#There's so many mistakes I unfortunately could not fix as I would lose the finished drawing stuff on my art program sometimes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alluringjae · 4 years ago

Text

queen of hearts - sjn

summary: for the first time, one of your star students hasn’t been fetched right after class. but when she finally does, you weren’t expecting such a fine man to be her father.

pairing: johnny x female reader

word count: 5.5k

genre: fluff, romance, comedy | ceo and single dad!johnny + ballerina!reader + modern day!au

warnings: mentions of an absent parent, johnny being an overthinker, sexual innuendos (ten saying dilf hehe), slight explicit language, technical terms of ballet, a mini reference to mean girls

author’s note: sooo i came in touch with my former dance life, which led me to write this. there are links for the variations i used; their names are underlined when they’re mentioned. i am going to get technical with ballet terms here (even when my ballet knowledge decreased), so to any dancers reading, i really did my best, so please don’t come for me or do correct me for any mistakes.

although one character and her dance background, plus the name of the setting, are real, everything else about it is still a work of fiction.

i miss dancing, no cap.

leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

Ballet student and teacher by day, a soloist of the Korean National Ballet at night.

This was your daily routine, and it wasn’t the typical 8-5. But it’s debatable whether or not it was worse, because you’re always going overtime. That’s the thing when you’re an overachiever. Nonetheless, you loved what you do. It’s the lifestyle you gradually built since your preschool days.

Mornings on the weekdays were mostly vacant since all the kids were still in school. You’d start at 10 am for a warm-up class for the company. Before you delved into teaching and assisting, you’d train right after your lunch break. Partnering class, en pointe class, 1-on-1 sessions with choreographers, self-practice, then the company night class, that’s the organization of your week.

Now adding the teacher title, you mostly handled kindergartners to 5th graders in the academy aspect of the company. Your first teaching class would start at 1 pm. It’s when the younger students who finished their morning classes zoom into your assigned dance studio. One class would last an hour and a half, then you have a 30-minute break in between another class with the older kids. Their lesson repertoire was more strenuous due to the added across-the-floor lessons and jumps. Water was always your best friend, water refilling stations located everywhere in the company building.

You wouldn’t say you’re a strict teacher, but you weren’t shy to correct anyone from wherever you stood. You’d lightly align their arms or back properly so your students were working on the correct body parts. Compared to the other teachers, a lot of students enjoyed your kind yet frank approaches. Your former students, who’ve already gone to the higher levels, missed your lively presence and wished repeatedly that they want you back as their teacher.

“Teacher (Y/N), I miss you so much! Teacher Ten is so intense. I get the jitters especially when we’re en pointe on the floor.”

“Teacher (Y/N), Teacher Sicheng and Teacher Seulgi scare the heck out of me during partnering class. Especially when I tried to lift my partner, I keep losing focus because of Teacher Sicheng’s never-ending comments!”

Not to be sadistic, but you’d simply laugh at their minuscule complaints. Even if they’re struggling in the academy, those comments were directed to fix their techniques if they wanted to breakthrough.

“Kids, you’re going to be fine! They wouldn’t say or do those things just because they wanted to. They’re here to push you to the next level, like how I used to do with you. It’s a cut-throat industry after all.”

This was always your reply, bittersweet and truthful. Not everyone makes it, unfortunately, so if you’re really striving, you’d do whatever it takes. Throughout your career, you’re relatively impressed with how far you’ve come.

Trainee at 17, Corps de Ballet at 18, Demi-Soloist at 21, and Soloist at 23.

You’ve been a soloist for 4 years. The final stage, which was to become a principal dancer, is your running goal. Becoming a soloist was praiseworthy enough because you’ve seen so many give up in the Corps, but claiming a spot as a principal dancer has been the ultimate dream. Since you’ve watched Swan Lake for the first time at 4 years old with your parents, that’s where you found a passion for dancing and the stage. Here you are years later, practicing numerous variations daily, performing in opera houses, and mentoring all these gifted kids.

Your last class with elementary kids, which began around 5 pm, reached its end once all the students curtsied in front of you and scurried to their mothers or their nannies. The remaining plan on your agenda today was the company class at 7:30 pm, which exceeds the average hour and a half. It’s worse during show season. There have been times everyone went beyond midnight to polish every scene from head to toe.

Currently, there’s no upcoming show for the public, though the annual summer recital for the students was around the corner. Selected members of the company were chosen to perform individually in it, which was both exciting and intense. It’s also because it’s an evaluation on whether you’d get promoted in status or staying put. You’ve partaken in 3 recitals in the past, two of which elevated you from the corps and demi-soloist ranks. The recent one, however, didn’t change your soloist ranking.

It was a major first in your career in ballet, and after finding out the result of the latter, it emotionally pained you. Recalling how much soul you put into that piece, the rejection from your artistic director clenched your heart. Though in time, you moved on from it and viewed it as a stepping stone. Also, Sicheng and Ten personally stormed your apartment to pull yourself together with wine and pizza after going on a short leave.

Since you were trainees, Sicheng and Ten were your best friends in and outside the company. Working daily to occasional barhopping, that’s your youth summed up. It wasn’t because you didn’t like the girls you’ve worked with (though a lot of them were fake and bitchy), but these two were frank and humorous as hell. Together, you’d help each other with your goals rather than be competitive. Over time, Ten leveled up to a principal dancer for 2 years running while you and Sicheng were still soloists. The way you’d watch Ten take all the big roles, that’s where you want to be one day.

Back in your last teaching class, the entire dance room was vacant. Since it’s mainly used for ballet classes, you’d either run through anything you’ve practiced from the company classes and polish it or warm up a little bit more.

Except for today, this was the only free time to sew a new pair of pointe shoes because your current ones were dead. Dead in a sense that the hard shell turned soft, which won’t be able to support you when you’re up on your toes. You’re not taking any risks of minor injuries especially when you’re in the current lineup of company members performing for this upcoming recital again. You have to prove to everyone that you deserve a position as a principal dancer.

As your legs sprawled in a half middle split, your sewing equipment laid in front of you like you’re about to perform surgery, a tiny girl stood by the ajar studio doors. In her neat bun and holding on to her small duffel bag, you’re convinced everyone has gone home already since it’s quite late.

You may have your priorities as a company member, but she was still your student.

“Minji!” You shouted her name, speedily waving your hand. You’re not one to have favorites, though you couldn’t help wonder how extraordinary she was. She’s always taking charge in demonstrating the lessons to everyone and improving every session in the 3 years she’s joined the academy. “Come in! Come in!”

At age 7, she’s gotten taller through the years, above the average from how you see it. She must have amazing genetics. Her legs sauntered in seconds to you. Sitting down across you, she marveled at your setup. Specifically, at the fresh pointe shoes.

“Are those yours, Teacher (Y/N)?” She perked up, caressing its soft fabric and playing with the mini bows of the drawstrings.

“Yes, it is, Minji!” You answered while trying to insert the thin thread through the small eye of the needle. “Why are you still here? Is your nanny stuck in traffic or something?”

“My nanny went on sudden leave, so my dad’s the one fetching me. But I think he’s running late from his job.”

Oh, this was a first to know about her father. In all the years she’s been your student, you rarely caught sight of him, even in recitals. Maybe he sat in an unknown section, but you’re pretty much acquainted with all the parents of your students. Even if some were snobbier than the rest because they wanted their child to have more stage time, you still got to know them out of respect. Quite odd, if you said so yourself.

After deep concentration, the thread triumphantly passed through the eye so you tied the two ends of the thread in a double knot. Seeing as Minji attentively watched you, you tasked her to cut the ribbons of your shoes according to the trail of pencil marks. This was so she wouldn’t cut it too short or too long. While she did that, you hammered your shoes against the floor to soften the hard front, bending the shank back and forth so the arch of your feet could move without difficulty later.

Minji wasn’t expecting such loud sounds, her entire body shaken awake. Her facial expression was priceless, explaining to her, “Once you get your first pointe shoes in a few years, this is one of the basic things you need to do so your feet won’t hurt too much while dancing.”

“Will you be there to teach me how to make my pointe shoes?”

“Absolutely! Come to me first then I’ll mentor you all that I know.”

The process of sewing and breaking new pointe shoes engraved your mind since your adolescent years, with changes along the way. Inspired by some tricks from your former teachers, but there were some differing rituals you followed. There’s no definite process of it, just as long you’re comfortable to dance after.

With your feet, you stepped on the hard boxes of the shoes to soften it more, creating a popping sound. Followed by sewing your elastic bands in. For your ribbons, you liked to burn the edges with a lighter so the thread of it won’t run. Kindly asking your cute assistant for the lighter beside her, you scanned the edges back and forth the flame. In seconds, the edges had a distinct mark, fully closed. From there, you slid your feet to your shoes to make final sewing adjustments. Sewing your ribbons took you another few minutes, plus adding superglue inside the shoe so the shoe won’t collapse when it unstiffens and scratching the shank with a cutter so you won’t slip later while dancing.

Voila, the final product is done! Hopefully, it can last you a week at least.

“Wow, Teacher (Y/N), it looks pretty!” Minji applauded, collecting the mess you’ve both made to dispose of later. You, on the other hand, gave her your thanks once you applied some bandages on your big toes and put on your toe pads. Slipping inside the shoes and tying them, you rose up back to your feet and headed to the bar to break them in. From plies-relevésto forced arches, the shoes gave you the sensation that they were an extension of your feet. The ease flowed through, meaning you were ready to practice your variations.

While you stepped your shoes in rosin for friction, your curious student moved to the front where the mirror lied to watch what you’ve prepared.

“What variation are you dancing to?”

“This is the Gamzatti variation from La Bayadere.” You replied, tapping the play button on your phone and racing to your position on the side. Talking a short ballet walk, you strongly prepared your arms before the music of the orchestra takes off.

This variation consisted of a lot of jumps and turns. Grand jetés, attitude turns, chaîné turns, you needed a lot of core control and proper spotting so you won’t get dizzy. The thrilling music lessened your nerves because you enjoyed learning this piece from one of the principal dancers, smiling and letting the music guide your legs. Once you nailed 3 consecutive grand jetés, the variation ended with a sus-sous and the wrists of your hands flicking upwards.

Holding it for 5 more seconds, you landed back on your feet with heavy breathing and a need for water. But before you could, small claps and cheers from Minji in front erupted. Momentarily, you’ve forgotten her presence because dancing solo puts you in your own space. You’d never let anyone take you away from it.

“Teacher (Y/N), that was wonderful! Are you performing that in the summer recital?”

Yikes, she’s right but she wasn’t meant to see it yet. Solo performances from the company members for the recital were top secret, only unveiled during the production rehearsal. Well, you didn’t think this through, but you didn’t mind.

“Can you keep a secret?”

Time ticked a lot faster today, only 10 minutes left until the company class on the ground floor whereas you were in the second. Just a few steps down the stairs away, yet Minji was still here. You only presumed that within your hour break, her father could’ve made it already. But maybe he’s stuck in traffic or at work.

“Minji, my class starts soon. Have you contacted your father?”

“I already texted him earlier, but he hasn’t responded. This happens often, he’s a busy man.” She bowed in front of you suddenly. “I’m sorry, Teacher (Y/N) for the hassle.”

“Oh no, please!” You shook your hands so she’d stop. Because this situation was relatively new, you were unsure of how to handle it. Or that was until you remembered what Ten texted you earlier. “Minji, the blinds of the main studio are going to be lifted so anyone from the outside can view us practicing. Would you like to watch until your dad gets here?”

With her insistent nodding, she situated herself in one of the seats in the front row. When you entered the main studio, your two close companions already carried a metal barre to the center and leaned towards it while observing you walking to them in your flat shoes.

“I see we have a bit of an audience here.” Ten glimpsed at the young girl, astonished by the many dancers prepping and chatting away with their cliques from the glass barrier.

“Her dad isn’t here yet, and you did say the blinds were up today. Might as well give her a show while she waits, you know.” You lifted your right leg to the top barre, stretching it with your arms.

“Hmmm, shouldn’t her dad be more cautious though? It’s getting late and it’s a Thursday. Doesn’t she have school or something?” Sicheng pointed out, discarding his muscle tee to straighten out his leotard.

“That’s not my business though. She’s just my student, and since she’s still here, I have to entertain her while she waits.”

Before your friends said anything back, the artistic director of the ballet company strutted her way to the center of the room. It’s a common rule here that once she entered, everyone must be silent to listen and race to any free spot in the numerous barres spread out if they haven’t.

“Alright, everyone. We’ll do the typical barre, then before doing across the floor exercises, I’ll be requesting those performing solos already in the recital to dance any variation tonight as another evaluation on who deserves to perform twice.” She eyed the pianist directly beside her. “Proceed first with two demi-pliés then one grand plié. Don’t forget to do the port de bras of each position.”

As the live piano music played, your focus was divided. Partly properly executing the exercise while your artistic director roamed each barre area, partly thinking about what variation to perform. This was a first for the company, and everyone was just stunned to hear the breaking news. It’d be nice to get an extra opportunity to showcase to people your potential.

30-40 minutes flew by quickly. As the guys carried the bars to the side to clear out the floor and the girls changed to their pointe shoes, the artistic director ordered all the performers of the recitals to stand in a line in front of her. Everyone else was seated around the room, so the interested eyes of everyone were on you. There were 10 performers, half are from the corps and the other half are either demi-soloists or soloists. You and Sicheng stood beside each other, internally shaking with nerves under the intimidating eyes of the artistic director. She used to be a principal dancer for the Stuttgart Ballet in Germany before moving back to Seoul, making her undeniably capable of leading all of you.

“Okay,” From her seated position observing the 10 performers, her finger pointed at you directly. “Ms. (Y/L/N) (Y/N), you perform first.”

Your nerves intensified and more sweat streamed out your upper body. Even if going first felt more relieving, no one was ever brave enough to perform individually in front of the esteemed artistic director. Principal dancers aside from Ten that you’re close with were intimidated when they have 1-on-1 or partnering sessions with her. But anyhow, in less than 2 minutes, you’d be done. This wasn’t the first time she’s had your full attention either, so you’ll treat it like the other individual performances you’ve had.

You smiled to yourself when the other soloists left you alone, while you gave the name of the variation you’re dancing to the pianist. Running to the side to put on a practice tutu, the artistic director asked, “What will you be dancing for us tonight, (Y/N)?”

“I’ll be dancing Queen of the Dryads from Don Quixote.”

The last time you did this variation was 3 years ago during the recital that didn’t change your position as a soloist. Even if this variation hurt to think about for a while, it was still one of your favorites to watch and do. Moving on, you could only muse how powerful and beautiful you felt at that time. This isn’t an easy piece to perform in your opinion. Yet according to the members of the company, this was their favorite solo of yours.

As the starting notes unfolded, you took a deep breath and elegantly walked into the frame. You only wished you wore your fake crown again for this. Minimal smiling and light arms, you imagined yourself as an actual queen who captured the eyes of many. In this case, your fellow seniors and juniors held their breaths at the captivating sight of you.

Off you go into a series of glissade jeté developpé on relevé at elevating heights, then a fouetté arabesque and another arabesque on relevé before ballet walking again to the side to dance across the stage. Sissonne to the front, right developpé to the front on relevé, pique to prepare for a single pirouette, you gracefully did a chassé to the front twice and stood on your toes with a sus-sous.

Doing it a few more times, the climax of the entire variation was nearing. Returning to the center, you took another deep breath and lifted your left leg for the Italian fouettés. Spotting to the front and back while maintaining your balance, the variation approached its end with lame duck turns, posing with your arms were positioned at a 45-degree angle, your back slightly arched and your left leg doing a tendu derriére. Your eyes reflected at the mirror in front, surveying your alignment. Once your 5-second hold was finished, you properly put your arms down and closed your back leg into 5th position.

The applause from everyone in the room roared, Ten and Sicheng wolf-whistling even for more support. It’s a usual thing every time any of you perform individually, and no one minded it. The artistic director grinned, giving a quiet clap from the front before calling out the next performer, who was from the corps. Bowing to everyone hastily, you paid more attention to spot your student by the window. She was smiling ear to ear, waving both hands at you.

“You did amazing, Teacher!” She mouthed. Hearing words of praise from members was one thing, but hearing them from students was another. You’re so used to watching them and giving them your compliments that you often forget that you’re a dancer first before a teacher. Seeing them all delighted, saying that it motivates them more, showed that you’re doing a great job teaching them. You’re a reflection of what you pass down, and all you want was for them to be the best they could be.

From her jolly expression, a tall masculine silhouette hovered a part of the window. Her instinct of giving a brighter smile when the hand of said silhouette patted her head then carried her duffel bag again, that could only mean one thing. Excusing yourself to the artistic director, you stepped out to bid your goodbye and maybe meet her father. Minji and the tall man were about to leave the building if it weren’t for your breathy voice calling them out.

“Seo Minji and Mr. Seo?”

They stopped their tracks. Minji was fast to react, familiar with your voice and racing towards you for a sweaty hug. Meanwhile, your focus shifted once the masculine silhouette came into full view. You finally understood why Minji’s growth spurt spiked up, noticing that he was taller than Sicheng.

The top buttons of his shirt were off, yet he kept his formal blazer on. His hair was a bit tousled, some strands falling in front of his forehead. He must’ve run here. Peeking through were some roots of his scruff growing. His eyebags were almost as dark as his brown hair. Yet by the way his Rolex remained spotless, you blatantly assumed that he was more than well-off. Especially when the ballet academy was one of the most prestigious ones in Seoul.

Out of all the parents you’ve met, none of them appeared youthful like him.

“Teacher (Y/N)?” Thanks to Minji, you moved your staring eyes away from him. This was another first, since meeting only the fathers of your students wasn’t your norm. Meeting young-looking fathers, to be specific.

“O-Oh,” You ate your words, suddenly blanking out. “You’re leaving me without saying goodbye, Minji? Not polite of you.”

“My father was rushing right after watching your performance, and I don’t know why.” She responded, her finger scratching the top of her head in confusion. Speaking of said father, his strong presence appeared right in front of you. The wrinkles of his forehead creased while his eyes barely looked at yours.

“Uhm,” His fingers toyed with his Rolex. “I apologize for my tardiness. I got caught up in work and all, plus her nanny le-”

“Mr. Seo.” You halted his rambling, already aware of the situation. Like father, like daughter. “It’s fine. Minji loved watching us practice while waiting, and she wasn’t a bother either. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Phew.” He swiped an imaginative bead of sweat from his forehead, displaying his relief with his playful nature.

At age 23, Johnny Seo started his own company in the fashion scene and it grew internationally in the coming years. Then when Minji unexpectedly joined the picture, he’s been multi-tasking to make ends meet. Lately, as a CEO, he has had meetings and conferences on a daily. So, his position as a single father was always tested. It worsened when he rarely has proper time to spend any time with Minji unless it’s the weekend or late in the evening. Breaking it down, it wasn’t because he didn’t want to meet you. It was more like he couldn’t when his schedules were packed from head to toe.

Having the guilt of taking your precious time, “Seriously though, I am sorry for being late. Her nanny resigned suddenly, and I have no time to find her replacement.”

“Mr. Seo, again, don’t worry about it. As her teacher and a company member, I am practically here 24/7 so it won’t be a nuisance at all if this happens again.”

“Thank you so much, Teacher (Y/N). That is your name, right?” He planted his palm on his forehead, stressed. “Being a single parent is hard. I am always forgetting things.”

A part of you couldn’t restrain from feeling sorry for his struggle. Taking care of a child should be the work of both the mother and father, not one of them being absent. You’ve feared this would harm Minji, but she’s a strong girl.

“The fact you didn’t forget to fetch Minji despite the late time is still something to be happy over. I’m not a parent or anything, but parenting, in general, is a challenge.” You added an insight, patting the head of the young girl beside you. “Cut yourself some slack, Mr. Seo. I’m sure Minji still loves you, right?”

Minji shouted a big yes, now clinging to the leg of her father. “It’s okay, dad. Really.”

Over the years, Johnny has been doubtful of his parenting skills. He was an only child, and he struggled to ask for guidance from his own parents due to the shame of having a kid at a young age. So, he’d ask for help from his other friends and co-workers. No matter how many times they’ve reassured him that he’s doing well, he’s an overthinker who always reflected on the bad scenarios. There’s also that pressure to find someone who can fill that absent position not just for Minji, but for himself too. No matter how many girls he’s asked out or been set up with, he failed in the love department badly.

