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aitarose · 4 years ago

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AKAIBARA (T.KUROO) pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem!reader

synopsis: he was everything, her entire world. y/n didn’t know love without kuroo, but she also didn’t know if he knew any love for her—any love at all.

word count: 5.6k

genre: hanahaki au, unrequited love, mutual pining, fluff, angst

warnings: blood, mentions of death, terminal illness?

notes: this is for my muse, lina-chan, since she’s my love—and i catered y/n to her exact personality traits..so you’re welcome loser-chan!

↳ DIRECTORY

Nine petals and counting.

Y/N rested her hands on the sides of the vinyl bathroom sink, head tilted downwards, towards the view of red. Solids and liquids approached the drain, a mix of flowers and blood escaping from her body.

Ten, eleven, twelve. It was unstoppable, the amount of love she was losing, the amount of strength she had to go on. Her legs felt weak, frail in comparison to her usual tenacity and vigor on the side of the court.

She hadn’t been able to manage the volleyball team in weeks, nearing months. Her physical health had wavered, forcing her to resign from her post. Forcing her responsibilities on their coach, her boys having to fend for themselves for the first time since she was fifteen.

Loneliness was all Y/N knew, though she was still an avid student and classmate. It was all she’d felt in the past days, isolated from her friends, her classmates, even him.

Even Kuroo.

It wasn’t that she wanted to be apart from him, from his humor, his laugh, the overwhelming feeling of warmth that he brought to her life. He was her sun amongst Toyko’s sea of stars—but he couldn’t see her like this.

He couldn’t see the blood stains, the coughing fits, the garden of flowers that grew from her throat. She was a mess and he was him, the very person that caused her this horrid disease. The very person that she loved more than anyone in the entire world.

Hanahaki wasn’t uncommon in their town, nearly a quarter of Nekoma High suffered from it in some type of way. It was truly an enigma, a confusion turned infection that made no sense to the human mind.

Y/N had tried to re-work her diagnosis for years, since the first few weeks she’d had it—and despite her knowledge of anatomy and biology, there was no solution to her dilemma, there was no true scientific cure.

And over time, she and Kuroo had come to realize that. While they worked and worked for a way to rid her of the thorns, there was nothing they could do as he didn’t know who her love was.

He didn’t know that no matter how many nights he stayed up beside her, chin rested over her shoulder, arms wrapped around her torso—no matter how much he tried to relieve her of her pain, he only made it worse.

He wanted to help, she knew that he wanted to help in any way that he could—but it was no use. All he’d ever be able to do is watch in sympathy as she’d run out of their classroom and back into the hole that was the public girl’s restroom.

Kuroo was the best person Y/N knew, which was all the more reason that he had to stay out, that he needed to give her space during this time. The disaster that was hanahaki couldn’t infiltrate his life, Y/N wouldn’t let it, he didn’t deserve the pressure—the pressure of loving her.

Thirteen, fourteen, to nothing.

Relief began to overcome her lungs, oxygen filling her veins, the thorn-covered vines retreated back to the place in which they came. It was as if the sun had finally showered through the clouds, giving Y/N the light that she so desperately needed.

Her flowers were strange in comparison to the stories she and Kuroo had read online. Rather than continuous, straight lines of blood and blossoms—her roses were sporadic and unpredictable.

There’d be times where she’d be stuck in the restroom for the entirety of the day, throwing up due to her rib cage cramping and rolling over itself—or she’d be perfectly fine, with all the energy in the world.

Those days were her favorite. The day’s where she and Kuroo would scream at the top of their lungs. Where he’d spin her around and wrap her up in the tightest hug he could muster. Where he’d smile at her as if she wasn’t only his best friend—as if he loved her.

But he didn’t. He didn’t love her, not in the way she wanted at least.

A light sigh escaped Y/N’s lips, her quivering body stilling as she finally took a look towards her reflection. She’d been staring at the pile of scarlet for nearly a half-an-hour, trying her best not to lose count of her trauma.

Fifteen petals was all it took to uproot her day, dwindle her time with Kuroo down to nothing. It was embarrassing, truly.—that her soul was controlled by a mere rose.

Color slowly returned to her cheeks, flushed shades of pink mocking her with their rosy hue, red lighting up the tip of her nose. Her eyes were weary, blurry from the amount of tears she’d shed, the same tears that had meshed with the running tap water.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N let go of the sink. She let go of the safety of her reflection, the safety of knowing that she was the only person who’d ever see herself this way, completely derailed by love.

Stepping into the real world, the world of judgement from classmates and concerned advisors, she hastily left the bathroom—only for a large, calloused hand to wrap itself around her forearm.

As she rolled her eyes, turning to face her captor, Y/N raised her palm and flicked her best friend right between his eyebrows. “You waited?” She suppressed a grin, stifling a laugh at the sight of his mocking pout.

“Seems like fan behavior to me, Kuroo.”

He frowned at her words, picking her up with ease as he made his way down the now empty hallways. Y/N squealed, despite being used to his relentless strength, there would never be a time in which she’d expect him to throw her over his shoulder.

Holding her legs whilst supporting her waist, he nodded with a troublesome smile at any of their classmates who’d so happened to remain after the school bell had rung—to which they’d respond with a simple shake of the head, amused at the sight of Nekoma High’s infamous best friends.

“Fan behavior, huh?” Kuroo spun dramatically as they reached the parking lot, nearly throwing Y/N into the passenger seat of his car, her designated spot. The place where no person, not even Kenma, was allowed to sit.

He instinctively buckled her seatbelt, knowing that she must’ve felt weak and nauseous due to the stress her body had been under only ten minutes prior, before settling himself behind the wheel.

A bright beam overcame his features, practically spreading across his entire face as her eyes met his. “Where to next?” Y/N asked, fingers fiddling with the different radio channels, deciding on a soft indie-station.

“Home.” He replied, taking a hold of the hand she’d placed over the volume nozzle, allowing them to turn up the song together. Though it was brief, him releasing her touch after seconds, it was moments like this where she considered the theory that perhaps she did hold a place in his heart.

She shook her head, forcing the absurd thought away and rolling her eyes once again at the utter ridiculousness that was Kuroo Tetsurou. She leaned back into the soft leather of her seat, deadpanning at his words. “Your home. You act as if I live there.”

“You practically do,” he quipped back with ease, hair pressed against the chair’s headrest, smothering the thick black peaks, “What’s mine is yours, Y/N. There’s nothing I’d ever keep from you.”

“You deserve the world, and I’m going to give you every little bit of this world that I can.”

Her lips pursed into a tight smile, internally punching herself at the sweetness in his voice, the purity that he managed to sop into every word. Looking away from his gorgeous face, gaze retreating to the bustling city around them, Y/N contemplated his promise.

It was impossible, the idea that he’d proposed. The thing that he vowed to her in the mornings, afternoons, and nights. The concept that she always loved to hear roll off of his tongue, but also wanted to throw out her open window.

After all, how would Kuroo ever be able to give her the world—when her world was entirely him?

While his house was practically her second home, Y/N always seemed to notice the residence beside it before anything else.

As they pulled up in the driveway, Kuroo carefully parking his car between the stone gate and his grandfather’s buggy, both of their ears perked to the familiar sound of none other than Kozume Kenma.

“You’re spending the night again?” He questioned peering over the fence, recognizing the extra duffel packed along with Y/N’s school bag. “You were just over last week. You’d think you guys would be sick of each other by now.”

Kuroo shook his head, making his way around the hood and opening the passenger door. “No way, pudding head.” He shouted, resting his elbow on the roof whilst slinging the small pack over his shoulder. “Only thing I’d ever get sick of is your cute little attitude.”

Y/N giggled, squinting her eyes to see the nonchalant expression that was undoubtedly gracing Kenma’s features. She wasn’t exactly close with him, having little to nothing in common other than their giant of a friend, but still held great respect for his dedication.

Dedication as in the value to which he held his friendship with Kuroo.

Though she’d known their captain longer, there were times in which she wasn’t able to be by his side during matches or breakdowns. This usually having to do with her hanahaki forcing her to be immobile.

But it always turned out alright, since Kenma was there. He was always there to help, even when she’d forget to send him a warning text message or quick heads up. He was reliable as he was pessimistic, a truly unconventional friend that Y/N would be grateful for until the very end.

As Kuroo took her bags inside the house, insisting that he had to help even though she claimed that her muscles were feeling perfectly fine, Y/N waved to the younger boy, casually approaching his small figure.

Her steps were small, fallen leaves crunching beneath the soles of her sneakers. Autumn was beautiful this year, the oranges and yellows mixing together like the perfect sunset.

It was complementary, the colors—they reflected the sky in a dream-like synchronization. The last time fall had landed upon Japan, she and Kuroo had spent the entire day nestled together, jumping in the multiple piles of leaves and sipping spiced drinks by the fireplace.

While the memories were happy and nostalgic, they were a distraction. Nothing but recollections of false hope and ideologies that she’d ingrained into her brain as convincing factors that he did indeed love her—that he had just an inch of his heart that was completely reserved for her.

Kenma immediately opened his mouth, interrupting Y/N before she could ask him all about how his school day had gone. Her jaw dropped, the statement being said was unexpected, out of box in the current moment of relaxation.

“You still have hanahaki.” He looked straight into her eyes as if he were challenging her. If Y/N could see into his brain, there was no doubt that the gears would be turning rapidly in synchrony. “You’ve had it for years, Y/N. A normal person would’ve given up by now.”

She frowned, her lips curving into a downward arc, slightly appalled by the bluntness of his words, before furrowing her brows while she came up with an understandable response.

Her relationship with Kenma was civil, never straying from one of acquaintances, but there were sparse moments like this in which he’d blatantly say something personal—something that made her think that he knew more than he was letting on.

“I don’t think my case falls under the normal category.” Y/N whispered, choosing to reply with honesty over falsehood, while both of their gazes fled to Kuroo, who’d cheered as he successfully managed to unlock the front door with his hands full of bags.

“You don’t have to worry about him,” she continued with a love-struck radiance. As if on natural instinct, her legs began to move towards the person that was her heart, abandoning Kenma to his side of the fence.

With one final glance, she saw him nod at her last words. The words that she repeated to herself every time her flowers became too much, every time she needed to remember why she was here in the first place.

“As long as I’m still breathing, he’s got me.” She called out, chest warming at the sight of her little friend’s approval. The approval that meant more to her than any test grade or big win. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Heads up!”

Before she could blink an eye, Y/N’s vision was covered by the thin grey fabric of Kuroo’s massive t-shirt. It draped over her head like a sheet in the night, the smell being clean and comforting, completely and utterly him.

Reaching up to take hold of the borrowed garment, she shoved his chest, feeling the vibrations of laughter rolling off of him in contagious waves. Despite how much he annoyed her, he could be quite amusing at times.

Their dynamic had always been an interesting one. Her being more logical and serious, whilst he was carefree and witty. They weren’t an obvious pair of best friends, but they did have the important things in common.

That being the value of hard work and dedication, whether that came to school assignments or volleyball—they both knew the true meaning of ambition and success, and would do anything to help the other achieve their dreams.

Opening the door to the guest bathroom, Y/N slipped Kuroo’s shirt over the tank top she’d been wearing, stripping herself of her undergarments beneath the endless fabric. She tossed her clothes into her duffel, zipping it tightly and placing it on the floor.

The Kuroo household was a place she was comfortable in, having been friends with the boy for nearly all of her life. It wasn’t uncommon for her to stop by and stay for dinner or overnight, considering his family adored her and considered her one of their own.

In their first year of high school, she’d spent a total of one-hundred and twenty nights wrapped up in his arms before his grandparents had decided to permanently mark the guest bedroom as her’s.

Though she’d grown accustomed to the warmth of her best friend’s comforter, Y/N did have to admit that it was nice to have her own space. Her own space that also gave her the luxury of having the person she loved only one wall away.

As she dug through the right-hand drawer for the toothbrush and toothpaste that she always stored in the case that she’d be staying overnight, a rhythm of knocks ricocheted off of the hard wood.

“You ready?” She called out, walking past the sliding shower doors and turning the small door-knob. “I was just about to brush my teeth,” her words continued, stopping as she came face-to-face with her favorite giant.

His smile was cheeky, mischief seemingly on his mind as he held up his own set of tools. “You waited for me, Y/N?” A sly smirk crept on his face, her words from earlier coming back to bite her in the butt. “Seems a little like fan behavior to me.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N stepped aside, making room for his ginormous body in the quaint bathroom. The countertop wasn’t exactly large, having just enough space for the two of them to stand beside one another with their arms touching as they looked into their reflections.

Her eyes seemed distant, even to herself. The usual livelihood that inhabited her irises was absent, replaced with fragments of the person she once was, the person that had been overshadowed by dirt and disease.

Resentment was the only emotion she displayed, hatred for the pathetic reasoning behind her pain, the putrid dreams she wished would come true—but as Y/N looked away from the stress and worry, she saw him. She saw Kuroo.

Unlike her, his gaze wasn’t resting on himself. His eyes weren’t immediately attracted to his own appearance, choosing to lay on Y/N instead. His neck was angled down, a soft expression gracing his face while he simply admired her.

While he admired her like a boy in love.

They held eye contact for a brief moment, neither one wanting to end the intimate interaction, before he broke away. He snapped out of his trance, hands subconsciously reaching for the tube of toothpaste that had been forgotten by both minds.

As they began to brush their teeth, Kuroo played troublemaker. Whether that meant making faces or mimicking Y/N’s actions, he found endless ways to humor her, wanting to see the smile on her face as she flipped him off.

The laughter wheezing from her lips was infectious, her body doubling over, forcing heavy chuckles from her love as well. It was a sight to see, two high schoolers in a minimal-sized bathroom, overcome with a fit of giggles—but that was simply them. It was simply Y/N and Kuroo.

With a mouth full of foam, she leaned past him and over the sink, expecting to see a mix of bubbles and white—only to be gifted with the mood-killing sight of blood and blossoms.

She choked, gasping for air as the small roses fell from her throat. “Please,” she cried, gripping the ledge of the counter with a killer grasp, gesturing for Kuroo to leave the room. “I can’t breathe.”

But he didn’t listen, he didn’t leave. He didn’t cover his eyes and walk away like he normally did, respecting her wishes that he would never see her like this—like a complete and utter mess.

As her airway began to clear, her smiles turned to frowns, embarrassed of what he’d seen, the proof of her never-ending infatuation. However, Kuroo didn’t seem phased. He glanced at the flowers as if they were nothing, as if they weren’t a foul sight in itself.

He turned the faucet on, washing them away from her view, forcing the spray roses to dissolve and wither above the drain—and for some odd reason, Y/N’s heart hurt at his actions.

It was the first time in months that he’d been present during one of her uproars. The first time in months that he had to see what she went through on a nearly daily basis, and he didn’t even blink an eye.

He looked at the physical representation of her love like it didn’t matter, like it was a pest that he had to kill. Like an unintentional rejection that his instincts dictated, a rejection that she feared for every moment of every day.

“I’m sorry.” Y/N muttered, refusing to meet the concern in his gaze. She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the inevitable judgement that she expected to come from his way—only to feel his rough hand take a hold of her chin, tilting it upwards towards his face.

Nothing was said, no remarks came from his end. Instead, he wordlessly stole the hand towel that’d been hanging on the shower door and dabbed away the blood that had soaked into the skin beneath her lips.

He was unreadable.

No matter how hard she tried to analyze his thoughts, his actions, his posture; a blank canvas was all she’d painted. She wanted to keep apologizing for the things that were out of her control, but as she opened her mouth to speak, he interrupted with a question that she’d never expected to hear.

“If it weren’t for your hanahaki,” he began, brows furrowed in concentration, not allowing Y/N to pin-point what he was so focused on, if it was the disease or herself. “Do you think you’d know that you love them?”

“You know, your person?”

Her response was momentary, the gears in her brain working on overtime as she tried to find the meaning behind his words. Why the sudden curiosity? Did he have hanahaki? Was there someone he loved?

Clearing her throat, making sure that there was no evidence of her accident, Y/N began to speak slowly. “Being in love is more than just a disease, Kuroo. It can’t be dimmed down to a single flower or infection.”

“I love him enough to put myself through pressure every day. I love him so much that it physically hurts me to think about him. He brings a light to this darkness that no other person can outshine—”

“—and I’d never give up on him.” Glass covered her eyes, tears struggling to roll down her cheeks as her peripheral vision grew blurry. In the midst of her tangent, Kuroo had pressed Y/N against his chest, rubbing her back in soft circles.

“He’s the other half of me, my true equal.” Bitterness was being laced in her tone, the irony of it all settling in. It was unfair. Her describing her everlasting love for the boy she’d do anything for. He was right beside her, and yet he seemed miles away.

“I’d know love for him even if I was healthy. Even if we were strangers, worlds apart.” Choking back the last of her cries, Y/N bit her lip, pushing away the warmth of his chest. “Trust me, Kuroo. You’d know if you were in love.”

For once in his life, he had no words. No comments or remarks that he was dying to say. His only response was a nod of the head, a curt acknowledgement of her feelings, before he turned and said a brief goodnight.

Before he turned and left Y/N with nothing but confusion, thoughts that would keep her restless and awake throughout the night. Itching concerns to creep up her veins and into her dreams.

If only he loved her, then all of this could’ve been avoided. If only he had asked her who her hanahaki was for, then maybe she would’ve confessed. Perhaps she’d be free and untethered from her illness.

But he didn’t ask, and she didn’t confess. All she was left with was broken fragments of care, leftovers of love that she received through twisted questions and wonder.

All she was left with was half of a heart, that would never find its whole.

2AM.

It was nearly two in the morning and Y/N was restless, chasing sleep like it was an everlasting punishment. Slumber being within her grasp, but stolen, kidnapped by the stress and worries that were Kuroo Tetsurou.

Her mind was moving at a million miles per hour, overthinking and overworking the question that he’d asked her in the midst of their nightly routine. The curiosity that had somehow overcome his usual vigor and happiness.

Panic settled in her throat, the feeling of thorns and stems inching their way up her neck and touching her tongue. She needed water, anything that could suppress the punishment for feeling love.

Swinging her legs over the side of the queen-sized mattress, Y/N shivered as her feet touched the cold floor. Her steps were light, trying her best to be completely silent, not wanting to disturb the actual members of the household.

The trip to the kitchen was short. An easy route for her after having taken many midnights trips before, since her hanahaki always seemed to act up whenever she stayed overnight.

Finding a small glass and filling it to the brim with tap water, Y/N gulped it down, savoring every last bit as if there was no other substance on Earth. The liquid ran down her throat, pushing past the vines and forcing them into their home that was her heart.

“You’re up late.”

Y/N jumped, nearly smashing the cup on the counter as the familiar voice of Kuroo’s obaachan crept up from behind her. She sighed, taking a deep breath before facing the old woman.

Her relationship with his family had grown extremely close in the years that they’d known each other. She was practically considered a member of the family, them always wanting her around no matter what the circumstances were.

But she and obaachan were different compared to how she bonded with the Kuroo men. Unlike the others, his grandmother was observant, knowing of the love that Y/N had for her favorite boy. Knowing of the cause of her hanahaki.

“Obaachan.” She greeted her weakly, holding up the glass as an excuse for the timing of their interaction. “I’m sorry if I woke you, I didn’t mean to cause any havoc.”

The old woman simply smiled, approaching Y/N with a loving hand and placing it on her shoulder in comfort. “It’s alright dear,” she squeezed her palm, feeling the younger girl’s struggling heartbeat. “It’s not your fault.”

Y/N grimaced, shaking her head in defeat. “But it is,” she admitted. She’d always take blame for her hanahaki. It was a virus in not only her life, but everyone around her. “It’s my fault that I’m unwell.”

“No, dear.” Obaachan cupped her hands around her cheeks, challenging her eyes, not taking her answer or excuses. A sad smile graced her lips, sorrow in her irises. “You’re not unwell..you’re in love.”

Tears grew from the corners of Y/N’s sockets, waterworks beginning to roll down her cheeks at the familiar feeling of the comforting touch of a Kuroo. She broke down, her walls shattering in front of the only person who understood. The only person who would truly listen.

“Why won’t he love me?” She cried out, pain overtaking her whole body. The pent up emotions were collapsing like tidal waves, storming throughout her heart. “Why won’t I ever deserve him?”

Concern furrowed in the older woman’s brows at the sight of Y/N breaking down. Her grandson’s best friend was one of the strongest people she knew, and knowing that her struggles were this great was indescribably disheartening.

“My Tetsurou has been a caretaker all of his life,” she started, gently speaking in languid sentences, doing her best to keep Y/N’s attention on her and not her pain. “Whether it was for me, my husband, or Kenma—he takes on more responsibility than he can handle.”

