn can already definitively state that she does not like him. "Glad you could finally join us."

"Sorry Professor Draven," the man, whose name is apparently Mr. Andor, says. "Professor Îmwe wanted to discuss my repertoire for this year before classes started, and I had to help-" He stops then and turns, blinking, back to where Jyn has tried to settle in as inconspicuously as possible, staring up at her as if he's finally realized that he was too busy calling her scrawny to actually get her name (or give his, for that matter) like a polite human being. Before she can put him out of his misery, Draven interrupts.

"You have decided to grace us with your presence after all, Jyn Erso," The man scoffs. She wants to punch him in the dick. "I wasn't sure whether to trust the rumours." Before she can let loose a few choice words which would certainly have gotten her expelled on her very first day here, Draven's face wrinkles into a bulldoggish scowl.

"Both of you, take a syllabus. Don't be late again." He turns back to the board. "As I was just explaining to the students who showed up on time, this class will be focusing on musical analysis."

Goddammit.

Finding Bodhi in the canteen after class is such a relief that Jyn nearly cries. He gives her a bright (Bodhi is always so bright) smile and waves her over.

"Everyone keeps whispering and staring at me," She says, "I half expect someone to yell 'Pay five p. to see Jyn Erso, former child prodigy!' like I'm a circus freak."

Bodhi's face sinks. "Yeah, I know. Sorry. I didn't tell anyone, but one of the professors must have let it slip last week."

"Probably Draven. He's odious," She says and Bodhi has the nerve to snort at her.

"I thought you might not like him," He replies, gesturing around the dank, concrete room with his fork. "Most people don't."

"We're spending the entire semester just doing analysis! I hate analysis," Bodhi actually smiles at her outrage. She liked him so much better when they were young and he was scared of her because she was the daughter of Galen Erso, world famous violinist.

"Draven's tough. But he knows his stuff and he wants everyone to succeed," Chewing thoughtfully, he adds, "Even if he doesn't show it."

Bodhi's ability to see the good in everyone is positively infuriating sometimes. He is also patient, to his credit, and lets her launch into a long rant, nodding and making appropriate noises of sympathy. She loves this about him. When she begins to run out of steam he prods her to eat. "You'll need to keep your strength up. You've got your private lesson after this, right?"

"Yes, assuming I don't get lost trying to get to this one too."

Bodhi's assurances that Professor Malbus is much more understanding are a small comfort. "He's okay, you'll be fine. How'd you find theory?"

"Some violist. Andor. I bumped into him on the way to class." She doesn't need to tell Bodhi the details of how literal the bumping was.

"Oh, so you've met Cassian?"

"Yep. He called me scrawny. Nice guy."

Bodhi just shakes his head. Her phone chirps.

Incoming call from JYN DON'T ANSWER THIS

She thumbs the decline call button while Bodhi continues.

"He is nice, Jyn. And you are scrawny."

She may not know anyone at Bodhi's start of semester party, but there's lots of beer and when you really think about it, beer can be a pretty good friend so it's really almost the same thing as actually knowing people. And yeah, so maybe she's lurking in the corner like a total loser, but at least she's managed to be the only woman in the room who's successfully avoided being hit on by God's Gift to Music, Han Solo. Why are all the trumpet players she knows such overconfident tossers?

The tiny flat is packed with music students celebrating the fact that classes inexplicably began on a Friday this year. She scans the room to see if Bodhi is free enough that she can go harass him in lieu of meeting new people. Bodhi, who is just sickeningly nice sometimes, well, all the time, has instead taken pity on the blond guy who was in her tour group with his twin sister. Luke something? All she remembers is that he's an oboist and his sister plays horn, and Jyn remembers the latter fact only because the woman's twisty side-bun hairdo looks like she has two French horns (minus the bells) stuck onto her head. It's nice when people make things easy to remember.

"You are the Jyn Erso," Says a voice unnervingly close to her ear. She jumps slightly and glances around to discover a towering blond man who is staring owlishly at her. Why does she always attract the weirdos at parties?

"You are the reason Cassian was late for Theory 2100."

Apparently she's meant to say something now? "Yeah. I mean, he was late anyways," She corrects, feeling suddenly defensive. This guy just keeps staring at her like she's some exotic species of insect that he might want to pin to a board and study if he were motivated enough to do so, but he can't be bothered so he's about to squash her instead out of vaguely malicious indifference and what the fuck is with the male students of this school? God.