It’s the soothing way you voiced out your truth that made all these negative thoughts running through his head freeze briefly. Over the past 3 years since Minji started ballet, she always had a great story about you to share. One of them was how ballet made her a lot happier because of your influence. If he had at least an hour of his day to meet any of his daughter’s mentors, it would’ve been you.

“Do feel free to call me Johnny instead.” He casually introduced himself, taking his hand out for you to shake. “Mr. Seo makes me feel like I’m at work right now.”

Despite his informal approach, you understood his intentions and returned the action with a promising smile. “Pleasure to finally meet you, Johnny.”

“Pleasure is all mine, Teacher (Y/N).”

Earlier, the nerves from performing in front of the artistic director died down fast. But for some reason, they rose back up when you’ve spoken to this man in a matter of minutes. As someone whose feelings don’t flourish in a single glance, why did this man specifically deliver you such a strong effect?

If it weren’t for Ten calling for your name by the door, you would’ve held on to Johnny’s hand longer, which would’ve been inappropriate. Letting go first, this was your cue to return to your class.

“I must head back inside, Johnny. Don’t sweat on fetching your daughter late, though she is still a student with school the following day. Right, Minji?”

Minji nodded as Johnny kept that mind, knowing where he has to improve next. “Yes, Teacher (Y/N). Thank you again, sincerely. I’ll definitely see you again in the coming days until Minji has a new nanny.”

“That’s no problem with me at all, Johnny.”

Soon as Johnny held his daughter’s hand to exit the studio and you were re-entering the studio with an impatient Ten, he swerved swiftly as if he forgot something.

“Oh by the way Teacher (Y/N), I saw your whole performance awhile ago. I was blown away, you deserved the applause.”

Although you could only distinguish his silhouette, you didn’t suppose he watched you from head to toe. Most parents or nannies would’ve dragged their kids out of the studio once they find them like they were on a tight schedule, so this was novel to experience. That performance showed your prime too.

“Thank you, Johnny. See you again soon.”

Giving a final nod, you led yourself back to the studio, not bothering to acknowledge the erupting heat on your cheeks and entire body. Not to sound narcissistic, but compliments weren’t foreign to you. You’re conscious of the hard work that you put in your talent and if they pointed out your greatness, why would you deny it? However, receiving one from Johnny was like gearing your engine with new fuel.

Before you could try to reject these harboring feelings, Ten was fast to pick up on it. You cannot hide anything from this man at all because body language was like another language he’s fluent in (aside from the other 5). Unlucky for you, the saga continued.

“You’re so into dilfs, (Y/N)!” He shrieked in your ear, nudging your shoulder repetitively. He placed things in his own way, yet they always shocked you because it was so inappropriate. Typical Ten for you.

“Shut up, Ten!” You objected, watching the other performers. You’ve improved in ignoring his remarks over time. That was until Sicheng sat down beside you after his solo and got up in your business. That placed you in the middle of boys from the water sign clan of astrology. They just loved getting down to your love life, going raunchy and whatnot.

“Who’s into dilfs, Ten?”

“A Miss (Y/N) beside you, who met Minji’s dad awhile ago, was basically eye-fucking him.” Ten elaborated, planting his elbows on your leg and gave you a sneaky glare. “Minji’s dad is fine as fuck, guys! I’m telling you, like a literal god! I’m surprised this is the first time he showed up here after 2-3 years?”

“How come (Y/N) is always getting students with good-looking parents? Especially the single moms.” Sicheng slumped his shoulders, attempting to get your attention too. “Is he that hot, (Y/N)?”

“Yah.” Sighing with annoyance, you’ve given up trying to appreciate one of the corps dancers with her rendition of Dulcinea from Don Quixote. “Don’t speak of Johnny like that. You barely know the man, yet you talk about him so unprofessionally."

“Oh, Johnny is his name, huh?” Sicheng sing-songed, bobbing his head. He’s certainly going to stalk him later on social media, you felt it in your chest. Like it was ESPN or something.

“Talking about being unprofessional, yet you’re here referring him as Johnny, not Mr. Seo.” Ten barked back, his lips pursed and one eyebrow lifted.

Just as soon as you could retaliate, the artistic director’s velvety voice boomed the room.

“Alright, thank you to the performers. I will deliberate with the staff and principal dancers over the weekend, and let you know the results on Monday. Now please, let’s proceed to the center.”

Everyone began to spread out on the wide floor, snatching a good position so they could monitor themselves in the mirror. Maybe you’ll defend yourself later after class because now, you needed to beat everyone else and have a crystal-clear view of yourself doing these following exercises.

In the meantime, Johnny was in the middle of driving Minji home. He had a designated chauffeur, but he gave him the night off because he wanted to spend time with Minji. Around this time, she’d be sleeping soundly, but instead, she’s boosting with so much life. She hasn’t even eaten dinner yet, which was the first thing on Johnny’s agenda now.

Playing Coldplay in the car, Minji belted some lyrics from her favorite songs while Johnny smiled to himself while listening to her attentively. Taking a breath, her thoughts reverted to her fantastic ballet teacher and shared them with her father.

“Dad! Don’t you just think Teacher (Y/N) is so cool? Ugh, I want to be just like her when I grow up.”

“Oh, to become a ballerina like her, you have to work hard every day and memorize lessons fast. Are you up for it, Minji?”

“Absolutely, dad! I want to pull off perfect jumps and turns like her one day!”

In the other after-school activities Johnny enrolled Minji in the past, none of them compared to the passion she had for ballet. Her work ethic was alike to Johnny’s: if they want something, they’ll do whatever it takes to make it possible.

Aside from being a star student in her school, she’s aiming to be a star ballerina. Being the supportive father he is, Johnny was on board to do what it takes to make it happen. Unlike his parents trying to mold him into the next heir of their company, he’s all ears to the dreams of his daughter. His only dream for her was to be live long and happy, not to merely pass on anything.

Johnny lost so much in his young life, so he doesn’t want to lose Minji in any way. As much as he loves his profession, he wanted to be an active father as much as time allowed it. He mostly received complaints from others that he’s not prioritizing his time well, but after hearing your kind words, this heavy weight on his shoulders decreased. All this doubt started to vanish after meeting you for the first time.

“Dad! Isn’t Teacher (Y/N) so beautiful?” Minji honored whilst gazing at the twinkling night sky. “She loves what she does and shines at it.”

Johnny was accustomed to his female co-workers throwing themselves at him due to his attractiveness, more than flattered even to have them feeling weak for him. Yes, there were times he used it to his advantage, some he frankly turned down.

However, the radiance you carried whether you’re dancing or not was something Johnny couldn’t cease wondering about. Unknown to him, he’s the one getting weak. Behold, an unlocked first for the confident CEO.

“Yes, Minji. I do think Teacher (Y/N) is absolutely beautiful.”

470 notes · View notes

aminiatureworld · 4 years ago

Text

Injury

Characters: Albedo, Childe, Diluc, gn!reader

Word Count: 3,657

Warnings: Blood, injury, slight violence, minor villain death

Premise: Sometimes the pain of others can hurt even more than one’s own. In which the reader is injured.

Author’s Note: Week 3 of keeping up my writing schedule let’s go! This week is a bit angsty, my forte (I think?) As usual part one – with Albedo, Childe, and Diluc – will be posted tonight and part two – Kaeya, Xiao and Zhongli – tomorrow.

At first this was going to be both your injury and your recovery but then the first character hit over 1.5k words so I guess this is going to be a pseudo-series. I really don’t know the definition of concise lol.

In the first part of my last fic I realize I gendered a word. I’m super sorry about that, and I promise to fix it and tag properly next time. Childe gets to go into the stone forest cause I say he can. I’m not sure if waypoints are diegetic or nondiegetic. I decided to make them so. Also the first hospital in China was opened in the early 1800s, and I know hospitals aren’t very “fantasy” but Teyvat has good medical science in my book.

Albedo

Throughout his life the one thing that Albedo never truly understood was peoples’ obsession with modesty, even when it was false.

There was a lot that Albedo was proud of in regards to himself; his intellect for one, his curiosity, his abilities as an alchemist, the fact that he feared little in the world. Above all perhaps was the pride he held in carrying himself without falling into hysteria, his grip on his emotions was impeccable and whenever he was unfortunate enough to see others gripped with a heavy emotion he was always left with a sour feeling in his mouth – a disgust for someone who had so little sense they couldn’t even control themselves.

This was a pride that left him quickly enough upon seeing you injured.

It wasn’t meant to be a dangerous expedition. It’d merely been a check of the vast network of caves and tunnels that could be found in Dragonspine. A route affair, mundane even in how simple it supposedly was. There was nothing to be afraid of. Albedo had told you that back at home and you’d smiled in agreement. Yes, there was nothing to be worried of, a few hilichurls at most and a temperature that could be easily kept in check with the right preparation. You’d be there and back in less than a day, no problem.

Everything, however, had gone horribly wrong. The cave that you two intended to explore turned out to be a vast network, full of tight tunnels and half submerged under freezing water. You two had managed that well enough, although once Albedo had almost slipped and fallen into the underground river, the whole outlook of the expedition was looking drearier and drearier.

Eventually you’d reached what had seemed to be the heart of the cave, floor after floor of ice with a hole in the middle, all lit up by crystal and scarlet quartz. It was an impressive sight to be sure and you’d stood a little ways away from the edge, observing the way the light refracted off the ice coated walls, waiting for Albedo to be finished with his sampling, enjoying the awesome sight in front of you.

Albedo had just finished when you’d let out a yelp. Whirling around he saw what had captured your attention – a wild snowboar who’d managed to wander in. The two of you watched the very confused creature in awe, only staring as it stomped the ground and charged right into the wall.

That was a mistake.

All of the sudden the cavern started shaking violently. Cursing the boar for its terrible – or maybe impeccable – aim the two of you sprinted towards the exit. You’d managed to gain the lead, not bogged down by Albedo’s extensive equipment, and had turned around near the beginning of the tunnel in order to help him. Just as you were heading back one of the many icicles that lined the roof of the cave came undone, landing with a sickening thud right where your collarbone met your spine.

You’d dropped like a rock, and Albedo felt his stomach to turn water and his mind turn to static, as suddenly all logic seemed to leave him, instead replaced by dread so overpowering he seemed to lose track of his surroundings, chained to the ground by something greater than himself.

You groaned and time seemed to unfreeze itself, instead accelerating at a breakneck pace. Leaping into action Albedo immediately dropped all of his equipment, the sound of glass vials shattering muffled by the cases that held them and the panic that was gripping him. Hauling you over his back he ran through the tunnels, wincing every time you made a sound and biting his tongue every time he shimmied through a particularly tight spot and it seemed it might not let the two of you pass as you were.

He could feel the blood seeping through his gloves. Your blood. Only a few minutes ago he wasn’t even sure that icicles could make one bleed. Now he wished he’d never found out, wished that he’d never asked to explore the caves of Dragonspine, wished that you’d never agreed to it. How could he have been so foolish, so blind to the dangers that waited in vast caverns of ice and snow, where the slightest wrong movement could spell your death.

Albedo could’ve cried when he sighted the camp. Indeed he might’ve, realizing that there were frozen tears on his cheeks only after you’d been taking to the medical tent. He hadn’t noticed, hadn’t noticed anything really in those terrifying moments between when you’d gotten hurt and when he’d made it to the camp. It all seemed not to exist in his mind, washed away by the emotions that had wracked his mind and body. Even now he couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop the tide of emotions that was crashing into him like a wave, utterly helpless as he was thrown this way and that.

The pride that he’d clung to was in tatters, and Albedo looked upon it now in disgust. He’d been so innocent, so foolish, perhaps mercifully so. But all that was gone, and his certainty had gone with it. There was nothing left of him almost; nothing except fear and anger and worry, and Albedo wondered when he might ever feel sure of everything again.

It was cloudy when you were released, arm in a sling, brace around your shoulders. Albedo wasn’t sure how much time had passed, it had seemed like an eternity. The urge to run up to you and wrap you in the tightest hug imaginable was intense, but the sight of the brace held him back. Instead he brought you hand up to his face, kissing your palm before holding it against his cheek. You smiled at that, but there was fatigue in your eyes and you said nothing. Albedo couldn’t blame you. He moved to let go and turn towards the path, somehow feeling unworthy of holding your hand after being the cause of your predicament, but you quickly grasped his hand once more. He smiled a slightly shocked smile, but made no move to let go.

As you two walked back to Mondstadt Albedo felt himself once more flooded by negative thoughts. Lowering his gaze so he was looking at the ground he paused for a moment.

“I’m sorry.”

Albedo found his voice cracking, tears welling his eyes even as he chastised himself for how stupid he must’ve looked. You were safe, you were going to be alright, the head of the clinic had said so himself. Why then did he still feel like he might crumble any minute? Shaking his head he moved to cover his face with his hand.

“Hey.” There was still fatigue in your voice, but there was also an urgency in it. You squeezed the hand you were holding, moving so you were facing him. “Hey, is it okay if you look at me?”

Albedo moved his head up slowly. He was truly crying by now, having given up all efforts to do so otherwise. You smiled softly as his eyes met yours.

“I’m alright, okay? And you shouldn’t blame yourself for this. I doubt that even the drunkest man in Monstadt could’ve guessed a wild boar would wander in a cavern and start a cave in. You can’t control fate you know.”

“I know.” Albedo forced the words out, although more and more it seemed impossible, his throat was too constricted to be anything more than barely coherent. “Still. I should’ve known. And I should’ve kept it together. I, why am I crying? Why wasn’t I in control? Why, why am I still not in control?”

“Because you’re human Albedo.” You replied, shaking your head slightly. “You’re the most wonderful human alive, but you’re still human. You mustn’t beat yourself up for what you are. I’d rather you cry anyways. There’s nothing noble in hiding your emotions, they must come out one way or another. So please, please cry all you want, long and hard. And tomorrow you can start your penance, alright?”

“Penance?” Albedo mumbled, still crying. You nodded, smile still nothing but fondness and understanding.

“Well someone’s going to have to help me for the next two months. And I know you’re too much a gentleman to make me stumble along myself.”

“Of course.” Albedo’s answer came fast and sure. He paused then, realizing that, by distracting him with the weeks to come, you’d managed to give him a pocket of time to calm himself, to feel himself once more firmly planted on the ground. Love mixed with anger and sadness in his mind, and for a moment he could only marvel at you.

Albedo leaned down to kiss you on the forehead. He’d do whatever he could to help you, this he promised himself. And this too he promised himself; you’d never ever be hurt on his watch again.

Childe

If there was anything that Childe hated it was a lack of control. The feeling of everything slipping through his fingers was something he’d felt often as a child, and that feeling had haunted him. When he’d signed up as a member of the Fatui he’d promised himself that he’d never feel that way again. He’d protect those he loved and he’d keep his life from falling apart. It was a promise he was determined to keep, no matter what.

You two had decided to go hiking. Or rather it was less of a hike and more of a rock climb. Childe had long bragged that the Huaguang Stone Forest was the most beautiful place to watch the sunset, and you’d finally gotten a free weekend. Waypointing your way there initially, your partner had taken an almost childlike joy from choosing which mountain was the highest.

“Childe have you decided yet? The sun is almost at the horizon.” You called out at the Harbinger. Childe was, much to your dismay, the stronger climber, and had taken to scouting ahead of time to see if the spot you were climbing to was any good. Now he glanced down at you, mischief written all over his face, his smirk flashier than usual. He put his hand on his chin and looked outward once more.

“Hmm… I don’t know…”

“Childe!” You exclaimed, your arms slightly killing you. You really wish that you’d convinced Childe to bring a roped and belay. Unfortunately that request had been met with a whine and an accusation of “that’s cheating!” You’d laughed it off at the time, but now you were starting to regret your partner’s recklessness. As much as you were enjoying your time – being alone with Childe always felt intensely special and you cherished every moment of it – you were also impatient to actually watch the sunset, and in your hurry you wondered if it might not be faster to climb back down and watch from the bridge.

“I do believe that we’ve found the tallest one!”

“Thank the Seven.” You groaned, hurrying to get to the top. Childe chuckled, watching you scale up the mountain.

“Oh come now, I had to make sure it was perfect! Besides you looked so comfortable perched there, it almost hurt to disrupt you.”

“When I get up there I’m killing you.” You shot back, reaching towards the ledge. Still laughing Childe stuck out his hand and you moved to grab it, pushing off with your feet as much as possible, determined to make it up the mountain in the next move.

The laughter died from Childe’s lips the moment your hand missed. Instead it was replaced by fear, cold and sharp as a knife, plunging straight through his heart. Time seemed to slow down, but you were falling so fast, falling, falling, falling. Catapulting himself off the top of the mountain Childe reached out for you. In his mind he was screaming. Glide. Oh please, for the love of the Seven glide. Please, don’t fall, it’s so high up. I couldn’t bear it. Please.

Still the words were stuck in his mouth, and his throat only constricted more when you hit the bridge with a sickening thud. Releasing his own wings at the last moment he landed on the bridge too, only a few meters away from where you were now crumpled up. Running over he scooped you up. You’d managed to right yourself at the last moment in the air so that you were landing feet first, but though you’d managed to protect your head your legs dragged limply, and one was bent at an awkward angle. Looking at your mangled form, listening to you as you screamed and whimpered in pain, Child felt overwhelmed by his vast helplessness. There was nothing he could do. Burying his head in your neck he sobbed.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

The journey to Liyue was excruciating, both for you and for Childe. Although there was no external bleeding the initial adrenaline of falling had no worn off and you felt every jolt and movement as Childe slung you on his back, wrapping his arms around your thighs and carrying you to the nearest waypoint and then to the Liyue doctor. Even when Childe was standing still you thought you might die from the sheer pain. So intense it was that sometimes you gave up, blacking out only to wake up feeling like you were drowning, the burning air around you almost too hot and too heavy to breathe.

Childe willed himself to numbness throughout the journey, only allowing him to collapse once you’d reached the hospital, practically ramming into the nearest chair in the waiting room, the situation washing over him.

How could he have let this happen? Hadn’t he made a promise? A promise that he’d protect those he’d love, that he’d never lose control of a situation again, that he’d never let those he cared about suffer? Where was that promise now? His whole world seemed to collapse in on itself now. He hadn’t been able to protect you. Despite his training, his reflexes, his vision, his everything. You’d still fallen. And as powerful as Childe liked to think he was, he still couldn’t turn back time and stop your suffering.

Finally the doctor opened the door and Childe was let in to see you. After informing him that you were on painkillers the doctor left you two alone. Faced with you laying on the hospital bed Childe sank into the nearest chair. Lacing his fingers through yours he drew circles on your hand over and over. For a moment you two said nothing, then Childe let his head rest on your hands. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, voice raw.

“I know.” You replied, mind a bit hazy from the painkillers, the magic infused herbs luring you to sleep. Still you pushed forward, needing to say something before Childe let himself be carried away. “I know, but it’s not your fault. And it’s not irreversible. The doctor says in 8 weeks I’ll be fine. Until then, we’ll just have to improvise.”

“But what about your adventuring? Your commissions? How can you do those if you can’t –”

“I’ll figure it out. Adventuring isn’t just monster slaying you know. And there’s no catastrophe in being in a wheelchair or on crutches.” You shook your head. Childe was still crying, and you could feel his tears running down your linked hands.

“Ajax.” Childe’s head shot up, surprised. He loved when you called him by his true name, it always seemed like a song falling from your lips. And now that song was filled with understanding, if not a bit of sadness. “I want you to not blame yourself.” You continued. “I know it’ll be hard, I know that these feelings won’t go away. And I’m not blaming you for them. I’m not happy about this either, of course I’m not, I just went through a world of pain. But I won’t be able to stand watching you beat yourself up for 8 weeks, I won’t be able to stand that look in your eyes every time you look at me. So please, please stop. If not for yourself then for me.”

Childe stared at your for a while. You waited, not wanting to rush his thought process. Eventually though he shook his head, a small smile finally breaking his expression.

“You’re too good for me you know. Alright. I promise to try. It’s the least I could do.”

“Thank you.” You smiled. Childe smiled back. He didn’t know how you managed to do it, how you managed to take his fears and look them in the face. All he knew at that moment was that he loved you. And for now, that was enough.

Diluc

Diluc stared in horror as the Fatui Bracer aimed a Geo projectile right at you, his horror multiplying into rage and terror as the concentrated energy flew through the air and landed right at the base of your ribcage. You crumpled at the impact, wheezing heavily, apparently stunned from the power and speed of the attack.