“His heart is so big, so full of love for everyone other than himself.” She continued, her words beginning to settle in Y/N’s mind. “And in the midst of that, I don’t think he realizes that he’s capable of experiencing love as well.”

“He doesn’t realize that everything he could ever want is standing right in front of him.”

Obaachan was whispering now, her voice being soft but commanding. It was frightening, the passion that she held for her grandson. The passion that she held for her dreams of his happiness. Her dreams of him finding his true love.

“While love is a chemical feeling, it has no chemical solution.” Y/N swallowed hard, taking in every single thing she was saying. Letting her statements ingrain themselves into her memory. “This disease doesn’t define your future, my dear.”

“Whomever you choose to love will be lucky, Y/N—but I have to say, I truly hope that my Tetsurou has luck on his side.”

It’d been almost a month since the fateful overnight encounter, Obbachan’s words playing on repeat, over and over again until they grew tiresome. The idea that Kuroo could perhaps love her was haunting, terrorizing her very soul.

Despite the shift in their energy, the elephant in the room being his unexpected question and her never ending response, their friendship continued on like normal.

They’d go to school, spend time together afterwards, perhaps even have a sleepover, and repeat. It was all the same, not a thing out of place except for a major detail that couldn’t be explained.

The presence of Y/N’s hanahaki was little to none.

Her flowers decreased, the numbers becoming smaller and smaller every single time she took the time to count. The disease that had become a constant in her life had suddenly disappeared, confusing her to a maximum.

She didn’t feel like she’d fallen out of love for Kuroo, there was still a large part of her heart that was reserved for him and only him—yet her roses were invisible, the trips to the bathroom were down to none.

And while those statistics had fallen, the number of quick glances, stolen touches, and late night conversations had increased. She and Kuroo did everything together before, but now it was as if they were inseparable at all times.

It was as if his heart had finally opened up, accepted her presence and locked it into place, never wanting to let it go. Y/N couldn’t determine what had gotten into him, what made the sudden change in behavior.

But her flowers were gone and her love still remained. All that needed to be said was a confession, a confession of the love that she hoped was mutual. The one-sided love that she’d secretly harbored for years on years.

Mindlessly walking down the school hallway, passing by classmates and advisors, Y/N contemplated the future of her and Kuroo’s relationship. The future of her heart and if it would ever find its other half. The other half that so happened to take a hold of her hand at that very moment.

Kuroo seemed on edge, his heartbeat was quick, throbbing against Y/N’s palm as he dragged her towards the closest empty classroom. Without warning he closed the door, drowning out the scattered noises of everyone on the other side of the wall.

“Hey.” He said, breathing heavily. His shoulders were rising and falling, his breaths deep as if he’d just ran a marathon on his path to retrieve her. “I really needed to talk to you.”

Y/N almost toppled over, the strength of his grasp tripping and unbalancing her body. As her vision began to stabilize, wobbly from the sprint, she took notice of the classroom he’d brought her to.

Flowers lined the walls and ceilings, potted plants hanging from the wooden beams and arches. Soil was sprinkled over the floorboards, various footprints etched into the dirt.

He’d taken her to the floriculture classroom—the classroom for the study of flowers.

Silence overcame them for a moment, neither one speaking a single word as they stared deeply into each other’s eyes. Her confession was at the tip of her tongue, ready to be said, ready to be spoken into existence—but Kuroo spoke first.

“I’ve never had it.” He simply said, his mouth pursed and head towering over her. Before she could respond, asking him what in the world he was talking about, he continued. “Hanahaki. I’ve never had it.”

Biting his lips, Kuroo took her hands in his once more. Rubbing her palms with his calloused fingertips, easing away her confusion and speaking his feelings with his entire heart weighed into them.

“All this time, for all these years, I thought that I’d never known love.” His brows furrowed in concentration, and for the first time, Y/N could tell what he was so focused on. It was her.

“I asked you how you knew that you were in love, flowers or not, and the way you described that feeling..it was familiar. It was something that I’d felt before, something that I felt all of the time.”

“Something that I felt all of the time for you.”

Y/N was at a loss for words, the confession that she’d always wanted to say being said to her. The very moment that she’d dreamed of was actually coming true, it was actually happening right in front of her eyes. It wasn’t her imagination—it was real. Kuroo loved her.

The smile spread across her face was more than enough to ease his nerves, her teeth were so bright they could’ve been compared to the sun. He couldn’t help but think of how beautiful she looked, how she was his sun.

“I’m so sorry my love hasn’t been constant, Y/N. It shouldn’t have taken me this long to realize the patterns, how your hanahaki came and went. It was my fault you’ve gone through so much pain.”

“But even here,” he whispered, pulling her close. His arms wrapped themselves around her body, his nose being mere inches away from hers. “With all of the flowers anyone could ever ask for, the only one that matters is you.”

She could feel his breath now, the soft breeze against her cheeks. Her body wanted to surge forward, connect their lips in a final confirmation of their feelings. She wanted the kiss with Kuroo that she’d been waiting for for her entire life.

“I love you.” He admitted, not waiting for her response before pressing his mouth to hers.

His smile could be felt between their lips, moving continuously as if they didn’t need any air to breathe. After all, they really only needed each other—Kuroo was the missing piece to Y/N’s puzzle, her heart was finally whole.

As they broke apart, love radiating off of them in contagious waves, overwhelming the room, igniting the aura—a cheeky grin grew on her new lover’s face.

He plucked a flower from the pot behind her head, presenting it with a laugh at the sight of her rolling her eyes in mock annoyance. Although she found him to be ridiculous, she accepted it gratefully—loving the new chapter that they were about to embark on.

“I heard you like roses?”

336 notes · View notes

alltooreid · 4 years ago

Text

All Too Well

Spencer must go to him and Y/N’s once shared apartment to clean out his things and leave her life forever. While there he can’t help but look back on his actions, the ones that made him lose the love of his life forever

A/N: Hi!! This is my first fanfic ever published on here and I’m excited to share it with you all! It’s inspired by one of my favorite Taylor Swift songs All Too Well, but although I utilized some of the lyrical genius and imagery from it, the story is not the same as the story in the song. This is a very angsty fic, and there is not a happy ending. Although there are some cute fluffy elements, including a Reid’s purple scarf origin story, I would in no way call this happy. Additionally, because of a reason you may later realize, the content warnings are very vague. If anything even slightly mentioned in them may affect you, I advise you to maybe stay clear. On a lighter note, if anyone wants to request anything, whether it’s another song inspired fic or a general plot line you would like to see please do so!! Also sorry this is kinda short, I’m still learning but I’m really proud of this one :))

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Type: Very Angsty, Not a Happy Ending, (Y/N and Spencer do not end up together)

Word Count: 2.4k

Content Warnings(try to ignore if you would prefer to stay surprised): slight cursing, discussions of death and gore, discussion of car crash

Things to Know: Italics and bold are flashback moments :) let me know what you think!

“But you keep my old scarf from that very first week 'Cause it reminds you of innocence And it smells like me You can't get rid of it 'Cause you remember it all too well”

Spencer was packing up his things, finally getting the chance to clear out and move from the apartment he and Y/N once shared. Their relationship was rocky and unconventional but he loved her all the same. Even though he left her broken-hearted and destroyed his most cherished relationship. Even though Y/N’s parents now hated him because of what he did to her. Even though hope of repairing what they once had was long gone and there was nothing else he could do about it. Even though he had torn up the masterpiece they once had together. He still loved her so much.

But the magic was gone and so was she.

Now Spencer was left with memories, and since the apartment they lived in was hers instead of his, filed entirely under hers and her parents name. In his excessive knowledge and wisdom, Spencer Reid struggled to understand how the kitchen where Y/N told him she loved him for the first time as he lit the candle on the collapsing confetti cake he had attempted to bake for her birthday was in no way legally tied to him.

“Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to Y/N! Happy birthday to you!” Spencer sang as he lit the single pink birthday candle he found after rummaging through his desk drawers for longer than he cared to admit. He knew it was in there somewhere, but at the same time there was a whole lot in there.

As he looked at her face, eyes welling up with tears as she took in the sad, homemade excuse for a birthday party Spencer had thrown together after they got back from a case hours before, he couldn’t help but feel he should have done more. He wanted to take her to New York, where they would’ve enjoyed fine dining and one of those incredibly detailed floral frosting cakes he knew Y/N was infatuated with.

However, the case in Oregon ran long. They had only returned to their apartment 2 hours ago, hours past their 7pm dinner reservations. Although Y/N tried to hide her disappointment, you don’t need to be a profiler to know that someone wants to celebrate their own birthday. So although they had agreed to go to bed and play everything by ear tomorrow, the young genius had, what he would still argue to be, his most brilliant idea when he saw Y/N asleep once he got out of the shower.

It was still her birthday.

And Spencer had just under 2 hours to throw you a party.

So sure, Y/N deserved more than a cake that was definitely not cool enough to frost, but was frosted anyway due to time constraints. And she definitely deserved more than present hastily wrapped in his printed out articles and newspaper clippings. Spencer wished that he had time to go buy new candles, instead of lighting a green sparkly number 7 because it was all he could find.

But it was almost midnight, and that meant he only had 18 minutes before it wasn’t Y/N’s birthday anymore.

So instead of dwelling on it, he headed to their bedroom, shook her awake and watched her roll over to face him. He watched the smile overtake her face as she said the stupid party hat he was wearing, made out of a pom pom and a wedding invitation.

“Hey birthday girl,” he said softly, “you do realize you’re sleeping through your party right?”

She looked so happy that night, even as she saw the way too messy kitchen and her birthday cake that was melting by the second. She laughed as Spencer fumbled with the lighter.

And as he finished singing her eyes started releasing tears.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I wish we could’ve done more for the first birthday we get to spend together. “

“No, no, no” she said as she wiped her tears away, “It’s not that at all.”

She smiled and looked up at him “I just love you so goddamn much Spencer.”

Although at one point, all Spencer knew was logic and logically Y/N had never ever known him when she filed her paperwork, the genius still struggled to grasp the concept. That even before the ending of it all, you had no legal, definite connection to her at all.

How was nothing about this place, his?

All that he knew was that he had today to pack all his shit and leave. All he knew is that Y/N’s father had made it very clear none of their family wanted to see him again.

He wished he could talk to Y/N about it. However all of his calls went to voicemail immediately.

Logically, Spencer knew why, he had completely fucked up.

But still, he called every single day, as there was nothing his heart wished for more than to speak to Y/N again. To apologize, to beg for forgiveness he knew he didn’t deserve.

As the cold air from the open windows blew into the apartment, Spencer couldn’t help but feel he was leaving his home behind. Everything left of her was going to be here, and he wouldn’t get to experience any part of the life you and him had once shared together anymore.

But then he saw it.

The royal purple scarf Y/N bought the day of their first date.

“You like this color right?” she asked as they stopped by a booth at the street festival she had taken him to. Spencer was too distracted as he watched the other couples on dates, as they walked hand and hand down the streets. He sometimes wished he could forget things like the number of germs and bacteria that lived on her hands. He at least wished he could forget long enough to gather enough courage to hold Y/N’s hand as they walked down the sidewalk.

“Hmm?” he said, looking back at her, then the scarf she was now wearing. “Oh, yeah! I love that color, it um- looks great on you.”

She smiled, then turned to the weird old guy running the stand. “How much for the scarf?” she asked.

He looked at her, then looked at Spencer, “depends which one of you is paying.”

Before Spencer could say anything, let alone pull out his wallet, Y/N already had hers out.

“Well, for a pretty lady like you, it’s 2 dollars,” the man said.

She handed him five and turned to Spencer. “You hear that? I’m so pretty I get 80% off! Wonder what you would’ve paid huh pretty boy? He would probably owe you money.” The man handed her her change and whispered something Spence couldn’t quite catch.

“Gross,” Y/N said as they exited the booth, “he wrote his number on my change.”

Spencer chuckled, “Did you really just buy that scarf because I like the color of it?”

She smiled, “Don’t get so cocky now Einstein, I like purple too you know? And maybe if you’re lucky I’ll let you borrow it.”

At that moment Spencer felt just okay enough to wrap his arm around Y/N’s, and she felt just right enough to wrap the new scarf around them both.

The one she left next to her front door, after making the last minute decision to leave it at home the night of their final outing.

No one would notice if he….. Right?

Sure maybe Y/N would but what would she do about it? Hunt him down just to get a scarf she paid less than five dollars for? Definitely not.

He wrapped it around his neck and closed his eyes, even days later he could perfectly picture Y/N singing in his car, fascinated by the autumn leaves falling around her. He felt the wind in his hair, but instead of the cold, dreary air from the open apartment window, he swore he could remember the warm air from that October night.

“Spencer I know you hate it but please, please, please. I’m so tired.”

“Sweetheart you’re not tired, you’re drunk. Of course I have to drive you home.”

“Oh, whatever.”

A phone call broke him away from his memories, it was Hotch. Spencer was angry, how effortlessly cruel of him to call him during such an emotional time. Hotch knew how much Spencer loved Y/N, the whole team did.

So he didn’t pick up.

Instead he walked over to the coffee table they used to put their feet on when they binged watched Doctor Who together. Letting the ringtone play out in the background, Spencer picked up an old photo album Y/N’s parents must have brought out. Of course he remembered it, it was the same one they flipped through when he met Y/N’s parents for the first time. He didn’t realize she had brought it home with her.

His eyes welled up with tears as he flipped through the old school pictures, remembering how embarrassed Y/N was of her big glasses. He saw her old athlete pictures from when she used to play tee ball, and flipped through more pictures until he reached the end of your softball career, in college.

He remembered how hard Y/N blushed when she showed him her childhood bedroom. Her twin sized bed was full of stuffed animals and her walls covered in boy band posters.

“You know what Spencer? I don’t want to hear it. I loved and still love the BackStreet Boys and I am not ashamed of that.”

He laughed, “You know, before we started dating I always thought you were so cool and unattainable. I imagined that you had always been this chic, beautifully brilliant badass. It’s oddly comforting to know that you wore tortoiseshell glasses and had a fruitless infatuation with Nick Carter.”

She gasped, before tossing her tabby cat stuffed toy at him, “You’re about to get it!”

Once again he was called out of the memory by his phone.

And once again he let it ring.

Spencer went into their shared bedroom, most of his things were already put into boxes for him. Honestly he was surprised that they hadn’t been set on fire or thrown away after what he did.

Soon it was time for him to take his things down to his car.

Except it wasn’t even his car. It was Morgan’s.

“Spencer, you are the most gorgeous man I have ever seen in my entire life. I am infatuated with you, I want us to spend the rest of our lives together.”

“You sure that isn’t the alcohol talking Y/N”

“Look at me Spencer, no, no really look at me.”

He couldn’t imagine ever using his old car again after what had happened in it.

“You are my future.”

Not that he could use it again.

“You are my everything.”

It was pretty much destroyed, after that accident on that little town street.

“I want nothing more in my life, than for you to be in it.”

When he was so enamored by Y/N, so in love that he couldn’t take his eyes off her, that he ran a red light.

And the truck waiting to go didn’t stop either.

“SPENCER! SPENCER CAN YOU HEAR ME? I NEED YOU TO CALL 911!” she screamed, her voice filled with agony, her limbs mangled in a sea of crushed mental and snapped backwards by the emergency airbag she didn’t realize she was resting her feet on.

Spencer had already called 911. That was the sickest thing about it. Spencer was, physically, perfectly fine. Spencer would get to leave the hospital after just a few days. Spencer could’ve probably gotten out of the car if he tried to. But he stayed, he stayed with Y/N, as she wasn’t fine. As Spencer looked down on her broken body, and tried desperately to find just one piece of skin that wasn’t coated in blood, her blood, that is when he realized. That not only could Y/N not walk out of the hospital with him, but she probably wouldn’t even make it there.

So he sobbed, he struggled to breathe, not because of the ways Y/N did, but because he had caused all the reasons she couldn’t.

“Hey, Spencer, look at me.”

So he did, and he reached for her hands and held them so tightly, and wanted one last time to feel her squeeze back. And she did, just ever so softly.

“Spencer, I meant everything I said to you. I want you to spend the rest of my life with me. Please.”

“I love you so much Y/N”

“I love you too.”

Spencer was drawn away from his memories once again as he got another phone call.

But it wasn’t Hotch this time. It was Mr. Y/L/N, so he answered it. He owed him that.

“Are you out of her house yet? You’ve had hours. I want you gone Spencer.”

Spencer sighed, “I’m leaving now sir, I’m just putting the last of my things in the trunk and then I’ll be gone.”

“Good, I never want to see you again Spencer, you hear me?” Mr. Y/L/N said. “And you better not have anything of hers either. All that stuff in your car better belong to you and you only. If Y/N paid for even a dime of it it better still be in that house.”

Spencer looked down at this scarf he was wearing, the one that still smelled like her perfume. The one that he couldn’t bring himself to take off because he reminded him of so much innocence and beauty.

“Yes sir, I didn’t take anything.”

“Good. And Spencer do me a favor.”

“Anything sir.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Mr. Y/L/N said, and then hung up. Spencer sighed, he expected that and fully deserved it.

How else should a father react when you kill his daughter?

“'Cause there we are again when I loved you so Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid taylor swift #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds reid #reid x reader #reid fanfic

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heartsandmuses · 4 years ago

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tiktok famous

for @stonyweek 2020 // prompt: “social media”

steve rogers/tony stark. rated g. 1.8k. universe: mcu.

Two months after the rest of the team gets TikTok, Steve finally caves and makes an account of his own.

He doesn’t tell anyone though, because while his grasp on technology is better than what most would assume, part of the fun is letting people think he’s completely helpless. It’s made for some pretty amusing afternoons, between Clint trying to teach him for an hour straight exactly how to empty the recycle bin on his laptop and Bruce attempting to talk him through uploading a photo onto his Google Drive, and Steve figures that the team’s exasperation at his supposed tech incompetency might make for a few good videos.

And it does — his popularity soars seemingly overnight, and it’s only a matter of days before people start to catch on to the fact that Captain America’s making TikToks now and barely a week before he’s amassed hundreds of thousands of followers.

Unfortunately, that means the team’s caught on too.

It’s a bit of a disappointment that he can’t continue to be—as Clint would say—a troll, now that they know he’s not as much of an old man as previously thought, but there’s still plenty else he can do on the app. In the week after his account gets verified, Steve isn’t sure how many videos he gets dragged into, but between all the dance covers Natasha teaches him, all the easy food hacks Bruce does, and all the workouts Thor records, he’s certain that he’s made an appearance in well over a hundred drafts for the other Avengers’ profiles.

Not that he minds all that much. It gives him a chance to explore the full scope of TikTok in a way he probably wouldn’t on his own.

— — —

It’s Peter who introduces Steve to the concept of TikTok “challenges,” which, really, consist of anything ranging from simple choreography to lighthearted pranks, and Steve takes it upon himself to scroll through the kid’s profile for some fresh ideas.

It’s a slow weekend anyway, no missions planned or battles to fight, and the renovations in the gym thanks to Hulk’s latest tantrum means that all team training sessions are cancelled until next week. Outside, rain patters against the windows of the common room; the TV’s on low, playing a rerun of some competitive cooking show that Tony, sprawled out on the other side of the couch, fell asleep in front of, having lost interest about halfway through. Steve smiles as he lets his gaze trace over Tony’s profile—his messy hair, the curve of his nose, the way his eyelashes fan over his cheeks—and when his eyes finally turn back towards his phone...

Steve blinks.

Because the next video he lands on is tagged #KissYourBestFriendChallenge. And if he happened to miss the tiny print at the bottom of the screen, a text bubble pops up in the first few seconds with exactly the same words.

The video starts off innocently enough, with Peter and Ned laughing and joking around in what Steve assumes is Peter’s bedroom, both of them sitting on the floor with a half-finished Lego Death Star between them. Steve has the volume turned on low, but he can still hear Ned’s breathy Vader impression, as he holds up one of the figurines and walks it along the carpet. Peter laughs, and when his gaze shifts from the Lego figurine back up to Ned’s face, bright and beaming, his grin softens at the edges, expression turning into something much more... wistful and wanting and affectionate.

Something smitten.

Ned’s gaze meets Peter’s once again, and he trails off in the middle of his sentence when he sees him leaning in, closer and closer until their lips finally meet. It’s a tender kiss, a hesitant one, but Ned pulls away after a moment, partly in surprise and partly to search Peter’s face, a look of— of astonishment, of realization, coming over his own. And just like that, he leans back in and kisses him silly, smiling against Peter’s mouth.

Steve’s heart clenches, his eyes drifting back down to the bottom of the screen, and right next to the extensive list of hashtags, the caption reads: he feels the same way, followed by a row of heart emojis.