"No, he was not," He says primly. Good lord, she's not even going to make it through her first day here without starting a fight. Bodhi won't be surprised. "Cassian is a conscientious student. If you had not assaulted him and then solicited his assistance, he would not have been late."

Jyn wonders if she could jump high enough from a standstill to just start throttling him now or if she'd have to ask him to crouch down first.

"Hey, listen, you knob, he said-"

"Kay, where have you been?" A hand parts the wall of people boxing in her corner and of course it's Cassian because the universe hates her and will not let her alone long enough to get properly soused while sulking in a corner like the well-adjusted adult that she is.

"I have been getting to know" (Oh, that's what this is?) "Jyn Erso, the women whom you spent at least thirty percent of our lunch break talking about."

Cassian actually flushes at that. She can see it start at his cheeks and disappear into the neck of his t-shirt and she cannot contain the grin that overtakes her while he tries to verbally dodge that particularly interesting pronouncement.

"I wasn't - it wasn't that much!" He clears his throat slightly. "Kay, Threepio wants to talk to you about tone clusters. He's thinking of using them in his next piece, the one he's writing for his recital." And thank God, that actually works, sending Kay off grousing about how he is about to save Threepio from making a horrible mistake. "Sorry about him," Cassian says. "He means well. He's John Kay, by the way. Everyone just calls him Kay though."

"He's studying composition?"

"Yes."

"Well, that explains," She uses her free hand to indicate broadly the direction in which Kay had just left, "Everything. Does no-one around here remember how to introduce themselves?" She grumbles and is rewarded when Cassian ducks his head awkwardly.

"Han seems to have it figured out,"' He says, gesturing over to where the lanky man is indeed making the acquaintance of yet another pretty girl. She can't tell for certain from across the room but it looks like what's-her-name, Horn Buns. Luke's sister. Cassian interrupts her thoughts before she can make a definitive identification. "Should we try again?" and he's gazing down at her with kind brown eyes that peek out from under his fringe of hair (it looks so soft) and pulling her hand into his gentle, warm grasp and oh shit she is in trouble.

"Cassian Andor." He looks positively miraculous when he grins at her.

Shit shit shit.

The thing Jyn likes most about Professor Malbus, Baze, as he insists she call him, is that he is one of the few professors she's had who is able to look past what a complete disaster her life is at the moment and just focus on music. He's not one for small talk, doesn't scold her too much for being late, and has also had absolutely zero comment on her semi-famous upbringing. They just talk music and that is something she can do for days.

"The left hand in measure twenty-eight sounds much better this week," He says, squinting at her score slightly from his amusingly homey armchair. The entire office looks like it was designed by an extremely aged man who was mostly concerned with being warm enough; big armchair, throw blankets, a space heater tucked under his tiny desk. It's delightful. "You need to get a better edition of the score, I don't know how you read this. It's Chopin, you know well enough to get the Paderewski."

She winces. He's got her there.

"Sorry, Baze. The Paderewski edition is quite expensive and when I bought this book..." She's not poor per se, but admitting that she couldn't scrape up enough money to buy anything better than the cheapest edition of Chopin's nocturnes still feels vaguely like she's failed at something. And no way in hell would she have crawled back to Saw or her father to ask for the money. He cuts off her excuses with a raised hand.

"It's fine." He absently nudges his round glasses up the bridge of his nose. "You can obviously read all of the notes well enough, everything sounds correct. Mind the dynamics in measure forty-five, though." His notes about her right hand fingering during the same measure are interrupted by a few knocks at the door, which is opened after Baze grunts something that sounds like "hmm?" The puckish face of the string professor, Chirrut Îmwe, pokes around the door frame.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"If I said yes, would you go away?" Baze asks with a huff.

"No, but I would feel bad about staying," Chirrut says, stepping into the room with a grin. "Hello Jyn," He greets her. She's not entirely sure what his vision is like, but after a couple weeks of Chirrut roaming the halls with his white cane, yet identifying her before she speaks, her best guess is that he has at least some functional sight. "Have you found an ensemble partner yet?"

"I'm doing the Britten cello sonata with Bodhi." She says, kicking herself as soon as she finishes the sentence because Chirrut is Bodhi's teacher for God's sake, he knows that already. "Um, but haven't found anyone for the second ensemble, no." Which is something she should probably fix. She'd been talking about teaming up with Leia but then the horn player ended up doing orchestra and also forming what Jyn understands to be an incredibly argumentative quartet with Han, Luke, and Chewie. So Leia was not an option anymore.