How could this have happened? Diluc knew that the Fatui were gathering in Mondstadt, something that the winery owner turned Darknight Hero couldn’t stand. But never did he think to see Fatui skirmishers right outside the walls of Monstadt, strolling along the beach of Cider Lake as if it were Snezhnaya. Never did he think he’d have to see another loved one felled by a member of the Fatui, and never did he think that he could bear the emotions coursing through him now.

He made quick work of the Bracer, hacking and swinging without rhyme or reason, barely able to comprehend what was going on. Everything felt oddly separated from him, as if he were watching through someone else’s eyes, watching as he burned through the Bracer’s shields as easily as if it were made of wax, leaving the man groaning and screaming in pain before silencing him altogether.

The feeling of separation only grew more powerful as he ran over to you. You seemed to be conscious, but your breathing was shallow and ragged, and the place where the Fatui’s attack had hit seemed mangled, one of your ribs having seemingly been broken. You were screaming, though it was hoarse and low and tired. Still if you were screaming you were alive, and at least Diluc could hold onto that.

Carrying you in his arms Diluc winced as you let out another shriek of pain. You two weren’t far from the gates of Monstadt, but every step seemed to be a thousand steps and what was surely only a few hundred meters instead felt like tens of thousands of miles.

You were going to be alright. At least the doctor had said you were going to be alright. Surely Diluc could be grateful for that? But he didn’t feel grateful, instead he felt anger and hatred welling up inside of him. He’d told himself it was no good to be an angry or hateful person, that doing so would only push you away, would only destroy the fragile bonds he’d managed to build between you and a selection of others. But still the anger and the hatred lingered, refusing to be quelled or stuffed away.

He wanted revenge. Revenge on the Fatui, on the Tsaritsa, on the uncaring world that let him be so tormented, and that so tormented the ones he loved. How could this have happened to you? You who were made of goodness, more goodness than he’d found in the world beforehand. How was this a fitting reward?

It was decided that you could stay at the Winery during the 6 grueling weeks that was to be your convalescence. Diluc said nothing on the way there. He was afraid what would happened if he opened his mouth. Already he knew his face was betraying the feelings welling within him. He didn’t need to make it worse, not now.

Arriving at the Winery Diluc carried you to his room, the nicest room there was. Up to this point you’d said nothing, and Diluc wondered if you weren’t too groggy to do so. However when you spoke up there was an urgency in your voice, one he simply couldn’t ignore.

“You’re angry. You’re trying to hide it but I know it.”

“I’m not the one in pain right now.” Came a curt reply. Diluc was looking at you with what others might’ve mistaken as a glare. Perhaps it was even that, but there was something beneath it, and you knew it ultimately wasn’t directed at you.

“I am. And I’m upset too. But I’ve accepted it. You need to accept that you’re angry too. Burying it won’t help, it’ll only make it worse you know. You have to acknowledge your emotions. You don’t have to hide them. At least not in front of me.”

The expression on Diluc’s face finally broke. The anger there was raw and palapable, but there was also something else, something he’d also buried.

“I was… terrified.” Diluc finally let out. “I was so terrified it frightened me. I… I thought I was going to lose you.”

“And you shouldn’t have to hide that either.” You prodded softly. “But I’ll be alright, I promise. So please, just be open with me and then we’ll go from there.”

Diluc nodded, finding himself unable to speak. Walking over to where you were laying down he peppered kisses all over your face, light and ethereal as butterflies.

He’d do right by you. That’s what he promised himself, after all the hiding and the pain. He’d do right by you. But he’d also not forgive the Fatui for what they’d done, and tonight when Monstadt was asleep the Darknight would be watching. And for any Snezhnayan roaming the streets and lurking in the shadows, there’d be no forgiveness.

#this is being posted later in the night than wanted so sorry about the typos #I'll reedit tomrrow morning I promise!#okay wow my computer almost crashed right now okay #albedo #childe #diluc #albedo x reader #childe x reader #diluc x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #scenarios #my writing

699 notes · View notes

moonlit-imagines · 4 years ago

Text

The Doctor Is In

Stephen Strange x reader

Bruce Banner x reader (platonic)

warnings:

a/n: hey! idk how to build stairs guys. i didnt feel like researching it. i dont care if it’s wrong. leave me alone. part 2/2.

prompt:

Out (1)

There was no hope of Stephen coming back. Every truth you had to face was harsher than the last. Even when you got home and realized that Wong was among the vanished...and he didn’t fix the stairwell.

Maybe the stairwell was a good thing. It gave you something to focus on in these hard times. Sure, it’d been a month since the incident, but that still wasn’t enough time for the world to heal. That meant that contractors were hard to come by. But the roof would have a tarp over it for some time. No way you’d deal with that.

So you took a trip to the hardware store, you stocked up on wood and nails, lacquer and wood stain. Anything else you needed for the project. Anything to keep you busy.

There were so many sleepless nights. You hated being alone in Sanctum, hated being alone in your bed. Every so often you would nap on the couch, but then you’d get right back to work. Weeks on end you spent on the stairwell. How long will you stick around while I talk about the stairwell?

Doctor Banner called you from time to time. His voicemails were kind, heartfelt, but you couldn’t stop now. The gutted stairwell from a couple weeks ago was coming by very nicely. As nice as it could when worked on my an amateur. Alright, it looked awful, but you couldn’t stand using a ladder to get to the second floor.

As you were staining the wood, you played a message from Bruce:

“Doctor L/N, it’s Bruce. I hope you’re doing alright, but you know that if you’re not, I’m here for you. All the remaining Avengers have kind of...gone their separate ways for the most part, they’re pretty broken up about everything. I just want you to know that because you don’t...have to be strong right now. I understand if you can’t be. Just call me back whenever you can? I want to make sure you’re alright. We’re survivors, we should stick together.”

Bruce hadn’t known you long, but he was still a great person and friend. You should call him back, but if you lost focus, you may lose yourself. So you continued to wipe against the grain of the fresh stairs and moved to the next step. And the next. And the next.

The last step was the lacquer and seal. You were scared to finish up. What would you occupy yourself with once this was over? You thought about the answer until the very last step and admired your shabby craftsmanship. It’ll do. Or maybe you should tear it all down and start over? While you were thinking over your newest thought, your phone rang again. Bruce Banner.

“Hey, Bruce.” You answered the phone as you normally would and sat on the floor in front of your work.

“Y/N?” Bruce asked in disbelief. “Y/N, hey! How are you? I don’t know if you’ve been getting my calls..?”

“I have.” You quickly replied.

“Oh.” He quietly nodded to himself.

“I’m sorry, Bruce.” You realized your mistake and knew you may have come off as a little rude. He’d been nothing but kind to you, but you’d just realized you were alone today.

“No, no! It’s okay! I understand, don’t worry. What have you been up to?” His effort to start a conversation may be successful this time around.

“I fixed the stairwell. All of it. That’s what I’ve been doing the past few weeks. I just finished a few minutes ago.” You felt awkward talking to him. Not because of him, not at all. Just because you hadn’t really had any human contact in a while.

“I didn’t take you for a carpenter, Doctor.” Bruce was genuinely surprised with your skillset, you could hear it in his voice.

“And you still won’t once you see the job I did.” You actually managed to let out a chuckle. You didn’t know you could still do that.

“Oh, I hear ya loud and clear.” Bruce laughed, too. I wonder if he was having the same thoughts as you. “Y/N, do you want to go out to lunch like, now? I could use some company, maybe you could, too.”

“Yeah,” you checked the time on your watch, Stephen’s watch, and realized you worked through the night and day, “text me an address, I’ll meet you anywhere. See you soon.” You hung up pretty quickly, only to get ready ASAP. You were sort of covered in “stair supplies” and smelled like...not good. You’d take a quick shower, put on some clean clothes, and take off. Unfortunately, the stairs weren’t dry, so it was another round up the ladder.

—————

You finally took a trip back to your bedroom and shuffled through the closet filled with your...late husband’s clothing. It still smelled like him, surprisingly. You wondered just how long it would last. You hoped it’d be forever, but you grabbed your own clothes and quickly got dressed, then checked your phone to see that Bruce was running “a little late.” It’s okay, you were, too.

You took a seat on Stephen’s side of the bed and decided to snoop. Did it count as snooping if he was no longer here? You knew that he didn’t keep secrets from you, so what was the worst you could stumble upon? Books, books, and more books. But some were important books, ones detailing mystic arts. Maybe...maybe it was time to pick up a new skill. You stuffed the book in your bag and decided to head out now before you got too comfy in an actual bed.

—————

You and Bruce sat at a booth in the empty diner, awkwardly gazing over the menu while trying to stir up some conversation. It’d been a while since either of you had visited someone, you didn’t even know what to talk about.

“So, home renovations, huh?” Bruce asked while peaking over the fold of the laminated list.

“Something like that.” You sighed and set yours down and aside. “I know what I’m getting. What about you?”

“I just need a minute.” The only noise besides your bland conversation was the rustling of dishes in the back, which didn’t last for long. “Got it. A burger. That’ll do it.” Bruce announced and got the attention of the waiter.

Ordering took a second, but soon you and Bruce were alone again and ready to talk.

“How are the other Avengers? I know you said they went their separate ways, but...” You inquired and were surprised to see a smile crack on Bruce’s face. “What?”

“At least I know you listened to my voicemails.” He chuckled and took a sip of his iced tea. “They’re dealing with it. I don’t exactly know how. Nat’s staying at the compound, I’m sure she’s glad to have a home again. Cap went out on his own. Thor went back to his people. Tony and Pepper are trying to separate themselves from the world, I think. I don’t blame them. That’s all I know.” You stayed silent, but nodded along to his outer thoughts. “You alright?”

“I’m sorry, Bruce.” You started. “I didn’t mean to ignore you, leave you hanging. I just still don’t know how to take this. I keep thinking about what Stark told me when he came back. His whole ‘this will all make sense soon’ thing. Nothing about this makes sense to me.”

“Well, Strange was different, wasn’t he? He had that Stone, he had those powers, he might know something we don’t.” Bruce explained to you, an attempt to comfort you. “We’ve tried everything, y/n. Maybe it’s time to wait, maybe in time you’ll see that he sacrificed himself...for you.” You teared up at the scientist’s words and quickly wiped your eyes as the food was placed before you. “Thank you, sir.” Bruce said as the waiter walked off. “Hey, y/n? It’s okay that you’re hurting. I get it. But please don’t act like you’re alone. I’m gonna be here for you, okay?”

“Yeah,” you sniffled while hiding your wet eyes, “Me, too, Bruce.”

—————

When you got stressed out when you were younger, you threw yourself into your studies. Maybe that was why you were such an accomplished scientist. But what studies did you have now?

You had a library full of knowledge. It wasn’t your usual knowledge, but it would suffice. Now, the book that you’d snagged from Stephen’s bedside was a bit advanced for you, but that was okay. You had options.

Where would you even begin? This place was bigger than you remembered. Was this another spell? Did you know what you were talking about? Stop thinking, y/n. Start reading.

You picked out a book. You just ran with it. You recalled stories from Stephen. You remembered you needed the ring. What did he call it? Song ring? Sink ring? Slink ring?

Sling ring.

Not a problem, you could find one. Sanctum probably had tons. Maybe in Stephen’s study? You wished you had asked him more about his arts before, you just didn’t get it at the time.

One was stashed in a drawer. It was Stephen’s ring. The one he used himself. And it was the only one you could find, so it’d have to do. And so you got to studying.

The first time the air sparked by your hand was magical. Literally. But it made you feel something for the first time in nearly three months. And that was just the beginning. It felt like you were carrying on Stephen’s legacy in a way. You’d never be “Sorcerer Supreme,” but you didn’t have any intention of that. You just wanted his memory to live on, even if it were through you.

So you’d practice and you’d learn and you’d practice and you’d learn. You’d see Bruce whenever you could, and he soon noticed your mood change.

“I’m glad to see you happy for a change.” He told you while you walked through the park.

“Yeah, it feels great.” You told him while watching construction vehicles cleaning up the debris that had been lying around for months.

“I’ve been meaning to ask. What’s with the ring?” He looked at your hand and you lifted it closer.

“Oh...it’s Stephen’s.” You simply stated.

“Is it like a wedding ring?” He took a closer look and let you laugh it up for a quick second.

“No, no!” You shook your head at the ridiculous question. “I might as well show you. I haven’t told anyone yet, but that’s because you’re the only person I talk to.” You stopped in your tracks and shooed him back to give yourself enough space. “Ready?” Bruce looked terrified, but nodded a response and watched you raise your hands ahead, concentrating on the small portal you had began to open. Bruce recognized the opening since he’d fallen through it before.

“You’re one of the sorcerers?” Bruce’s eyes widened. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“I just started learning!” You exclaimed with a bright smile. “I needed something to get me through this all...and I wanted to protect Sanctum like Stephen and Wong had always stressed doing.”

“That’s...amazing, y/n. Self-taught magic? By a scientist, no less. Look at you go!” Bruce had a knack for being supportive. You were glad that he crashed through your roof and into your stairs.

“Thanks, Bruce. Maybe in time I’ll be able to cast a spell that fixes my roof.” You shrugged.

“Oh? Come on! I said I was sorry!”

—————

And then five years went by. Flew by, actually. You’d become a skilled sorcerer and used your skills around Sanctum. There wasn’t much to do here on Earth. It was a bit quiet.

Bruce was still a close friend of yours! You’d advised him in his quest for balance. He was no longer at war with himself.

The roof was fixed! You had Bruce spectate your very own spell to repair the damages he’d inflicted, but all was forgiven.

Then one normal day you got a call from him.

“Hey Bruce! How’s it going?” You answered, even though it interrupted your meditation.

“Can you meet me at the diner ASAP?” He sounded a little off, but still upbeat, so you opened a portal and stepped through to find yourself right out front. It was easy to spot him through the window, but there were others with him. Avengers.

“Hey, all.” You took a seat beside an unfamiliar one. “Hi, I’m y/n.” You told him as a plate of food was set in front of you.

“I ordered you your favorite. Hope you’re hungry.” Bruce smirked at you and let you get to it.

“So, it’s been a while, huh?” You asked the two Avengers across from you.

“It has.” Natasha sighed. “I wasn’t aware you were...also a sorcerer.” She began.

“I had a lot of free time.” Last they saw you, you weren’t as cool, calm, or collected. They were glad that you’d found peace. “I have a feeling this isn’t a social lunch.”

“I’m sorry to pull you from your calm, Doctor L/N—” You cut Steve off.

“Y/N is fine.” You replied.

“Scott here,” Steve motioned to the awkward man sitting alongside you, “was stuck in the Quantum Realm for some time, if you’re familiar. He thinks that there’s a way to...to undo what Thanos did.” You peered over at Bruce and watched him shrug as your heart started to beat faster and stomach started doing turns. You hated the thought of getting your hopes up, but you still dearly missed your husband.

“What can I do?”

—————

You had a hand in opening the dozens of portals around the ruins of the Avengers Compound, but you weren’t the only one. Stephen, Wong, and hundreds of other sorcerers were assisting to bring an army to combat the troops of an outdated Thanos, and you were so close to Stephen.

Using your magic to create a pathway to the sky, you leaped from step to step to get a clear look of the battlefield. And to let Stephen see you. He did. And so did the cloak.

You’d never used your powers to fight, so you’d have to step it up out here. But you knew Stephen wouldn’t let you get hurt. And you believed that you could handle this yourself.

“Y/N!” Stephen called to you as he flew to your altitude and held you in a special embrace that you’d nearly forgotten the feeling of. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Are you kidding me, Stephen?” You chuckled through tears that you just couldn’t hold in, tears that dragged through the dirt and dust on your face, clearing small lines down your cheeks. “I have missed you every day since the moment you left. I am so glad to have you back.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t say goodbye, y/n. I truly am. But I knew that you would manage without me. You always have.” He explained to you in such a heartfelt way, admiring your capability to still be standing in the air.

“You knew I’d become a sorcerer, didn’t you?” You cocked a brow and watched him smirk.

“I had an inkling.” He joked with you as the firefight below was still rampaging.

“It’s very unprofessional of you to be talking to your s/o during times of crisis like this.” You chuckled and broke your spell to fall back to the ground, stopping yourself before it was too late in what could only be described as a “superhero landing.” Now that you were on the ground, assistance was required for your own side of the battle.

You and your fellow sorcerers had to defend more than anything. Shields popped up across the battlefield in an effort to keep your people alive. There were too many close calls and you wanted to survive long enough to go home with your husband.

“Y/N, over here!” Stephen beckoned you to the flood that would have made this fight much harder, and you were delighted to defend alongside him. The cloak rushed to you and gave you a fast track to the edge of the water, you couldn’t help but that it for it’s kind service. “Ready?”

“Of course.” You lifted your palms and motioned towards that water, redirecting it and keeping it at bay for the time being. “I love you, Stephen.” You remembered to tell him.

“I love you, too, y/n.” He replied with his focus still on the flood. “And I’m proud of you. So very proud.”

“Couldn’t have done it with you.” You joked and stabilized the rushing waters, giving you a true load-off before the end was clear. Dust passed through the sunken hole you all stood inside. Dust of your enemies that had finally lost. You and Stephen stared at each other in disbelief, yet couldn’t help but run into each other’s arms. “This is real? We won?”

“In a way.”

—————

Stephen and you dressed in all black were standing in the back yard of your savior. Tony had given his life to give others a life. You were just sorry that it had to be him.

Bruce stood alongside you with a long face and an injured arm. It was time for you to be there for him like he’d been there for you.

“Thanks for bringing back my husband, Bruce.” You whispered to him while holding Stephen’s hand tightly. Over the past few days, you just couldn’t seem to let go of him.

“Oh, yeah? That was nothing.” Bruce playfully answered through his sorrow.

“How’s your arm feeling?” You asked him, making sure the sling wasn’t twisted up an any way.

“Not the greatest, but I’ll be okay.” He assured you and watched as you leaned your head onto Stephen’s smile with a sense of relief. “I’m really happy for you, y/n...”

“But?” You raised an eyebrow with a hint of worry.

“But you better still hang out with me.” He smiled at you and you even heard a chuckle escape Stephen’s lips.

“You can count on it, Bruce.” You lifted a hand for a fist bump and collided your knuckles with his, even if they were a bit oversized.

“Shall we get going, dear?” Stephen asked you while he hooked his arm around yours and opened a portal home. You waved goodbye to Bruce and went on your way, stepping right into Sanctum as the way closed behind you.

“So you really meant it, huh?” You asked your husband while setting your belongings down.

“That I love what you’ve done with the place?” Stephen laughed at your oncoming smirk and walked forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you forward to kiss the top of your head. “Of course, dear.”

“Even the stairs?” You peeked your head up to look at your husband and watched his smile grow. You’d never bothered casting a spell to properly repair them. Maybe you were just too proud of your work. Maybe it was a reminder that you got through these five years on your own terms.

“I do.” He leaned down to kiss your lips. “It adds character to this place.”

“More character than the magic?” You prodded at him.

“I think you mean ‘sorcery.’” He corrected as you leaned into his chest and slightly swayed back and forth, taking in his presence for the 50th time since he’d come home.

“Oh, of course. Silly me.”

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @lokihiddles // @frostedficrecs // @lotsoffandomrecs // @johnmurphyisqueer // @teenwaywardasgardian // @pappydaddy // @captainshazamerica // @freya-xo // @ravenmoore14 // @thisetaernallove // @ofthedewthesunlight // @canarypoint // @zoeyserpentluck // @randomawesomeperson102 // @ghost-bich // @wonderful-writer // @of-a-chaotic-mind // @groovyfluxie // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @lxncelot // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @blizzardbabe // @agentshortstacc // @rosadiaz-sarayvargas-harleyquinn // @werewolf-himbo // @comiocudequemtalendo1 // @mochamoff // @the-marvel-meme-emporium // @summersimmerus //

#stephen strange imagine #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange #dr strange x reader #dr strange imagine #dr strange #marvel #avengers #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #bruce banner #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner imagine #hulk #hulk x reader #hulk imagine

300 notes · View notes

yamujiburo · 4 years ago

Text

Jessie and Cassidy reconciliation fanfic thing

I was going through my notes app just now to just clear out some junk and I found something I'd written like a year ago and totally forgot about hahhaha. I don't usually do fanfics but I guess I was in a writing mood that night. I can't remember why I stopped. I either got stuck, didn't know how I wanted it to end or was just having a hard time figuring out like,,,, the arcs and what I wanted the main focus of the story to be. Anyhow, here it is if you wanna read the set up I made for it haha

Jessie, James and Meowth have once again failed to complete a mission and Matori is TIRED of it. She brings it up go Giovanni who tells her not to worry about them. Matori can’t figure out why Giovanni puts up with them and starts digging on possible reasons why Giovanni would keep them around. She decides to go to HR to find answers. There, she meets Wendy.