He’s known for a while that Peter’s been going out with Ned, but Steve had no idea that this is how they got together, and as he thinks about that look of mutual longing that they’d shared, he can’t help but glance back over at Tony, still blissfully asleep and snoring soundly.

— — —

Steve can’t get the idea out of his head.

It might have something to do with the fact that he’s spent the past few days going through the hashtag, watching as people have their dreams come true or—equally as often—dashed. But Steve’s a strategist, he needs to consider all possible outcomes before he can start to even plan, and while there’s a very large, very scared part of him that wants to call the whole thing off before it can even really begin, he knows, deep in his gut, that no better opportunity would ever present itself to tell Tony how he feels.

Steve’s brave, but he’s not the kind of brave that can go up to his best friend directly and confess his love to him. He’s learned that lesson all too well from silently pining around Bucky for the better part of a decade, and Steve knows he won’t be able to go through the same thing again. Even if Tony does reject him—which is a possibility he’s certainly preparing himself for—at least he’ll know for sure that he doesn’t have a chance, instead of being stuck in the familiar limbo of wondering and wanting and hoping.

And if that does happen, if Tony turns him down, Steve’s reassured by the fact that he can play it off as a joke, say it was all just for the challenge. That’s been his biggest concern in the past, whenever he would consider taking the leap and asking Tony out, the risk of something shattering between them. Their friendship, their closeness, what they have right now — none of it is worth throwing away just because Steve can’t tamp down his desire.

He’s thrown himself into some hastily thought-out plans in the past, but this one feels pretty foolproof.

— — —

Steve isn’t sure how it’s possible, really, but there’s just something about the sight of Tony laughing—crow’s feet crinkling at the corners of his eyes, lips curling into a grin—that makes him about ten times more handsome than he usually is. It’s just as heart-stopping as it is distracting, and it takes a good five minutes for Steve to even remember why he’d come down to the lab in the first place.

Officially, the excuse he gave Tony is that he needs some input on which TikTok to post next; unofficially, Steve’s just trying to calm his racing heart as he watches his best friend go through the entirety of his drafts folder, trying to muster up every ounce of courage he has, for one little moment. One little kiss.

“I think this one’s a real winner,” Tony says, turning the phone back towards Steve, and on the screen is a time-lapse of him sketching the Tower. He has a few others like that up on his profile already, quick little drawings of the common room or of the team, and Steve realizes with some embarrassment that if Tony went into his camera roll he would find more than a few real-time recordings of Steve sketching full pages of those warm, brown eyes and those long, fanning eyelashes. “The pranks and storytimes are fun and all, but I like the videos of your art the best.”

There’s such a startling sincerity in his words that it makes Steve’s heart skip a beat. He feels warm and nervous all at once, stomach churning and palms sweating, and he gets so lost in the adoring look in Tony’s eyes that he doesn’t notice for a long moment how close they really are. And it doesn’t stop, either. They just keep getting closer and closer and—

Steve’s leaning in, he realizes. He’s leaning in and he can see Tony’s tongue dart out to wet his lips, can see Tony’s gaze dropping to Steve’s mouth, can see a flicker of want in his eyes, pure and desperate, and that’s all Steve needs to know before he kisses him.

For days all he could imagine were the countless ways that Tony might let him down gently, pulling back with a laugh and a friendly squeeze to his shoulder, shaking his head and telling him that they’re better off as friends. But Tony doesn’t do any of that. He kisses back almost instantly, hands coming up to cup Steve’s cheeks, and Steve absolutely melts into the touch. It’s sweet and gentle and perfect, and now that he doesn’t have to worry about playing it off as a prank anymore, he pours everything he’s feeling into it — everything he’s been feeling, for all these years. All of his longing, his fondness, his desire.

All of his love.

The kiss seems to last somewhere between a second and an eternity, and when he finally pulls back to look into Tony’s eyes, he can see it all, every thought and feeling written out so clearly in his expression, a picture-perfect mirror of his own. Steve smiles, as a rush of relief fills his chest, and he can’t help but lean in again, just as his heart flutters and his stomach swoops and he thinks, with absolute certainty, he feels the same way.

— — —

JARVIS catches the entire exchange on video for him, along with the elated and impromptu make-out session that had ensued immediately afterwards, and while Steve plays back the footage of that initial kiss at least a hundred times, smiling stupidly at his phone, he doesn’t upload it.

It just feels too... intimate, too personal, for the rest of the world to see, at least right now. Steve just wants to keep the moment—and Tony—to himself for a little longer, and so, what he posts instead is the time-lapse of him drawing the large, looming Tower and the cityscape surrounding it.

— — —

Days later, he posts another sped-up sketch. This time, it’s one of Tony, with that big, gorgeous grin, that familiar twinkle in his eyes; it’s the exact expression that came over his face after Steve had kissed him, and it feels good, committing it not only to memory, but to paper as well.

But his followers aren’t completely clueless, he knows that, and it’s over the next few weeks—during which Steve gets a little more confident in uploading his drawings of Tony—that they begin to suspect something might be going on between the two of them.

Steve, of course, never outright confirms nor denies their claims, though he does, three months into their relationship, film that “walk into the room naked and record your boyfriend’s reaction” challenge, and that pretty much says it all.

#stony week 2020 #stonyweek #stony #steve rogers #tony stark #otp: put on the suit #ficlets #fics #my fics #my writing #mine #amy talks

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daily-dose-of-imagines · 4 years ago

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𝘋𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

@therainroguefanfiction asked: Hello hello ^~^)/ I have a request, if you'd be so kind~ The reader is best friends with one of the Karasuno members (your choice) and joins them for them for their first game against Nekoma. They instantly catch the attention of Morisuke Yaku, who wants to get to know her better. Bonus points if you make her a tomboy~ Gender neutral is also fine, I don't mind. Thank you so much

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Hello and thank you for requesting with us! This is such a cute concept and I really enjoyed writing it! ･:*:･(*////∀////*)･:*:･

Also, I’m sorry if she isn’t really “tomboyish” here, I found it kind of hard to incorporate it ;;

>Admin 𝕋

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The smell of sweat permeated through the air of the hallway, mixing with the scent of the suffocating testosterone coming off in waves from the players. (y/n) put her finger to her nose, trying to block the smell, but was not able to hide from it. She rolled her eyes and faced Hinata, who was talking to his taller friend Kageyama, and tapped him on his shoulder. “Hey, I’m glad you invited me and all, but the act of boys comparing sizes to each other via hitting volleyballs in a hallway meant for the public is really aggravating, so I think I’m gonna go find a seat in the bleachers.” the girl said to him. Hinata tilted his head, a little disappointed she didn’t want to stay.

“Do you really have to go? You know you help me relax when I have an upset stomach.” he told her, giving his best puppy dog eyes. (y/n) groaned and face palmed, never once able to say no to them.

“You’re doing that on purpose aren’t you.” she responded, then sighed, poking Hinata on the forehead. “Ugh, fine! You win, I’ll stay!”

“Yay!” Hinata exclaimed before hugging her waist and jumping up an down. “You’re the bestest best friend ever!”

“Yes yes, now if you would please let go before you crush my ribs, that would be great.” (y/n) chuckled, patting him on the head. He let go, a pout on his lips.

“You’re way too clingy, you know that?” Kageyama commented, one eyebrow raised and his arms crossed, gazing down at the orange haired boy. Hinata glared up at him, and instantly started arguing with him. (y/n) once again rolled her eyes. They always would do this, it never mattered where they were.

“Hinata, I’m going to bathroom. Hinata---I said---really---” she gave up trying to get him to listen and decided to just go. Huffing out an annoyed breath, she just walked away.

As she tried to find the restroom, (y/n) noticed a group of volleyball players walking the opposite direction of her. They all wore a red jersey, the jacket spelling out the word Nekoma. She glanced between the players, seeing all their personalities at a first glance. One caught her interest though; a man with a short stature and light brown hair, who had a matching pair of light brown eyes. He was talking to a taller man, who had cat like eyes and silver hair, but something made him stop and look in her direction.

Like he was running into a wall, Yaku ceased his walking and stared at the girl as she passed him. She looked back into his eyes and smiled, nodding her head in a greeting before she gazed back and disappeared around a corner. He didn’t even try to hide his blush and as he stood there, his teammates left him in the dust. That is, until Kuroo came up beside him and hummed out, “Yaku, what are you doing, just standing there?”

The shorter male blinked a couple of times before looking up to Kuroo. He coughed and shook his head, “I, uh, thought I saw someone I knew, that’s all. Come on, before we both get yelled at.” he voiced, quickly stepping away from the middle of the hallway. Kuroo looked down the busy corridor, then back to Yaku, thinking about how fishy he was acting, before walking back to the group.

*:..｡o○　　○o｡..:*

(y/n) sat at the edge of her bleacher seat, her hand on her knees and gripping them tightly as she watched Hinata spike the volleyball into the opponent’s court. The opponent being Nekoma, the players she had past by earlier that day. They were good, analytical and precise that’s for sure. Way more organized than Karasuno, but she still hoped in some way they would win.

“Go Hinata! You got this in the bag!” she shouted in support, clapping her hands as she got weary stares from the people around her. Hinata gazed up the bleachers and waved, laughing at her loud voice echoing through the gym. She waved back, but stopped when she heard loud banging across where the other team was. Peering over, (y/n) saw that one of their teammates tripped over a volleyball. It was the boy she greeted when she passed by his team. His face was red and his teammates were laughing at him, and him shouting for them to shut up.

The referees stared at them uselessly, watching as they bickered, but did nothing about it. (y/n) thought he should have at least blewn his whistled, but no, they just kept at it. Rolling her eyes for what felt like the fifth time, due to the antics of men, she went back to watching Karasuno.

Yaku, on the other hand, was having a very hard time concentrating on the game. Once he saw the girl from the hallway in the bleachers, and was watching them play, it was throwing him off. Everytime he wasn’t on the court, he would looking at her; at the way she squinted her eyes when she saw one of her friends hit the ball.

Or the way she bit her lip when his team gained a point, leading the game. How her smile blossomed when they won one of the matches, out of the three.

Oh yeah, he was very distracted right now, and nothing could get him to stop looking at her. Thank god she hadn’t noticed, or he would have an angry stranger on his hands.

When the game was over, it was 2-1, Karasuno being the winners. When the Nekoma team rounded their couch to get feedback, Yaku got an earful. “What was that? Your head wasn’t in the game the whole time.” their coach reprimanded.

“I’m sorry. I’ll make sure to do better next time.” Yaku muttered, bowing lowly and apologetically. The coach sighed, shaking his head.

“You’re lucky this game wasn’t that important. Just, next time, concentrate more.” he commented then got up from the bench he was occupying. “Go back to the lockers and get ready to head out.” the Nekoma team bowed to him while he walked away until he was gone.

Yaku and his teammates trudged to the lockers, getting dressed back into their jerseys and headed to their bus to go back to their school. As they were waiting, they saw Karasuno walked up next to them, along with the girl he was constantly staring and thinking about all day.

She was talking to Hinata, lightly smacking him on the shoulder everytime he did something stupid. She looked amazing in natural light too, her hair glistening in the sun and her skin glowing. Yaku doesn’t even know her name, let alone who she was, but he really wanted to know. Just as he felt compelled to walk over to her, Yaku saw Kenma already over there, now talking to Hinata excitedly, or as excited Kenma could outwardly be.

Now with an excuse, the browned haired boy went after him, his heart racing in his chest as he got closer. The pretty girl noticed him when he was about a foot away and smiled at him. He gulped down the lump in his throat and smiled back, patting Kenma’s shoulder when he was close enough. “Sorry if Kenma here is bothering you, I try to keep an eye on him.” Yaku explained. Hinata and her both shook their head, easing his worries.

“No, he’s totally fine. He was just talking about a new game he was playing.” the girl said, motioning flippantly with her hands.

“And who might you be? I haven’t ever seen you with Karasuno before now.” he tried his very best not to trip over his words. She laughed and nudged Hinata, to which he nodded and moved away, Kenma following. Yaku thought it was peculiar, but didn’t say anything.

“I’m actually a really good friend of the mandarin on steroids. He wanted me come and see one of his games.” she says, rubbing her hands together. “You were really good by the way. Even though I know literally nothing about volleyball.”

“Oh, ah, thank you, though it wasn’t one of my best gameplays.”

“Well, if that was your worst, then I wonder what you look like at your best.” she wondered, her voice lower than previously. His already rapid heart beat thumped painfully, his cheeks reddening greatly. “Hey, maybe you can show me how good you really are sometime?” she asked him, her smirk was flirty.

Yaku didn’t really know what was happening, but he managed to stutter out, “Y-yeah no, I can definitely do that.”

“Cool, hand me your phone real quick?” she asked, to which Yaku hastily patted his pockets before taking his phone out and handing it to her. She steadily put her number in and gave it back. “I gotta get back to the team, but call me anytime you want to set up a date.” she said then walked away, back to Hinata. It seemed Kenma was back with his own.

He did the same, bouncing back to his team and getting odd stares. Lev came up beside him and asked, “What has you in such a good mood?”

“I have a date.”

#hq imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu drabble #haikyuu!!#hq! x reader #yaku morisuke #yaku x reader #morisuke yaku x reader #yaku drabble #yaku imagine #yaku scenario #x reader #reader insert #ask! t replies

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precuredaily · 4 years ago

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Precure Day 202

Episode: Yes! Precure 5 Go Go! 04 - “Deliver Urara’s Script!” Date watched: 19 December 2020 Original air date: 24 February 2008 Screenshots Transformation Gallery Project info and master list of posts

Sometimes you get an episode that shouldn’t work, but it just does because of the sincerity of the delivery. You may correctly assume this is that episode. It’s a mundane episode about returning a lost item, but the emotions on display are heartfelt and passionate. Let’s dig in.

The Plot

Syrup arrives at Natts House to deliver more letters from Milk and is startled by Urara tearfully proclaiming she has to leave. It turns out she’s practicing for an important audition and the other girls, especially Komachi, are giving her feedback. Syrup is still a bit confused since he’s not familiar with the concepts of acting or performance, but he watches anyway. After the intro, we go over to Eternal for a few minutes, where Anacondy praises Bunbee’s report writing after the last episode and tasks him with gathering more information, passing him a huge stack of papers. He wanders down the hallway and runs into Scorp, asking him for help in a gag that involves him calling him a different name every single time: Scorn, Stamp, Slipper, Skunk, and even Slump. Scorp is not amused and leaves to retrieve the Rose Pact. Back at Natts House, Coco and Nuts detect the presence of a Palmin, and they go outside with everyone to try to find it, while Urara prepares to leave for the audition. A glance at her script reveals it is absolutely filled with notes, and she gives it a hug. However, she looks up and sees the Palmin, so she sets the script down and tries to snapshot the Palmin when her manager Washio interrupts her.

She hastily grabs her bag and rushes him out the door, accidentally leaving her script on the table. They arrive at the site of the audition, where a dozen other girls are already practicing, making Urara neverous. This is when she realizes she forgot her script, and at the same time, Nozomi and the other girls discover her script. Without hesitation they agree they need to deliver it to her, and they ask Syrup to do so, but he says he only delivers stuff for work. SIDE NOTE: as far as we know, he isn’t paid, so them asking him to deliver something is as much a job as delivering letters to and from the Palmier Kingdom. But whatever. Since Syrup won’t deliver it, the girls drag him along with them as they travel by foot to the audition. They take a “shortcut” that involves them climbing a hill with a ton of switchbacks, and Syrup really doesn’t like that. (BITCH, YOU CAN FLY) Nozomi and the girls explain that Urara will be worried without her script, and that her feelings are very important to them. They press on, despite Syrup’s complaints. They finally make it to the top exhausted, when suddenly Scorp shows up to rain on their parade. They protest that they’re on an important mission but he counters that obtaining the Rose Pact is equally important to him and he’s not moving, so the girls implore Syrup to take the script while they fight Eternal, and be begrudgingly agrees.

He dodges past Scorp and runs off while Nozomi, Rin, Komachi, and Karen transform and fight Scorp’s Hoshiina, which he has made out of the cobbled road itself. They throw it around but it manages to sneak in some hits on them and they lay on the ground, weakened, engaging in a battle of words with Scorp about the importance of Urara’s dream. Syrup reaches Urara and gives her the script, only for her to explain that she already has it memorized, but having everyone’s notes in it lets her feel like they’re right there with her. She picks up that something is amiss and demands that Syrup explain what’s happening to her friends, and he spills the beans but tells her to focus on the audition. It’s her turn to go up, so she enters the audition room and faces the panel of judges, and then.... she says she’s worried about her friends, tears up, apologizes, and runs out of the room.

Syrup delivers her to the battlefield, where the Hoshiina is just about to deliver the final blow. She tells Scorp she won’t let him hurt anyone anymore, then transforms, and the full team of five leaps into battle together, in a wonderfully animated sequence as they lay into Scorp and declare again that their strength comes from their bonds. Lemonade unleashes her new special attack, Prism Chain, where she creates two chains made of butterflies and swings them from behind her to directly in front of her in a pincer move, causing the chains to wrap around the enemy and dissolve them. Scorp dodges the attack but it manages to destroy the Hoshiina.

now watch me whip

Later, back at Natts House, Nozomi laments that Urara had to leave, though she assures her it wasn’t her fault. Washio shows up, telling Urara he heard about the audition, and he understands, he’s not mad, there will be plenty more opportunities for her. As he says that, his phone starts ringing and he takes the call. Syrup is still confused that she only needed the script for encouragement rather than the contents, so Coco and Nuts explain that the girls’ feelings are very important and powerful, they’ve left an influence on each other as well as the fairies of Palmier Kingdom, and they show him pictures that Milk has sent of life in Palmier to demonstrate. Just then, Nozomi notices a Palmin, and Urara captures it to make up for missing it earlier. Everyone gathers around to see what it turns out to be and..... it turns into the King of the Donuts Kingdom, one of the four monarchs!

The Analysis

As I said in the cold open, this episode doesn’t seem like it should work. It’s another cheesy filler plot with no stakes, not really any room for character growth, no impact on the plot (until the end). However, the writer for this episode has a knack for turning mundane premises into strong scripts, and a good director and animation director were tasked with bringing it to life, so it all comes together to be a strong episode.

Although it’s not as much about him as the previous one, this episode is framed mostly from Syrup’s perspective. This means we come into Natts House at the same time as him, in the middle of Urara practicing, and we see his confusion. This is actually clever, because while most of the audience already knows that Urara is an actress from watching the previous series, there’s always new fans who may not have seen the last season, so explaining Urara’s profession from the perspective of another outsider is an unobtrusive way to acquaint, or reacquaint, viewers with her. Furthermore, we stay with Syrup throughout, even when the focus shifts to other characters it’s still largely seen through him. He objects to delivering the script but they drag him along anyway up the cliff. When Urara asks him what happened to her friends, the cut to their fight is also framed such that it could be his vision of what’s happening, while simultaneously being what’s literally happening. And then, once again, the episode ends with Syrup ruminating on Urara’s acting process and the symbolic importance of her friends, as represented by her script. He’s starting to learn what makes the girls special and why their friendship is powerful. It’s a multifaceted framing device.

The real star of this show is Urara. She’s really pouring her heart into this part, but it’s the unquestioning support of her friends that keeps her motivated. This is most directly manifested by her script, but of course her concern for their well-being is incredibly powerful. She is absolutely terrified that Nozomi and co are going to be defeated by Eternal and that supersedes everything else. There’s obviously a tinge of irony that delivering her script to help her out is the catalyst to her leaving the audition. If they hadn’t, or if only Syrup had gone, then they wouldn’t have run into Scorp and Urara probably would have gotten the part. However, all four girls decide without a moment’s hesitation that they have to deliver Urara’s script and so they encounter Scorp, and this leads to her saving them at the last minute. This, as I say sometimes, is peak Precure. Her little speech to the panel of judges where she says she has to leave to save her friends is so emotional. Ise Mariya puts forth a strong performance but it’s the animation that really sells this sequence. She’s teary-eyed, and then the run down the hallway is well-drawn, and it culminates when she steps outside the building. There’s a gorgeous 360 degree turnaround as she scans the horizon for signs of her friends. This sort of shot is hard to do in 2D animation.

vimeo

Also the music swell helps to sell the intensity. Urara’s desperation is tangible. She wants nothing more than to rescue her friends in this moment, and nothing can stand in her way. When she arrives at the battle, her friends are on the verge of defeat, but as soon as she joins the fight the battle turns around. It’s a fast-paced fight with the girls swooping in, beating up Scorp, and then unleashing the finisher. It’s another well-animated sequence and the contrast between how the team of 4 and the team of 5 fights is night and day.

vimeo

Once again you’ve got the continuous spinning camera that helps sell the scene. The distortion of the characters, especially Scorp, actually works in favor of the speed and excitement of the scene. This is what Urara brings, this is what they can do when they’re all assembled. That’s what I mean when I say this episode is better than it ought to be on paper. It’s a threadbare plot but the emotions and the artwork come together beautifully.