Chirrut smiles in Baze's direction, then, and Jyn's teacher lets out a little grunt. "Chirrut, stop pestering my students. The department does give you a budget for accompanists." It's rather sweet of Baze to stick up for her considering that her teacher had been prodding her to hurry up and find a second ensemble for at least the past week.

"Aren't they called 'collaborative pianists' now?" Chirrut says wryly. "Why hire someone when Jyn needs the ensemble credit as much as Cassian does?"

"Cassian?" She says. Oh, hell no. She's been doing a great job of avoiding Cassian and his annoyingly perfect face and the way he makes her stomach feel all fluttery whenever he smiles. Her history with personal relationships in general has been nothing short of a train wreck and romance has been no better; she cannot deal with whatever that is right now. She is barely holding her life together as it is. Conveniently enough it turns out that theory is the only class they have together this semester and with Cassian spending all of his free time with Kay it's been easy to carry on pretending that he doesn't really exist. Suits her fine.

"He's still looking for someone to do Brahms' second viola sonata," Chirrut says after a brief pause. "The piano part would suit you, Jyn." Baze is now looking at her appraisingly over the top of his glasses.

"It would be a good fit to round out your rep. Unless you have an alternate suggestion?"

Bugger. Well, looks like she's going to be dealing with whatever that is a lot more from now on.

Cassian, it would seem, is no more enthusiastic about their arrangement than she was. She's not sure whether to feel relieved or offended by that. He more or less throws the piano score at her while rushing out of theory class, not even making eye contact, and texts her a perfunctory "7 pm thurs?" to arrange a practice time. Well, fine.

She wanders down to the practice rooms at 6:45, actually early for once in her life. It's mostly thanks to Bodhi's constant nagging today, but Jyn will still happily take the credit. Leia is practicing her Mozart horn concerto in the first closet-like room on her right, fighting with a fiddly scale passage. Walking a few doors further she can hear an oboist, possibly Luke, working on some piece she can't identify. Jyn turns the hall corner and smiles when she sees that practice room sixteen, the only one with a grand piano, is unoccupied. Clearly it's her lucky day. The magnificent old Bösendorfer sits in the dark room, hunkering awkwardly in the tiny space which offers room for little else apart from the monster piano, a dented music stand into which someone has scratched the word 'butts', and a plastic chair. The piano's humidifier unit winks coyly at her from where it snuggles against the underside of the keyboard, green light confirming that the instrument is being kept happy. Jyn mentally greets the piano with a hello, old girl as she sits on the wooden bench.

Her phone chirps when she turns it back on, intending to see if Baze has emailed her about her rep for the next recital.

1 missed call from JYN DON'T ANSWER THIS

1 new voicemail

Not such a lucky day after all. Bollocks. She dismisses the notifications and deletes the voicemail before stuffing her phone back into her bag and turning back to the keyboard.

Do not think about him. Her heart is racing, readying her for a fight that she is definitely not having tonight. As she's always done, she turns to music to calm her anger.

Midway through Jyn's first set of warmup scales, Cassian bustles into the room, throwing his coat onto the chair and looking nearly as disheveled as Jyn normally feels. There are dark circles beneath his eyes and he appears even less shaven than usual. Jyn chooses to helpfully point this out to him.

"You look like shit." Okay, possibly not the best way to deal with him at the moment. No-one has ever accused Jyn of being good with people.

Cassian rolls his eyes at her and retrieves the score from his bag with what appears to be far more force than should be required. "Have you practiced at all, or are you too busy getting lost?"

That clearly does not merit a response. Learning the finer details of whatever stick has lodged itself up Cassian's behind is something she has neither the patience nor interpersonal skills to pursue. She'd almost thought that doing this piece with Cassian might not be so bad after all, but if he's going to spend the entire semester being a miserable sod she will regret this. He sighs then, flicking his gaze briefly in her direction before turning back to his viola case, tightening the bow strings with a few precise swivels of his wrist.

"Sorry," He mumbles. "It's been a long day." God, Jyn has had days like that. She can forgive him being a bit snippy with her now.

Hell, she's had years like that.

"Need an A?" She offers.

He nods before tucking his viola under his chin and beginning for the comforting ritual of tuning. After the standard twisting of knobs and frowning, he finishes by checking his work with three quick bow strokes that cause the viola's strings to harmonize in perfect pairs. Meeting her gaze, he stands, statuesque, bow-arm held slightly aloft, patiently awaiting her count in.

"One, two, three, four."