“Ah– Matori!”

“Pull up records for Jessie, James and–“, Matori notices that Wendy already has Jessie’s files pulled up and gives her a strange look.

“I see you’re already doing your research on Miss Jessie…”

“N-no! Well, yes. It’s just that Jessie has continuously failed almost all missions she’s been assigned! Not to mention she’s singlehandedly almost made the organization go broke. Well, not really but she still owes a lot of money!”

“And the other two?”

“Huh? Oh yeah them, too I guess.”

“I just don’t understand what Giovanni could possible see in them. They’re not good for Team Rocket.”

“Tell me about it, I’ve been trying to get the boss to fire them for years. But he’s got a real soft spot for them apparently. Tch, to think they were the top of their class once.”

“Hmph, I find that hard to believe.”

“I can’t speak for James and Meowth, but Jessie really was a promising recruit. So much so that when she threatened to quit, she somehow manipulated every exec into fulfilling her demands.”

“Threatened to quit?” The gears in Matori’s head began to turn. Sure Giovanni wouldn’t fire the trio, but if they were to quit, there would be nothing he could do.

“Yeah, she had a falling out with her first partner. And instead of being PROFESSIONAL she wined until she got a new one. Then she proceeded to go through like 10 more partners until James came along. If you’ve ever talked to her I’m sure you can tell she’s not the easiest person to work with.”

“Hm. Perhaps it’s time to switch up some teams.”

“C-can you do that? Is that allowed?”

“I could pull some strings.”

“Isn’t that sabotage?” Wendy asks. Matori shoots her a look.

“Call it what you want, but it’s my job to make sure this organization is successful as possible. Getting rid of some problem lackeys will only benefit Team Rocket. If Giovanni won’t do anything about them, then I will.”

“Matori. You are my hero”

“Are there any potential candidates we could temporarily team them up with? Or members they’ve been known to… not get along with?”

A big, Gengar-like smile creeps on Wendy’s face. “I know just the agents.”

_____________________________________________________________

Early in the morning in Jessie and James’ base, they get a call from Matori. Jessie is already annoyed, knowing who’s calling, but she wakes up her team members just in case it was Giovanni.

“A little early don’t you think, Matori?” Matori composes herself and ignores Jessie’s jab.

“Giovanni hasn’t arrived yet, but I have very important news.” Jessie, James and Meowth’s interests are piqued. “Your success rates have been… less than exemplary. But, you have previously shown you are exceptional agents.”

Jessie is taken aback by the, sort of, compliment from Matori. “So what’s the issue?”

“We have reason to believe that, while neither of you are individually the reason for your constant failures, you are incompatible as a team and you are going to be reassigned to different partners, effective immediately.”

James and Meowth look at each other shocked, and the thoughts going through their head were interrupted by their soon to be, not-leader. “WHAT?! You can’t split us up! We–“

“I apologize for the inconvenience. But this is for the benefit of Team Rocket. I do not have time to argue this. It has already been decided and your new partners have been decided. James, you are to return to headquarters where you will meet your new partner and Jessie, you will remain where you are and your new partner will arrive tomorrow.”

“What about, Me-owth?”

Matori pauses. She hadn’t thought about the cat. “You can decide who you wish to go with. Thank you for your time. Best of luck with your new arrangements.”

Matori hangs up. Jessie, James and Meowth stand staring at the screen, solemn. What doe they do now? Years of working together over, just like that.

“UGH THAT LITTLE FOUR EYED BOWL CUT HAIRED FREAK! I’m gonna do something about this! They can’t do this to us!” James gently puts his had on Jessie’s shoulder.

“There’s nothing we can do,”

James packs up, Meowth has decided to go with James. They say their goodbyes. James and Meowth grab the rest of their things and leave. Jessie is left alone with her thoughts.

_____________________________________________________________

Back at headquarters, we see James and Meowth being led by Matori to her office where she says his new partner is waiting. She talks about how this member is in a very similar situation. They walk in and see short, green hair. “BUTCH???”

“Oh no not you guys!”

“If you’re my new partner, that must mean…”

“Oh no,” they all say in unison.

_____________________________________________________________

Jessie still lying in the same place on her bed. Why was she feeling this way? She’d been through so many parters before. Sure she’d been with James and Meowth longer, but she wasn’t one to get attached. Well, not anymore. In the middle of her thought, she hears the elevator to the base coming down. She gets up and makes herself as presentable as possible (over shirt is off, makeup kinda smeared, boots off). Before she can get her shit together, a pair of white boots click, clack in. Jessie looks up, and the flash of orange, blonde seared her eyes.

“CASSIDY?!”

“JESSIE?!”

“No, no, no there has to be some sort of mistake. I can’t be teamed up with you! I hate you!”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

“I can’t believe I going to have to work with your ugly ass every day.”

“You’re one to talk. Have you looked in the mirror lately?” Jessie turned to the standup mirror leaning against the wall. She was definitely not looking her best.

“You caught me at a bad time!”

“You sure? I recall you always looking this ratty. I guess it has been a while since I’ve seen you, thank goodness," Cassidy said smugly. Jessie was already pissed off.

“We’re calling Matori RIGHT NOW to fix this.”

“Gee, while you’re looking like that?”

“I DON’T WANNA HEAR IT.” Jessie picked up the communicator, which brandished a large R on the wall. Matori picked up.

“Good afternoon Jessie, are you aware that you’re not in uniform?”

“Cut the crap you clod! You set me up with Cassidy on purpose!”

“Ah I see you’ve met your new partner! Hello, Cassidy.”

“Matori,” Cassidy said with a small bow. Of course Cassidy was trying to stay composed. Just another way to try one-up Jessie.

“We can NOT work together. I demand you put me back on my old team!”

“While I’m not one to disagree with higher ups, Miss Matori, I unfortunately have to side with Jessie on this one. You might not be aware but Jessie and I were partners once in our training days. We simply are not compatible,” Cassidy explained as politely as possible.

“Was there a reason for this, incompatibility? I was looking through your records and it appeared that you two were quite the team back in the day. I had assumed that the executives just wanted two top agents to be on other teams with some less skilled trainees.” Both Cassidy and Jessie blushed.

It was true that Jessie and Cassidy were at the top of their class for quite some time. But the reasons for them being split up were quite… personal.

“Listen, we just can’t work together. Try getting that through that helmet head of yours.”

_____________________________________________________________

~aaaaand this is where i got to~

Anyone wanna finish this for me? /j

I can't remember where I wanted this to go. I think I was gonna have Jessie and Cassidy try to suck it up and work together so they don't lose their jobs. They fight Ash and Goh, trying to get Pikachu as usual and quickly fail because of their bickering. They eventually have a heart to heart, wondering where they went wrong back when they were a team. They say a lot of things that they'd failed to communicate in the past and reconcile.

THEN this is where I kinda got stuck on what I wanted the focus/them to me. There was a version in my head where after they reconcile they like,,, make out and start falling in love again (for those new here, I firmly believe Jessie and Cassidy are bitter exes and had a falling out during their training days). After this their chemistry and communication improve immensely resulting in them succeeding to catch Pikachu. Matori comes to retrieve it but Ash and Goh get it back while it's in Matori's hands (making it her failure). And then I wasn't sure how to end this version. Maybe things going back to normal after Giovanni finds out that Jessie and Cassidy are dating and deems it unprofessional. Jessie, James and Meowth are reunited and Cassidy and Butch are as well. Happy ending were things are as they were but now Cassidy and Jessie are on good terms and still together maybe???

The oooother version was centering the story more around Jessie and her inability to keep her partners/not appreciating them. If I went with this I think I'd start off the story differently with her being a dick to James and Meowth (which she is a lot of the time but this time she crosses a line). After the team switch she finds that she really had been taking her teammates for granted. I think Cassidy and Jessie still have that heart to heart but then it's more about how Jessie hurt Cassidy and Jessie kinda realizes that she's still making the same errors currently. They reconcile buuut the both of them still want their old partners back so they hatch a plan to successfully steal Pikachu but ensure that Ash gets it back when it's in Matori's hands. They request that they be paired up with their old teammates and in exchange, wouldn't tell Giovanni that Matori messed up. Everything goes back to normal the end.

I had too many jumbled ideas and because I don't have the attention span to write for more than a couple hours I just dropped this LOL. Just thought I'd share in case anyone found this remotely interesting or entertaining hehe

#long post #yamushipping

174 notes · View notes

firelxdykatara · 3 years ago

Note

You’re doing a LoK rewrite, correct? Would be really interested in hearing how you plan on fixing Suyin’s character and the Lin-Suyin conflict because……. oh boy. Man there’s a lot to unpack there. This is what happens when we don’t let Toph just raise her fucking kids for the sake of pushing a stupid as hell narrative about working women and single motherhood.

I am indeed!

In... you know, the way I'm doing most of my big potential projects, in that I have a folder with some documents that have plot notes and... some day I may actually get full, finished fics out of them (h2o AU is in there, as is my voltron!atla fusion AU, and uhhhh my book 3 atla rewrite, and a few other things), so... but I will say that the docs I have for my LoK rewrite so far amount to roughly 4.2k words of just Plot and Character Notes, which may some day turn into words of Story, hopefully.

ANYWAY, POINT IS: yes, this exists, and I have Many Many Thoughts.

Including how the Gaang kids would shake out! Cause I know I'm doing Zutara, and maybe Tokka???? Although I don't wanna just leave Suki out either... maybe a throuple??? Or Sukka having an amicable breakup before Sokka and Toph get together--maybe she already has Lin by then, and Sokka helps support her through the grief of losing Kanto???? Idk honestly, I haven't actually figured any of that out definitively yet except that Aang was perfectly happy to settle down with an Air Acolyte from one of the rebuilt temples because he grew up and out of his crush on Katara pretty easily once he hit puberty and matured a bit.

UHHH none of which is actually an answer to your question, because it's a valid one! Which is why I've been sitting on this a while (10 days I'm so sorry) bc I haven't made any solid decisions but I've been letting it percolate around my head a bit. And the more I think about it, the more I really like the Sukka -> Tokka idea (and I don't want to kill off Suki since the kids all deserve their awesome Kyoshi warrior auntie in their lives, and also I want a Sukka kid to be besties with Iara [zuko and katara's youngest] so maybe she gets with someone else after she and Sokka split? I could be talked into Ty Lee/Suki actually, the more I think about it....), but obviously having a stable father figure and a Toph who is... not what LoK made her out to be will dramatically change the Beifong family dynamic.

That said, I think I actually have a solution. (I'm so sorry for what I'm about to do.) Toph has Lin with Kanto--and he passes away when Lin is two or three, which is why she has very few memories of her father. (Although none of this 'she doesn't even know his name until she's 50+ cause Toph didn't tell her daughters about their fathers' bullshit.) Sokka is there for her through it all (all of the gaang is, of course, but you know that it sometimes just hits different when it's someone you're also starting to fall in love with, especially when there are older and much more deeply buried feelings there that are now resurfacing, because at least in my version Toph was deeply in love with Sokka when they were teenagers, but he was in love with Suki and she also loved Suki so she didn't want to mess up anything about their family or the group dynamics by making her feelings anyone else's problem), they fall in love, get married and have Suyin.

(Sokka may jokingly refer to it as a shotgun wedding, but the truth is he wanted to propose well before he found out she was pregnant, his attempts just kept getting messed up in increasingly comedic fashion.)

Throughout all of this, Republic City has been established, Sokka is Chancellor, Toph is something of a defacto police chief--mostly because, at the time, no one else was willing to volunteer, and she jokingly offered to whip the law enforcement, but unfortunately everyone else at the meeting took her seriously. However, she is also the founder of the probending league, and basically her feelings about law enforcement are complicated and she actively discouraged her kids from joining the force which is part of why Lin did. How else do you have a teen rebel phase with a parent like Toph? (Which, in this instance, means tough and firm but fair, with a 'you break it, it's up to you to fix it' attitude and very little desire to actually control her daughters and their behavior.)

Ah, but here's the rub.

Suyin is ten years old when Sokka dies, and Lin is sixteen. I'm not sure how he's killed--maybe by Yakone, to tie it into my plans for Amon and book 1. (Note that I'm not sure when the Yakone bloodbending trial happened in canon, but it doesn't matter. The timeline I'm gonna build will be completely different post-comet, and I'll eventually write it all down so that I can keep things straight.) Which would incidentally provide excellent means of having Katara have a very personal stake in the Amon conflict, and perhaps color the fight between him and Iara, but I'm getting off track. And I think Sokka being killed by Yakone, and Toph being unable to protect or save him, or deliver her own brand of justice to avenge him (because Aang is there to stop her and.... shit probably got ugly, I suspect she didn't talk to Aang for at least twenty years after Sokka's death--and this isn't to say I think Toph is particularly violent or murderous, but in that moment, she absolutely wanted to kill the man with her bare hands, and however much she may have regretted it afterwards, she took a very long time to forgive Aang for stopping her in the first place), is what results in Toph stepping down as police chief.

She didn't withdraw from her daughters or fuck off into the swamp or anything (words cannot express how much I hate that part of her canon history), but she did grieve for a very long time. Lin, meanwhile, felt like it was up to her to keep her family together, while also feeling a desperate need to... prove herself, I think. And because her mother was so adamant that she not join the police force, that's exactly what she does. I think Lin completely misread Toph's intentions, too, and believed that the discouragement was because her mother didn't think she had what it takes, when in reality I think Toph was scared of Lin losing herself in the job like she herself had begun to, and eventually coming up on something she couldn't change or fix and making the same mistakes she had.

(I think Toph and Lin have communication issues largely because they are both headstrong and willful, but where Toph thought she was giving her daughters the room they would need to make their own way, what Lin desperately craved was direction and she felt like that was something her mother simply couldn't understand.)

Suyin, on the other hand, fell in with a bad crowd like in canon. I think that what she desperately needed was attention, similar to Lin craving direction, and Toph was trying so hard not to be her own parents that she went a little too far in the other direction and Suyin began to feel like it didn't matter what she did, her mom wouldn't care, or get angry, or discipline her, or anything. Lin and Suyin butted heads a lot growing up, too, especially after Sokka's death, because Lin tried to rein in her sister's behavior and this was met with resistance and derision because Suyin felt like Lin was trying to be both mom and dad and she was neither but her big sister would never admit to being just as lost as she was and it made her furious.

So when Suyin is sixteen, and Lin is twenty-two and new to the force, The Big Rift happens. Lin catches Suyin and her gang, tries to apprehend her, gets a scar on her face in the ensuing conflict. But instead of abusing her power and sending her problem child off to her mother before fucking off to the swamp to avoid the consequences of her actions, Toph tries to actually fix things. Suyin cools her heels in prison for a while, because she was paralyzed by guilt at the time when she hurt her sister (a few inches lower and she could have slit her throat), and was still there when Lin's backup arrived.

Uhhhhhhhhhhh..... I'm so sorry I rambled for so long, BUT THE UPSHOT IS: I think Suyin learned a bit about culpability and taking responsibility for her own actions, Toph realized that her daughters had different needs than she did at their age (and I think a lot of the problem was that grief clouded her own ability to connect with her daughters, and in trying to not be her own parents she lost sight of how to be the parent her own daughters needed), and Lin, I think, had to realize that she had never fully processed the loss of not one but two fathers and had turned to her job in order to avoid actually confronting the grief that had overshadowed her childhood.

However, she did not forgive Suyin, at least not right away--and she wasn't forced or expected to. Suyin understood that she crossed a serious line, she took her lumps and did her time, and no one shamed Lin for her anger. I think, as a result, she had less reason to hold onto that bitterness, and perhaps by the time the story actually begins, she and Suyin are on much better terms, though I haven't worked it out exactly yet.

UHHH yeah I went on for days lmao. All of this is subject to change, too, depending on the needs of the story whenever I get around to actually writing it all down, BUT these are my initial thoughts, at least.

#atla #lin beifong #toph beifong #suyin beifong #tokka #lok rewrite #lok rewrite notes #precious-metal-girl #asked

31 notes · View notes

luvvewan · 3 years ago

Note

EEEE can you do 11?? Obi wan and qui gon JA time period? :D

Thank you very much for the prompt, @general-flame ! ❤️ I realized after writing this blurb that you specified Jedi Apprentice and this actually follows new canon/Master and Apprentice. I hope you enjoy it anyway but feel free to send send another JA prompt and I’ll try to be more observant! 😬

11. “I need you to breathe for me. Slowly – in and out.”

—

(then)

When Obi-Wan opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the bleary afternoon sky above him, sullen and swollen with dark clouds. He immediately vomited, and his confused head thought it must be rain water, this tepid liquid rushing up from his guts.

He tried to take a deep breath, but made a clumsy gulping sound instead. Warm pressure settled on the nape of his neck, and he felt the Force, suffused with healing, yet strained.

Panicked.

He tried to wrench away from the touch. His fingers dug into the grainy earth. He tasted the grain—no, sand—in the back of his throat. It was going to fill his lungs, but he wretched again. He could not stop, overtaken by great, shuddering heaves, the Force more shadowed than the sky, dark with fear.

I should not be afraid to die.

I am Jedi.

Hands beat on his back, while another clutched his arm, keeping him upright, although he was very tired and his vision had dissolved along the edges. A vice squeezed his lungs, the hand squeezed his arm. Voices drifted down from the clouds.

“Obi-Wan—“

“Steady now. Breathe, kid.”

Two voices; he didn’t recognize the second. He tried to obey it anyway, letting the order override his body’s twitchy, mindless reactions. Obi-Wan spit out wet sand, but didn’t vomit, which allowed a thin stream of air through. Then more. The sharp pinch in his chest eased. He wanted to suck in the clean, sweet air, glut himself on it. He sputtered instead, and the hand moved along his spine, wide palm stroking up and down.

“Easy,” A different voice, lower, closer. “Focus on calming your heart.”

Master. He was suddenly shaking, even though it was the opposite of what Qui-Gon wanted, and there was a skittering flurry in the Force, and he realized his heart was pounding as if it wanted to burst out of him. He was going to puke, ohhh—-

“Qui-Gon, he’s—“

“I know.”

Despite the cacophony in his ears, Obi-Wan could hear the disappointment there. He blinked up, forcing his eyes to center on the vague face-shape hovering above him. Water dripped onto him, this time from the ends of Qui-Gon’s long hair. He was looking at Obi-Wan.

Blue eyes striated with grey. Like the sea.

Obi-Wan coughed and shivered. “What,” he started to say, but was unconscious before he could finish the question.

What do you know?

—-

(now)

“N-N…”

“I need you to breathe for me.”

Obi-Wan choked and sputtered.

“Slowly-in and out,” Qui-Gon braced his Padawan’s shoulders in an attempt to ground him. Though instinctively he wanted to draw the trembling young man closer, Qui-Gon remained at the edge of the sofa, giving Obi-Wan space. In the chaos of the moment, it was difficult to remember the healer’s suggestions, but he was getting better at it.

Unfortunately, Qui-Gon had already been provided several opportunities to practice.

The Force energy surrounding Obi-Wan pulsed with rapid, unfiltered emotion—confusion, panic, fear. Qui-Gon felt the echoes of terror, as clearly as he could still hear the desperate gasps from that day, weeks ago. When the attacks came, Obi-Wan sounded like he was struggling for air.

Drowning.

“Do you want the lights on?” Qui-Gon asked softly.

Obi-Wan’s eyes were screwed shut; after a few seconds he nodded.

Qui-Gon waved on a glow lamp. The common area of his quarters looked aggressively normal, unaffected, their tea cups from earlier in the evening still sitting on the end table. It was only the blanket, thrown onto the floor, that spoke of any unease.

He picked it up, shook it out and draped it over Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “That’s it. You’re doing better. In and out.”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and looked at Qui-Gon. His chest was still fluttering spastically, but as the minutes passed, he took more and more control, until at last the wild-bright panic faded. Obi-Wan sagged against the sofa.

“Well done.” He held Obi-Wan’s gaze, something that had been hard to do, as of late. He wondered when he would be able to look in those gray eyes again without remembering how they had widened with terror, silently pleading for help. Qui-Gon had failed his Padawan that day.