The major theme of the episode is support. Nozomi, Rin, Komachi, and Karen support Urara’s goal whole-heartedly. They help her rehearse, giving her tips and people to play off of. They run to her aid when she needs it without a second thought. Even fighting Scorp is a way of showing their support, they’re keeping him from attacking Urara during her important audition while sending Syrup to give her the script. And at the end, Washio is also being very supportive, and I appreciate that. He doesn’t act sad or disappointed or upset at her for bailing on her big audition, he understands that she had her reasons and just says there will be another chance. The support network of friends who have each other’s backs, who care about each other, who are stronger together, that’s what makes this larger team dynamic work well and stand apart from the duo series. There’s obviously something powerful about the two girls who can only transform together, and I love the Futari wa shows for it, but the larger team of heroines who can operate independently if necessary but are exponentially stronger together is also wonderful, and this episode really exemplifies that.

Also a quick note, I wanted to briefly discuss the geography of this town. In the middle of the episode, there’s a gag where the girls are climbing a huge cliffside because it’s the shortest way to their destination.

If you recall, all the sweeping shots of this pseudo-French town have shown it to be fairly flat. For there to be a cliff face somewhere in the middle of it with a bunch of switchbacks is incredibly unusual, and I don’t think this setting has been seen before or since. It’s just there for the gag of them running up this huge thing.

All told, this was a phenomenal episode and I’m glad for it. After a disappointing first couple of episodes, this one really hit the mark.

Next time, on Precure Daily, Karen is taking suggestions for the school! Look forward to it!

Pink Precure Catchphrase Count: 0 kettei!

#Precure #Pretty Cure #Yes! Precure 5 Go Go!#YPC5GG04 #PCD202

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sugaabooga · 4 years ago

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Chance | 4

Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader | Jimin x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, rich!Seokjin, rich!Jimin

Word Count: 2.0k

Warnings: like one curse word, PG-13

Synopsis: Seokjin had no problem of getting girls and also had no problem of getting rid of them. One girl after the next. So why was it that you - a middle-class citizen - was an exception? You - a middle-class citizen - made Seokjin question if he really did have it all. But one thing’s for sure. He didn’t have any of your chances.

Should I?

No. You look weak.

But. . . should I still?

She’s middle class.

Seokjin groans, flopping onto his back and throwing his phone somewhere across his blankets, frustrated from his internal debate.

Why was he even contemplating whether or not to text you? Girls were always a come and go for Seokjin. As soon as he deemed a girl “boring” he would move on.

But that was the exact thing that made him stick to you. You weren’t boring. Every moment with you was new and different. The more he talked to you, the more curious he became.

Previously, the qualifications Seokjin set for his future wife were just three things.

Appearance, reputation, and status.

Seokjin had to admit that you were quite beautiful. It is only due to the fact that you put little to no makeup, always have a messy bun, and often hide behind a pair of glasses that initially fooled Seokjin into thinking you did not meet his standards. However, he quickly saw that behind all that, your bare face was a beauty.

Your reputation was not well-known, Seokjin now realizes. His only eyewitness was the threatening statement from his brother, Jimin, who shared that you were his long-time friend. Right off the bat, Seokjin assumed you were the elite upper class of Korea due to Jimin’s habit of speaking highly of you.

The day Seokjin finally asked about your parents, he came to the shocking realization that you were indeed not of high, elite status. Due to his short, impulsive thinking, Seokjin became so consumed with the fact that you were merely middle class whom he shared months of a relationship with that he immediately called it off. Now as he looks back, Seokjin knows that you mean more to him than just a mistake or a casual fling. You were the first girl he met that he wanted to know more of, the one who made him flustered, the one he wanted to fight for.

Heck, you were the only girl that he had a relationship with for over a month.

Seokjin sits up on his bed with a slight grunt, reaching over his wide mattress to grab his tossed phone.

Seokjin: Hey. . .

Seokjin starts typing then shakes his head.

Seokjin: Can we meet at Yumi’s?

Seokjin huffs, deeming the meeting location to be a bad choice. Too many people, too many distractions. . . Yumi’s just would not be a good place to try wooing a girl back to him.

Seokjin: Meet me in front of the library near your workplace.

Seokjin’s thumb hovers over the blue arrow as he contemplates whether or not to send his message. Is it too sudden? Too demanding? Shameless?

Well, he was a pretty shameless person.

No. That’s not the concept he’s going for.

Seokjin quickly deletes the message and rolls onto his back, hopelessly staring at his high ceiling for a solid minute before jumping up as if a light bulb lit up above his head.

He glances at the time and nods to himself, knowing it was almost for you to get off of work.

Seokjin hastily changes into a turtleneck and slacks, shoves his arms through a coat and hurries out his penthouse door.

Meanwhile, a loud crack resonates within your tiny cubicle as your droopy eyes lazily glance over at the bottom right corner of the desktop computer. You were working overtime.

Again.

“Take a break,” Jina, one of your fellow co-workers suggests with an encouraging smile as she gets ready to leave after working an extra two hours herself.

You shake your head in exhaustion. “I wish. But Hoseok won’t let me live.”

“Hoseok what now?”

Jina’s spine straightens as she squeaks at the sudden appearance of the said man and quickly greets both of you goodnight, leaving you to deal with your sharp, picky boss.

You gulp, eyes hesitantly skimming over his stoic face.

You’re pretty sure you saw Hoseok laughing his heart out with Jimin one time. Needless to say, his laughter was quite the surprise but immediately after stepping out the lounge room, his professionalism came back as if he had never once cracked a smile in his twenty seven years of living.

“Miss Y/N,” Hoseok addresses in a monotonous but firm tone.

“Y-Yes?” you answer, back unintentionally straightening.

“Are you having a hard time?”

You’re slightly taken aback by the question but a shiver runs down your spine once you realize he was not asking out of concern.

It was a test.

You immediately shake your head, pulling your hands together on top of your desk to cease their slight tremble. “Not at all.”

Hoseok crosses his arms, slightly bending over your cubicle with scrutinizing eyes.

“Am I uncomfortable to be around?”

Your eyes widen, body abruptly stopping its unintentional lean back and instead lean forward into a normal position.

“Of course not,” you smile nervously, lying straight through your teeth. Hoseok was certainly not the bad kind of uncomfortable. He was a decent male. However, he sure was intimidating which often made you wary of his presence.

Hoseok lets out a small sigh, nodding and starting to turn back around.

“That’s good. Well, sorry about the workload, Y/N,” he apologizes in a straight faced manner, making you wonder if he was even genuinely sorry for you. “I’ll make sure you get the right amount of pay.”

You merely nod in understanding as Hoseok wishes you good luck and heads home for the night.

You peek your head out from behind your divider, deflating back into your chair once you realize you were the only one left in the office.

You debate calling Jimin but immediately shake that idea out of your head. He had left earlier, claiming to have important plans for the evening. You were sure he wasn’t aware of you working overtime. Not wanting to be an unnecessary bother, you slide away your phone and instead focus on finishing up your team’s proposal.

It was tiring managing such various parts of the team. Not only did you have to finish your part and put all the slides together, but you were in charge of editing everyone’s materials. It was quite unfortunate that your other coworkers took advantage of your mercy by bull crapping their whole part and leaving you to do the whole thing by yourself.

You were very tempted to tell Hoseok about it, who would no doubt break out into another intense lecture with some possible screaming involved.

It had happened before.

Then, everyone would know you as the snitch, possibly outcasting you from all the company gatherings. But it would also mean you wouldn’t have to work these extra hours and deal with all this stress.

It’s not worth being a snitch, you nod. You might as well work hard and quit by next year without making enemies along the way.

But as your dull eyes skim over Minu’s absolute garbage bullet points, you grit your teeth.

Yup. This is definitely the last time you’re covering for them.

You tap your phone, sighing at how you would’ve been off about three hours ago.

No. It’s not time to mope. This is the last time you’ll be doing this. So get through it and just email Hoseok a complaint later.

You huff, taking a large gulp of your water to calm your infuriating soul and stretch out your fingers. You aggressively flip through the hardcopy of your notes and vigorously clack against the keys, words forming at an insane speed due to your newfound determination.

Another hour passes by and you’re nearly finished. All that was left was covering the effect this proposal would have on the company with its expected high consumer ratings.

As you lean back on your chair, stretching out your joints and back, you don’t notice the figure in view from your window leaving a parallel parked fancy automobile, making its way into your high-rise office building.

Seokjin gives a small bow to the security guard in the front lobby who smoothly opens the door for him with a bright grin.

Hm. Quite happy for working the night shift.

He hears the front desk receptionist on night-duty let out a small gasp but it doesn’t have the same effect on him as it would’ve before. Seokjin doesn’t feel the usual urge to smirk nor the surge of pride swelling in his chest. Instead, all he can think about is:

“Which floor is Y/N L/N on?”

The receptionist’s face drops at the mention of another woman’s name and thanks the business regulations for privacy. “Sorry. . . I’m afraid we can’t just give out information like that.”

Seokjin digs in his coat pocket for his business card, quickly handing it to her.

“Business,” he states.

The receptionist’s eyes double their size at his card title:

Kim Seokjin. JJ Corporations. Executive Director.

She gasps. “JJ Corp-”

“We’re scouting,” Seokjin lies, cutting off the receptionist’s shock. “I heard Y/N L/N was on the management team?”

The young girl frantically nods, clicking away at her computer and pulling up the management team’s information.

“She should be on the thirty-fourth floor.”

Seokjin bids a quick thank you and walks over to an elevator.

The receptionist tilts her head as the man who claims he’s scouting enters the elevator, swinging around a plastic black, convenience store bag.

“Hm,” she squints her eyes in brief suspicion then shrugs. “Must be bribery.”

____

The bell dings, announcing the elevator’s arrival on the 34th floor. Seokjin’s posture is calm as he gets out the elevator but he quickly has to breathe out out of sheer nervousness, feeling the unfamiliar butterflies in his stomach.

He had heard a black-haired male, who seemed to be some kind of manager, muttering how you were always working overtime over the phone as he walked towards the bus stop. Hearing this, Seokjin drove to the nearest convenience store, picking up some snacks and a pre-packaged dinner plate. It was his first time entering such a humble store, but Seokjin was quite satisfied by the efficiency of it. He planned to visit frequently.

That’s besides the point.

As he nears the entrance of all the cubicles, Seokjin lets out a huff, giving himself a short little pep talk as he stops in front of the doors. He didn’t debate in the car for over an hour just to turn back and go home once he got up here.

Let’s go Kim Seokjin. What’s the worst that can happen? Rejection?

Seokjin grimaces. He shakes his head, throwing the negative thoughts out of his mind and regains his usual arrogance confidence.

Seokjin’s confident steps slow down to a stop once he spots your face peeking out from the divider, a harsh white light from the computer screen illuminating your tired face.

Just as he lets out a breath to begin walking towards you with a sweet smile, Seokjin’s gaze slowly flickers over to the male’s head popping up next to you.

His smile disappears as the said male lounges beside you on his own chair, spinning lazily.

Jimin.

Seokjin hears an incoherent conversation briefly exchanged between the two of you, heart clenching when your face lights up with a smile at Jimin’s silliness.

Seokjin is frozen, fist tightening on the plastic handles of the black bag, jaw clenching.

Unable to watch as Jimin shifts closer to you, Seokjin swiftly turns around, leaving the room like he was never there to begin with and goes unnoticed by the both of you.

Seokjin huffs, feeling a complexity of emotions as he sees flashes of red. He was angry, somewhat broken, and jealous. It was a flurry of emotions he had never felt towards a girl before. Seokjin firmly presses the elevator button, looking down as the plastic bag loudly crinkles in his clenched fist.

Seokjin grits his teeth, anger and green jealousy getting the best of him.

What kind of lowlives eat this instant shit?

The elevators slide open. The black bag is flung at the wall. Expensive shoes clack against tiles. A designer coat is flung back by the wind.

With a soft growl of a fancy engine, Seokjin leaves.

#bts #bangtanhq #bangtanidx #btsbookclub #btsboulangerie #btswriterscollective #bts fanfic #seokjin fanfic #seokjin x reader #jimin fanfic #jimin x reader

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heauxplesslydevoted · 5 years ago

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Fracture (King Liam x MC)

Summary: Inspired by this post from @ao719 and set immediately after TRH Book 2, chapter 1. The King and Queen have their first major blow up.

A/N: This was hard for me because I see both of their sides so perfectly, and I adore Liam so being mad at him, even fictionally is a challenge for me, lol

Tags: @senseofduties @lapisreviewsstuff @akacalliope @badchoicesposts @drakewalker04 @canknot @sirbeepsalot @hopefulmoonobject @eadanga @texaskitten30 @the-unconquered-queen @flyawayboo @aestheticartwriting

The air in the parlor is practically crackling with energy as Queen Kendall glares at her husband. There’s way too many emotions swirling around right now—anger, joy, confusion, relief, fear—and she can’t seem to get a firm grasp on them.

This is supposed to be the happiest day of her life, of their life, but it’s not. Liam just agreed to give their baby away.

He waits on baited breath as she finds the words to respond to him. To say Liam is nervous is an understatement. Anxiety is a cruel mistress and she has a firm grip on his throat.

“You did what?”

“I agreed to their terms for an alliance.”

“How dare you? You married our daughter off and she’s not even a full day old yet!”

“Kendall, you have to–”

“I don’t have to do a damn thing!” Kendall hisses. “You caved! We’ve been working on ways to subdue them and keep them at bay for months, and you give in to their whims like that?” She snaps for added effect.

The heartbreak is the worst. Not once in their relationship has never done something like this without telling her. She never thought she’d experience a betrayal, from him of all people, on this level. “You made a monumental decision that affects not just us, but our daughter. Our home! Our country! And you did it unilaterally. What happened to us being a team?”

“It wasn’t an easy choice to make, and I didn’t take it lightly.”

“My daughter is not a commodity to be sold off to the highest bidder, Liam.”

Liam reaches out to touch Kendall, but she recoils from him. The act makes his heart shatter in his chest. “My love, please understand. There was no other choice.”

“There’s always another choice,” Kendall argues, a bite in her tone that Liam isn’t used to. “You’ve opened the floodgates now. We gave into their demands, with no security on our side and nothing in return. Cordonia loses! And now that they have the upper hand, who’s to say they won’t come back with more demands?”

“They won’t.”

“Oh, because Bradshaw and Isabella are paragons of integrity?”

“I’m sorry,” Liam says. “I did what I thought was best.”

Kendall ignores his apology, biting down on her tongue so she doesn’t say anything she’ll later regret. Instead she looks down at Eleanor, her precious baby girl. A baby whose future is already set in stone, bound to a stranger in a foreign land, not someone she meets and falls in love with organically. It’s not the life she deserves. A tear rolls down her cheek, mourning the life she envisioned for their baby girl.

“You fought so hard to marry me,” Kendall says softly. Her voice cracks slightly and Liam feels even worse than he did. “You were determined to be with me, because we were in love, and you couldn’t live a lie. You couldn’t just marry for duty once you discovered that true existed. You said I changed your life.”

“You did,” Liam insists. “Kendall, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Then how, after going through what we’ve gone through, after experiencing true love, how could you marry Eleanor off? How could you rob her of the opportunity?” Kendall implores. “After seeing how upset and betrayed Olivia felt after she found out her parents married her to someone as awful to Anton, you turn around and do the exact same thing.”

Liam struggles to find the words. He wants to explain himself, he wants Kendall to see that he only had them in mind.

“I did this for you, my queen. I did it for both of you.”

Kendall shakes her head, refusing to listen. “You let them leverage me, like my life and Eleanor’s life are nothing more than bartering tools. I was scared and vulnerable, and you let them manipulate that.”

She sighs an exhausted sigh. Between finding out Godfrey murdered her mother-in-law, being trapped in the palace like a hostage, going into labor and nearly dying, and now this, she’s drained.

Kendall turns towards Liam and looks him in the eyes. “I’m too tired to continue this conversation, so I’ll end it with this. You’re the fucking king of this country, and you better employ every single drop of power that title has bestowed upon you to fix the mess you put us in, and I don’t give a damn how you do it. Rob, kill and destroy, hell start World War 3 for all I care.”

She stops, contemplating her next words. “Hear me well when I tell you this, Liam. I have endured a lot when it comes to living in this country, being the Queen, and being your wife, but this, I will not stand for. I will burn Auvernal to the ground before I send my daughter there to be a pawn in the game of politics. And if you don’t rectify it, and rectify it soon, I will go to that godforsaken country and split both Bradshaw and Isabella from navel to jugular myself, and I’ll do with a smile on my face.”

A chill runs down Liam’s spine at his wife’s words. He’s never seen her so angry before, it’s downright scary. “I promise you, my queen, I’ll fix it.”

“Good.” She hastily wipes away another tear from her eye. “Can you get Mara or Bastien?”

“Of course. What’s wrong?”

“I want to go to our chambers and I’m going to need some assistance getting there.”

“Nonsense, I can help you with that, darling.”

Kendall lifts herself off of the couch and immediately grabs the arm with one hand to steady herself. She wobbles a bit, slightly dizzy and Liam places a hand on her back.

This was supposed to be happy. They were supposed to be happy together. But in this moment, Kendall can hardly stand her husband’s presence. “If I wanted you to escort me, I would’ve asked you.”

He falters, taken aback at the harshness. He’s never seen this side of Kendall. But he can’t blame her. He deserves it. “Very well. I’ll call Mara for you.”

~V~

Liam anxiously paces back and forth in the palace suite. Kendall’s been in labor for almost six hours, floating in and out of consciousness.

Drake runs a hand through his hair and huffs. “I can’t stand here anymore, I’m going to go help Olivia and Mara break down those doors.”

“I’m sure there’s a battering ram in this palace somewhere,” Maxwell muses silently.

But Liam just ignores them. He goes back to Kendall’s side and presses a kiss to her head, whispering calming words in her ear.

“You’re doing so amazing,” he tells her. “I’m so proud of you, love.”

“Liam, I can't do this anymore,” Kendall says with a whimper.

“Yes, you can. You’re so strong, you’re almost there.”

“I’m tired.”

“I know.” Liam runs a hand through her hair, uncaring that it’s damp with sweat. “I just need you to stay up with me. Can you do that?”

She goes quiet for a long while and Liam stiffens. Finally she responds with, “I’ll try.”

“And you’ll succeed. Because I love you so much, and we’re just now starting our lives together. We’re so close to our happily ever after.”

Kendall leans in to his touch and closes her eyes again. “I love you. I want you to know that I love you and our baby so much.”

“I love you too.”

When silence fills the room again Liam looks down and sees Kendall has gone under again. “Kendall.” He shakes her shoulder to no response. “Kendall, wake up, baby. Wake up.”

His blood runs cold and again shakes her, much more forcefully, but her body is limp under him. His fingers slide to her neck, checking for a pulse. When he can’t find one, that’s when he flips. “KENDALL!”

Liam awakes with a start, cold sweat dripping down his forehead, heart beating wildly in his chest and his breathing erratic.

Tears stream down his cheeks as he struggles to calm down. He takes a moment to survey his surroundings, quickly realizing that he’s not in his bedroom, but in one of the spare bedrooms of his private quarters. Kendall is noticeably absent, the left side of the bed is cold and empty.

The dream—nightmare—was too realistic. Was it even a dream at all? Or was it actually a vivid memory?

On wobbly feet, he jumps up and rushes towards out of the room. He stumbles through the long hallway until he makes it to their master suite. He throws open the double doors, startling his wife. She’s awake, sitting up in the middle of the bed, baby Nori sleeping soundly in her bassinet beside her.

“Liam, what on earth are you doing?” Kendall looks at the time on the small digital clock on their bedside table. It’s almost noon, the arrival of their baby girl completely throwing off their concept of time.

He doesn’t say anything, he just rushes over to her and sweeps her in his arms. Kendall can feel his heart beating fast against her own, and every muscle in his body is stiff.

He holds her tightly against him for a long time, refusing to let go, afraid of what might happen if he did. Images of cold and lifeless form still cloud his mind. “You’re alive.”

“Of course I’m alive.” Liam releases her from the vice-like grip she’s in, and that’s when she notices that his eyes are bloodshot and there are tears streaming down his cheek.

Now she’s alarmed. Always one to remain calm and composed, Liam hardly ever cries.

“Liam, what’s wrong?”

Liam shrugs off the question. “Nothing, it’s nothing. I just needed to check on you.”

“You burst in here like a bat out of hell,” Kendall deadpans. “And you’re crying. Talk to me.”