It's probably a good thing that the first line of the piano part is relatively simple because she barely prevents herself from stopping and gaping at Cassian when he starts playing. She's accompanied people before; played with not merely good but exceptionally talented musicians whom she knew through Saw; actual professionals who had made it past the ever-tightening gauntlet of critique to become some of the rare few on the planet who could be full-time performers because people would pay good money to hear them play. So the experience of sharing good music with people is nothing new. And yet...

Cassian is extraordinary. The first high note of the piece rings from his viola, delicate, bell-like, for a moment before he dips softly to the note below, then above, then does a little turn back downwards. He leans sumptuously into the next lingering note, making it warble with a rich vibrato, then deftly slips down again to coax the low D through a breathless sigh. The effect of his playing sparks through her like electricity.

She'd known he was handsome ever since their re-acquaintance at Bodhi's party, but this?

She dares to peek up at him. His eyes are half-hooded, lips pursed, caught in the thrall of the music. Her eyes are drawn to the slender fingers of his left hand, fluttering back and forth in a rapid vibrato against the finger board, balanced firmly between his thumb and the tip of his pinkie.

This is a whole different level of attraction. Her stomach swoops as he gracefully steps back up by broken octaves. In her distraction she completely botches the simple B-Flat seventh chord that had presented no problems when she was practicing this piece on her own. Crap. She fixes her gaze on the score in front of her, manages to correctly land the next set of chords, get the next couple measures out. The piece builds to a natural pause and she slows ever so slightly in anticipation, giving it the faintest hint of rubato, and to her amazement Cassian matches her tempo change perfectly, drawing out the melody with tender sensuality.

She is screwed.

Knowing that the first genuinely tricky bit of the piece is rapidly approaching for her, and messing up this solo would be nothing short of completely embarrassing, she tries her best to let Cassian's playing fade into the background and focus on her own part. She even manages to do a decent job on the sweet little left hand melody that comes next. The piece swells in crescendo to a loud forte which she punctuates with a quick staccato hit, then she launches into the short, punchy piano solo, trying to lend it as much vigour as she can muster while still hitting all of the difficult octave spans correctly. Apart from misplaying one of the big chords it goes well and she does her best to imbue the burst of piano with plenty of fire. Cassian rejoins the action with a bright, high note as she steps both of her hands towards each other with the quick set of broken chords.

They work through the first few pages of the piece with a tolerable amount of mistakes for a first run-through until they hit a section with is tricky for both instruments and simultaneously self-destruct. She bursts out laughing when they both stop, giddy and thrumming with the pure joy of music.

"You're pretty good!" Cassian says warmly. She glances up at him. He's looking down at her, grinning, eyes sparkling, viola dangling in hand. God, he's gorgeous.

"Yeah, not bad yourself!" She says in the understatement of the century.

"Hi Jyn, it's me. Look, I know you don't want to talk, but please call Saw back at least? He's worried enough about you to actually call me, that should tell you just how concerned he is. I'm going to be in town for a concert, um, sometime in December. Doing some Handel and Telemann. You know me, I always go for baroque. Like 'broke'? Yeah, that was bad, your mother never laughed at that one either. Anyways, um, so I know this is a work trip, but I would have come sooner if I thought you wanted to see me. I would love to catch up while I'm there, even just a brunch. Please, Stardust. Oh, and say hi to Bodhi for me."

She knows it's a mistake every time she does it, but she seriously needs to stop listening to her father's messages. It just makes her angry. If he had wanted to be a part of her life, he should have made an effort back when it was just the two of them, before she ended up living with Saw by default because at least he was around more often than a couple nights a week. Maybe things could be better now that he's stopped spending all of his time holed up in some studio making weird post-tonal music with Krennic, but the years of sitting at the window waiting for someone who was not coming home still rankle.

"Everything okay?" Bodhi asks, glancing at her with a creased brow from where he sits on the other couch in the student lounge. He's been chewing his pencil again, despite trying to kick the habit for good this year. When Jyn stares pointedly at the mangled piece of stationery Bodhi spits it out guiltily and starts spinning it between his long fingers instead. "What do you think about Stockhausen's process music? For my history paper?"

"Yeah, that could work. The early choral stuff?" Bodhi hums in confirmation. Jyn looks down, away from him. "My dad says hi."

She's staring at her phone and doesn't see Bodhi's reaction to this, but she can just sense him still for a moment.

"Thanks," He pauses. "How is your dad?"

Apart from being a total bastard?