And now Obi-Wan was staying with him, rather than in the apprentice dorms. Obi-Wan had insisted it was unnecessary, embarrassed by Qui-Gon’s offer. But he was not sleeping, and Qui-Gon could not sleep either, imagining his Padawan in the throes of these ruthless attacks, alone.

He had made enough mistakes with this young man. He would do what he could to fix it.

Obi-Wan was glancing around the room, as if discreetly scanning for danger.

Qui-Gon understood that it was a side effect of the anxiety and trauma. As the soul healer explained it, Obi-Wan’s close call triggered primitive responses in his brain. His body currently perceived threats even in safe places, like his Master’s rooms in the Temple.

Or perhaps he is right to sense danger here, a niggling voice in the back of his head pointed out. After all, you did not protect him. Far from it.

He gingerly squeezed Obi-Wan’s knee. “I’ll get you some water.”

Obi-Wan blinked. In the weak amber light, he looked younger than his twenty years. “Alright. Thanks.”

Qui-Gon glanced at the chrono when he walked into the small kitchen. Close to daybreak. So it would be another early morning. He returned with a glass of cool water.

Obi-Wan took it with a quiet ‘thank you’ and sipped. His hair was flattened on one side of his head, the other half standing in riotous spikes. Qui-Gon had begun to believe the regulation Padawan cut in human males existed to endear them to their teachers. He smiled and smoothed the sweaty hair with his palm.

He noticed Obi-Wan’s mouth tense and his eyes dropped to the glass in his hands.

“You have no reason to be ashamed, young one.”

Obi-Wan snorted. “No, of course not. All senior apprentices lose their minds and have to sleep on their Master’s couch.”

It was meant partially in jest, but the words twisted Qui-Gon’s heart nonetheless. He set the glass on the table and leaned back on the sofa, crossing his arms over his sleep robe. “You have not lost your mind. Healer Che said this is not uncommon after a traumatic event.”

“Nor is it common.” Obi-Wan started to fiddle with his braid, then caught himself. “I don’t see how it’s especially traumatic,” he confessed, looking at Qui-Gon with bloodshot eyes. “I just need to learn how to swim.”

—

They were Temple-bound while Obi-Wan recovered. Unlike a physical injury, the parameters for mental recovery were ill-defined. Obi-Wan went to appointments with a soul healer; he rarely spoke of what was discussed in the sessions. Qui-Gon got the impression that his Padawan firmly wanted to move on, and was both irritated and discouraged by the attacks.

Qui-Gon wanted to move on too, of course. He and Obi-Wan had only just begun to mend their relationship after the fateful mission to Pijal, and Qui-Gon’s near-acceptance of the Council seat.

He sat on a bench in a less-traveled area of the Gardens. His eyes burned from interrupted sleep. The episodes were becoming much more frequent, nearly every night. He worried for Obi-Wan, who was currently sitting in a lecture, undoubtedly exhausted.

If he was a more experienced Master, would this all be easier? Over and over, he grappled with the idea that Obi-Wan needed someone like Mace, or even Yoda. The boy was so different from him. He never knew if he was providing Obi-Wan with the tools he needed to thrive, as a Jedi or as a person. Pijal had proved to Qui-Gon he could not give Obi-Wan up, nor were their problems insurmountable. He had returned to Coruscant with hope, and turned the Council’s offer down.

And then, on their very next mission following Pijal, Obi-Wan almost drowned.

Since then, Qui-Gon’s thoughts dwelled on a conversation he’d had with Obi-Wan, back when he still intended to join the Council.

“I’ve never taught you to swim, have I, Obi-Wan?”

“No, Master. But I know how—well, a little bit.”

“We’ll practice. Every Jedi should be able to swim like a Mon Calamari.” *

He could forgive some mistakes he had made as Obi-Wan’s mentor. Obi-Wan was his first Padawan, assigned to him by Master Yoda, and there were bound to be stumbling blocks. In this case, Qui-Gon had no excuse. For years, it had not occurred to him to ask Obi-Wan if he knew how to swim.

He had assumed, as with so much else in this relationship—assumed somewhere along the way, Obi-Wan had learned how to swim. He should have taken Obi-Wan to the Temple pools as soon as they returned from Pijal, as he had pledged to do.

Their lives were busy. He had forgotten.

He cleared his throat, looking out at the vibrant greenery. He remembered swimming with Master Dooku. Qui-Gon could swim, and swim well, before his first proper mission as a Padawan. Why had he let so many things slip with Obi-Wan? Admittedly, in the beginning, Qui-Gon had felt shades of resentment towards the boy, foisted upon him when he had not asked for such a sudden and complete change. Yet he had grown to care deeply for Obi-Wan, despite their differences. He thought he had done his best.

Pijal had opened his eyes. But not enough, or else he would have corrected the vital lapse in Obi-Wan’s skills as soon as he was made aware.

“We’ll practice.”

There were nightmares of his own, in which he was too late, and Obi-Wan did not…he refused to give the image life or dimension now, in the Gardens, amid other Jedi and the optimistic light of day. Yoda would tell him not to dwell on what-ifs. Certainly Qui-Gon had been reminded recently enough that dreams were easily misinterpreted.

He would bring up the swimming lesson with Obi-Wan, he decided. It was a start.

—

*dialogue excerpts taken from the novel Master and Apprentice by Claudia Gray

#star wars #obi-wan kenobi #qui-gon jinn #obi-wan #master and apprentice #qui-gon and obi-wan fanfic #prompts #luvewan fanfic

19 notes · View notes

tundrainafrica · 3 years ago

Text

Title: Lovebug (5/10)

Summary:

“It might be a bug.”

“A bug?”

“Sometimes the developers of this application make mistakes. This is our first time meeting I’m sure so…Isn’t it a bit weird that we just met for the first time and it rings like this? And for two strangers to coincidentally ring each other’s alarms?“

Levi is the developer of the Love Alarm App and Hange is married to Zeke.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4

The golf course was big, big enough that his Levi’s first instinct was to contemplate the size.

He had attempted quick calculations that got nowhere, only detailed enough for him to realize, golf courses were a total waste of space. They were large green spaces that could have held happy pedestrians, happy families and maybe a few more houses. Yet, they were areas which only housed a few players at a time.

And how many times had he repeated variations of that soft tirade to himself since they arrived there that morning?

Maybe he was being a little too harsh, he thought to himself a few times.

Then he realized, maybe he would have been nicer, if he had managed to shake off the last bouts of sleepiness having woken up at five in the morning. Maybe he would have been nicer if the grass didn’t crunch under him in such an unflattering manner. Maybe he would have been nicer if the only pair of shoes he had brought with him to the country club weren’t a clean shade of white.

And maybe he would have been nicer if golf wasn’t such a deceptively easy sport.

He would have definitely been nice if he had been in a better mood that morning. And maybe he would have been in a better mood if Zeke hadn’t been just a little too amused at his apparent discomforts.

He was sure the only thing he had to do was hit the ball with a golf club and hit it a few more times until he reached the hole. To hell with strokes and strategy, there was no winning against Zeke.

He wasn’t at all dispirited. He wasn’t an idiot either. It was a valid conclusion to stumble upon after realizing that hitting the small white ball balanced on a tee wasn’t as straightforward as they made it look on Youtube.

“Is this your first time playing Ackerman?” Zeke asked. He was definitely more cordial than yesterday. The past two minutes of accidentally hitting air instead of the ball though had Levi a little more perceptive of the minute movements on Zeke’s face, the sliver of a smile and the slight raise of eyebrows.

Next to him was Hange. He had a snuck a glance at her a few times and unfortunately, her expression was unreadable.

“I haven’t played in years,” Levi said. In fact, he had never played at all, let alone set foot on a golf course. After rambling on about tea time for the past few minutes, expressing genuine excitement at the prospect of ‘tea time,’ Levi realized he had two embarrassments to pick from. He could admit to having never played golf in his life and potentially lose brownie points with Hange or he could just subtly imply that maybe he hadn’t played for so long that he had gotten a little rusty.

Very rusty. Levi feigned a look of surprise and a nod of his head as he accidentally hit the air instead of the golf ball for the third time that morning.

The golf club was just a little too thin and the ball was just a little too round, Levi justified. And you never played golf in your life. His conscience reminded him.

“Maybe you should do some practice shots before you move on to the actual course,” Erwin suggested.

Levi had made two lucky yet still very sloppy shots. “It’s fine, I can keep playing,” he said. I just have to get my swing back. He would have added if guilt and shame hadn’t been such a looming emotion.

“Or you could try to do some practice swings before you hit the ball. It can help fix your aim,” Hange added, her tone was evidence enough of her good intentions.

Zeke shrugged. “Or you could just keep trying to hit. If you wanna waste your strokes on that, I see no problem with you swinging.”

“Waste… my strokes?” Levi asked. He had read on strokes that night. To win a golf tournament, the player had to hit the ball into all eighteen holes in the golf course.

It was a very simple sport which turned out to have more nuances than Levi had bothered to check the night before.

“Well, if you try to swing and miss the ball, that counts as one stroke,” Hange explained matter-of-factly.

“Wait… so that means I have other strokes… Aside from those I counted?”

“Ideally yes,” Zeke said. “By that confused look on your face, I’m assuming though that you haven’t been counting them.”

Levi’s eyes had been too wide and maybe he had been blinking just a little too fast. He looked down, pretending to focus on the small white ball in front of him. From his peripherals, he was watching Zeke. When he realized he had no control of his expression, he decided he wasn’t going to look up until Zeke looked away from him. “Should I be counting them?” Levi mustered.

“Ideally yes.” Zeke repeated, in the exact same tone as a second ago. “But you know Levi… if you haven’t played in a long time, then maybe we could allow you to make as many air shots as you want. It makes for some great practice. Think of it as training wheels on a bike or those floaties in a pool.”

“I don’t need a handicap.” I’m not a beginner. Levi would have added if the subtle weight of that white lie wasn’t hampering him at that moment.

“Well, I don’t wanna win against someone who is averaging scores way over par either,” Zeke said. “It’s not fun.”

“Over par?” Levi pulled his scoresheet out of his pocket. Until a moment ago, he had been proud of the fact that he had managed to hit the ball into the hole. The clack of the ball against the walls of the hole before it sank into the bottom had lightened his mood a bit. The woosh of the club, the sound of the bottom hitting the tea had been oddly satisfying.

At first glance, ‘over par’ had sounded like a compliment or something neutral at the least. The wry smile Hange had given him though had him nitpicking his scorecard.

“Well, the last five holes were par-three holes,” Hange said. She wasn’t lying, just below the table on Levi’s score card were a row of numbers next to the word ‘par.’

“Meaning any golfer worth their salt would finish them in three strokes,” Zeke added.

The numbers just above the three were all above tens and Levi had been proud of the eight, strangely proud. His mind had been petty enough to bring with it flashbacks of Erwin and Zeke hitting more than three strokes in some holes. The more logical side of his mind though was arguing two much more reasonable points. Firstly, Zeke and Erwin had never gone above ten strokes, he was sure of that. Secondly, they never completely missed the ball mid swing.

“Well, there’s still progress,” Hange came up from behind him and pointed at the scorecard. “You have a seventeen for the first hole… but the second ones are nearer to ten and look, you have an eight here,” Hange said pointing at the fourth column. She looked at Zeke and Erwin standing just a few feet away. “He’s just getting used to it. He’ll be fine.”

“Well, we still have thirteen more holes,” Erwin said. “You have a lot of time to get your swing back.”

Thirteen holes? Right, a full golf course had eighteen holes. He remembered reading about that. He didn’t expect to be completely exhausted after the first five though.

***

It didn’t get easier. In fact, it only got harder and the scorecard was a good guide. The numbers next to the word ‘par’ only got bigger and bigger the farther they walked and Levi was also starting to fear losing the ball among shrubs or having it just plop aimlessly into one of the bodies of water that were scattered across the greens.

If it falls, does someone have to swim in and get it? It was a ridiculous question to occupy himself with then. The country club was occupied by the richest of the rich, no one would bother to even get a golf ball that falls into a pond. Still, the past few holes had been nothing but surprises. Levi had admitted to himself early on that he was utterly lost. He was even starting to lose trust in his quick ability to deduce and answer such ridiculous questions. He was aware enough to know it was dumb enough to ask anyway.

“You’re making par-fives look easy. It’s definitely your years in the driving range paying off now.” Zeke was definitely not talking to him. His voice was too gentle, too reverent that for a good few moments, Levi almost believed it had been Erwin talking.

“Zeke mentioned that you had a good range,” Erwin said, making the contrast of Zeke and Erwin’s voice all the more distinct.

“It’s the closest thing we can get to golf back in the city,” Hange said. “Besides, it’s a good way to let off some…” She chose that moment to hit the ball with one fell swoosh, one flick of the wrist. “Steam!” For a few seconds after, she was breathing a little harder.

Although Levi tried, he could barely make out the white ball among the greens a good few yards away.

“You always had a lot of steam to let out,” Zeke quipped.

“And that’s why the driving range is my favorite part,” Hange said, a smile playing at her lips, her eyes narrowed and her nose wrinkled. And the object of such a cute and playful expression had been Zeke Jaeger. Still, it was a cute expression Levi had managed to enjoy from a distance.

Hange was smiling more. Her eyes were brighter and she was walking with longer, more confident strides than a while ago. As if she was in her natural habitat.

It had taken a little longer than a few minutes to catch up to the ball she had just thrown yards away. Levi was counting and everything happened a little too quickly. Hange got the hole in three solid strokes.

“An eagle! That’s your fourth bird today." Surprisingly, Zeke had the ability to be a bundle of pride, particularly when it was Hange next to him, and his arm was around her again.

"What can I say? I've been practicing," Hange responded.

Levi turned to the sky above him, searching the blue for some familiar shadow. No birds. Of course it would be a metaphor.

A metaphor which a half hour binge of golf videos did not prepare him for.

Levi was tempted to do a quick Google search then. His phone was safely tucked in his golf bag though and Hange had been too good of a view to miss.

The strides remained confident. Even crouched down dropping the ball on the tee, Hange had been domineering, confident. She continued to hit ball after ball in pounces and swishes.

Like an eagle. A condor. An albatross. All prowling, ready to swoop down at their prey.

The bird metaphors never ended. When Levi listened closely, he started to realize, Erwin and Zeke never actually stopped mentioning terms like eagles, birdies and boogies. When it was Hange’s turn to hit, Zeke was always mentioning a bird.

Birdies. Eagles. Albatrosses. “You think you can manage an ostrich?” Zeke asked. That was the first time Levi heard the word ostrich in the past few hours and such an ungraceful animal mentioned among all other graceful predators had him letting out a cough in surprise.

“You know, no one’s ever managed it. I’ve never done a condor in my life either,” Hange said.

“This is your last chance to get one for this course,” Zeke said.

“I’m not aiming for one,” Hange said.

Levi only had to look at the scorecard to realize that was their last hole for the day. He stared down a little lower to see a six under the empty box.

A par-six hole. So any golfer worth their salt would get the ball to the hole in six strokes. All the numbers next to the par were the numbers he should have been aiming for. Looking up at his own score, he was reminded that his numbers were usually twice or even thrice the numbers in the par row.

He thought back to Erwin, Zeke and Hange who had waited right behind him while he missed swings, missed holes when his balls were only inches away and concluded for himself that the numbers were a very reasonable estimate. He was still very much over par.

A below par golfer. It was a shitty joke. But.when the only thing keeping him following the three seasoned golfers was his self esteem that his been whittled at for hours, his mind was seeking comfort in the smallest yet most ridiculous things.

“Levi, you go first since you’re probably going to take more strokes anyway,” Zeke said.

Levi felt his hairs bristled at that. Zeke’s voice had been too near, too abrupt and Levi had been too busy surveying his surroundings for the flag.

Where is the hole? Levi opened his mouth to ask. The question died into a fake cough though when the red flickered for a second, just beyond the tall greens in front of him. “So, we get it to the other side of that?” He pointed one slightly shaky finger at the overgrowth in front of him.

Zeke shrugged. “Or you can go around it.”

“Going around might be a better idea,” Erwin said. “ He drew a half circle with his hand, tracing the trajectory of whatever ball he would probably be hitting. “Grass and trees might affect your swing.”

“You can hit a curveball.” The tone and the content of the suggestion framed it as almost good-intentioned advice. Zeke had narrowed his eyes at Levi as he said it.

Levi could barely even hit a decent ball. And you think I can do a curveball? He looked away from Zeke and at the more friendly landscape next to the mini forest. He wasn’t aiming for anything under par anyway.

Ending that damn course with remaining dignity would be nice and all he had to do was play it safe.

“You face your club a little to the left and swing to the right. It makes the ball spin.” Hange spoke up in the few second long silence.

Levi jumped at the abrupt yet mellow voice. A sound of the clack of metal and Levi instinctively looked down to find the ball had fallen off the tee. He bent down, ready to pick it up.

“Sorry, did I scare you?” Hange asked. Her movements weren’t helping to calm Levi down either. Whether she had even noticed it or not, when she had crouched down next to Levi. And her presence had come out of nowhere, a phantom in his peripherals, just like the her voice of a while ago that Levi found himself having to keel over, placing one hand on the floor just to avoid tripping over.

The ball started to roll further away. Hange was quick to catch it. “Yeah, you seem pretty jumpy today. It really has been a while since you played huh?” She placed the ball on the tee. “A curveball will save you the hazard of going into the forest or going too far right instead of forward,” she explained.

“Maybe you should teach him how to swing the club first before teaching him to curve the ball,” Zeke chided.

“He had enough holes to practice. Who knows, he might just make it under par for the last one,” Hange said.

“On a par-three hole maybe, not for a par-six one.” Erwin shook his head, a ghost of a playful smile on his face.

“Either way, we’re used to waiting for him to finish anyway,” Zeke said. “We had seventeen holes to get used to it.”

I can at least try. In response, whatever was left of Levi’s dignity echoed Hange’s last few pieces of advice. Club facing left, swing to the right. Words weren’t the best guide though. Levi only realized it for himself when his mind went on overdrive.

Which left? Whose left? Which right? Whose right? He could have sworn Hange had been in front of him for a second. And what is the point of coordinating all these movements? He concluded, there were things he would only ever learn through doing.

And his body hadn’t still even gotten used to the flick of his wrist, the unnatural weight of the golf club and the need to make sure the club actually hit the ball. He had been thinking everything at once in that split second it had taken to hit the ball. At the same time, he had managed to face his club left, swing a little to the right.

Or he could have sworn he did. In that split second, Levi lost sight of the ball. He stared at the sky for a few seconds before deciding, it probably wasn’t there. He turned to the flat land to his right, no white specks either.

He heard the beginnings of a laugh just behind him.

Zeke’s laugh. “You really hit your ball there huh?”

“Is it out of bounds?” Levi asked, stifling whatever emotion was creeping out of him. It turned out much easier to just keep his voice monotone.

“Well, technically it’s not. It’s still playable,” Erwin said. “But if you look at the terrain…”

When Levi squinted he saw it, beyond the greens was a little dirty brown then just beyond it the speck of red.

“You’re years too early for an exhibition, Levi,” Zeke said.

“I think it’s playable.” Hange’s voice probably wasn’t the voice of reason but it was a source of comfort though.

She pulled a club from her golf bag and positioned herself to hit her own ball. She did a few practice swings, biting her lower lip in concentration.

Her motions were coming out, disjointed, so stark of a contrast from a while ago that Levi clearly recalled her own seamless movements until that moment. Her own hit had ended with her swinging position just a little too loose, the ball flying aimlessly a good few feet above him then the soft rustle of trees.

Hange looked back at them, a light shrug of defeat. Or acceptance. Her shrug had been too much of a big ham though to have been anything worth pitying. “I guess I’ll be playing through the forest too,” she said.

***

“You know there’s a time limit to finding your ball,” Hange said.

It was definitely an attempt to make conversation. Since they entered the forest, Hange had been seemingly restless, she was hummed, she tutted. Only when Levi grunted in return did that little exchange even become somewhat more coherent.

“Well, then I lose,” Levi said.

“No, you don’t get disqualified if you don’t find it. You just get a stroke penalty and you can start---”

“Well, I think I’m done for the day anyway.” That admission was enough to pull some of the weight off of his shoulders. When it was just Hange there, somehow it had been easier to hint, he wasn’t at all enjoying his morning.