“I just had a nightmare,” he confesses quietly, peering into the bassinet to get a look at his daughter. Not wanting to disrupt her too much, he runs a finger through her curly hair. She moves slightly, but doesn’t wake fully. “You were in labor, and you just kept passing out. And you were so...pale and weak. And I was trying to keep you conscious, but eventually you just closed your eyes. You closed them and they never opened again.” A strangled sob burst from his chest and he tries to clamp down on it in vain, but it comes forth anyway. His entire body shakes as the weight of everything crashes down on him. “You died.”

After hesitating for a moment, Kendall wraps her arms around her husband. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, his tears hitting her skin.

“Well that didn’t happen,” Kendall declares stubbornly. “I’m right here.”

“B-but it could’ve happened,” Liam argues, his voice muffled. After a few more seconds, he removes himself from Kendall’s embrace. He stands, drawing himself to full height and closes his eyes. “There was so much going on last night. I had just found out one of my father’s closest friends and advisors, one of my trusted advisors...mur–” he chokes on the word, shuddering as he spits it out, “murdered my mother. My pregnant mother. And there’s absolutely no time to process it because you went into labor, and there were so many complications.”

“Kendall, I don’t think you understand just how close you were to dying. How close I was to losing you. It felt like the walls were closing in on me, and just last week we had that car accident and–” Liam pauses. He drops to his knees and looks up at his wife, eyes still glossy with unshed tears. “I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe. The Auvernese guards had the weaponry to break down the barriers, and I was willing to do anything in my power to get Dr. Ramirez to you. It was a terrible decision, but you were mere minutes away from going into full blown eclampsia and dying and I couldn’t let that happen, not when there was a solution in front of me.”

“Yes, Isabella and Bradshaw are horrible people for dangling your lives above my head, but you’re alive. Our daughter is alive. You have every right to be mad at me, but as long as there is breath in your body, I am at peace. I would make a deal with the Devil himself if it meant you and Eleanor were safe. I apologize for betraying you, but I can’t apologize for doing what I did to keep you alive.”

A tear falls from Kendall’s eye and she wipes it with the back of her hand. She didn’t even realize she was crying.

Hearing Liam explain himself forced her to look at things from his perspective. It was a shitty situation all around, and he was cornered in a time of vulnerability.

“I’m sorry for lashing out at you earlier,” she whispers. “I’m just feeling a lot of feelings right now, and I got really scared on top of being incredibly hormonal, but you didn’t deserve that.”

“I did.”

“No, you didn’t,” Kendall insists. “I didn’t put myself in your shoes. And if it was your life on the line, I would’ve walked through the pits of Hell for you and our baby.”

The King releases a sigh of relief and his head falls forward. Kendall’s fingers graze his scalp, massaging away some of tension.

“What did I do to deserve a Queen as amazing as you?” Liam muses. He takes Kendall’s free hand and presses it to his lips.

“I don’t know.” She takes her hands and cradles Liam’s face, forcing him to look at her. “But my forgiveness has its limits. Don’t you ever, ever do something like this again. You’re not Constantine, and I’m not any of his wives. I will never be kept out of the loop. We do things together, 100 percent equal at all times.”

“Yes, my queen.”

She leans forward and presses their lips together in a kiss that’s over far too soon for Liam’s liking. “We’ll figure this Auvernal thing out together, like we always do. And they’re going to regret the day they ever decided to go against Kendall and Liam.”

Liam nods and wraps his arms around Kendall again. And for the first time in over 24 hours, he feels like he can breathe.

#playchoices #choices: stories you play #the royal heir #the royal romance #king liam #king liam x mc #pixelberry

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gwoongi · 5 years ago

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𝗆𝗈𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 ☽ jeongguk

𝗆𝗈𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 jeon jeongguk / reader genre: boyfriend/band-geek au, fluff words: 3455

I never knew you could hold moonlight in your hands.

a/n: i luv this song and this is soft. also i rlly cant stop writing guk fics so i guess im a guk fic writer now

warnings: fluff, clichés i love, it’s like glee if u squint and think about it hard enough, fresh new awkward relationships, raise ur hand if you’ve watched whip it (san marcos high school, i know nothing about you besides the fact i wrote this story listening to caricakes on youtube talking about how she went to this school)

Falling in love was a scary thing.

With people, that means. There was something about love when attached to another person that was unbelievably unnerving, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that your parents were divorced and at least one person in your family had been cheated on, thank you very much! The pressure of ultimate commitment and trust was something you just couldn’t wrap your head around; what if you gave all of that love to somebody who’d throw it all away overnight?

When people told you that you only thought that way because you were young, barely fourteen and watching your friends get into those week-long romantic relationships over fruit loops and milk cartons at break time, you insisted that no, you knew best. You knew what love was like. Love was the way your parents had fought most of your childhood, screamed, cussed, broke some things. Love was finding out the person you gave everything to suddenly didn’t want it anymore.

Eventually, you grew up and realised that life was better and happier now that your mother had moved across the country with somebody else, and your Dad was finding love in his new job and learning how to play the guitar. Life was no longer a slash horror film, but instead the colourful opening of a Disney movie, the birds singing- and hey, maybe love wasn’t so bad. Love wasn’t just what you experienced with a partner, you discovered as you transferred to high school and found that something in your chest hurt when you joined band and made some of the best friendships you had ever had. Love was open and opportunable, unpredictable and beyond kisses and hugs and hearts floating around your temples.

Love was the way you heard piano keys, or the sound of Taehyung and Seunghee laughing as you entered the band-rooms during every free period you could possibly find. Love was the guitar strings between Seunghee’s fingers, and the evenings around the campfire behind your house with the aforementioned duo and your father and his older stringed instrument, corny songs shared over the tamed embers. Aged seventeen, now, and still in love with music and the people in your life in the San Marcos High School Band Club, you didn’t think you’d be able to share that love with anything- or anybody- else. Until you met Jeongguk.

A key member of the school’s baseball team and a surprisingly excellent singer, Jeongguk was the type of person you saw in movies, the type of student everybody loved but didn’t touch. That had intimidated and confused you, when he strode into band club on a Tuesday evening after-school and spoke with the lead teacher Mrs Honey, who announced that Jeongguk and a small handful of other, daresay “jocks”, would be joining the club for extra credit. You had stood there, appalled, in your shirt decorated in tiny crescent moons, afraid of the love you had for this club being destroyed by a bunch of sport-happy popular kids.

That was an incorrect judgement that you came to regret; Jimin was an angel dressed as a devil, with a love for the sound of flutes and clarinets and apparently, a new close friend of both Seunghee and Taehyung, respective woodwind players. And then there was the situation of Jeon Jeongguk, who caught your eye across the room a few days later, standing behind the group of new friends with an air of awkward discomfort- he had smiled softly, his eyes drooping with a gentle gaze and he had asked for your name and your instrument.

The first time your heart fluttered for something other than music, it was when Jeongguk called out to you as he left to go home and smiled around the words, “Catch you later, moony.”

Two months later, and Seunghee, Taehyung and Jimin had banded together to form an interesting trio, inseparable save the baseball field where Jimin spent Monday, Thursday and Saturday evenings. It genuinely hadn’t bothered you the way you had expected it to, not when Jeongguk was there to fill the space vacant once they had left. It was still intimidating to know him, be his friend, be the weirdo he hung around with sometimes both inside band club and out.

At first, you hadn’t expected it to last- he was only here for extra credit, and it wasn’t like he actually cared about the club or you, and the way he stared at you with a soft fondness when you talked about your Dad and what you did the night prior was definitely part of your imagination, right? To your absolute surprise and honestly, relief, you had returned to band after a short break from school, expecting to find that those same jocks had now left but instead they were still there, waiting for the rest, part of the club with pride. And, there was Jeongguk again, with that smile that made your stomach do funny things.

Over here, Moony, he had said, patting the seat beside him. Once seated, he had shifted to stare at you and grinned softly, pulling a little strand of hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear. It’s okay, he said, you’re allowed to be surprised to see me. You’re too cute when you’re trying to pretend like you don’t care. I like your hair, by the way.

So, yeah. It was no surprise that one month after that date, Jeongguk had pushed himself up against your locker at the end of the day and smiled at you, saying something you had both dreaded and dreamed of: “Do you wanna go out sometime?”

Love was still scary, even two months into your relationship with Jeongguk. He was unlike anything and anybody you had ever met before; when you arrived at school everyday, he was always with his usual group of popular friends, girls with expensive hairdos and painted nails and guys with nice cars and bodies. But as soon as he spotted you hopping out of your Dad’s car, his eyes would light up and he’d pull himself away from his friends, bounding to you within seconds of you standing on your own two feet next to your Dad’s pulled up car.

He’d smile and press little kisses to your hair and the side of your face, holding you from behind, looking up to say good morning to your Dad, who, as he pulled away heading for work, couldn’t be happier at the revelation that you were happy, and that love now didn’t mean what it had before. It was more than arguments and anger. Love was Jeongguk and music and your friends with more Jeongguk on the side.

Sure, people would question why he’d pick you over everyone else, because truth be told, there was nothing special about you, or at least not to them. But to Jeongguk, you were the girl who talked about music like a lover, and treated the world kindly and fairly. To him, you were everything, and more.

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen Whip It before.”

Presently, Jeongguk sits on your bed pushed against the wall with an adoring smile on his face, a laugh leaving his mouth as you hastily pop open the DVD case and thrust it into the player.

“I haven’t seen a lot of movies,” Jeongguk replies, leaning back to find comfort underneath your blankets.

It was a Friday evening, the sky outside bleeding out into vibrant pinks and deep purples, like bruises, nighttime approaching. Today would be the first time Jeongguk has ever been allowed to stay around your house overnight; your Dad liked Jeongguk, and thought he was what you needed and deserved, but he’s still a Dad, and he was hesitant. Eventually, after growing bored of the begging and hints, he just said yes to keep you quiet, sternly telling you that any ‘funny business’ would be heard through the walls and so, please, don’t do that. You didn’t think you were quite there yet with Jeongguk, and he had never shown an interest in it. Sure, Jeongguk would get touchy, risking a hand on your thigh or playfully holding your butt in a Sixteen Candles-esque fashion, and when you came to see him at games, his friends would definitely allude to it with sexual whimpers that were supposed to be you.

“Well, that will change!” you announce with glee, jumping back next to him.

He doesn’t even wince when you accidentally kneel on his hand, instead he just moves his arm to wrap around you as you get comfortable next to him. Under the covers, he feels your toes brush against his legs and in his face, the marshmallow smell of your shampoo. Jeongguk smiles to himself and presses his face into your hair and kisses your forehead afterwards, a cheek squished against the top of your head. In one hand, he holds the remote and in the other, strands of your hair you let him twirl around his fingers as he watches.

“You will love this movie.”

He smiles wider: “Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm. It’s cool,” you nod against his side. “You know, actually, the feeling- you know the feeling you get watching a movie, when it’s so good and it makes you feel all funny and sentimental? It actually...it actually kinda reminds me of you.”

“What, really?” Jeongguk asks, sounding flattered and surprised. You shift up to look at him and he grins widely, quickly leaning to kiss you. “You’re so cute, baby. I��m sure I will love this movie.”

As the movie opening rolled onto the screen, Jeongguk sat still to allow you time and space to wriggle into his body, getting comfortable around limbs and the soft wool of his jumper that you had worn a couple of times.

This concept isn’t entirely foreign; he’s watched at least thirty movies with you since your first “date”, which had consisted of a cinema date due to his uncharacteristic nerves to talk to you. A tradition born from A Star is Born, which, actually, Jeongguk thought would be a happy movie, thanks, not the monstrosity that made you both cry in the cinema lobby, through laughter and a sweet hug on the sofas waiting for your Dad to pick you both up.

Jeongguk knows this movie- he hasn’t seen it, but he knows it; he knows Ellen Page is part of a roller-derby club and he also knows that you know it word-for-word, a content smile spreading over your lips as it begins to kick in. That’s one thing he loves about watching movies with you. Not the movie, but the way you’re enchanted by them- a smile for ones you love, a scowl for ones you end up hating, tears pooling in your eyes at ones that are funny or so bad that they become funny.

He doesn’t know how long he’s looking at you and not the movie, because when he looks at you, time stops. In your hair, his finger gets lost in the strands and eventually unloops itself, his hand stroking instead before falling to your shoulder, his fingers ghosting down your arms and body up and down, absently as he pretends to watch the movie when you glance at him from the corner of your eye.

Like clockwork, he does this, living life in gasps as he looks at you and then back at the screen. As he sighs softly, Jeongguk pauses as you sit yourself up and look back at him, a frown on your face. He sobers, looking at you with concern: “What’s up, baby?”

“Are you watching the movie?” you ask quietly. “If it’s boring, just tell me.”

“It’s not boring,” he promises shaking his head. “I’m watching it.”

“Doesn’t look like you’re watching it.”

He smiles, “Well, right now, neither are you. I am watching, I swear. Look- Ellen Page is in a roller derby club.”

Actually amused, you laugh. “You were absolutely not watching.”

“I was.”

“She hasn’t joined the club yet,” you point out. When he stays silent, you look at him with a half-triumphant and half-amused smile. “You’re such a bad liar.”

“Okay, it’s not boring,” Jeongguk says honestly. “I just-ugh, you’re so cute. I love all of your reactions- I can’t stop looking at you.”

With some reluctance you sink back down next to him, looking at him through your eyelashes: “really?”

“Baby, yes,” he laughs. Jeongguk pulls you closer with the arm you lay back down on, his other free and brushing bits of your hair off your face before holding the side of it gently, a thumb on your cheekbone. “You’re so pretty. Makes me sick.”

“I really wanted you to watch this movie…”

“M’sorry,” he mutters through pouted lips. Somehow, somewhere, Jeongguk has moved forward with his nose brushing against yours. He sighs through his nose and it tickles, “just like looking at you.”

Jimmy Fallon announces the Holy Rollers as Jeongguk guides your lips towards his, the grand entree of the rival team missed and unnoticed and surprisingly, you don’t care. He has his hands in your hair and his head in your hands, and as he deepens the kiss you wrap your arms around his body, trying to get closer when there was no way to get closer. For a moment, the sound of the TV falls silent and all Jeongguk can focus on is you, the only thing that ever matters to him.

Jeongguk pulls away briefly, catching his breath and helping pull you up to a sitting position, level to himself. The movie continues to play, the pictures like a silent movie as Jeongguk returns to kissing you, not even feeling guilty about interrupting a movie date with the impromptu make-out session. Quite frankly, it’s not as if you seem to care; you cling to him, desperate, his body flush against your own.

What Jeongguk doesn’t say with words is more than conveyed through his movements. He is the perfect mixture between gentle and pleading, his touches like the tickle of feathers. If you were to open your eyes, you’d find his closed, eyelashes on his cheekbones. Jeongguk shifts himself, rising so that he is taller in comparison as he tilts your head upwards, lips still on his own. It’s hard to breathe in the feeling of Jeongguk’s lips moving roughly across your own, his hands cradling your face around your jaw, thumbs smoothing crescent moons into your skin.

Jeongguk’s lips move away. His hands run from your face to your shoulders, making you shudder like a draught entered the room when he drags them down to your wrists, detaching to hold your waist. Your heart speeds up suddenly-is this going to take a turn?

As his hands slightly lock around you, you pry open one eye, looking at him. His eyes are still closed, lost in orbit, and his lips are puckered and large, shiny, wet. Something alien festers inside of your stomach, churning painfully, like tiny kisses on the inside, ticklish. You trust Jeongguk, with everything, and so you inhale through your nose and close your eyes once again, clutching at his face with your hands as he presses his lips tighter, begging for more.

Jeongguk’s left hand slips, brushing against your thigh and you wince with happy surprise, having not expected it. Jeongguk laughs slightly, amused and with adoration, his lips now on the curve of your neck. Finally, like release, you limpen and let your body fall back onto the bed, your head missing the headboard by a few centimeters and now, Jeongguk is above you. Right before your first sign of arousal can be ripped from your throat by Jeongguk’s lips ghosting over what you think could be a sensitive spot, Jeongguk shifts away. He leans over you still, but he’s not moving, breathing heavily.

Confused, torn on whether or not to be concerned, you open your eyes and look at him, seeing with surprise that his gaze is on you, anyway. He smiles when you open your eyes, cocking his head to the side boyishly and with one hand holding up his weight, he uses the other to brush some hair out of your face. Jeongguk kisses your forehead. Then he moves away.

For a moment, you’re not sure what to do.

You lie there, like a slice of ham. Jeongguk is normal, pushing himself back onto his ass to sit comfortably on the bed, both of his hands settled on your legs and he sighs, as if content. Pushing yourself up on your elbows, Jeongguk looks over with the shift of the bed and a frown settles on his brows, seeing the expression on your face.

“What’s up, babe?” he asks suddenly.

“I - Nothing,” you insist, not knowing what to say. It feels awkward. You tug at your sleeves. “It’s just.” Nothing.

Jeongguk moves forward slightly. “What happened? Did...did I do something?”

You bite the inside of your lip. “No. I mean, I don’t know - ugh, it’s just…” Jeongguk keeps his eyes on you, round and like bunny rabbits’. You sigh, it’s time to get the baggage out of the closet. “I don’t know, I just thought maybe we were doing something and then we weren’t doing anything and I just feel like...I don’t know. Maybe you don’t want me like that?”

Jeongguk’s brows crease. “Like…? Like, what, you don’t think I want to do anything with you? Like sex?”

By now, you’re embarrassed, like you’re five and the “s” word is still something you’re not allowed to say.

“It’s stupid,” you reply. “Forget it.”

“No, no, no,” Jeongguk protests, shaking his head and engulfing your hands with his own. “Baby...no. Look-” he sighs nervously, smiling. In fact, the exhale sounds shaky, breathless. “I want to. I do! Just, not now.”

Your heart thuds with the pause of silence.

“Trust me, I wanna do everything I can with you, but why rush it?” he shrugs. “You’re everything to me, everything and more. It’ll happen when it happens. Yeah?”

You nod with some reluctance. It makes sense, inside you’re actually buzzing with happiness. “Yeah.”

“Also, your Dad’s home. If we can hear him down there, he can hear us,” adds Jeongguk, followed by an overly dramatic shudder for effect. It works- you smile, a laugh rippling out afterwards and Jeongguk smiles too. “Ah,” he exhales, rubbing your arms now that you’re sitting up in his lap, “silly baby.”

“Shut up,” you mumble. “I was just...insecure, I guess.”

“I get that,” he nods. “Don’t need to be, though. I lo...like you anyway.” He strokes the side of your face, smiling, and then presses a fleeting kiss to your nose. A laugh rumbles in his throat when you scrunch your nose up. “Even when you get insecure, and even when you yell at me in band and when you refuse to sit by me at lunch. I still like you so, so, so much.”

“I don’t yell that much,” you protest weakly.

“I know.” Jeongguk pulls you in for a hug, a kiss planted on top of your head. “You’re the best there is. Love that about you.”

He doesn’t say he loves you. It’s there, unspoken, never said. It’s there, though. There for next time.

(“No funny business?”

Jeongguk holds you tightly to his chest, his legs up and entangled with your limbs as your Dad stands by the door. Half of his body is in and the other is out, a hand on the doorframe. The lights are off except for the string of lights around the room on their dullest setting, the television off with the red light on standby, and to your Dad, everything looks fine.

“No, sir,” Jeongguk replies quietly.

Your Dad takes a second to look between Jeongguk and yourself. If he doesn’t believe Jeongguk he doesn’t make it obvious, something Jeongguk is grateful for considering how unbelievably nervous he is underneath the blankets. You’re asleep on his lap, your face against his chest, and of course, your Dad isn’t about to yell loudly to wake you up. Instead, he accepts the given truth and sighs, smiling.

“Okay, then. You’re a good kid, Jeongguk,” he says, after thinking long and hard about what to say when he climbed the stairs to go to bed. “You’re good for her.”

Jeongguk’s heart leaps, thuddering. “Thank-you. She’s everything.”

“Yeah,” your Dad agrees. “Yeah, she is.”

Nothing is said for a little while and your Dad stills when Jeongguk peers down at you. Something familiar about this scene. Your Dad looks away.

“Goodnight, sport,” your Dad says quietly, pulling the door to as he leaves. He doesn’t hear Jeongguk reply, but he knows he does. That’s just the kind of kid Jeongguk is. He knows.)

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sparklydreamies · 5 years ago

Text

Best Shot

Group: Stray Kids

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 4500+

Summary: Han Jisung, certified quiet boy, has never really understood the hype about love and romance. That is until he has to step out of his comfort zone and onto the basketball court to impress that one person he can’t stop thinking about

Main Themes: highschool!AU, basketball!AU, internalized homophobia, friends-to-lovers

a/n: Hi guys! This is my first time writing a slow burn, multi chapter fic! I worked very hard on this and I am proud of the results. I will try and upload more chapters regularly :) Enjoy!!