"He's fine. He's coming here for a concert. In December." Jyn manages to look back up at Bodhi now and that was a mistake. He's staring at her like she's an overfull balloon that could pop at any second. Damn. "It's okay, Bodhi," Christ, he needs to stop looking at her like that. "He wants to get brunch. That'll be fun, right? You're doing it again." Bodhi retracts the pencil from his lips with a frustrated growl, tapping it against his thigh. "I'm fine, I swear. If he actually shows up I'll just say I'm too busy with exams."

"Jyn..."

"Don't. Bodhi, please, just leave it."

Bodhi just shakes his head, turning back to his note pad with what she knows is disapproval. Her dad has always been Bodhi's idol, always left him a little awestruck, wishing she could see Galen the way he does. Or maybe that's not it. Bodhi has seen what her father's inconstant presence did to her, he knows that she was all but abandoned. Surely he's not forgotten that? Maybe Bodhi is just that nice and he is honestly able to forgive people for things. Forgiveness is not one of Jyn's strengths. Despite being almost pathetically self-deceptive, she knows this much about herself.

"How're things with Cassian?"

"What do you mean, things with Cassian?" She bristles. She does not have a thing with Cassian.

"The Brahms," Bodhi says as if she's particularly soft in the head today.

"Oh, that. It's fine. Good. We're working on the second movement." She very deliberately fails to mention how she nearly died this morning because Cassian leaned over her at the piano to point out that the decrescendo in measure 109 should start forte rather than mezzo forte and his hand was resting on her shoulder like that's a completely normal thing that they do and he smelled amazing. Bodhi doesn't need to know that, right? Why would he? It's not like she's been thinking about the warmth of his hand through her shirt, the faint puff of his breath over the back of her neck, the rumble of his voice right next to her ear. Was that a normal distance for...that sort of thing? It felt close. Like, really close. And he smiled at her when she looked up. So yeah, it's not like she's been replaying that moment in her head every thirty seconds for the past eight hours. And it's definitely not a thing that she's talking about with people. Other people. Or herself.

Fuck.

She's going to murder him. Tomorrow headlines will read "Bright young pianist kills absolute fucking shithead of a violist in the most justifiable homicide ever." Parades will be held in her honour. Future generations of school children will write reports detailing her heroism in defending Brahms' second viola sonata from being turned into a funeral dirge. Maybe she'll be given some kind of medal.

"It's andante, Jyn," Says the dead man, jabbing at her score with the tip of his bow. "Andante is slower!"

"Andante means 'walking pace' you wanker! And-"

"I know that! It's-"

"-besides, it's andante con moto! Con. Moto!"

"Andante is not a fast tempo! How can you possibly justify-"

"Con moto! Do I seriously need to explain this to you?"

"I know what it means! Spanish and Italian-"

"'With motion'! That's what it means, Cassian! Con moto! With motion!"

"That doesn't mean you need to play it like you're late for class again!" He shouts.

So. Dead.

"Okay, first off," She starts, standing up from the piano bench to stop him from towering over her. Or at least to make him tower over her less. Damn him for being so pointlessly tall. "Who the hell taught you anything about music? Because you need to track them down and get your money back. Secondly, it was only the one-"

"Jyn!" There's something in his tone now that makes her stop dead. He looks furious. She stares him down, unwilling to give a single inch.

"Jyn," And now he has gone from shouting to deadly, quietly serious. It's so much worse. She can see him shaking with anger. "Do not ever question my education again. Not all of us have had the privilege of growing up around people who actually gave a damn about music, let alone having a father who's one of the world's best musicians." He obviously has never met her father if he thinks she did much 'growing up around' him. "I worked hard to get here," He continues, "To get into this school. I work hard to stay here. I will not let you ruin this piece just because you think you're smarter than everyone else."

He's out of the room before she can even begin to formulate a response to that. She should really get at least a small medal for not chasing him out into the hallway.

"Hello, Jyn."

He just knows. She has no clue how he knows it's her from all the way down the hall, but he does and while she's used to it now, it occasionally still puzzles her.

"Hello Professor Îmwe," She says, walking up to him. "How was your weekend?"

"How many times must I ask you to call me Chirrut?" He says lightly. Her last school was significantly more strict and very British compared to Yavin. Calling professors by their first names just feels wrong. "It was good. I took Baze for a hike in the forest. Considering that he's not the blind one, he gets lost surprisingly easily," He continues with a chuckle. Clearly there's a story to be had if she felt familiar enough to ask for it. "And how was your weekend? Did Bodhi throw another one of his parties?"

"No, that's this weekend coming," She says. "It was okay. I finished up the analysis for Professor Draven."

"That Bach was in need of a good analyzing. I'm sure you set it straight."