For a few seconds longer, they were silent, save for the rustle of the crunch of the leaves below, the rustle of branches. Hange could have been making a sound. If the raising of eyebrows, the pursing of lips and the shifting of features into a wide smile could have counted as one.

He didn’t have the leeway to think too much into it though. Before he could stare and contemplate for a while longer, Hange broke the silence. “I’m guessing you actually never played golf.” She was saying it too gleefully like she had just caught him stealing a cookie from a cookie jar.

He had feared Hange seeing right through him until that moment. Such an exchange had come out almost anticlimactic. “You’re right. I never did. I grew up in the city and we don’t get a lot of golf courses in the city and country club memberships are expensive.”

“Why did you say you did? And you seemed so excited…” Hange trailed off. There was a disappointment in her tone, apparent enough to send a dull stab of guilt through him.

Levi sighed. “I thought of tea time not tee time,” he admitted.

“Tea time?” Hange asked.

Levi put his finger to his mouth, putting one pinky up in emphasis. “Tea time.”

Hange put the a cup made of air to her mouth in response. The raised pinky must have done the trick. “Like cups and kettles and shortbread tea time?” She asked.

Levi let out a deep sigh. “That would have been nice.”

“You should have told me! We could have organized one.”

“Really? Under Zeke’s sponsorship?”

“Well we have one more night here so what about after we go to the beach this afternoon. I can call the house have them prepare something---”

“Zeke is paying. I’d rather not…”

“Believe me, he’ll be in a good mood after this.”

Levi raised one eyebrow. “Really? After this?”

“He’s beating Erwin,” Hange said. “And Zeke likes winning if you haven’t noticed.” She stopped on her tracks and leaned back on the tree.

Levi only had to look back at the chess matches and the mahjong matches to see the truth in Hange’s explanation. “How’s your score?”

Hange pulled out her scorecard and handed it to him. His first instinct was to stare once again at the par numbers below before looking up again at the numbers on top. The view was definitely new to him. His own had been filled with two digit numbers at the top, double or even triple the par. Hange’s scorecard was clean, all one digit numbers, rarely above five. “He’s beating Erwin but he’s not beating me,” she admitted.

Levi only realized a second later that his jaw dropped. He moved to close his mouth. Zeke had been loud, his presence glaring. Erwin had been silent but he had given too much unsolicited advice that Levi had watched more closely begrudgingly counting the number of strokes.

Hange though had been silent, she had been focused on hitting the ball and although she had given advice, she had been subtle, she had been soft spoken about it.

Then he remembered the terms. Boogey. Birdy. Eagle. “Zeke told me you got an ‘eagle’”

“Eagle. Two strokes under par. I got one over here,” Hange said, pointing at a three.”And I got some ‘birdies.’” Levi didn’t do his research but the quick deduction that came with staring at the par numbers and Hange’s own numbers just one below par were enough for him to figure it for himself. “So you’ve been playing for a while.”

“I played this course a lot. I’d go alone when Zeke’s busy,” Hange said. “Sometimes when we’re back in the city, I’d go to the driving range to---”

“To let off some steam.”

Hange nodded. “Well Zeke spends a lot of time working, thinking about investments, stocks…. And Married life gets stressful. Sometimes, it gets surprisingly lonely.”

“You have your own thing going on though right? You have research, investments…”

“Definitely, but I can’t even count the number of times Zeke takes me here, only to ditch for a meeting or another emergency,” Hange said. “So it’s nice to be here with other people. Thanks for coming,” she added, her voice much softer than a while ago.

“Thanks for being patient with a newbie.”

Hange put her hands up in surprise. “No, I’m happy to be playing here,” she said. “You know, the many times Zeke and I played this course together, he never went this route for the final hole.”

“Have you?” Levi asked.

By the way Hange was navigating just a little too confidently, Levi realized he didn’t need a verbal answer.

Hange was still kind enough to supply one. “I told you right? I played this course too many times to count…” She walked ahead. “Our balls went to the same area, past the forest and you’ll see at the end of this why Zeke refuses to play here.”

Levi continued to follow, pushing leaves, branches and undergrowth back when necessary. The way the branches had given way to a glistening blue had been an almost breathtaking site.

“If your ball gets stuck in the forest, then you can’t usually go full swing to get it out. But if you swing too weakly, the ball will fall into the lake,” Hange explained. “And you waste a stroke. And a really good ball.”

“If it falls in?”

“We use a provisional ball and we get a stroke penalty. And of course, we lose the ball.” Hange answered. “I’ve lost enough balls here.”

“And Zeke never tried this path?”

“Zeke likes winning,” Hange said, her tone as deadpan as it was the first time she said it. “But the way he goes about winning is like...He’s always been smart about it, always playing safe. And it’s not just in games. He has always approached life like that. His investments are always blue chip, commodities, healthcare. Things which would never fail. And if you’ve seen how he plays, he’ll never go for something risky, like this.” Hange held her hands wide in front of her in emphasis. “He’ll skirt around the forest, even if it takes him an extra two strokes.”

“A conservative husband. At least you know you’ll never go hungry.” That response had been automatic. He had been a little too playful then, trying to elicit a reaction from the already frustrated looking Hange.

Hange let out a grand sigh, something that could have been a scream if she put more voice into it. “Yeah and you’re just as conservative as he is.”

“Am I?” Levi raised one eyebrow, a challenge at that one comment. On the inside though, maybe he was slightly insulted.

Hange didn’t notice it. She probably hadn’t even heard him. She dropped the golf bag and walked ahead towards the edge of the lake. “I found one of our golf balls!” She waved one hand back at him, too giddily that Levi was tempted to walk on ahead, just stopping where the sand started to soak up the water.

“We’re still in the game, Levi.” Hange said, a toothy grin clambered up her cheeks.

No. Levi thought to himself. Those words never made it to his lips. Or maybe it did, just as something else.“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Hange had bent down and started unlacing her shoes. “Why?”

“Why are you gonna get yourself dirty? You can just use a provisional ball and you can just go around the lake.”

Hange took a break from unlacing her shoes, and put a hand up in front of him as if to say ‘case in point.’ “Conservative.”

“Why, what’s wrong with conservative?”

In a begrudgingly effective response, Hange wildly kicked off one shoe and it flew just a good few inches from the banks. “I told you yesterday, games teach things right?”

And sometimes they expose parts of ourselves. Levi completed that last part in his head.

If he had ended up muttering it out loud, Hange probably didn’t hear it. “ Games are problems that need to be solved,” she started. “And life is the same way, stocked with problems, or maybe it’s a constant problem that needs to be navigated and solved right?”

Levi didn’t respond. Hange didn’t seem to be looking for a response either and she continued to speak. “People will always master their commonly used thinking processes and problem solving processes and they rely too easily on them. Zeke and his stocks. Zeke and his business ventures. And Levi Ackerman and his programming,” She cocked her head back and looked at him, her expression a big ham. She kicked her other shoe to the other side.

“What about my programming?” Levi asked.

“Oh a user interface problem? It’s a front end issue. Oh it’s a problem with the server data? It’s a back end issue.” For that moment, Hange had changed her tone, her verbal tics, and Levi could only come up with one conclusion: she was mocking him.

He was sure he didn’t sound like that though. “I didn’t know you understood coding.”

“I don’t,” Hange said. “But I did my research because we’re gonna be working together right? Anyway, the point is, sure, you’re an efficient thinker that way. Everyone is an efficient thinker when they’re thinking in shortcuts and clearcut processes. Don't you think people lose a lot of opportunities to learn something a little more life changing, to achieve something more when they stick to all these strict processes?” Hange grabbed one of the more rounded clubs from her bag. “By the way, this is a driver,” she said.

A driver, a golf club used for long distance hits. Levi at least remembered that much from researching. “I knew that.”

“Well, I thought I might as well give you a few lessons. We’re gonna be working together so I thought I’d tell you how I like to work, Levi.” Hange cocked her head back and smiled. “When we look into this application, you might find a bug. But I asked you… what if it’s working as expected? What if it’s a matter of flawed data?”

“That’s what we’ll be investigating right?”

“But I don’t wanna start this investigation with assumptions. We’re creating an extension of your application, we’re gonna be breaking down the application to data, sensations and feelings. I feel like we’ll be able to do a better job at finding the ‘bug’ if we keep an open mind about it. So I want us to ask and answer questions we were scared to even probe,” Hange said. She stepped into the water, driver in hand.

Levi could only watch, starting from the bottom, watching as her pants turned a darker shade of blue, as the water creeped up her hastily and shoddily folded cuffs.

“Questions like?” Levi already had the question, tucked in his mind. He wasn’t the one married. He wasn’t the one with the billionaire husband. That wasn’t his question to ask.

Fortunately, Hange had been eager to probe. “What if we’re just attracted to each other? As simple as that. What if… the love alarm is just telling us, we really could get along?”

It was the easiest answer and somehow, such an admission had Levi admiring everything at once. The sun after the rain was brightest, it reflected the water in various ways, emitting too many colors at once.

And Hange was in the middle of it all. The sun, the gleaming water had done their job to make her just a little too iridescent, a feast for even his eyes.

His eyes still had a conscience though. “Don’t you wanna figure out why it didn’t ring with Zeke?”

Hange shrugged. “I am curious… but really, love is a complex thing. Why would I let an application tell me who I love or don’t love? No matter how the application rings, it wouldn’t change how I feel about Zeke.”

Hange turned her back on him then and Levi was at least grateful he had that one second to let out a hitched breath. “Then I guess, you really know how to love, Hange,” he whispered, mostly for himself and maybe, in the infinitesimally small chance Hange was listening.

She had gone deeper into the water, the water starting to tickle at her shins. She stopped, positioning her club just a little into the water. Wish me luck. She mouthed.

And everything went quickly after that. One flick of the wrist, a splash of water, a lot of mud. Levi didn’t even have time to watch the ball fly. Maybe because he had been watching the bluish drops, the brown drops hovering in the air and Hange in the middle of it all for a few split seconds longer.

Everything suddenly slowed down when he was looking at the minute details, when he was watching how the drops of water flew high enough to smack lightly at her face, how the grime practically slapped at her neck and the way the drops of water and mud hung heavy on her shirt, down to her bottoms.

She wasn’t looking back yet. She put a hand to her forehead as if they were a pair of binoculars only she knew how to use. She let out a cheer, a howl in amazement as if she was the one who didn’t just send a ball flying from the water. “ I think the ball made it to the green,” she said

She turned back at him so excitedly that the water continued to splash.

Levi instinctively stepped back. “You’re a fucking mess. It’s disgusting.” He was sure he had sounded a little abrasive.

Hange’s smile wasn’t falling though. “Then why are you smiling?”

“Am I?” Levi asked. The smile tugged at his lips and he wasn’t compelled at all to resist.

He declared it Hange’s win. Besides, maybe she was right. Maybe they could really get along.

***

There was an albatross pecking by the sand, only a few feet from Levi. It was an ugly bird, the beak too long, too crooked and when it stared at him with its deep black eyes, Levi could have sworn it was peering into his soul.

It was mildly terrifying but still, Levi continued to stare just to make sure the few seconds of googling an albatross, and his own natural instinct were correct. That it was an albatross.

“Why are you staring at the bird?” It was a cold yet seemingly innocent question. It was just like his direct superior though to have him so self conscious over one simple action with just one question.

“It’s an albatross,” Levi answered, only realizing a second later he hadn’t answered the question.

Or maybe that was the answer to the question. “So a small game of golf was enough to have you interested in birds.”

“I just did some research on albatrosses after the game."

"Is this about Hange?"

"Zeke was screaming about an albatross during the game,” Levi said.

“Albatross, three strokes below par. Hange got that par-six hole in three strokes,” Erwin explained.

“Yeah, she did.”

“So it is about Hange.”

Levi didn’t say anything, instead, focusing on the conglomeration of unpleasant sensations bombarding him. He shifted his knees, and his bottom, letting the beach blanket bristle from underneath him. Just a little hyper aware then, he picked out the grains of sand rising as little bumps, digging into him.

When he held his chin high, instead of focusing on the ground underneath, he still couldn’t shift himself into something perfectly agreeable. The sticky air, the sour, flaky scent that lingered there were unshakeable discomforts. Levi could have sworn that although he hadn’t even gone near enough to the ocean to get wet, the humid ocean air would still find a way to leave him wet and sticky.

“What do you think of her?” Erwin asked.

“Think of who?”

“Hange.”

Erwin’s question had been enough to pull Levi from his quick trance of running through all the downsides of the beach trip. Those downsides were quickly replaced by another discomfort. Suddenly, Levi was uncomfortable inside and out. “Why would you ask that?”

“Well, you’re gonna be working close to her so I just wanted to make sure you two were compatible.”

Compatible. That word had Levi coughing out the ocean air. “Well our love alarms rang so maybe that means we could get along, work efficiently together.”

“Just don’t get Zeke angry,” Erwin said.

“Why would I do that?”

“Keep him in a good mood.”

But were Zeke's good moods even predictable? “Well, Hange is his partner and he seems particularly happy when she's around,” Levi said.

“He was in a good mood today, particularly after a match, spent a good few minutes talking about how you lost your ball.”

Levi never did find the ball that flew into the forest. Although he had a provisional and he could have played on, somehow following Hange’s own play had been much more entertaining. “Hange told me he likes winning,” Levi said.

“Particularly against you,” Erwin noted, one eyebrow raised.“You know, when Hange followed you into the woods, he seemed like he was in a bad mood for a while there.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Zeke is an important customer, an important opportunity for this application and I want to make sure he’s happy with his investment.”

“Yes, Hange and I will work on a good product.”

“It’s not just that,” Erwin said. “With the amount of money Zeke is putting into this product, try to keep this in mind, if he wants something, he gets it. Don’t make him want to pull out the money.”

Erwin was dancing around definitions for sure. He was emphasizing words, dropping hints and he was staring at Levi like there was something else he had wanted to say but was stopping himself.

If Zeke wants something, he gets it. Erwin had mentioned.

He was a reasonable man though so it didn’t seem too radical of a decision for Levi to amend the statement on his end. If Zeke wants something within reason, he gets it.

All he had to do was keep Zeke happy. A hauntingly difficult task especially when the blonde had proved to be incredibly disagreeable the few times he had known him.

Don't you think people lose a lot of opportunities to learn something a little more life changing, to achieve something more when they stick to all these strict processes?

Then he was reminded, pleasing Zeke didn’t have to be a strict process of sucking up to him. Levi was starting to see it for himself when the conversation deadened into nothing, save for the squawk of the ocean birds and the splash of the waves on the shore.

When there was nothing more to discuss, Erwin fell back on his beach blanket. Within a few minutes, he was silent. Levi wasn’t as tired. He probably would have fallen asleep though if the two figures at the distance hadn’t caught his eye.

One blonde, one brunette. He only needed the height difference, the familiar colored bathing suits from a while ago to figure out for himself who they were.

Hange was much easier to pick out. The enthusiasm, the inquisitiveness he had gotten used to overtime was apparent in the way she managed to scurry across the shores before falling thigh deep into the water. She was pointing at something under.

From next to her, Zeke dove to get it, pulling out a large shell. Then they were talking. Hange held the shell in her hand, raised it up to the sky.

It could have been gleaming, glittering. Levi was too far to tell. By the way, Hange waves her hands up before holding it in front of Zeke, Levi was sure it was beautiful.

A few minutes may have passed of just watching the couple trudge through hip deep water.

The peaceful moment was abruptly interrupted by a man in a beach polo and board shorts, running towards the shore, one hand held high. “Mr. Jaeger! Someone from the board of directors of…” He continued to talk, to shout. He was running as he spoke and Levi never picked up the last few parts of that conversation.

That wasn’t his business anyway. There were more important things though, more fitting of the name “his business.”

Like the way Hange’s mouth dropped, perceptible despite the distance between them. The way she had slowed down to a stop, shell still in hand.

They made it back to the shallower part of the beach together only separating after one kiss to Hange’s forehead. Zeke went ahead in land, seeming particularly restless.

And Hange? She sat down at the edge of the shore, where the water was still deep enough to cover her feet. She pulled her legs to her chest, held them close. The shell lay forgotten on her side.

By the time Levi was close enough to see it, the shell had disappeared, most likely taken back by the ocean. “Hey, was there something you wanted to see?”

Pleasing Zeke didn’t have to be a strict process. It didn’t have to be the strict daunting process of sucking up to a disagreeable man. He concluded that for himself when he allowed the burst of energy to wash through him then, when Hange looked up at him, a wide grin decorating her lips.

Someone was precious to Zeke. It was very much apparent back in the pool, back in the golf course and then and there, on the shores.

And if I make her happy, by extension, I make Zeke happy right?

“Zeke and I were planning on checking out the albatross colony, just over there past that rock,” Hange said. “There are usually seagulls at this time of year too.”

“I can come with you.”

Hange’s eyes widened. “Really? You didn’t seem excited when I mentioned the ocean yesterday.”

Levi had been polite. “Did I seem not excited?”

“Well, you wrinkled your nose like this.” Hange made a ridiculous face, crossing her eyes, raising her nose a little too high, Levi could have sworn he had never made that expression that in his life. Hange continued. "And when we arrived, you stayed as far away as you could and you had that same face.

Levi didn’t have much control of his expressions and maybe he was a little too unsure. The water was deep enough to eat at his feet but still shallow enough that Levi had full control of his movements.

The ocean was dirty, disgusting. It was a confluence of biological waste. But the ocean had Hange. The ocean made Hange happy.

Suddenly, Levi was self conscious of his own expression then. Just in case, he pulled his mouth up to a subtle smile, making a conscious effort to soften his expression. In the end, it hadn’t been too much of a feat.

Hange’s own smile, her wide eyes had made everything all the easier. “You wanna see the albatross colonies?” she asked.

“Sure, We don’t come here often anyway.”

“You’ll definitely not get this back in the city. The magic about this island is… there’s not a lot of beachgoers so we’re able to preserve a lot of nature.” Hange walked ahead, looking back only long enough to grip his hand.

She walked further into the ocean and the wind could have gotten stronger. It whipped at her damp hair, blowing it in all directions at once. The fishy smell of the ocean rode with the wind and Levi found himself blinking hard a few times while willing himself to move forward.

Hange was moving faster than Levi ever had been. She was more than a few feet away already and the distance between them was only getting wider and wider.

He could have been distracted or maybe he had just been convinced that if he walked on, he would eventually catch up to her. He didn’t pay heed to the water that smacked at his chest, until he had to taste it. Not until he had to flail his hands just to keep moving forward, against the current.

“Hange!” By the time, he had thought it necessary to call out, Hange was too far. For sure, she didn’t hear him. Levi was starting to question himself though. How could she hear him when there was a wall of water between them? How could she hear him when water was finding its way into his mouth every single time he had attempted to call out?

He was starting to find it difficult to even open his mouth. He was finding it difficult to kick, to flail his arms. HIs chest was screaming. The few moments he tried to open his eyes, to take stock of the situation, he was met with a stinging pain.

A few times, he tried to kick up ahead to the surface. Once or twice, he had opened his eyes despite the stinging pain, long enough to see the sky above him.

Was he drowning? He was drowning in the world’s bathroom, a conglomeration of shit and piss. It was a horrible way to go out and as much as possible, he would have wanted to go out in other less disgusting ways. So Levi continued to flail towards the top, kicking from underneath. He continued to scream, or at least attempt to scream past the bombardment of seawater that made it past his mouth and to his lungs.

The ocean smelled fear. Maybe it smelled disgust. It continued to advance towards him. Any reprieve Levi managed to find, any attempt to stay a float, back first on the surface was met with waves lapping at him, riptides dragging him from all directions at once.

Levi!

Was it Hange? Or was it the ocean? When everything came accompanied by whooshes, gurgles and bubbling, Levi never could be too sure.

Still, he continued to kick. He continued to wave his arms, until his lungs let out their last cry. Until all sensations whittled to unknowns.

And all he could see was darkness.

***

Hey, can you hear me?

The ocean had been warm, so warm that Levi didn’t even know his insides were cold until air filled his mouth, whizzing down his throat. Awareness came like a flicker then two many lights at once.

And in the middle of it all, it could have been Hange. He liked to think it was Hange. Her damp hair were tendrils that caressed at his neck, her voice drumming yet faint.

Hey, hey, can you see me? Blink twice if you can.

Levi wasn’t in control of his body. He didn’t think too much of it though, he had a good view right in front of him, albeit a little blurry.