CHAPTER 1

From the outside, Han Jisung would seem to be the average high school senior. He goes to school, comes home, does his average two or three hours of homework, maybe picks up a shift at the bakery he works at, and tries his best to maintain his barely existent social life.

Jisung always has had a way of emitting this friendly air that all desirable friends have. There aren’t many people who have had a conversation with him that can honestly say that they dislike him. He would not be considered overly popular, or overly smart, or overly artistic; however, nobody could deny his good looks.

He had the type of face that many actors would kill for. Of course he knew this, but he tried hard to not define himself by it. He was used to getting the occasional side glace from his female classmates, or opening his locker to a love letter or two from some hopeful freshman that believed she had a chance with him.

The truth about Jisung was, perhaps he wasn’t as average as many would have suspected. Sure nobody really knew about it, but he wasn’t interested in those girls.

He's dated girls, he's kissed girls, but he has never once felt the spark from them that high school dramas and romance movies have trained him to expect. He walks around the school as the center of attention to some of these girls, and he can’t even seem to figure out why.

Maybe the whole thing is just overrated. Maybe movies and dramas have over exaggerated the entire concept of teenage romance. Maybe he just hasn’t found the right girl yet. Maybe it’s worth holding himself out for the girl that would change his experience with romance.

Then again, he is just young. He doesn’t have a good enough understanding of the whole idea to make that kind of judgement. The easiest thing for him to do is to focus on school and live his teenage years right, so he won’t regret it.

Other than the fact that he saw his friends and his favourite biology teacher everyday, school was a nightmare. Jisung shouldn’t complain about it though; school was awful for everyone his age. It was only one more year before he could leave the last four of them behind. Not only did Jisung have to deal with the pressures of school from his teachers and peers during the day, but he had to come home every night to a family that had one goal and one goal for him only- to get into one of the world’s top 100 universities.

He knows that he shouldn’t complain about his parents; he knows that they only want the best for him, but he still can’t shake the stress of it all. Sometimes it seems like his academics are all they care about.

Nevertheless, Jisung deals with it. The same way he deals with everything in his life.

-------

“Jisung, did you hear about the basketball teams party?”

Of course he had. Everybody had. And just like always, Jisung has no interest in going.

“Felix, why do you always care so much about those stupid parties?” Jisung answered.

Lee Felix was one of Jisung’s two best friends. They had known each other since primary school, when Jisung accidentally tripped Felix during a game of capture the flag. The two had been inseparable all throughout their school years.

Felix had a dumbfounded look on his face as he processed what Jisung said.

“Why do I care? Because I should!” he whined, “Jisung, we’re seniors and we have been to what, like two parties?” Jisung could tell Felix wanted to go.

“Actually no,” Kim Seungmin said, dropping his bag down beside the table where the other two were eating lunch and sitting down, “Felix has been to like two parties, and Jisung hasn’t been to any.”

Felix gave a sort of I told you so gesture to Jisung, which the latter waved off. “It’s so overrated,” Jisung explained, “a bunch of drunk, horny teenagers... rubbing together or something.. I don’t know, it just sounds gross.”

“Give Felix a drink, and you’ll have yourself a drunk, horny teenager,” Seungmin commented, and Felix punched him in the arm.

“Jisung, think about it?” Felix begged, and Jisung sighed.

“I’m sorry dude, did you even get invited?”

The only thing worse than going to a high school party was going to a high school party that they weren’t invited to.

Felix scoffed at him, “it’s open invite, it’s always open invite. You know that.”

The bell rang throughout the cafeteria, and all around them kids began packing up to get to their next class.

“I’ll think about it.” Jisung reluctantly said. There was no way he was going to go.

----

“Attention teachers. At this time, please dismiss all students on the varsity boys basketball team for their away game today against Eastmile High. Students, wish our boys luck!”

The announcements blared throughout the school, just in case anybody didn’t already know about what kings the boys on the basketball team were. They always had a near full turnout at all of their games, they had girls lining up out the door for their numbers, and of course, they had the street credit of those amazing parties they always throw.

Jisungs eyes flicked towards a boy rise from his seat on the other side of the room. Of course it was Hwang Hyunjin.

“Yeah, just go. Good luck Mr. Hwang,” Jisung’s math teacher said, and Hyunjin mumbled a quick thanks, packed up his books, and headed for the door for another inevitable win.

Hyunjin and Jisung used to be very close in primary school, mainly due to the fact that they lived about four houses down from each other. When they got old enough for their parents to trust them, they used to walk to school together.

Things change, that’s just the way it was. During their first year of high school, Jisung was immediately tagged as the “quiet kid”, whereas Hyunjin made it on the basketball team and the soccer team, making him a double threat jock. Jisung was fine with that for a while, they still hung out on weekends every so often, and they’d be invited to each other’s birthday celebrations. Eventually, Hyunjin began to drift apart from Jisung more and more. Soon, he stopped saying hi to him in the halls. By the time senior year came around, Hyunjin and Jisung were strangers.

But that’s fine. Everybody loses their primary school friends when they go to high school, it’s just how it is.

Jisung continued on his practice problems, even though there was only five minutes left until the bell rang and he could leave. Jisung never felt he was that good in math, but he has no choice but improve if he wants to make it into a good school.

The bell rang shortly after that, and Jisung packed up his books, hastily shoving them in his bag.

“Do you have any plans for the weekend, Mr. Han?” Jisung’s teacher asked, and this was one of those times that Jisung mentally cursed that the seating plan has him in front of the teacher’s desk.

“Uh, no actually, not really.” He answered dryly, hoping that his teacher would just leave it at that. Ah, but he was a dreamer.

“What?” his teacher asked, “but you’re a high school senior and it’s Friday night!”

Jisung scoffed a little bit in his head. So? he wanted to ask.

“Yeah I don’t know yet, maybe I’ll do something with my friends,” Jisung wished this guy would see how he doesn’t want to talk anymore, and thankfully, the man was distracted by a small girl from the back row.

“Sir, can I ask a question about the homework?” she asked, and Jisung took this opportunity to leave with the wave of other students filing out of the classrooms into the overly crowded halls.

Jisung made his way over to Felix’s locker, which is conveniently near Seungmin’s locker. It was the next hall over from his math class, and when he turned the corner, he saw that the two of them were already there, talking and packing their bags.

“What’s going on?” Jisung asked, leaning up against the locker beside Felix’s. Felix bent down to zip up his back pack,

“We’re talking about the party tonight,” Seungmin answered nonchalantly. Of course they were.

“My mom’s gonna drive us since I can’t drive and Seungmin’s keys are confiscated,” Felix added. Jisung knew there was more. “That is, unless a friendly little introvert would mind helping us out, and experiencing this great thing I’m always hearing about, what is it called again Seungmin?”

“I believe you’re looking for the word fun, Felix.”

Felix snapped his fingers, “That’s it! Fun!” Felix smiled sickeningly at Jisung. There it was.

Jisung groaned, but finally agreed to give the boys a ride to the party. Jisung got his licence over the summer, and he saved up all of his tips from his job at the bakery, plus his birthday and Christmas money to afford a car. Of course, not only his parents are abusing the fact that they have a son who can drive, but Jisung’s friends are also begging and bribing him all the time for rides places.

“This is going to be so much fun, you won’t regret it!” Felix shouted.

The three of them walked over to Jisung’s locker so that he could get packed up, and then made their way outside to Jisung’s car, where Jisung would drive them home from school. Jisung’s car was not the prettiest or the most functional, but it was good enough to get from point A to point B.

When Jisung dropped Felix off at his place, Felix reminded him to be ready and to pick them up at 8:00 so that they can make it to the party at 8:30. Jisung nodded him off and drove himself back home.

----

Jisung’s mom wasn’t happy about him going to a party that night. She was concerned because he had a biology test on the following Tuesday. Even though that was the class Jisung was most confident with, she still wanted him to spend as long as he can studying. She finally agreed to let him go when he told her that he would go to see his teacher at lunch and after school on Monday for extra study time.

Jisung knew he was done for when Chaeryeong found out he was actually going to a real high school senior party.

Chaeryeong was Jisung’s little sister, who was a good three years younger than him. She was a freshman at his school, and never ceased to butt into his life, even though socially, her’s was much better.

“Please take me with you,” she begged him after she found out about his plans during dinner, “I just want to know what it’s like,”

Chaeryeong, just like a good number of freshmen, still had a large group of friends from her primary school, as well as many new people that she had just met this year. Even though she was only about one month into her high school career, she already had the numbers of more people than Jisung got in his four years of going to that school.

Jisung would be one to call Chaeryeong popular.

“I told you before, you aren’t old enough to go to parties like these, mom is barely letting me go,” Jisung argued. Chaeryeong obviously only wanted to go to this party so that she could brag to her friends that she went to a senior party hosted by the varsity basketball team. The last thing Jisung wanted for his sister is for her to be exposed to all those perverted teenage boys.

“I am so old enough, and besides you owe me one!” Jisung rolled his eyes as he walked up the stairs to his bedroom.

“I don’t owe you shit, now please leave me alone.”

“But Hyunjin will be there!” she whined as she followed him up the stairs. Jisung felt his stomach drop when he remembered about the fact that Hyunjin would be there. Maybe he won’t show? No, this is a basketball team party, of course he’ll be there. Jisung might just have to try and avoid that awkward encounter with his old friend.

Jisung knew about Chaeryeong’s big fat crush on Hyunjin, and it sickened him. Sure, Jisung knew that Hyunjin was attractive for girls like Chaeryeong, but that didn’t give her the right to drool over his childhood best friend.

Jisung stopped outside his door and looked Chaeryeong in her eyes. “Please stay away from him, he won’t even be interested in you anyways,” she pouted at Jisung.

“You don’t know that,” She mumbled, avoiding his gaze. Jisung sighed. As annoying as she could be sometimes, he had to admit that he hated to see her upset. She began picking at her freshly painted nails.

“Chae, I can’t take you with me, okay?” she sighed at him and nodded her head. “Maybe another time.”

Jisung turned away from his sulky little sister into his bedroom, and locked the door behind him. His room was messy, but not too messy that he couldn’t focus in it. It would be better to call it disorganized.

Jisung dressed himself in just some black jeans and a hoodie. There was no need to go all fancy for this party, especially when he could already tell he wouldn’t be there long.

----

8:00 came faster than he thought it would.

Jisung had a weird feeling in his stomach while he grabbed his car keys and yelled goodbye to his mom. He didn’t know if it was nerves, or excitement, or anxiety. Maybe it was all three. He hoped to God that this party would go over well because if he did something embarrassing, it would further marginalize him from the rest of his classmates. He also hoped that this party wouldn’t get as crazy as he sees in movies.

Felix and Seungmin were more than ecstatic to be going to another basketball team party. They spent the whole car ride filling Jisung in on what great things happened at the other parties the other two went to, as well as speculating what might happen tonight. Jisung was amazed at how excited the other boys seemed because for him, all of these recounts seemed like horror stories. Jisung felt that weird feeling in his chest again when Felix told him they were close to Bang Chan’s house, where the party was.

“Who knows,” Felix started, “maybe we’ll even meet some girls tonight.”

Jisung supposed that was true. Maybe making out with a cute girl would make this night a little less awful.

“Felix, remember last time when those three girls took their tops off?” Seungmin said, excitedly hitting Felix in the arm. Felix giggled as he remembered the incident. Maybe this party would be okay if something like that were to happen again.

“You guys are such pervs,” Jisung chuckled, expecting nothing less than that from his friends. Jisung was happy that he had such light-hearted friends though, it made for funny conversations.

“Shit, we’re here” Seungmin commented, and Jisung’s eyes laid on the house at the end of the street. Cars were lined up down the road, people were dancing on the grass, and music was blaring from the house loud enough that Jisung could feel a slight vibration all the way over in his car. Great.

“Holy fuck, it looks awesome!” Felix was practically buzzing from the passenger seat, itching to get out and pour himself a cup of whatever the hell was in there. Jisung managed to find a spot that wasn’t already taken, and parked his car.

The three boys left their car, and made their way over the grass on the front lawn. The house was crowded with people, and the music was already starting the give Jisung a headache. At least he was smart enough not to drag Chaeryeong into this mess.

The three of them grabbed beers from one of the coolers in the living room, and made their way around the house.

“Oh my god, this is so cool!” Felix yelled, just loud enough that Jisung could hear it over the music. “Do you like it?” He asked Jisung.

“Uh,” Jisung started. He wanted to say no, that he wanted to go home, that he didn’t want to risk seeing his old primary school friends, but he also didn’t want to spoil the mood for Felix, who obviously loved these things so much. “Yeah, it’s much better than I thought it would be!” he yelled back, and Felix gave him a satisfied grin.

All around them, people were dancing, drinking, groping, and sucking each others faces. There was also one girl crying, but Jisung couldn’t tell if they were happy tears or sad tears. Seungmin had noticed a pretty girl staring at him, so he ended up ditching Felix and Jisung. That was fine; Jisung still had Felix.

Felix and Jisung were both probably a bit too many beers in, and slowly, Jisung found himself to be enjoying the foreign experience more and more. He had drank alcohol before, but he had never been fully drunk. He didn’t even know if he was drunk now. All he knew was that he loved parties. He loved all of the music they played, he loved spending time with Felix, he loved watching drunk people do stupid things.

Jisung left to go to the bathroom, which he has to do very often when he drinks, and found the stairs where Jisung and Felix were sitting to be empty. Felix ditched him.

Sober Jisung would have been pissed, but drunk Jisung noticed a girl looking at him, which made him happier.

She was cute, with long dark hair and a pretty face. Her eyes were all sparkly, Jisung noticed. She was standing with two other girls, but her attention was on Jisung. Boldly, Jisung began to approach her. The girl got the message, and walked towards him, too.

“Hi,” Jisung started. The girl giggled at him.

“Hi,” she said back, “I’m Nayeon”

Jisung told her his name. The girl, Nayeon, took his hand and led him to a hallway. Jisung thought she was enchanting. Her smile was beautiful, her hands were delicate, her skin was smooth and pale. All at once, she pressed her lips against his.

Jisung panicked a little bit. Things were moving very fast for him at that time, and he didn’t know what he should do. What should he do with his hands? Was she expecting him to do something? His mind was racing.

He thought that he would feel that spark that he was waiting for, but it never happened. Jisung was nervous and anxious while kissing Nayeon. She seemed confident enough, and Jisung knew that Felix would kill to be in his position, but it just made him uncomfortable.

Nayeon wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, licking at his bottom lip. He gasped a little bit, which she used to dip her tongue in his mouth. That was the line for Jisung.

Jisung pushed Nayeon off of him, which startled her.

“Stop,” he gasped. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and struggled to catch his breath. He felt his face heat up. His head was spinning.

When he looked up, Nayeon looked absolutely terrified.

“I’m so sorry,” she quickly said, “I-I just assumed, I though you wanted-”

“I thought I did too,” he assured. He was so confused. “’Scuse me, I have to find my friends,” he slurred, and took off down the hallway.

The music was making his head foggy and he felt dazed. He was dizzy, and he felt extremely nauseous. He knew what was about to happen, so he quickly raced himself through the crowds of people that smell like sweat and cheap liquor. As soon as he reached the bathroom, he threw up.

Jisung felt gross and sick, and he kept throwing up in Bang Chan’s bathroom. Once he finished throwing up all of his internal organs, he just sat there. He sat on the bathroom floor, and waited for the world to stop spinning.

Maybe he shouldn’t have sat there for so long because all of the sudden, Jisung heard the door open. He turned his head around to see Lee Minho standing in the door frame. Perfect.

Lee Minho was the captain of the varsity basketball team. If all cool and popular teenagers had a leader, it would be Lee Minho. He was handsome as all hell, which Jisung noticed upon his arrival. Jisung always overhears girls talking about him in the hallways. They talk about everything from how good of a kisser they think he is, to what their names would be if they were married, to how good they think his thighs looked in the school uniform.

Lee Minho wasn’t particularly that smart, but it was okay because he was charming and pretty. Jisung has heard all the rumors about the girls he pulls, and Jisung believes every single one of them.

Jisung snapped back into reality when he realized the predicament he was in. Jisung was sitting on the bathroom floor with a face as pale as the moon, and eyes as sunken in as a skeletons. Jisung couldn’t make himself stand up, so he just sat there, eyes on the boy in front of him.

Minho looked startled when he walked in, but his face transformed into one of concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked, crouching down so he could be face to face with the sickly boy. “You look like shit,” he added on. Jisung chuckled a little bit at that.

Jisung stared at the lines of worry across Minho’s face. He still felt so nauseous.

“You’re Jisung, right?” Minho asked. Jisung slowly nodded his head. How did Minho even know who he was? “I know that because of Hyunjin. You look very out of it,” Jisung smiled at Minho. “I’ll be right back”.

Minho stood up to leave, and much to Jisung’s embarrassment, he heard himself whine a little bit. Minho left the bathroom, and Jisung closed his eyes.

Jisung heard the door open again, and he saw Minho with a bottle of water in his hands.

“Drink this, it will make your head less dizzy,” he advised, and Jisung drank from the bottle. “Have you been drinking water tonight?”

Almost instantly after he took a sip, he felt his head begin to clear up. “I’ve been drinking...” Jisung started, wincing at how his voice sounds, “...but it hasn’t been water,” he finished. Minho chuckled at him.

“Jisung, don’t you know that when you drink, you need to have water with it? or else you’ll end up-” Minho paused and examined Jisung’s face, “-like this”.

Jisung smiled and took another sip. He shrugged at the statement.

“First time,” he mumbled. Minho tsked at him.

The older boy stood up and grabbed a washcloth from Chan’s sink drawer. He wet it with cold water, and sat back down by Jisung, who was focused on quickly finishing the water.

“Is it okay if I touch your face?” Minho asked, and Jisung smiled sweetly, nodding his head. Minho gently placed his hand on Jisungs chin and dabbed at his forehead with the washcloth. “You need to be careful when you drink,” Minho said, “did you drive here?” Jisung nodded. “Well you won’t be driving home,”

Jisung closed his eyes as the other boy made his way down his face with the washcloth, dabbing lightly over his eyes, across his cheeks, and even gently on his neck.

“You’re good at this,” Jisung mumbled, and Minho grinned at him.

“I have experience,” he answered.

That was one of the last things Jisung remembered about that night.

----

Jisung woke up with a searing headache. It felt like he was weighed down to the bed, and his brain was being split open. Then, it occurred to Jisung that he didn’t know exactly where he was or what happened at the end of last night.

Slowly, he pried his eyes open just enough to see the similar pattern of his bedspread. He was in his bed, safe and sound.

After a few minutes of questioning his life’s choices, he had decided that he was going to kill Lee Felix and Kim Seungmin for convincing him to go to that party. Cautiously, Jisung sat up in his bed, and saw from the clock on his wall that it was about noon. He groaned and made his way downstairs to get some water.

Once he drank a sufficient amount, he sat down at the kitchen table. His head was pounding, and he felt like he was going to explode. He sat there, trying to regain his strength, sanity, and memory.

How did he get home?

Maybe Seungmin drove him home with his car. He does have his licence after all.

“Han Jisung!” a shrill voice screamed, and Jisung stood up, giving himself a worse headache.

“Ahh! What is it Chaeryeong?” he groaned. His sister giggled and sat down on the table swinging her legs.

“How was your party?” she asked sweetly, as if she didn’t just rip his brain out of his head.

“It was fine,” Jisung answered, sitting back down in his seat. He knew that she wanted to say something. After a moment, he looked up and met her eyes. “What?” he asked.

“Mom’s pretty pissed off that you came home blackout drunk at 3:00 in the morning,” she answered. Jisung was caught off guard.

“Chae, how exactly did I get home? I didn’t drive, did I?” he asked, and she shook her head. Immediately, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders.

Chaeryeong punched him in the arm, “but thanks for the heads up, asshole,”

Jisung groaned and rubbed his arm, which stung like a bitch. “What the hell? What heads up?”

“The heads up about Hyunjin dropping you off! I answered the door for him in my pajamas! He looked absolutely beautiful, and I was in my pajamas!” she whined, and Jisung felt his stomach drop again.

“Hyunjin drove me home?” he asked.

“Jesus, how much did you have to drink anyway? Yeah, he dropped you off.” Chaeryeong stood back up. “I think you should go back over there and thank him, and you should take me with you,” she winked at Jisung. Jisung moaned and stood up.

Just then, he felt his phone vibrate in his pants, which he never ended up taking off from last night. It was a text from an unknown number.

Unknown: Hey, it’s Minho, I hope you don’t mind me getting your number from Hyunjin lol

Unknown: I just wanted to make sure you were doing well after last night

Unknown: Text me when you get this!