"Yeah," She laughs. She's about to make her excuses and turn away when she reconsiders. "Prof- Chirrut?"

"Yes?"

"Have you spoken with Cassian recently? About the Brahms?"

Chirrut's milky eyes search her face for a moment. "I have." He says simply. He's going to make her work for this.

"Did he say anything to you about the tempo? For the third movement?"

Chirrut chuckles slightly. "Yes, Cassian had a lot to say about the tempo of the third movement. He was quite impassioned at our lesson this morning."

Shit.

"Right..." She says, trying to figure out how to ask Chirrut about the issue without being too obvious that she's not quite as sure about the tempo as she might have thought.

"Jyn, have you ever asked him why he's chose this piece? Why it's always been this particular sonata?" She shakes her head. "Well then, I must be off to teach. Have a good day!"

One thing that Jyn has discovered about music students is that the enthusiasm for childish games and pranks seems universal no matter where she is. That's the only possible explanation for how she's been roped into playing "sardines" with the group of people who is rapidly becoming Jyn's circle of friends: Bodhi, Cassian, Han, Leia, Luke, and Han's friend Chewie. Kay is technically part of the group but she's pretty sure the fun centres of his brain are broken, so it's no surprise that he opted out of their brilliant idea to dodge security and spend the entire night in the darkened music building. They'll be paying for the sleepless night tomorrow morning, but her morning class is theory with Draven so she doesn't care if she's loopy and tired because he hates her anyways.

"Okay," Han says, having elected himself the de facto leader of their posse, "I don't think I should have to explain this, but since there's a decent chance at least some of you were major band nerds with no social life in high school, here it is. The rules are simple. Jyn lost the coin toss with Luke, so she goes to hide somewhere. Professors' offices and the concert halls are off limits. We count to, what was it?"

"Two hundred," Leia supplies with a tone of voice that makes it clear she's not remotely surprised that Han forgot this.

"Yeah, what the rules committee decided on."

"I am not a committee!"

"Right, so," Han continues, "Count to two hundred, Jyn hides, we split up and try to find her. Once you find her, hide with her. Last person to find everyone loses. Any questions?"

Chewie says...something. Jyn still cannot figure out what sort of accent the enormous, hirsute man has, but it's thick and Han seems to be the only person who can reliably understand him.

"I don't know why it's called sardines, Chewie! Just play the damn game."

Roughly two hundred seconds later, Jyn has managed to shimmy past a few beat up music stands to the back of a storage room and wedge herself between a tall stack of plastic chairs and the corner. She's tucked in such a way that hopefully she won't be too visible from the doorway, especially with the hall lights dimmed for night. It's really not a particularly clever place to hide, but she panicked and lost track of time and thought that being caught standing in the hallway would probably look much more foolish than a mediocre hiding spot. Thank goodness she's not afraid of the dark.

Hiding is boring. In retrospect, as the single most impatient person in their group, volunteering for this job was almost certainly a mistake. It's been at least five minutes, five long minutes, before she hears footsteps tromping down the hall. Finally, some excitement. Doors are being opened on either side of the storage room. She presses against the wall, tucking as far behind the chair stack as possible. If she crams into the corner just so she's fairly certain she can't be seen from the doorway. She's torn between wanting to be found so she'll at least have some company and wanting to remain hidden so that she can lord her superior hiding skills over all of her friends. Once again her competitive side wins out. With a rattle the door opens, flooding the small space with light that is blinding now that her eyes have adjusted to the minuscule amount that sneaks under the door.

"Jyn?" It's Bodhi. He seriously expects her to just call out "I'm here!" like an idiot? Now she stays quiet out of pure spite. After a silence (don't breathe, don't breathe) the door creaks closed, leaving her in the dark again. Gloating to Bodhi about how he was the first person to find her and just walked right past is going to be absolutely delightful.

"Any luck?" Says a muffled voice through the door. Maybe Luke?

"Not yet."

They exchange a few more words too softly for her to hear. Then their steps retreat down the hall and she's truly alone.

Great, now she's bored again. This is the worst game ever. She slumps against the wall and drums her fingers against her thigh, playing along to a jingle from an insurance advert that she heard a few days ago and has gotten stuck in her head ever since. She manages to amuse herself for several minutes by analyzing the chord pattern of the song: I, vi, IV, V7. Laughably basic. Draven would be proud of her. This passes the time until another person walks slowly down the hall. Whoever this is searches more carefully than Bodhi and Luke. They're opening every door and pausing to actually enter and search the rooms. She may have company soon. The sounds grow steadily louder until they stop outside the storage room. She jams into the corner as the door opens. The door closes and someone steps softly towards her. From her spot in the back corner she can't see the door over the chair stack, can't figure out who's about to find her. In the dim light from the door crack a long shadow slips over the floor in front of her. As soon as her pursuer turns the corner past the chairs she will be caught.