Stop moving. Although he couldn’t say it out loud, he was sure he said it loud enough in his mind. Still, something was shaking him, his vision was topsy turvy, the lights continued to move left and right, then up and down in some pattern he couldn’t even comprehend.

The lights were bright, dizzying. Instinctively Levi shut his eyes. In the darkness that followed, maybe he lost track of time, of some sort of rhythm without the lights to guide him. The familiar sensation came as something abrupt. He noticed the contours first, the lines that brushed against his own lips, settling on his upper lip, then just a little bit above his jaw.

Then he tasted them. They were salty and they brought with it more surprises. More air that brushed past the walls of his mouth, to the back of his throat then they washed down to his lungs. More air. And they did their job to aggravate whatever other unwelcome concoctions had settled in his airway

Awareness had come like a flicker. Consciousness came as a slap in his face, then everything at once. There was a pain in his chest, from the shaking.

His view was a dark yet glistening blue. The ocean? But how long had he been staring at the ocean. He could have sworn that he was watching Hange just a while ago.

“Just let it out Levi.” Her voice was grating. And Levi wondered why he was even looked at her. Everything hurt at once, and when Levi stared at the water, the notable puddle just next to him, comprehension washed over him, first as a flicker, a slap in the face then a large wall of water, a monster in the sea.

He could have been drowning again.

What the fuck. It would have been nice to be able let out a taut swear. After all, when he was barely moving, the aches and pains bunched up inside him. Everything came out as a gurgle, then more salt water.

“You almost drowned out there,” Hange said, an attempt at comforting for sure. Levi wasn’t at all comforted though.

Not by her voice at least. Something was caressing at his neck, pushing his hair behind his ear. It took him a few seconds longer, and a soft motion guiding his head back up, back to looking straight up at the sky, for Levi to put two and two together.

The sky was the background. Hange was the centerpiece. A centerpiece of relief and exhaustion, framed by hair much damper. Those were enough hints.

You saved me? He had tried to mouth it.

Whether Hange had heard it or not, he couldn’t do much to assume but he focused on the way she licked her lips, the way she bit them before settling for a weak smile. He focused on the way the lines on her lips stuck out a little more when dry.

And it just had been a little easier to recall them right on top of his.

So you did save me. He couldn’t spare much words but he did manage to spare a smile.

Hange didn’t return it. By the time Levi was confident enough to have sworn he was smiling, Hange had already looked away. “He’s responsive,” she said, her voice more distant than a second ago.

“Hange, let a professional take over.” Zeke’s voice penetrated into that tiny world that had been just the both of them.

“You have to be careful, I might have bruised a few ribs.” Suddenly, Hange’s voice was getting softer and softer.

As if Zeke had intruded just to pull her out. He sought solace in the fact that she was Zeke’s after all. That was only the expected outcome.

For a while all he saw was blue sky. Then unfamiliar faces. Then others were asking questions. Way too many questions. It was just a little too overwhelming that Levi could only force his eyelids shut.

He let the darkness take over, then his other four senses. Then soon, he could have been dreaming again. The contours, the dry scabby lines at his upper lip, at his lower lip, brushing just a little lower. He was certain, in those split second long moments, her lips were on his.

Soft but chapped. Salty but sweet. Maybe he spared a few seconds, a few glimmers of scarce energy to lick at his lips just to taste it again.

Reason bared its fangs. She did it to save your life. She’s married. He scolded himself.

Soon, he was barely aware of anything but blackness. And the salty and sweet, the soft and dry danced for a little longer in his dreams.

Still, a part of him continued to whisper. Not in your wildest dreams.

“Not in your wildest dreams, Levi.” A soft mutter only he could have heard. It was only for him anyway since he needed to hear it himself to believe it.

#levihan #levihan fanfiction #fanfic

25 notes · View notes

hermannsthumb · 4 years ago

Note

As per our conversation, Hermann teaching a zoom class and perhaps forgetting to mute himself when his husband comes in during break...

god this is going to be my first fic of 2021. hilarious. not sfw!!!!! 👀 and also major warning for secondhand embarrassment LMAO

------

“You finished yet?” Newton calls into the study.

Hermann stretches his arms above his head with a groan, then yawns just as Newton appears around the doorframe. “Hardly. We’ve still got another, oh…” He spares a glance towards the cat-shaped clock hanging near some potted ivy by the window. (The clock was purchase of Newton’s at some sort of novelty shop they stumbled across on vacation last year that Hermann absolutely refused him to allow to hang in the bedroom.) “Hour. I’m allowing them a small break to fetch water or lunch or whatnot.”

A plate balanced atop Hermann’s preferred mug is produced from behind Newton’s back—sandwich, apple slices, and tea. Newton smiles. “Good timing. I was worried I’d have to force this on you in front of your students. How’s the leg holding up?”

The occasions upon which Hermann has no choice but to reschedule his graduate lessons to Zoom are rare, but fortunately foreseeable by a day or so; though the end of the war meant Hermann does not run himself nearly as ragged as he used to, his left leg acts up terribly every now and again, and he really doesn’t have it in himself to make the journey by foot to campus (or even by train) when it does. Or do anything besides wear a bloody heating pad and pop some his medication—Newton calls them his bad leg days. Hermann’s students are always very understanding, and indeed, he suspects they may appreciate the chance to lounge about their own flats for the day. “Better than before,” Hermann says. “Much better, really.”

Newton sets Hermann’s lunch down on his desk, and pulls up the second computer chair to sit down next to him. He steals an apple slice. “Good,” he says. Then his eyes flick over Hermann—from his usual combination of sweatervest and slightly-wrinkled oxford up top, to Newton’s borrowed pair of sweatpants below. They’re too-big in everything but length and hit his calves, but it’s not as if any of his students are going to see them. Newton grins. “Those look kinda hot on you, you know.”

“Newton,” Hermann warns.

“Are you wearing my boxers too?” Newton says. “Or—”

He creeps his hand over to Hermann’s thigh with (what Hermann knows are) full intentions to draw back his waistband and take a peek. Hermann bats him away, blushing. “Behave yourself. I’m in class.”

“You’re on break,” Newton says.

“A short break,” Hermann says. “A very short break. Not nearly enough time to—”

“You didn’t take very long this morning,” Newton says, grinning wider.

That morning should hardly be held up as an example of Hermann’s usual, er, prowess in their intimate affairs. After fetching Hermann his medication and a glass of water, Newton had very graciously massaged his poor, poor knee, and his poor, poor hip, and Hermann had had only the natural reaction to one’s extremely alluring husband groping about one’s bare skin even with twinges of pain, and Newton had used his mouth to take care of that. Hermann’s stamina was short-lived, though it made him feel heaps better. “I was wound up,” Hermann says, lamely.

Newton swallows down another apple slice and carefully slides one of his legs between Hermann’s. “I bet I could get you wound up again pretty fast,” he says. He rubs his knee up and down slowly, against the front of Hermann’s loose, borrowed sweatpants; Hermann groans.

“Bugger,” he says. “Oh, Newton, I’m teaching.”

“Really fast?” Newton says. “C’mon, it’ll make you feel even better.”

“This is entirely about your—” Hermann bites down on his bottom lip to keep another pathetic sound from slipping out, and clutches onto the edge of his desk. “Ah, your own bloody ego, and you—you know it.”

“Maybe,” Newton says.

He grazes his fingertips across Hermann’s jaw, and presses his thumb against Hermann’s mouth. Hermann parts his lips automatically to allow it to slip between them. Newton’s pretty irises darken. “You want another blowjob?” he says. “Hey, you wouldn’t even have to stop teaching. I could just hide under your desk.”

“Newton,” Hermann hisses around his thumb. “Don’t be crass.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Newton snorts. “Remember that one time in the lab—?”

Hermann does, unfortunately, or maybe it’s fortunately, because it had been rather exhilarating at the time. Newton had talked him into a rare instance of laboratory sex, oral sex for oral sex, and offered to go first; halfway through the act, they’d been interrupted by someone with paperwork for them to sign, and Hermann (in a panic) had shoved Newton out of sight beneath his desk. Newton continued to suck him off anyway while Hermann signed it for them. “It’ll be just like then,” Newton says. He pulls his hand away from Hermann, and begins to slide off his chair to his knees. “C’mon, dude. Or are you afraid everyone will find out you’re a slut?”

Hermann moans in spite of himself, and then laughs nervously. He does so lose control of himself when Newton calls him those sorts of things. “Newton. Oh, you’re awful. Get back—mhm, ah—” Newton is pulling down the waistband of the sweatpants with a devious grin. He makes a mocking, obscene little kissing-face when Hermann's prick, already hard, pops free. “Darling—”

Hermann’s phone begins to buzz when Newton takes him into his mouth. One short buzz—a series of one short buzzes, in fact. Emails. Emails, emails. Why so many in a row? He’s meant to be in class. People know he’s not available now. Hermann is absolutely not available now. “You’re too bloody good at this,” Hermann says through a soft gasp, and kneads at the bulge of Newton’s cheek. Newton winks.

Buzz. Buzz. “For God’s sake,” Hermann says, and snatches his phone up in a fury. He’ll set the damn thing to Do Not Disturb and finish enjoying his private time with his husband, thank you.

The top subject line catches his eye before he can. You’re not muted!!!! It’s from one of his graduate students. The rest of them are something similar, from some handful of three or four students. “Oh, fuck,” Hermann gasps. A chasm of dread opens up in the pit of his stomach; surely he muted himself, of course he muted himself, he wouldn’t have not muted himself. Hermann programmed jaegers, by Jove, he knows how to work simple technology like a mute button. Right? “Newton, get—”

“Mm,” Newton hums happily.

“No, you moron, get up, get up now.”

Hermann tugs Newton back by his hair, which is a mistake: Newton’s head hits the top of his desk with an echoing thud, and Newton’s moan of pleasure at being manhandled turns into a grunt of pain halfway through. “Shit, Hermann, that hurt!”

Hermann pulls up his Zoom screen (minimized during the break) frantically. His camera is off; his computer sound is muted; his microphone is not, and he has a half-dozen messages in the Zoom chat (which he missed) politely telling him he might want to check that. He fixes it quickly. “Get out of here,” he hisses at Newton. He tucks himself back into Newton’s sweatpants, acutely aware of the horrid hot blush spreading up every inch of his visible skin. Oh, he wishes he was dead. He wishes a kaiju would come from no where and stomp both of them into oblivion. He wishes he could hand in his resignation at this very moment. “I wasn’t—muted.”

Newton, still kneeling under his desk, stares at him with eyes wide behind his glasses, and then lets out a burst of laughter. “Oops,” he says.

The allotted break ends five minutes later. Newton makes off with Hermann’s uneaten sandwich, and Hermann gathers up as much dignity as he can muster and switches both camera and microphone back on. “Good,” he says. “We’re all here. Er. Where did we leave off?”

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous #not sfw ////

83 notes · View notes

nekoannie-chan · 4 years ago

Text

Secret memories

Pairing: Brock Rumlow X Mutant!Reader

Word count: 650 words.

Summary: You could see and smell the memories, but Brock's were very different from other people.

Warnings: Mention of Brock’s past.

A/N: This is my entry to @just-the-hiddles’s 3500 Followers writing Challenge with the scent #21:

“Antique lace: Nostalgia encapsulate”

And my entry to @that-damn-girl’s the next chapter-Writing challenge.

Reader is mutant.

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

If you like it please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @saiyanprincessswanie @charmed-asylum

You sighed, you put a hand in your head, you felt overwhelmed, not because of the people who were disappearing but because there were too many memories that belonged to the people who were staying, the worst thing was the smell, people didn’t know it, but each type of memory had a specific smell, the best were the happy memories, although they were usually nostalgic. Still, they did not compare to the fragrances of the potions that used to use.

However, there was something specific that caught your eye, Brock's memories, they didn't use to be happy, but they were also only in black and white, while the others were coloured. You knew he was worried about something, he never talked about his past, he always avoided talking about his childhood and so on.

You saw this watch, Brock should be training in the gym at that time, however, he had to know once and for all what had happened.

You went to the room you used as a studio, Brock knew some of your powers and abilities, but not all, you walked to the closet, you opened it and took it out a briefcase, which contained inside many jars, started to look among all you have looking for the one you needed, as soon as you found it, you took it, you loved the name it had.

The ‘nostalgia encapsulated’ had been very useful several times, not to say that it also helped Steve and Bucky when they needed it, even though you didn't use it because you wanted to, but it was a Fury’s request. Maybe it would also help your boyfriend against whatever happened in his past.

It was very simple magic that was used, you were immune, but as soon as Brock came in and the fragrance was inside his body when he smelled it (he wouldn't even notice it) it would be easier as it was scattered throughout the room.

You conjugate the spells while opening the jar and starting to spread the fragrance, Brock would never suspect anything that was going to happen, he would probably blame the alcohol he would drink over dinner, that excuse always worked.

Brock came into the house, still feeling overwhelmed by what had happened, they still didn't have a plan for how to continue or how to fix things, however, as soon as he saw the dining room, he felt pathetic when he saw the decoration, everything was ready for a romantic dinner, he swallowed saliva with difficulty at the possibility that he had forgotten some important date.

"I think is a good idea to have a special dinner today,” you said, entering the dining room.

The expression on Brock's face relaxed, at least you weren't angry, he wouldn't have to do anything to fix things, so the night promised it would end very well and wonderfully, or at least that he believed.

After you finished dinner, Brock started talking, where you learned about his entire past, how he was orphaned and other misfortunes in his life, everything was starting to make sense.

One of the effects of the spell was that the person would fall asleep, but they wouldn't remember what they had said, you managed to take him to the room and accommodate him in bed so he could keep sleeping.

You hug him and caress his face, now he understood because Brock behaved like this, also the reasons why he was so terrified when people began to disappear, Brock was afraid of the possibility of losing you, he just no longer wanted to lose anyone he loved.

"Never mind, I love you and I will help you heal, everything will improve, my love. The future is going to be much better; I promise.”

Gradually you two starting to create cheerful memories, now Brock’s memories were beginning to be colourful and have a very pleasant aroma

#jth 3500 writing challenge #the next chapter writing challenge #jth3500writingchallenge #brock rumlow x reader

33 notes · View notes

backugo · 4 years ago

Text

You make me smile

Character: Todoroki Shouto x Female Reader

Warnings: Fluffy fluff, little agurments, angst (if you squint)

Summary: Shoutos has been gifted with your presence which blossums into a wonderful friendship and hes never been happier, but he wants to know, does he make you as happy?

Authors note: just a little fic. Not edited completely 😅

In all the years Shouto has lived he has never felt more complete as he does right now. He finds himself in his third year, surrounded by friends, whom he considers family. Each classmate gives him a sense of belonging that he was neglected in his younger years. The amount of support his mentors and fellow comrades have expressed has molded him into a better hero. One person, in particular, has changed him, but into a better man. Every glance and laugh they share has only left a warm within him. The late-night conversations you both had are memories he fondly revisits when he feels low. He can’t help the smiles that threaten to show when the end of his high school journey approaches. His mind is filled with thoughts of his classmates, and if he will be able to maintain the strong bonds, he’s created with each of them.

As shouto glances at you, he realizes he no longer hides his smile. You naturally bring him into a happy mood without much effort. The memories you both share always warm his heart, each moment better than the last. This isn’t to say you both didn’t have your arguments. The smallest of things, but at one point, shouto made the mistake of taking his anger out on you. The stress that weighed on his shoulders became overbearing, and it showed. You being the wingless angel he knows, approached him to cheer him up, but unfortunately, no good deed goes unpunished. He yelled a cold blast of wind, threatening your existence surrounded the room you’re in as he blamed you for his hidden insecurities and fears that quickly brought you to tears. It took weeks for shouto to get the courage to face you without crumbling, shame written all over his face as he begged for your forgiveness. He had never felt such a crippling fear, the thought of losing you made him sick, and he vowed to never let it happen again. He became more aware of his actions, always thinking before he speaks around you. At first, it concerned you as he looked like he was fighting an internal battle, but you both turned it into something healthy. You informed him that he can ask if he’s unsure, that as long as he didn’t yell, you would be okay with it. Little did you know he had so many questions, some that genuinely showed his innocence.

"If you're upset, would you prefer drinks first, then food, or food first then drinks? I don’t understand the protocol of comfort because depending on the level of anger, you might want something else….so? Which would you prefer?"

"I like it when you rub my head, but I don’t know if this is too intimate of action between friends; I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. Yet you have played with my hair on a few occasions, and I wanted to make it known that I enjoy it. Is it possible to do it more often? Should I ask you first or wait until you naturally offer?"

"If you’re obviously cold, should I provide you my jacket or hold your hand? My quirk is very useful in the winter, but if you prefer my jacket, I would happily offer it to you, but isn’t it more practical for me to keep you close and provide warmth?"

These cute questions are mostly concerning your boundaries; little did you know that you harbored Shoutos’ mind more than he’s willing to admit. It’s become a natural thing for him that he doesn’t find abnormal. It's similar to breathing in his eyes. Thinking of you provides a sense of peace; other times, it's genuinely just an enigma to which he just approaches you or Midoriya and asks to elaborate on his thought.

On this particular day, shouto finds himself puzzled. Something within him wants to express his feelings towards you, to show you how happy you make him and ask if he provides you the same joy.

He turns in his seat, watching you struggling to braid a section of hair. "Y/n, can I help?" Your eyes fix on him, and a bright smile reflects that his request is approved. He inches closer, taking the hair tie from your lips, and he runs his fingers gently through your strands. "Thank you, sho. My arm still hurts from fighting that burglar, so I can’t move it too much" He nods, finishing your braid effortlessly. He had watched you plenty of times fixing your hair, so he could copy your movements easily. As he tightens the hair tie at the end of the braid, he lays his hand on your shoulder and slowly lets the heat rise into his fingertips before massaging them into the strained muscle. As he applies pressure in circles, he hears a light sight escape your lips, a sign that he’s rubbing you properly. "Y/n? Do I make you happy?" he asks bluntly. The giggle that’s ripped from your mouth shocks him. He tilts his head in confusion as he fails to understand the humor in his question. "Of course, you make me happy. I’m the happiest person in the world when I’m with you, sho."

He smiles as you lean on him, nudging your head against his cheek, another thing he’s grown to love. Any form of intimacy with you, he welcomed, physical or emotional. It always felt better when it’s from you. "I highly doubt you’re the happiest person in the world because that would be me." He whispers against your ear. He feels your body tense up, and panic starts to rise within him. Did he do something wrong? Should he apologize first or wait for you to tell him what he’s done wrong? A hundred thoughts fight against the walls of his mind as you lift your chin to make eye contact with him, a grin adorning your features.

"Is that so? I’ve never heard you admit such a thing sho. Please do elaborate on this topic?" You tease, nudging him a little.

"You make me happy. You wish for me to elaborate, but I have to admit I am a little nervous. The best way I can explain is that you’re special. I adore you in ways I don’t experience with others. I like being around you, and I always look forward to when we meet again, even if there’s only a 5-minute break in-between. I want to make you happy because you’ve made me feel things I never could imagine. I want you to feel those things. Basically y/n," he leans down and kisses your temple before holding your jaw. "You make me smile."

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto #todoroki shouto #shouto x reader fluff #shouto todoroki #bnha #bnha shoto todoroki #bnha fluff #MHA #mha todoroki #my hero academia #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero academia

121 notes · View notes

itsuki-minamy · 4 years ago

Text

“KEBAB SPECIAL TOTSUKA”

* Mini Episodes KFCN (List of Chapters) * Projects & Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

Totsuka Tatara started selling doner kebab at a street food stall, because his friend Murat Uchan from Turkey exacerbated his chronic back pain.

"Tatara-san. I'm sorry, but could you take over the shop for about two weeks?"

Before moving to Shizume, Uchan-san, who has been in Osaka for 10 years, consulted with Totsuka, and when he asked about it, he said "Yes, it's okay." and he took it easy. Totsuka immediately drove Uchan-san's mobile kitchen vehicle from the next day to open the shop.

From the preparation of the lamb for the kebabs to the operation, he does everything himself and makes a certain amount of operating profit, although he is not as good as Uchan-san. No matter how much experience he had working part-time, he helped Uchan-san's mobile shop several times in advance, but his culinary skills and managerial sense were far from amateurish.

However, after the first day, Totsuka Tatara's face (albeit smiling as usual) didn't look very happy. Thoughtfully he crossed his arms and devised some plans in his head.