Why did Jisung’s heart get warm when he saw that?

33 notes · View notes

daysswithyou · 5 years ago

Text

Picture perfect

Characters: Jae x You

Genre: fluff, slice of life,

Word count: 2.3k

Description: photographer!jae AU

-----

[Jae POV]

She is beauty.

She is beauty, and grace and everything in between.

She is the soft caress of the morning sun on your skin, warm and bright.

She is the dim glow of the moon through the clouds, hidden at time, but still greatly felt.

She is the calm lapping of the waves against the shore, comforting and cool.

She is everything that is good in this world.

Someone that is too good for me.

I think of all these things as I look at the photo I just took of her during the school carnival event. The sun was shining radiantly on her, making her skin bask with a light glow. Her hair glittered in variations of gold and browns, eyes lightening from their usual shade of chocolate to caramel. In that moment, she was a sight that demanded to be looked at, a picture perfect moment that must be captured.

It was unfair you know, the universe always conspires to make her look so beautiful and lovely. Which makes her seem even more unattainable yet it makes me fall harder for her at the same time.

She catches me staring, and raises a single eyebrow in my direction before marching over.

Oh no she’s coming. Be still heart...be still…

The little pep talk doesn’t work because with each step that she takes towards me, I can hear the pounding of my heart getting louder in my ears, feel the warmness spreading over my cheeks.

“Jaehyung ah, got any good shots yet?”

“A couple!” I answer with a little too much enthusiasm, and I mentally slap myself in the face for losing my cool.

“Let’s see them.”

Hastily, I punch the little knobs on the body of the solid black DSLR camera, quickly showing her some shots I got of the students and teachers. She squints her eyes to take a closer look, and I quickly pull back once she’s done reviewing them.

“That’s all?”

“Yea…”

“That’s too little! We’re the only 2 on duty in this area so we need to work harder to take more shots each. Focus Jae.”

She taps me lightly on the head with the body of her camera, scrunching her nose and setting her lips into a thin line. Even though she’s annoyed at me, I still think she’s adorable.

“I’m sorry, I’ll pay more attention.”

“I’ll be watching you Park Jaehyung.”

She shoots 2 fingers at me, trying to act serious but the smile on her lips give her away. She’s not really angry at me, she hardly is at anyone.

“Gotcha.”

Courage surges over me in a sudden wave and I throw a wink in her direction. The corners of her lip lift up just a little bit more, and she’s off to the other side of the field, trying to get some good shots of the Ares House.

Y/N-ah, the more you look at me, the more I won’t be able to focus.

But the last thing I want to do is make her angry, so I put my focus back on the event, chasing after the beautiful shots that could possibly rival her beauty.

---

“Ya Jae, you know that staring at her photo won’t make her fall in love with you, right?”

“Shut up and stop snooping on what I’m doing!”

Jae slams the screen of his laptop down, throwing one of his used tissue papers at Younghyun. He doesn't care if it’s unhygienic and filled with his mucus; better for him if Younghyun gets sick too. Only when he’s lost his voice and immobilised in bed will he finally shut up about you and Jae.

“EWWW!!!”

Younghyun lets out a high pitched noise that sounds more like a screech than a scream and before gingerly pinching the waste tissue and letting it drop onto Jae’s bed on the lower bunk.

“That was disgusting yucks. Besides, I was hardly snooping. Your laptop screen was on with full brightness, anyone can see what you’re doing it.”

“Basic courtesy Younghyun. You don’t look at what others are doing on their laptop.”

“Couldn’t pass on an opportunity to tease you.”

“As if you don’t do that enough.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just ask her out already.”

“Why are you so concerned with my love life?”

“Because we live together and you’re my friend so your life automatically becomes my life. It’s part of Bro Code. Duh.”

Younghyun narrows his foxy eyes at Jae, raising both hands in a noncommittal gesture. Jae rolls his eyes at Younghyun, settling for that as a retort. He’s not going to what little that’s left of his energy on Kang Younghyun. Jae never wins, and he’s not about to give his roommate that satisfaction again. Younghyun was about to turn and lie down when Jae’s phone rang, immediately catching his attention.

Jae’s eyes widen ten times at the sight of the caller ID, snapping his head to shoot a warning glare at Younghyun.

“It’s Y/N isn’t it?”

“I swear, if you make any inappropriate comment when I’m-”

“Relax I won’t. Just pick up the call.”

Jae has his eyes trained on Younghyun the entire as he swipes the green button; still Younghyun does not give up, mouthing ideas of how to ask you out to Jae from his spot on the top bunk.

“Hi Y/N.”

“Hey Jae, where are you?”

“Am I supposed to be somewhere?”

“Yes. And that somewhere is the photography room, editing photos from the school carnival.”

Jae’s eyes blow to the size of dining plates when he realised that he’s forgotten the appointment he’s made with you today, guilt chewing away at his conscience when he realised he’s left you alone.

“Y/N, I am so sorry! I’m rushing over now.”

His saliva rises violently in his throat, triggering a violent round of coughs that nearly tears his throat apart.

Your eyes widen as you listen to him hecking away for 5 minutes over the phone, realising that he was sick.

“Jae, are you ok? You don’t sound well.”

“Yea I’m ok -”

Another round of coughs and aggressive blowing of his nose.

“No mister, you are not ok. Do not leave your room, I am coming over.”

You don’t give him time to protest before ending the call, slipping your phone into your jeans pocket as you dash out of the photography room towards his dorm.

---

You haven’t even knocked on the door when it was thrown open, a dishevelled looking Jae greeting you. Younghyun waves at you from his spot on the bed and you wave back before he flops onto his bed and proceeds to scroll through his phone. Jae notices, then decides it was better to shut the door to make sure Younghyun does not get more blackmail material. Stepping closer to you now, you can feel the heat radiating off Jae’s body even from an arm’s length away and you instinctively reach up to touch his forehead, moving your hand under his mop of fringe.

“You’re running a fever. Did you see a doctor?”

You move downwards to place the back of your hand lightly against his neck and Jae visibly stiffens, your touch sending shockwaves through his entire body. Jae’s cold body feels hotter now, and it’s not because of his fever.

“I’ll be fine after popping some pills, give me 1 minute ok? I’ll be out in a flash, then we can head to the photography room.”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t say anything about going to the photography room.”

You cross your arms in front of your chest, tapping your fingers against your elbow as Jae gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in an distractingly attractive manner.

“Isn’t that what you’re...here...for…?”

“No Mr Park Jaehyung, I’m here for your camera so I can head back to the photography room to edit the photos, whereas you, are going to stay here and rest.”

“I can’t let you do all the work Y/N.”

“This isn’t open for discussion.”

Both of you engage in a stare down, and you know Jae has relented when he lets out a sigh.

“Alright give me a minute, I’ll bring the memory card out.”

He slips through the door and you catch Younghyun’s smirk from his spot on the top bunk. Younghyun always looks like he knows something you don’t when he catches you and Jae together; just what exactly is up with that guy?

Jae comes back out exactly a minute later, his grip on the memory card not loosening even when it’s in your hands.

“You sure about this Y/N? There’s a lot to go through.”

“Yes I’m sure Jae. Now hurry inside and rest!”

Gently, you give Jae a shove before he can get another word in, closing the door after yourself.

---

Alright, let’s get down to work.

Slotting Jae’s orange memory card into the reader, you expected to find a bunch of folders from the various school events. Yet there was no mistake; only a collection of photos was found. And the collection of photos all had the same subject:

You.

The very last photo you found dated back 2 years ago, when Jae had just joined the photography club and you were still with the school dance team. You were on the floor holding onto your ankle as your members crowded around you, yet you managed a smile through the grimace. You remember that particular dance - you had landed wrongly during the acrobatic move, causing you to sprain your ankle.

The caption below wrote: It pains me to see you hurt, but you’re so brave for putting on a smile.

The photo later got featured during a dance special for the school magazine, highlighting the strong spirit of the dance team. You always wondered who took the photo; half of you wanted to punch the person for taking such an ugly photo of you, another half was thankful that the person decided to send in the photo, giving the editorial team a good story to work with. Now that you know it’s Jae, you’re definitely going to tackle him first, but hug him later for the good shot.

Scrolling further up, there was another photo of you during orientation camp; speaker in your hand with green streaks on your face. You looked so happy in the photo, and it brings back fond memories of the adrenaline rush you felt when you saw your group working hard on their cheers.

Your smile is so infectious, I found myself smiling like an idiot looking back at this photo.

Upon viewing the other photos, you found the same concept being repeated: it was you in various moods and events, with a small caption at the bottom about how Jae felt about you. With each passing photo, your heart swelled with emotions, in absolute disbelief that you always had a guardian angel watching over you all these years.

The final photo; the one he took at the school carnival last week was the one that sealed the deal.

They say that one takes photos of those they’re afraid of losing, and for me, I hope I’ll never lose you.

---

You rap on his door thrice, wiggling your toes in anticipation as you heard the sound of foot thumping against the ground on the other end.

The door swings open with a whoosh, revealing Jae with an even messier bird’s nest resting atop of his head now.

Passing the memory card back to him, you confidently said, “All done.”

“A-A-Already? But it’s only been an hour!”

“Well truth is… there was nothing to edit in the first place.”

“Really? But I’m sure I hadn’t done anything yet.”

“See for yourself.”

You hand the card over to him and Jae slots it into his laptop to check, very sure that you had made a mistake. The moment the window pops up, he slams the laptop screen down for the second time in the day, groaning as he squeezes his eyes shut and wills himself to disappear in a poof immediately.

But no such luck.

He cracks an eye open to peek at his side and there you stood calmly, with your hands behind your back, your head tilted slightly to get a better look at his face.

“You saw.”

“Mmmhmm. But don’t you have anything else to say to me?”

What am I supposed to say! You know everything! I can’t confess properly now; the fact that you’re aware of my feelings just makes the bundles of nerves in my stomach grow tighter.

Jae’s conflicting feelings show on his face, and you decide to be nice and not put him in a tough spot.

“I thought someone was afraid of losing me.”

“I am! I just...never knew how to...you know...”

He can’t. He just can’t bring himself to ask you the question; afraid of hearing a different answer.

“Ask me to be your girlfriend?”

A nod.

“Well, you could start by asking me out.”

“How? You’re so...up there and I’m so down here and I just-”

You quickly place a finger on Jae’s lips, stopping him from criticizing himself further.

“Ok then let me demonstrate, alright? For example: Hey Jae, I’m going to the aquarium this coming weekend to get some shots for the marine biology club, care to join me?”

It’s silent between the 2 of you for a while, Jae unsure if you were being serious with your request.

“I mean it Jae, and I’m still waiting for an answer.” You then show off your biggest smile, a clear indication that you were being genuine with him.

“I would love to Y/N.”

His face then lights up with a smile that easily rivaled your own, one that is bright and warm and dazzling.

If you could take a photo of Jae, now would be the time - because this was a picture perfect moment that you want to remember forever.

#day6 #day6 imagines #day6 scenarios #day6 jae scenarios #day6 jae imagines #jae imagines #jae scenarios #day6 fluff #day6 romance #day6 slice of life #day6 jae fluff #day6 jae romance #day6 jae slice of life

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takerfoxx · 5 years ago

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IM Swiftly Descending Darkness, Chapter 1

The Yagamis died the same night that the storms came.

Storms. Consider that concept. To many reading this, storms are mere inconveniences, a time when things get wet, dark, and cold. When one is on its way, we go inside, close the doors, shut the windows, maybe bring a few valuable possessions and fix up the odd leak, and just wait. It could even be exciting, a fun break in the normally calm weather. And when they are over, we go outside, clean up the mess, and go on with our lives.

Even in a wild land such as Gensokyo, where civilization is a luxury rather than a standard, there are places where storms aren’t much more than a time throw up the protection charms, get everyone inside, and keep themselves entertained until the cacophony had passed. Sure, there was danger and damage, but they were temporary problems, not life-changing disasters.

To all of the above, I say this: try living in Wilds sometime. Try keeping your family alive as torrents of rain thick as a waterfall come gushing out of the skies, as blasts of wind powerful enough to throw a full-grown man off his feet rip through the countryside, as lightning rips down from above to strike anything foolish enough to poke its head up, as hillsides collapse, as rivers turn into raging floods, as cellars are swamped and food stores ruined and roofs destroyed and walls pulverized. Out there, far from the safety of the Human Village, the Youkai Mountain, or any other pockets of stability, storms are far from troubling changes in the weather. Whipped up by the untamed country’s natural magics, the storms of Gensokyo are monsters to be feared and respected, and no amount of preparation can guarantee your safety.

But the worst of it wasn’t even the storms themselves. Those were dangers, yes, sometimes even lethally so, but the worst of it were the darker sorts of youkai, the savage sort that kept travelers close to the paths in large groups to avoid. That sort was bad enough, but something about the stormy season whipped them up into a frenzy, and then no one, not even other youkai, were safe.

As such, as soon as the skies started to turn gray and those sensitive to such things felt an all-too-familiar tingle, the call went out. All across the Wilds farmers, loggers, hunters, travelers, and anyone else who lived out there gathered their families together and made for the shelter provided by great halls of the villages and hamlets.

By the time the first of the rains started to fall, the great hall of Three Springs Village was already packed. From his place by the door, Elder Suzuki surveyed the place. Everyone in the village itself was already there, as were most of the inhabitants of the local farmsteads. The children of the Aoki Yume Children’s Home and their caretakers were of course all there, having been among the first to be brought over. A few new faces were there as well, mostly travelers and the occasional magician. There were even a few youkai there as well, mostly low-power fairies and other spirits known to be friendly to the village. They were also welcome. After all, the storms threatened them as well.

However, it wasn’t everyone. Elder Suzuki was halfway through his sixties, and he had seen many a stormy season come and go. As such, he knew the name of everyone that ought to have been there. And there were still three families missing: the Momoes, the Yagamis, and the Naitos. A team of the village’s strongest was out there, sent to find them and bring them to safety, along with any other stragglers they might find. Elder Suzuki prayed for their safety as well.

Despite how crowded the place was, it was eerily quiet. Oh sure, people were talking, eating, and even laughing, but it was mostly in hushed voices, and any laughter died quickly. Everyone seemed to be on edge, listening for the first sign of an approaching youkai gang. Tensions were high, and occasionally an argument would break out, though it was always quickly diffused by the others before it could become a fight.

As for Elder Suzuki, he remained sitting right where he was by the door, all of his senses extended, and what magic he knew was focused on the ring of warning charms set up around the village. The moment anyone set foot past the border, be it Human or otherwise, he would know. That was the worst of it, waiting for that signal, not knowing if when the alarm was sounded, it was going to be their friends or something else.

Silvia, one of the women, walked up to him with a steaming bowl of hot onion soup and a cup of water. He would have preferred wine, but he needed to keep his head clear, so he just accepted them with a nod of thanks.

“Has there been any sign?” she asked as he blew onto the steaming broth.

“Not yet,” he said.

Silvia bit her lower lip. She had friends out there, he knew. She had worked on the Momoes’ farm while growing up, and her husband’s brother was part of the team that had been sent to seek them out.

Sighing, he reached over and gently took her hand. “They’ll be fine,” he said. “Hiromu’s leading the team, and he’s the most capable man I know. If anyone can bring them home, it’s him.”

“I know,” she said. “It’s just-”

Then Elder Suzuki went stiff. The low tingle on the back of his neck had suddenly flared up. Someone had just crossed over the border, setting off the alarm charms.

Then another one did.

Then another.

And another.

Seeing the look in his eyes, Silvia spun around, stuck her fingers in his mouth, and whistled shrilly. What little noise there was silence immediately, and everyone turned to see her gesturing for everyone to remain silent.

His heart pounding, Elder Suzuki extended his senses, trying to get some hint of who was coming. Normally the charms themselves would tell him, but in that rain it was all they could do just to send any kind of signal. Whoever it was, there was a lot of them and they were heading for the great hall.

Then, through the door and through the rain, Elder Suzuki heard voices. Human voices.

“It’s us!” called a familiar voice, followed by a heavy knocking at the large door.

Elder Suzuki felt some small relief, but didn’t allow himself to relax just yet. He got up, opened the small panel in the door, and peered out.

Then he finally let out the breath he was holding. “It’s them!” he called. “Open the door!”

The locks were undone and the heavy door creaked open. A blast of wind roared inside, and heavy rain pelted at anyone standing anywhere near the door.

In they came, eight men escorting a miserable gaggle of men, women, children, and even five more fairies and a couple of other youkai as well. As the young men helped them inside, Elder Suzuki quickly scanned the group, checking off names from the list in his head. To his further relief, the entire team had made it back. He also saw the entire Momoe family there, as well as the rest of their household. Silvia rushed forward to embrace them as her husband ran over to greet his brother.

The Naitos were there as well, which was very good news. They were hunters and furriers that lived far from the village and had little in the way of defenses. Of all those threatened by the storm, they would have been among the most vulnerable.

“Elder Suzuki!” called the young man leading the group. Though his features were covered by the thick hood of his heavy coat, Elder Suzuki recognized him immediately.

“Hiromu,” he said, placing a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Well done.”

Behind them, the last of the stragglers was brought inside, and the doors closed with a heavy thud, exiling the storm outside. As the other watchers bolted and locked up, Elder Suzuki looked over the group again. “Did you find them all?” he asked. “I don’t see the Yagamis.”

Hiromu pulled the hood off, revealing a mustached face that was very wet and very tired. “No,” he said. “I found everyone I could, but…”

Elder Suzuki’s heart fell. It was as he feared then. “Come,” he said, hoping to get all the details before anything grisly was let slip. “Warm yourself by the fire.”

As the group dispersed to their families, Elder Suzuki and Hiromu walked over to where the other elders were sitting around a blazing fire pit. Someone gave Hiromu a cup of warm wine, which he accepted with a grateful nod and practically collapsed as he sat down.

“What happened?” Elder Suzuki said after Hiromu finished draining the cup.

Hiromu set the cup aside and wiped his mouth with his arm. “It was bad,” he said. “The Yagamis’ farm was the furthest out, so we had to go there last. But it wouldn’t have mattered. A youkai gang had hit it before we even set out.”

A small murmur of dismay went up from the group. Elder Suzuki closed his eyes and whispered a prayer for the souls of their friends.

Hiromu continued. “It was a slaughter. I saw old Junko split in half. The farmhands had all been ripped to pieces, same as Rocco. It looked like they had been trying to defend the place. And the girls-”

“That’s enough,” Elder Suzuki said hastily. He already had enough mental images of people he knew being murdered and defiled. “We don’t need to know that.”

“Of course. I apologize.”

“No need. There were no survivors then?”

Then Hiromu smiled, showing those white teeth that had helped made him a favorite of the young women of the village. “Well now, I wouldn’t say that.” He leaned back and craned his neck to look over to one of the men that had been part of his rescue party. “Watanabe! Bring her over here.”

Watanabe walked over to them. It was then that Elder Suzuki noticed the small bundle wrapped in blankets held in the man’s arms.

Elder Suzuki’s brow rose. “Really?” he said.

Watanabe nodded and smiled. He pulled aside the blankets, revealing the small, chubby face of a sleeping infant girl, one only a couple months old.

She had her mother’s straw-blonde hair and her father’s round little nose. Though he had seen many a marriage in his time, Elder Suzuki still remembered the day that the child’s parents were wed. Rocco Yagami had been so nervous that he nearly repeated the same line of his vows no fewer than three times before Elder Suzuki had gently reminded him of the next part. Not that Miho, his bride, had done much better. She had been so lightheaded that she almost had walked right past her groom and right into the wall. She had claimed that it had been the fault of the veil. But when the two of them had been joined in the eyes of their family, of their friends, of their ancestors, of the sky, and of the gods, they looked so radiant together that their earlier missteps had not mattered in the slightest.

And when they had welcomed their first daughter into the world, it had been difficult to imagine couple that had been more happy or more proud.

Elder Suzuki had seen so much death in his years, so many friends gone, so many fine people taken before their time. The Wilds were hard, often cruel, and even if one escaped becoming a snack for the youkai or evil spirits, then there were several dozen other ways to die, from disease to disaster. It was always hardest when it happened to children, while was far too often the case, especially when man-eating youkai were involved. They took children. They preferred children, and there was quite often little left to be found.

The Yagamis and their household were all good people, and they would be mourned. Still, Elder Suzuki knew what a miracle it was that even one had survived, much less their youngest.

“How?” he said.

“Their safe room,” Hiromu answered. “They had it made special, hidden beneath the barn. Would’ve passed right by it, but as it turns out, Watanabe here helped them build it.” He clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Did a damned good job of it too, thing was so hard to find. Found her tucked away down there, fast asleep.”

Watanabe smiled proudly, though it didn’t last long. He had been Rocco’s friend after all.