Despite it being an easily deduced possibility, based on who she's playing this game with, the sight of Cassian emerging from around the chairs still takes her by surprise. Damn it. His brows raise in alarm upon seeing her and he just stares, looking as if he is genuinely considering just backing right out of the closet and losing on purpose rather than take one step closer to her. Honestly she would happily let him do that, but then she hears someone quickly striding down the hall and no way in hell will she let Cassian ruin her hiding spot by just standing there like a nitwit.

"Get over here!" She hisses. When that does absolutely nothing to rouse him she claws out and drags him over by the shirtfront, managing to get him at least somewhat hidden just as the door handle rattles. That seems to break through his indecision and he surges forward, backing her into the wall just as the door opens, presenting her with a great view of his throat and collar bones. She glances up, can tell that the top of his head is poking over the chairs so she reaches up and pushes him down with a hand on the nape of his neck. He obediently stoops until his nose is pressed against her temple, lips centimetres away from her face.

This may have been a mistake.

She's still got one hand trapped between them, fisted into his shirt, the other now resting on his neck. Their new searcher starts to wander into the room, bumping into a music stand which clangs noisily.

"Damn it!" Han. He knocks into another stand. Her hand unconsciously clenches at the noise, tightening around the fabric of Cassian's shirt. He inhales sharply against her.

"What are you doing in there?" Calls Leia from the hall.

"Having a tea party! What do you think?" Han says.

"Well, obviously you're not finding Jyn."

"Yeah, like I see you doing so much better, princess..."

"Don't call me that, you spit-valve-sucking, Pachelbel-loving scruffy asshole!" Leia spits.

"Scruffy? Scruffy?" Han's voice fades slightly as his footsteps retreat towards the doorway. God, Cassian smells great.

"Do I need to define it for you? Because I'd be- Hey, get back here! Where are you going?"

She can practically hear Han's eyes rolling. "Jyn's not in there, so I'm going to look in the practice rooms if that pleases your worship."

Leia's reply is lost to the closet door slamming. For a moment the only sounds are the pair's indistinct bickering and Cassian's breathing.

Her hand is still wedged between them. She can feel his stomach expand with each breath, the only motion from his seemingly frozen form. His arms are boxing her in, hands pressed against the wall on either side of her waist. When she slides her hand down, away from the nape of his neck, he seems to remember their position. He steps back, giving her enough room for her to slip out of the corner which suddenly feels roughly the size of a petri dish.

"Sorry," He says from behind her, "Sorry, I, um-"

"It's fine," She says, turning to face him. He appears to be intently studying his shoes.

"Cassian?" He hums for her to continue. "Why Brahms?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why did you chose that piece?"

He sighs. His shoes must be exceptionally fascinating.

"It was my mother's favourite," He mutters.

"Oh. I thought..."

"What?" He asks harshly as if he's just preparing to ward off an attack.

Jyn thinks back to her own mother. Lyra is mostly represented by a hazy, warm feeling, more than actual events or remembrances. Jyn thinks of how at age nine she found a box of cassettes in the attic while she was home alone yet again. 'Lyra' was written on it in her father's messy scrawl. She remembers what it was like to pop the first tape into her Walkman and start bawling when a kind voice that she thought she'd forgotten said, 'Okay, trying this again. Chopin Nocturne in C-sharp Minor, posthumous,' and then her mama was playing the saddest, sweetest piano piece that Jyn had ever heard. That was the day, sitting in that dusty, stifling attic, that Jyn had given up violin and focused on piano. Piano made her feel connected with someone in a way that following in her father's footsteps hadn't. It felt lovely.

"Your mother had good taste," Jyn says to him. Means it.

Cassian looks up, sagging as if all the fight was just pouring out of his muscles and bones. "Yeah, she did." His voice breaks slightly. "She loved Brahms."

"My mama loved Chopin," Jyn says. He smiles softly at her. The moment is suddenly too raw, too open. She turns away to stare at the far wall.

"Do you think they've just given up?" She laughs nervously, trying to feel less exposed.

"Hmm," He considers, "I bet Luke and Bodhi are still looking. Chewie probably got bored and went to the percussion room to practice. Leia and Han are chasing each other around arguing." Jyn snorts.