And starting the next day he made some changes in the business style. Of course, with the permission of the Uchan-san.

First, he changed the taste of the kebab. Originally, Uchan-san, who has lived in Japan for a long time, added the Hatcho Miso to the hidden flavor and fixed it for the Japanese, but brought it back to a more ethnic and authentic flavor. There are many foreigners in Shizume and a wide variety of restaurants is thriving, so it was decided that it would be easier to accept.

In addition, the location of the business was moved from the front of the station to the plaza. He makes the most of personal connections, prepare nice chairs, tables and umbrellas, and create an environment where you can eat immediately after taking out. He also changes the paper to a more colorful, modern and more "shiny" one. As a result, the number of clients, mainly young women, increased significantly.

About two days before Uchan-san returned, Totsuka just couldn't go to the store and started hiring Yata as a temporary part-time job.

And his prosperity caught the attention of the lord of the square.

"It's annoying, you…"

At night, a burly man wearing an eye patch appeared in front of Totsuka and Yata, who were preparing to remove the shop, lifted his head neatly, and it was amazing.

"Ah? Who are you?"

Yata, who was not so scared, stood in front of the big man without making a difference in height and ignited the weapon.

"Is he a gangster on the floor? It was a shame if he could get it even for the shoba fee. I'm making a mistake."

"Yata. That person is different. That person is not a gangster."

Totsuka laughed and stepped between the two.

"He is the owner of the 'Man's Innocence'. You see, he is a ramen stand that he opened in front of the fountain."

In addition to the Totsuka kebabs, there are several street vendors operating in this square. Totsuka successfully obtained a business license from the square administration office, and politely greeted each shop, who are his sempais, on the first day. And now, while the owner of the "innocence of man" was standing in front of them...

"Oh, good luck at best."

He raised his voice saying that.

"Did we do something that bothers you?"

When Totsuka asked with a smile,

"No, not really."

The great man finally laughed.

"Suddenly you got sick, so I wonder if you'll be open elsewhere from tomorrow."

(Totsuka-san.)

Yata hid his voice from him and listened.

(This guy has been flirting with us because our kebabs have increased in sales.)

He knew Totsuka and so on.

"What if I say no?"

When Yata screamed and provoked,

"That's right. I don't care... I wonder if an unfortunate accident might happen to him."

The big man spread his hands playfully. He flicked his finger to the side and stuck out his tongue like a villain. Totsuka sighed a little.

"I understand your purpose. So why not do this? Tomorrow, we will compete with the sales of others. And if we lose, we will leave here. How about that?"

"Hmm... okay? Don't you know I've been the number one salesperson in the area for the past few years?"

"Oh. Instead, if we win, can you change the name of your stand, the 'Loser Dog Ramen'? The 'Man's Innocence' sign was always annoying."

Totsuka spat venom as he smiled. He seems mild-mannered, and he is one of Homura's executives, but in an emergency, he will cut off that image. Yata whistled. When the big man frowned...

"You will swallow your words!"

He left that place with abrupt steps. Totsuka and Yata looked at each other and laughed.

Originally, he only came to this plaza temporarily to facilitate Totsuka to do so, and a few days later, if he returned the traveling shop to Uchan-san, the place of business would simply return to the front of the station as before, so, to be honestly, he deliberately bothered to compete in sales, etc. It doesn't make much sense to do it. However, he was willing to accept such threatening words.

"Well, I want to pop a bubble."

That was the case with Totsuka. And Yata also strongly agreed.

The next day, the day of the decisive battle. The sky was clear. As it was a holiday, there were a lot of people. As a rule of the square, the business hours of the stalls are established from 11 a.m. to 5 p.m. During that time, the game was how many sales could be increased.

A bowl of ramen costs 600 yen. The kebab costs 500 yen. There is not much difference in price, so simply the number sold will be the game.

The ramen preceded a bit in the morning, but the kebabs gradually started to come off around noon.

"It's amazing! Totsuka-san!"

Yata, who was rushing to cut the meat while he was sweating on his forehead, said that. After wrapping the kebab and handing it to the customer with a smile, Totsuka replied.

"Hey. I advertised a lot."

Totsuka knows everything about this city. How many people are there, in what time zone, and in what age group. Akagi and Bando, who are not at this location, were allowed to distribute promotional brochures at key points in Shizume.

He has also opened a SNS account on behalf of Uchan-san, who had been indifferent to such things for about a week. The announcement there was gradually beginning to take effect.

After fourteen, the victory of the kebab seemed certain...

"Well, isn't it strange?"

Yata asked a question. He was really interested in Totsuka. On the ramen side, the customer base had started to change.

"Man's Innocence" usually had five seats, but today, towards a special eight-seat chair and table around the booth, it was uncomfortable to see all of them, similar, it was occupied by men with a pleasant atmosphere.

They never get up from their seats after eating a bowl of ramen and continue to eat two or three bowls on the spot. Some people look at this and grin or strike a provocative pose.

Then, when he noticed Totsuka's eyes, the owner of "Man's Innocence" crossed his arms behind the counter and smiled a triumphant smile.

Totsuka coughed in a dazed and slightly amused tone.

"I see. Is it a strategy to fill all the seats with your relatives and just replace them no matter if they pretend to be?"

Yata shook his body in anger and clenched his fist.

"Damn."

"Totsuka-san, are you silent?"

Yata said that with the intention of "Let's go hit him." Totsuka scratched his head.

"Hmm. In the beginning, I didn't have any special arrangement to forbid that sort of thing."

To be honest, it is not a violation of the rules. Yata made a plaintive voice.

"Damn."

At that moment, the sight in Totsuka's eyes jumped and he smiled.

"Well, it seems we also have a god of salvation."

Yata also followed Totsuka's line of sight and raised his voice in joy.

"Kamamoto!"

It was Rikio Kamamoto who calmly appeared at the scene.

"What? I heard it from Shohei and the others. If you have a food store, give me a call."

"Eat all you want."

Totsuka immediately told Yata to start preparing more kebab.

In the end, "Man's Innocence" dug his grave by his own strategy. Few strong young men can continue to eat three or four cups of ramen, but Kamamoto is like a kebab. Like sushi and sandwiches, he tossed them into his mouth and ate one after another.

The owner of "Man's Innocence" finished with only an hour left until the closing of the store. When he walked to the front of Totsuka, he took off the headband that was wrapped around his head and took it, tilting his head as he held it in front of his body.

"Well, I give up. It may be unpleasant though, but can you forgive me for changing the signboard?"

Totsuka and Yata looked at each other and smiled.

"Now…"

"That I have to do?"

They were a bit mean and wanted to do it.

"Well, don't raise your head anymore. We won, but you don't have to change the signboard."

"Oh, yeah. At first, we weren't serious either. Oh! Were we the only ones who won?"

Suddenly, the two of them ran out and urged the owner of "Man's Innocence" to raise his head. The owner moistened his eyes.

"Oh, you are a good guy."

He was impressed. However, Totsuka and Yata knew it. Kamamoto, who enjoyed the kebab to the bottom of his heart, made his way towards "Man's Innocence" as he tossed his stomach to change his mood.

Eventually the game was abandoned and Totsuka successfully completed the period entrusted to him and returned the kebab stand to Uchan-san.

Both Totsuka and Yata made a lot of money, but it must have been Kamamoto, who was able to eat delicious food from the bottom of his heart, at the level of once a year or not, who was more satisfied than anyone else.

#k #k project #k fan clan #homura #yata misaki #totsuka tatara #k stories #k seven stories

33 notes · View notes

stark-tony · 3 years ago

Text

most recent bookmarks (6/18/21)

mcu

you game? cake time? by iron_spider (3k, T, pepperony) Peter stares at him.“I’d like your help,” Tony says, gesturing towards the ton of cakes. “Your refined palette.”Peter snorts. He can’t lie, excitement is rising in his throat and in his stomach, and he barely ate at lunch today because he was trying to finish up the book report before sixth period. “Does Miss Potts know you picked me?”“You can call her Pepper.”Peter cocks his head. “Does Pepper know you picked me to help you?”

The Dangers of Sleeping on the Upside of the Bed by Honorable_mention (1.1k, G, gen, quarantine) Midtown High School’s Academic Decathlon team had moved online. Once a week, even during the summer, everyone would log on and chat for a few minutes before trying to beat each other on Protobowl while hurling barely school appropriate threats at each other. It was really quite a lot of fun.Through these online meetings Cindy Moon had gotten the opportunity to intimately learn about her teammates in a way she hadn’t been able to when they were in-person. A person’s room and the way they talked to their family told you a lot about them.In which the members of the Academic Decathlon team get the chance to meet Peter's roommates

something bright coming his way by iron_spider (6.5k, T, gen, hurt peter) “Pete,” Tony’s voice says. “I’m heading to your location.”Peter narrows his eyes. Karen’s colors turn from dark red to a softer blue, which he takes as her celebrating Tony’s imminent arrival. How imminent? What?“What?” Peter says again. Like an idiot.“Your numbers aren’t what I like to see and you stopped moving and I was in the area, anyway. You know. Doing Iron Man things. You okay?”Peter blinks. He sees some more lights out ahead of him that he thinks are headlights, and he feels like Karen is trying to even out his vision by changing how things come across on the HUD. She’s failing, but he won’t say that. Can she read his brainwaves? No. Definitely not. Maybe. Either way he doesn’t wanna be mean to her, so he stops thinking.Ugh, his side hurts.

Of All the Nurses’ Offices in All the High Schools... by sahiya (7k, T, gen, outsiders pov, identity reveal, hurt peter) Peter Parker has his own gravitational orbit, and it tends to suck in the people around him. Including burned out school nurses who were just minding their own business.Or: Patrick Carmichael meets Spider-Man (and Tony Stark), adopts a cat, and gets just a little bit better.

a first time for everything by crowkag (7.7k, pepperony, sick peter) “Why are you whispering?” Pepper was asking, and the other noises were receding away behind the creak of a door and click of a lock.“Because I’m hosting a vigilante super-teen with enhanced hearing this weekend.” He slumped back into the couch cushions. “Or did you forget?”There was a sharp intake of breath.“Peter? Oh god, what did you—”“Nothing,” Tony rushed out, scrambling. “He’s fine. The kid’s fine, honey.”A beat of silence.“Okay, well, he’s not fine, but—”“Tony Stark—”

Is he or Is he not? by Omenthia_Arc (43.2k, G, pepperony, 5 + 1, people think peter is tony’s kid) Five times someone thought that Peter was Tony's biological son and one time everyone thought it.

The Moon Looks Lovely Tonight by Omi_Ohmy (35.7k, M, drarry, post-hogwarts, domestic) When Harry moves into the damp and empty Black house, it doesn’t quite feel like home. And then the first owl moves in. After that, it’s a steep slope leading to bed-sharing, more owls, assorted housemates, strange potions experiments, and terrible cooking. And a bit of waltzing, too.

The Wrong Sort by CaffeinatedFlumadiddle (289.5k, T, drarry, romione, gryffindor draco, canon divergence, torture) In which Draco Malfoy is sorted into Gryffindor and everything kind of goes to Hell from there… but hey. At least there’s a chance he won’t grow up to be an awful person. Alternatively titled ‘Draco Malfoy and the Worst Goddamn Seven Years of His Life’

The Mirror of Ecidyrue by starbrigid (998.6k, E, drarry, wolfstar, romione, neville/ luna, grindeldore, lockhart/snape, time travel, fix it, abuse) All it takes is one look in a mirror and an ill-advised attempt to shatter it, before an embittered Draco Malfoy fresh out of Azkaban is sent back into his body on the day he gets his Hogwarts letter.Suddenly, Draco has an unwanted second chance, with a Sorting Hat that doesn't know what to do with him, a certain Muggleborn who won't leave his study table alone, and green eyes he just can't get out of his head. And then there's his new wand, whose choice of him could just mark him as every bit as dark a wizard as his name means he should be.

more than getting by by sarewolf (34.4k, M, wolfstar, wolfstar raises harry) “What do you want me to do?” Remus says, tiredly. All he wants is to curl up on his bed. Smoke a pack of cigarettes. Get drunk. He can’t stop looking at Harry.“Remus...” Dumbledore is gentle. Remus hates when he has that tone. Hates that he knows it will hurt. “There is no one else left.”A bitter laugh escapes him. “So you’ll curse the poor thing with a werewolf for a guardian?”

How Like Home by waitingondaisies (63.5k, T, jily, dimension travel) When Sirius falls through the veil, Harry chases after him, determined to find him on the other side. Instead, he finds nothing at all. When he wakes up, he is informed by Unspeakables that he is from an alternate universe.Thanks to his uncanny resemblance to his counterpart, Harry is readily recognized as a duplicate of Harry Potter, a normal fifteen year old boy, and is entrusted to the care of Lily and James Potter. From them, Harry discovers that Voldemort is not, and never was, a threat in this universe.Now, Harry must adapt to life with loving parents in a peaceful world.

Professor Black by Haunted_Frost (29k, T, wolfstar, professor regulus black) Kreacher's unending loyalty has allowed Regulus to survive the Inferi. In order to destroy the horcrux and ensure Voldemort's death, he goes back to Hogwarts, this time as a Potions professor. Years at this position give him new insights, even as the papers rave about how both the Blacks were traitors to their sides.When Sirius gets loose from Azkaban, Regulus knows one thing: he is not going to let his lunatic brother hurt his students.Inspired entirely by this tumblr post.

atla

(let me be) there for you by lesmiserablol (8.5k, T, zukka, post-war, bodyguard sokka, friends to lovers, idiots to lovers) Sokka pulls out a clean piece of parchment and starts to write:Reasons Why Sokka Would Be A Great Bodyguard for Lord ZukoHe smiles in satisfaction at the title. Seeing it in writing only makes him feel more confident in this brilliant, two-minute-old idea of his. Zuko is one of his closest friends, and Sokka is a great fighter, he would be the perfect bodyguard! He has the entirety of his trip in the Fire Nation to prove it to Zuko. This is going to be a piece of cake.(or, Sokka mistakes his crush for just a strong desire to be a guard for Zuko, and Suki is amused)

boy problems by burnt_oranges (22.2k, zukka, mailee, friends to lover, post-war, arranged marriage) “I accidentally signed off on an arranged marriage to Sokka,” Zuko says faintly. He sits up so fast he almost falls out of his chair. “I signed off on an arranged marriage to Sokka, and he agreed."In which Zuko suffers in a variety of ways, including but not limited to: close and constant proximity to the object of his affections, assassination attempts, and irreparable injuries to his dignity.

we really should google these things first by Bundibird (3k, G, gen, modern) Sokka's aloe vera plant is in need of a good pruning, and what's Sokka gonna do, just throw out all the pruned leaves? When instead he can make aloe vera juice? Come on. (Only - maybe he should have googled this beforehand. Because it turns out there's an edible kind of aloe, and a toxic kind. Guess what kind Sokka has. Go on, guess.)(Or: the modern AU based on the time I nearly poisoned myself with a non-edible succulent.)

spn

Checked Out by whelvenwings (27.1k, G, destiel, dreamhunter, library au, librarian castiel, writer dean, openly bi dean, misunderstandings) Castiel Novak can think of many writers who would not be welcome under the roof of Heaven’s Gate library, where he is the librarian: Ayn Rand ranks highly (no explanation needed), as does Charles Dickens (he hasn’t forgiven Charles for the month he lost to The Pickwick Papers). And, of course, Dean Winchester. Dean Winchester, local author and obvious a-hole, who is entirely too handsome to be true and who is clearly totally lacking in profundity, intelligence, sincerity, and self-awareness. Unfortunately, though, Dean’s been invited to do a book signing at Heaven’s Gate - and Castiel’s about to be confronted by some unexpected feelings when he finally meets Dean for the first time.

Aim and Ignite by wincechesters (10.3k, M, destiel, cas in the bunker) After the angels fall and Cas loses his grace, and with Sam still recovering from the toll taken on his body by the trials, Dean starts a prank war as a way to lighten the mood in the bunker and alleviate his boredom. It might just have some unexpected consequences. --- A post-S8 canon AU.

bnha

Izuku plays video games with the League of Villains (among other things) by ADyingFlower (54.2k, T, gen, quirkless midoriya, villain deku) Izuku plays video games with the League of Villains, denies being a villain, has his beloved animal crossing file threatened, kicks ass with a shotgun, is proposed to, learns to deal with his depression, and accidentally kidnaps the son of the number two hero. In that order.Or: Five times Izuku played online with his friends, and one time he played with them in personThen Himiko screams.“CAPTAIN!” “Y-yeah?” Tomura asks almost hesitantly. “LOOK!!” All four of them spin around, right as a cannonball comes soaring inches from Izuku’s head from the Galleon less than a three feet away from them. They scream. “OH FUCK NO NO NO NO! NO!” Dabi yells, running to load the cannons. “DUDE WE HAVE SO MUCH SHIT! NO! HOLY FUCKING SHIT!”“Hey guys, guys! Hey, chill!” Izuku shrieks frantically, right as one of the players boards their ship and starts shooting. “CHILL THE FUCK OUT!”

our trust shot full of holes by nolov (louscr) (25.9k, T, gen) When he's twelve, Izuku meets his best friend. Neither of them are especially good at having friends, but they make do.The other shoe drops less than a week into his first year at U.A.

Are You Valued? by cyber_phobia (9.2k, T, dad for one) "What are you drawing, Izuku?" Hisashi asks with adoration dripping in his voice. "It's Uncle!" Izuku shouts, smacking his dad's arm for daring to ask once more. All the air leaves Hisashi's lungs in one fell swoop.

To Spark A Smile by awefull (1.1k, G, gen, dadzawa) A six-year-old. Aizawa was the guardian of a six-year-old. Aizawa, a pro-hero, who had poor eating habits, and no sleep schedule, was in charge of raising a little girl.He, reasonably, had some concerns.

Long Night in the Valley by Marsalias (53.7k, T, gen, suspected traitor, dad might, dad for one) On paper, the Hero Commission's plan to investigate Midoriya Izuku under the guise of a training course for combating mental quirks is solid, almost foolproof, even. If Midoriya turns out to be innocent, they can pass everything off as part of the training exercise, assuming he even remembered any of it. Otherwise, they could beg forgiveness after the traitor was securely imprisoned in Tartarus.The paper plan failed to take into account the feral ghosts living in Midoriya Izuku's head, or his equally feral living friends.Time to bring on the chaos.

i gave the voices in my head a megaphone by hannahbal (17.3k, todoroki/midoriya/shinsou) ...and they started singing Megan Thee Stallion.(Hitoshi, like any good friend, brainwashes Izuku’s anxiety away for a day so he can know some peace. The problem? Izuku has no fear of god or consequences.Izuku also has no goddamn filter.)

Nothing Could Be More Worthwhile by Krisington (3.5k, G, gen, dad might) Toshinori Yagi wouldn’t say he had let his guard down in retirement, not exactly. It was more accurate to say that he had let his guard down in his true form. He didn’t notice others, and others didn’t notice him. It had become a small pleasure, he realized, one he was reluctant to let go.He should have known better.The man managed to reach All Might’s forehead a split second before All Might grabbed the man’s arm. But a second was just enough.A villain showed All Might a vision of Izuku. Bloodied. Broken. Fading. Was that some future that would come to pass? Toshinori needed to do everything in his power to make sure it wasn't.

everything i wanted by raindrops_0 (9k, T, gen, 5 + 1) Izuku turns to face Hitoshi and flashes a bright smile, eyes folding into crescent moons.Bright like the afternoon sun swallowing Hitoshi whole, bright like All Might’s fucking perfect grin, bright like he’s already a hero.Bright like everything Hitoshi has ever wanted and then more.(Hitoshi can’t help it, but he hates. Of course Izuku can smile as if the whole world is in his hands. He’s never had to fight for every little thing and be hated for it.)Or 5 times Hitoshi misjudged the golden boy of UA, and 1 time he finally understood.

hp/bnha

Bend Before You Break by orkestrations (16.2k, T, gen) When Izuku set out for his morning run, the last thing he was expecting was to be plucked from his own world by magic and thrown into another universe entirely.Removed from his own conflict and with no way back, he sets himself to figuring out this world and its own incipient war while searching for a way to possibly reverse the spell that brought him here.It's just his luck that the year he arrives is the same year the government decides it's a great idea to bring back the potentially-deadly tournament.

#my fics recs #most recent bookmarks #hp recs #atla recs #mcu recs #bnha recs #spn recs #abuse tw #torture tw

19 notes · View notes