Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot
Prompt: "So why did I have to punch this guy?"
Title: Stranger Than Fiction
Summary: Her hand hurts like hell, she's hungry as fuck and she just managed to make a complete idiot of herself in front of this ridiculously handsome guy who, by the way, she also happened to punch unconscious earlier. Things cannot get any weirder than this— Literally.
Genre and Rating: Romance/Humor ; T for language
Word Count: 1427
A/N: Tumblr request from FairiesInOurHearts . The Mockingjay reference is from Ambivia's Finnick Deserved Better (have a laugh, read it). I'm literally exhausted. This fic is an absolute trainwreck from start to finish.
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Stranger Than Fiction
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It all happens in a blur: a misplaced cup of coffee on the table, clumsy elbows knocking the dark brown content all over a mangled copy of Mockingjay, and Lucy's ultrasonic screech piercing his ears. Chaos ensues, a reign of total pandemonium— It was a doomed setup from the very beginning.
Next thing he knows, he's spluttering apologies like a blushing schoolboy while a deeply distraught Lucy tries to ease her sorrow on Natsu's comforting shoulder. Jellal picks the coffee-sodden book between his hands and frantically pads the hem of his shirt over the soaked pages, trying his best not to smudge the printed letters off the paper. Seriously, he's a lost cause with crying females. She can have his shirt. His lunch money. His Maroon 5 CD collection, too—
No, wait. Maybe not the CD collection. (Tough the keys to his cars are available somewhere in the depth of his pockets, and ready to be sacrificed as a peace offering whenever she reaches stage 3 of grieving.)
He's too caught up in the ungrateful task of salvaging whatever is left of the aforementioned book of discord to notice the little turmoil they've caused in the cafeteria. Heads are turned towards them, some giggling at the scene as Natsu murmurs words of comfort into Lucy's ears. The pink haired boy starts rubbing his hand over her back in a soothing motion, a smile curling the corners of his smug lips. Jellal curses under his breath, lamenting his misfortune. If you ask him, the universe seems to be in conspiracy against him. Totally not fair that the lucky bastard gets the girl while he gets public embarrassment and a coffee-stained shirt as a souvenir for being a careless idiot.
He's thinking to himself that things couldn't possibly get any worse when she storms upon the scene.
Bedazzling and equally terrifying, she leaps through the crowd in a most menacing fashion, like a fire tornado of scarlet flames looming over to burn out everything on her path. A dangerous glint in her eyes scream murder as she walks and the vein popping in her forehead shouts get the fuck out of my way if you want to live.
He's somehow marveled that the room doesn't quake when she dramatically stomps to a halt behind Lucy and demands with a stern voice,
"Which one of you dickheads made her cry?"
Lucy sniffs, face still buried on her boyfriend's chest. Natsu, on the other hand, is fast to point an accusing finger towards an unsuspecting Jellal, whose face is frozen in a startled expression.
When the scarlet volcano flicks her deathly stare on him, he gets to see a glimpse of the Gates of Hell opening upon him as the very personification of Persephone raises from the underworld to claim his soul. Without any preambles, her murderous fist slams against his left cheek and sends him directly into the ground with a loud thud.
Unfazed, Erza flips her impressive red hair over her shoulder and turns to face the stunned couple.
"So, why did I have to punch this guy?" She asks with genuine curiosity, as if punching random men unconscious was part of her everyday routine.
As he lays dumbfounded on the floor, world spinning madly around him and cheek scorching hot from the pain —okay, don't judge but, sweet Jesus— he thinks he might have just fallen in love.
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In her defense, she didn't know.
For the way Lucy was crying her eyes out, she'd just assumed that she was being bullied, and alright, maybe she should have asked first. She should have at least given somebody the chance to speak before ruthlessly going off on a complete stranger— an extremely attractive stranger, by the way.
Urgh.
She has literally no idea how she's gonna survive the awkwardness when he wakes up.
Meanwhile, he's soundly passed out on an infirmary bed and she's sitting beside him. His expression is so peaceful he could be as well asleep, except for the swollen purple bruise on his left cheek that makes her want to die of utter embarrassment. The red tattoo on the other side of his face even pales in comparison, and she wonders what kind of guy is crazy enough to leave a permanent imprint in such a remarkable spot.
Unless of course, it's not a real tattoo.
Out of sheer curiosity, she leans closer to his face and studies the odd symbols painted across his handsome features, eyes squinted for a clearer view and so close that her nose almost touches his skin.
That's when she comes to the realization that, one: he's got great skin; two: the tattoo is real; and three: he's very much awake and staring back at her with a weirded out expression.
Erza flinches back to her chair, face going through all shades of red in utmost mortification as she wishes the earth would crack open and swallow her whole. A river of ridiculous excuses as per why is she blatantly staring as his pretty face at an alarming lack of distance run through her mind, but she finds herself unable to blurt anything out. He looks everything in between a mix of disoriented, flustered and slightly amused as he sits up on the bed and runs his tanned fingers to ruffle the messy locks of indigo hair.
"Where am I?" He asks, voice husky from just waking up.
Ignoring all rules of common courtesy —well, she did knock the guy out in their first meeting, so excuse her for the faux pas here— she clutches the carton box between her hands and pushes it forward as her head faces down in a solemn bow, not answering his question and instead blurting, "F-For you!"
Jellal blinks twice, flabbergasted. "What is this for?"
"L-Lucy told me everything" She stutters, "She says she's sorry too. And Natsu, t…they couldn't be here because they have a lecture."
He looks at the beautifully wrapped box in astonishment, the 8 island logo on the package catching his attention. The corner of his lips curl in amusement, a fuzzy sensation filling his chest. Did she seriously bring him cake as an apology? If there was scoreboard, she just got herself 10 points for that.
"It's okay," He reassures her, the attempt of grin turning into a painful grimace, "You really didn't have to buy this for me."
She doesn't tell him that's actually her lunch and she's kinda starving now that she sacrificed it for him as a peace offering slash bad attempt at apology. Instead, he purses her lips in a determined expression, brows knitting together as she pushes the cake further towards him, "B-But I insist!"
Her treacherous stomach growls in the worst moment possible, and she wants to die on the spot.
"Is that… your lunch?" He asks tentatively, "That's very nice of you, but I couldn't accept that—"
Mortified is an understatement. At this point she's having serious considerations about changing her name and fleeing the country. She hit a new low— her hand hurts like hell, she's hungry as fuck and she just managed to make a complete idiot of herself in front of this ridiculously handsome guy who, by the way, she also happened to punch unconscious earlier. Things cannot get any weirder than this— Literally. She just wants to get this over with once and for all, so she loses her shit and rips the carton box apart, shoves the plastic spoon on the cake and unceremoniously stuffs its pink contains into the bewildered boy's mouth.
"Just fucking… take my apology, damn you!"
He chokes, coughing out small crumbs of pastry out of his mouth and saying with difficulty, "Um, T-Thanks?"
He can't tell if her horrified expression is due to her own actions or because of a particular big chunk of strawberry that fell off his lips, but she seems really upset. He tells himself it's a bad idea, this contradictory girl who walks like a raging storm and blushes like the twilight sky. She's a dormant volcano, the omen of imminent perdition —he's just seen faint traces of smoke, but he wonders— Jellal just wonders if, by any chance, lighting the fuse to her fire would make him fall in love with the flames.
"Say, um," He starts again, awkwardly, "Since I took your lunch, it seems only fair that I buy you another one?"
He's not really sure why, but the sparkles burning in her eyes makes combusting in embers seem a like an oddly tempting adventure.
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fin
A/N: Reviews are extremely appreciated.