Footsteps sound down the hall. She freezes, staring at the closet door. Someone's opening other doors. Realizing she's completely exposed she tries to back into the corner as quietly as possible. The door handle clatters and she panics, taking a too large step backwards and losing her balance.

Cassian whispers her name in alarm, catches her by the hips, and hauls her back into the corner just as light floods the closet. In his haste Cassian has pulled her back sharply into his chest with presumably much more force than intended. They're pressed together, from tangled feet all the way up to her head which is cradled in the hollow of his throat.

"Duck!" She hisses. He shifts down from the knees instead, entire body sliding against her back, as their latest interloper enters the closet. Now Cassian's breath is whooshing past her ear and she honestly doesn't know if that's better or worse than before. Either way, she wants to live in this moment forever. Her stomach isn't swooping anymore, it's filling with molten heat which builds and builds every time his shallow exhales caress the sensitive skin behind her right ear. He swallows thickly. His hands let go of her hips and drop to dangle next to her thighs, leaving their bodies still glued together. Every inch of her feels engulfed in the heat that radiates from his form.

Just then her phone vibrates in her back pocket. Damn, she thought she'd turned it off. At least it's on silent. Cassian's hands jerk against the sides of her legs, which is the exact moment when she considers precisely where that sensation is hitting him now that's he's crouched at her level. Her face burns. Oh god, she tries to telepathically communicate to her caller, please just hang up.

There's a faint scrape as the searcher moves some of the music stands. Her phone buzzes again and Cassian's entire body spasms as if someone has just stuck an electrode into his spine. His hips twitch slightly like he's trying to dodge back, away from her, but he's jammed against the wall and has nowhere to go.

Soft steps walk closer.

Bzzt! Her phone goes off again before she can gather sufficient mental faculties to shift forward and relieve Cassian's obvious discomfort. But something miraculous happens when this vibration hits. Cassian's hips jerk forward and he lets out an honest-to-God groan right into her ear. Fuck. That sounded like a sex groan. She has no other words to describe the strangled noise he just made. Is it possible that's he's every bit as aroused as she feels right now? Her brain floods with images; turning them around until she's pressed against the wall and he's grabbing her by the hips again and rutting into her from behind and she's just moaning. Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God. The explosion of want which surges between her legs at the thought forces an involuntary gasp from her. He freezes. He was still before but now he seems to have given up breathing entirely. If this carries on much longer that may be for the best. Him simply collapsing in a sweaty heap due to lack of oxygen flowing to his brain might be the most dignified way this could possibly end. She shoves down a hysterical giggle trying to claw its way up her throat at the thought that she is experiencing what is quite possibly the single most erotic moment of her entire life during a glorified game of hide and seek.

"Oh man, seriously? I can't believe I missed you!" Bodhi whispers bitterly when his head pops around the corner. "Hey Cassian."

Bodhi's greeting seems to snap Cassian out of his trance. He lets out a rattling breath and she all but jumps away from him.

"Uh, everything okay?" Bodhi asks in roughly the same tone of voice as the one he used that time during her high school years when he let himself into her house and found her with her hand down her pants, at which point she remembered that she'd invited him over to study before she'd gotten horny and bored, and Bodhi had said 'Should-should I go?' while gaping at the ceiling and flushing scarlet. Much like that spectacularly traumatizing incident, she also currently wishes that everyone else on the planet would just simultaneously drop dead so she didn't have to face another human being ever again. That would be fan-bloody-tastic.

"We're fine," Cassian says from behind her. He clears his throat. "Close the door."

"Right," Bodhi says.

Her phone vibrates again in her back pocket and she lets out a growl, yanking the blasted device out and blindly poking the screen until it goes still. Darkness envelops the space again. Bodhi swears quietly as he bangs into one of those damn music stands while picking his way back to their corner. Her entire body feels electric. She wants to run, scream, punch something. Fuck.

Giving her a pointed look, Bodhi slips past to sandwich between her and Cassian. Thank God. When she turns to join them Cassian looks every bit as agitated as she feels, antsy and rapidly bouncing his leg. He's also turned away, facing the wall. Very conspicuously.

The rest of the game goes quickly now that their group is too large to properly hide behind the chair stack. When Han and Leia finally spring them she more or less bolts out of the room with a strangled shout about not feeling well and doesn't stop running until she gets back to her flat.

#rebelcaptain #rebelcaptain fic #rebelcaptain au #rogue one #sw fanfic #rogue one fanfiction #jyn erso #cassian andor #fanfiction #fanfic #classical music #star wars

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