“Amazing,” Elder Suzuki said, shaking his head. “Though I wonder why no one was down there with her.”

“Who knows?” Hiromu said with a shrug. “The dead keep their secrets, and keep them well. I’m just glad we found her.”

“I remember right after she was born,” Watanabe said sadly. “Rocco was in the tavern, and he was just so happy, buying drinks for everyone and singing songs. I said to him, ‘Rocco, you’ve got four now, and they’re all girls! When will you make a proper heir?’ You know what he did? He looked at me like I was crazy and said, ‘Let me tell you something: when my girls grow up, they’ll be able to whip any boys in the village hollow. Guarantee it. I don’t need no boys when I have them.’” He shook his head and sighed. “Gods, the poor bastard.”

Elder Suzuki laid a hand on his shoulder. “He would rejoice, knowing that even one escaped alive.”

“I know. But still…”

It was then that the tiny bundle in the stocky man’s arms starting to stir. The girl blinked her brown eyes. Then her face contorted and she started to cry.

“Oh,” Watanabe said, looking alarmed. “I, ah, don’t really know what to-”

Turning to the rest of the crowd, Elder Suzuki raised his voice. “Satoko!” he called over to a small group of adults surrounded by children. “Satoko Yume!”

The middle-aged woman in charge of the Aoki Yume’s Children’s Home looked up in surprise.

Elder Suzuki crooked a finger, beckoning her over.

Still bewildered, Satoko gently set down the young boy she had been holding and made her way over to Elder Suzuki and the others. “What’s wrong?” she said when she neared.

In answer, Watanabe showed her the fussing girl in her arms.

“Oh!” Satoko said in realization. “Oh, the poor thing. She’s all alone, isn’t she?”

“Only survivor of a youkai attack,” Hiromu told her as Watanabe passed the child over. “Whole family gone.”

“It was the Yagamis,” Elder Suzuki said. “They had a farm, far out in the Wilds. Apparently they got hit before the storms even started.”

To this, Satoko bowed her head. “The good spirits guide them safely across the River Suzune.”

“Agreed,” Elder Suzuki said. “Her name is Rumia. You…will look after her, won’t you?”

“Of course I will!” She sat down and started rocking Rumia back and forth, shushing her soothingly. “That’s what I do, after all. Rumia is more than welcome-”

“Is that a baby?”

The new voice was loud, childish, and obnoxious. Everyone looked up to see a small blue-haired fairy with six crystalline wings rushing toward them.

Most of their group scowled, no doubt partially because of the rude interruption but also because none of them were feeling particularly friendly toward youkai of any kind. Elder Suzuki was much more tolerant of their magical neighbors, so long as they were of the benign variety, but even he wasn’t exactly in the mood to put up with their nonsense.

Heedless of this, the fairy shoved herself practically into the flustered Satoko’s lap, trying to see the child. “C’mon, let me see!”

“All right, no,” Hiromu said, getting up. He seized the fairly by the arm and roughly yanked her away.

“Hey!” she said, whirling to face him. Planting her hands on her hips, she thrust her lip out and scowled. “Don’t touch me, or I’ll freeze your arm off!”

“Try it,” Hiromu warned. “Try it, and I’ll-”

Elder Suzuki cleared his throat, drawing both of their attention. “The child is scared and tired and needs her rest,” he said to the fairy. “So it’s best to leave her alone.”

The fairy’s scowl deepened. “But I wanna see the baby!” she whined.

“Didn’t you hear him? Leave the poor thing alone!” Hiromu waved the fairy off. “Go on. Get!”

The fairy gave him one last glower. She stuck out her little pink tongue and pulled down one eyelid with her finger before turning to run off back to her friends.

“Obnoxious little nuisance,” Hiromu growled as everyone settled back down. “Why do we even let them in?”

“Nuisances they might be, but even they deserve protection from the storms and what the storm brings,” Elder Suzuki told him, his tone gently chiding.

Hiromu sighed. “Fair,” he admitted.

That done, Elder Suzuki turned his attention back to the squirming bundle in Satoko’s arms. She was rocking little Rumia back and forth, whispering to her in soothing tones.

Elder Suzuki shook his head. The poor Yagamis. They did not deserve what had happened to them; no one did. It was just one of the many dangers that they had to accept living out in the Wilds like they did, but it never made it easier when it happened.

As for Rumia, the fates had done her a cruel turn, but at the very least she was alive and would be cared for and loved. Satoko was a good woman, who cared deeply for the children that had been brought into her house.

Then he cast a dour glance, not at anyone within the hall, but to the northwest, where sat the Human Village, the center of Gensokyo’s Human population.

Satoko was a good woman, and those she cared for were innocents in need of all the support and protection that could be provided.

Unfortunately, not everyone agreed.

…

Twelve years later…

This was torture.

Rumia felt the yawn forming and didn’t even try to stifle it. What was the point? Everyone else was ending toward sleep, lulled off by the warm Sun and Ms. Haruna’s droning voice.

Ms. Haruna Ishii looked like a boulder. She stood about a meter and a half high, was nearly as wide as she was tall, had no neck, and a face like a pit bull’s. No one knew her age, and no one had ever mustered up the courage to ask. And while she certainly knew a lot about numbers and what one might do with them, she had never bothered to figure out a way to pass that knowledge in a way that didn’t immediately make Rumia’s eyes start to cross and her brain to shut off all non-critical functions purely out of self-defense.

To help keep herself awake, Rumia looked around the room, hoping to find something interesting to amuse herself.

Unfortunately, all she found were more kids looking as bored as she was.

Fat Keiichi Matsuda was scribbling something on his chalkboard that probably had nothing to do with numbers. Loopy Kana Anaberal, who was usually at least interesting to watch, wasn’t doing anything weirder than follow dust motes in sunbeams with her eyes. Even Rumia’s mortal enemy Haruko was of one mind with Rumia in that she was struggling mightily to keep her eyes open. The only one that seemed to be paying any sort of significant attention was that outsider girl Melissa Garcia, and that was probably because she honestly didn’t speak great Japanese and was trying to just make sense of anything she was hearing.

Rumia sighed. If the other kids couldn’t be counted on to be entertaining, them what good were they?

Then she turned her head to look over to the opposite side of the classroom, where her two closest friends were sitting, one right in the front of the other. The one in the front was Kohta Momoi, a boy her age with naturally spiky black hair and eyelids so narrow that it often difficult to tell if they were open or closed, a quirk that he often exploited to his advantage, as he was now. Kohta sat with his back leaning against the chair at a slight angle, face directed toward the blackboard, and hands folded on the desk in front of him. At a glance it would appear that he was paying rapt attention, but he was in fact fast asleep, having long figured out the perfect pose to let his body settle into without giving away the game. Rumia deeply envied him for that.

Behind him was a girl who did not share his skills or natural advantages and was struggling mightily to keep from nodding off. Though she was of the same age as Rumia and Kohta, she looked to be only about half that, with a scrawny little body and shimmering silver hair cut straight just below her ears. Keine Kamishirasawa had been at the orphanage as long as Rumia and Kohta, but she didn’t complete their trio until a few years ago, when the two of them had caught a few of the others bullying her and had driven them off. While neither of them were averse to killing a few idle minutes by tormenting some of their fellow orphans, they preferred to save that sort of thing to those who really deserved it and could at least fight back. Picking on someone just because they were smaller than everyone else and looked kind of weird was just unsportsmanlike. After that, Keine stuck around with them for safety, and before they knew it their duo had grown by one.

Rumia eyed the two, calculations running in her mind. Getting their attention without attracting Ms. Ishii’s attention was going to be tricky, as a few unfortunate failed past attempts had taught her. At the moment Ms. Ishii was facing the kids as she droned on and on, but sooner or later she would turn around. To prepare, Rumia scribbled a brief message on a piece of paper. Then she stealthily tore up a second paper into pieces and crumpled them up. That done, she waited.

Oblivious to the conspiracy that was hatching right under her nose, Ms. Ishii went on and on about stuff that nobody cared about. Rumia tensed up. Any second now. Come on, any second now.

Then Ms. Ishii turned her back to the class to write something boring on the chalkboard. Now!

Rumia tossed one of the paper wads right at Keine. It had to be Keine. There was no guarantee that she would be able to wake Kohta with that alone, and even if she did, if he awoke too abruptly it might catch Ms. Ishii’s attention, as they had learned on one unfortunate occasion.

Unfortunately, her first toss failed to clear the classroom and hit the floor right next to Keine’s chair without her so much as noticing.

Scowling, Rumia tried again. This time her aim was true and the wad landed neatly on Keine’s desk. Startled, the silver-haired girl jerked back to full wakefulness and blinked down at the new addition to the clutter on her desk. Then, putting two and two together, she glanced over to Rumia, one eyebrow quirked in askance.

In answer, Rumia held up her chalkboard. On it was just a quick sketch of a chocolate chip cookie and a question mark.

Eyes widening in realization, Keine quickly glanced back to Ms. Ishii to see if she was going to look their way anytime soon. When it was clear that she wasn’t, Keine looked back to Rumia, smiled, and gave a quick nod.

Okay, that was two of them. Number three would be up to Keine. She slowly reached up and gently shook Kohta’s shoulder, which they had learned was the best way to wake him without scaring him. It wouldn’t do to have him cry out in surprise, after all.

Kohta jerked slightly, but made no sound. He glanced over his shoulder at Keine, who then directed his attention to Rumia. Within the space of three seconds, Kohta had scanned the message, comprehended it, and gave Rumia a sly grin and a quick thumb’s up. All right, three for three. The game was set.

Then Ms. Ishii turned toward them again, and they quickly snapped back to their original positions, all traces of their plan removed. Rumia was satisfied. Their path was now set, and all she had to do was wait those last few minutes in order to carry things out.

…

Night was falling on the orphanage. Classes were done, sunlight was retreating, and the belabored staff were all taking a few much-needed moments to relax.

In other words, the perfect time to strike.

Three small figures crept down the hall on hands and knees, careful to avoid any boards that creaked, shoes off and socks covering both their hands and feet. Ahead of them, the door to the kitchen was slightly open, and from within a low, repetitive sound could be heard.

Slice. Slice. Slice.

The three of them lined up along the crack of the door, Kohta on the bottom, Rumia on his back, and Keine on hers. The three of them peered in.

The Children’s Home kitchen was a long, rectangular brick room, lined with counters. A wooden table sat in the middle of it like an island, and on the right-hand side were windows to the outside, right over the sink. The evening meal was being prepared, and all sorts of ingredients were out. A young woman stood at one of the counter, methodically slicing onions with a large knife.

Slice. Slice. Slice.

The three children exchanged grim looks. Their path was a dangerous one, but rewarding. On top of a shelf at the far end of the kitchen sat a large ceramic jar. And within that jar was their prize.

Cookies. Sweet, succulent cookies. A prize more than worth a little risk. They just had to get past the woman.

And…therein lay the problem.

Keine slid off of Rumia’s back and Rumia off of Kohta’s. The three of them retreated back from the door and huddled together. Nothing was said. Rumia merely nodded, and the other two scampered off down the hall, to the door to the outside.

Now alone, Rumia inched back to the door and watched. The others would do their part. All she had to do was wait.

Oblivious to the heist taking place right under her nose, the woman continued on, reducing leeks to pieces in slow, mechanical fashion.

Slice. Slice. Slice.

Rumia tensed up. Any second now, any second…

“WAAAAAAHHHH!”

Showtime.

The woman’s head jerked up, and she abandoned what she was doing to rush over to the window. Throwing it open, she practically leaned her whole body out and called, “What happened?”

“Keine’s hurt!” Kohta’s voice called back. “She slipped on a rock and skinned her shin! Oh my gods, there’s blood everywhere!”

The woman sighed. “Oh, for the love of-” She shook her head. “Hold on, I’m coming!” She flung open a cabinet, grabbed a bag of bandages and other treatments and shot outside. She didn’t even bother with the door but instead leapt right through the window in one smooth, graceful motion.

Rumia’s window of opportunity was now open, but it wouldn’t be for long. She bolted into the room, scampering across the floor, under the table, and toward the far counter. Snatching up a three-legged stool, she propped it against the counter and climbed on top. Then she stood on her tiptoes and stretched up, reaching for the jar.

Almost there. I’m almost there. The jar was just out of reach. Stretching her legs even further, Rumia’s fingers brushed the jar’s edge.

Then a wooden spoon came whistling through the air and struck the back of her hand.

Crying out in pain and surprise, Rumia lost her balance and, to her horror, started to fall backward.

Time slowed. Rumia watched as the shelf and its maddeningly faraway treasure moved further and further away. Her gaze moved up to center on the ceiling, which was also drawing away. She was dimly aware of the impact that awaited her, and to her surprise she was not afraid.

Well, I guess this is it. Oh well. Everyone has to die sometime.

Then she stopped.

Rumia gasped out loud. She had stopped in a vertical position, at a perfect ninety-degree angle from the stool, her heels still on the edge of the stool top, with the rest of her body hovering in the air, unaffected by gravity.

I’m flying, she thought numbly. Holy cow, she was flying! She didn’t need to take the class after all; she had figured it out all by herself!

A wealth of possibilities revealed itself to her mind. She could shoot through the sky, dipping and darting through the clouds. She could play with the fairies, chase birds, be unstoppable at tag, anything! She could hover on the ceiling, just out of sight, and drop whatever she wanted on whatever poor sap that wandered by! She could go wherever she wanted, whenever she wanted, and nobody would be able to-

Then Rumia became aware of something pressing against her back, and her joy evaporated. She was not flying after all. Quite the contrary, something was holding her up.

A sinking feeling started to form in her stomach, and her gaze went upward. Sure enough, there was a face glowering down at her, that of a woman with pale skin, dark red eyes, and silvery lavender hair that was almost white.

The woman smiled, and Rumia cringed. Oh crap.

Suddenly the hand set against her back suddenly yanked back, pulling Rumia off the chair. The woman held her up by the back of her collar, lifting the child up as easily as if Rumia were a stuffed animal.

It was then that Rumia saw that she was not alone. Both Kohta and Keine were also dangling by their collars in the woman’s other hand. Kohta looked quite put out, probably annoyed that their perfect plan had failed so spectacularly, while Keine just had her head bowed in shame. Her knee was still dripping with the chicken blood they had smeared all over it for effect.

“Well, well, well,” said Miss Fujiwara no Mokou, the orphanage’s cook. “Look who it is. Really, guys? Really? This trick again? I mean, fool me once and all that. Did you really think you could pull it twice?”

Rumia sighed and slumped.

“And come on. Now? You’re pulling this now, with flying lessons right around the corner? Can you really afford getting another strike? You know they’ll just make you sit them out.”

Rumia jerked in shock, and given the stricken looks on their faces her friends felt the same. Oh crap, they hadn’t thought of that.

“So now I’m wondering if I should just turn you three in now. I mean, I’d hate to leave you all tethered to the ground for the rest of your lives while all your friends go soaring through the air, but rules are rules.”

“It was me!” Kohta suddenly blurted out. “It was my idea, I talked them into it! So don’t-”

“Yeah, no,” Miss Mokou said flatly. “That’s really noble of you and all, but give me a break. It doesn’t matter which one of you gets the original idea, the other two are always down for anything. Seriously, it’s like your minds are linked or something. Besides, aren’t heists usually Rumia’s thing?”

Still dangling in the air, Rumia crossed her arms and sulked.

“That’s what I thought.” Then Miss Mokou got a thoughtful look. “Still, kids will be kids, and making you sit out flying lessons seems a little harsh, so…”

The three waited with bated breath as Miss Mokou mulled over the situation. If one were to ask Rumia, the cook was taking her sweet time doing it too.

“Okay, how about this?” Miss Mokou said at last. “I won’t turn you in, and exchange you three get dishes duty.”

That was it? What a relief. Cleaning dishes wasn’t any fun, but it was loads better than never getting to learn how to fly.

“For the rest of the week.”

Oof. Ouch. Rumia grimaced. A whole week of scrubbing pots and bowls sounded like a nightmare. There were so many mouths to feed that the sink was often a disaster area by the end of the day. Sometimes it would take them hours to get through them all, and they always felt greasy disgusting when it was over.

Still…it was better than the alternative.

“Well?”

Rumia exchanged a look with her friends. They didn’t seem anymore happy about it than she was, but after a moment they all nodded.

“Good to hear.” Mokou abruptly dropped to the floor, which caused Keine to squeak with surprise. “Now shoo. Off with you.”

As the three failed bandits retreated from the kitchen, Kohta muttered to the others, “We should have just left her in the snow.”

“I heard that,” Mokou called after them. “Just for that, you get the big pot.”

“Nice job, lunkhead,” Rumia whispered back as Kohta’s face fell with dismay.

...

Well, here goes nothing. I suppose I should mention that this story’s been brewing in my head longer than Walpurgis Nights has even been a thing.

Anyway, like I said, I’m going to try for updates every other week this time, with this baby going up on FF.net sometimes next year.

Until next time, everyone!

#touhou project #imperfect metamorphosis #rumia #keine #fujiwara no mokou #fanfic #touhou

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catgluue · 5 years ago

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Chapter One: Coincidence

Happy Royai Week! In the spirit of pushing myself to do ridiculous things for no reason, I’m using the prompts as chapters in a longer fic! No promises that I’ll actually complete it this week, but I’m certainly going to try.

Read on A03

Chapter One: Coincidence

Riza Hawkeye hadn’t expected to see the spring of 1916, and yet here it is.

It’s not quite spring - not yet - but it’s headed swiftly in that direction. The days are getting longer, she’s seeing green return to the trees, and she recalls that this time last year she was glorified secretary to a homunculus, awaiting The Promised Day.

It’s strange how life now is both normal and irrevocably transformed. The team, excepting Falman who chose to remain in the north, is back together but with new ranks and a new office. In his new capacity as Brigadier General, Mustang has merited a private office, which in Riza’s mind only impedes her ability to make sure he stays on task. If anything he’s more distracted when removed from all possible stimuli, and she sometimes invents reasons to check up on him just to make sure he’s not sleeping at his desk. It’s happening less and less, though, and she knows this means he’s able to sleep more at night.

She is too, although her sleep is still punctuated by nightmares. Recently it’s been nightmares of Ishval, which is a refreshing change of pace from the nightmares of the gold-toothed doctor and the General’s stricken face deep under the streets of Central. This is undoubtedly because they’re heading to Ishval as soon as summer is over, finally, to begin the long and futile process of redemption. She both dreads and longs for the penance of rebuilding something they’d once destroyed, knowing that absolution is impossible but hoping to find it anyway, somewhere in the desert.

She’s early to work again today, in part because of another nightmare, and goes to the mail room as a matter of course. There’s letters for the General as always - he actually gets fan mail now, which is a concept she finds so wholly repulsive it’s all she can do not to throw the letters directly into the trash. Mustang, for his part, doesn’t seem to mind, even reading parts of the amorous letters aloud, usually while throwing furtive glances in her direction. She always does her best not to react, unsure why he is under the impression that she cares. She doesn’t.

Maybe a little, only because they distract him from work.

Her heels click against the tile in the mostly empty hallway as she heads to the office, leafing through the mail, and she almost stops when she sees something addressed to her. She has no family to speak of, and her friends are all here in Central. Winry sends her regular letters but this one has a distinct lack of crayon drawings on the envelope. Who does that leave to be sending her mail?

She’s still poring over it when everyone else starts to come in. First is Fuery, a minute or two early, still yawning as he puts his bag down and gives her a casual good morning salute.

“Captain Hawkeye,” he says. “What’s that?” she folds the letter more times than is necessary and places it in a drawer.

“Nothing much. How is your report on the potential for crops in Ishvalan soil?” she asks; a far less prying question. He launches into an explanation as the letter in the drawer of her desk throbs in her mind like a heartbeat.

Captain Riza Hawkeye,

Apologies for interrupting your busy schedule, but I must relay that this past week suspicious activity has been reported on your estate. On one occasion figures were seen near the house but frightened off by the constable. I have of course ordered that a closer watch be kept on the house but it is my opinion that it may be time to sell the property as it’s been in disuse for so long.

Regards,

Ernst Meyell

Mayor

In all honesty she has half-forgotten that the manor house, probably falling down and overgrown, is her responsibility. She hasn’t given the old house much thought at all in years, apart from a nightmare she sometimes has wherein she wanders the empty halls like a ghost, calling out for her parents. She has to think harder to remember Ernst, finally recalling that he’d written to her a few years ago, saying he had taken over Mayorship of Werthem, the small town northeast of East City that Riza is from. As the others trail in and Fuery’s attention shifts, she pulls out a leave form and hastily fills it out, being purposefully vague. The General will know what was going on by the look on her face alone; this is purely a paper trail.

She waits until he comes in, says his hellos, and disappears into his office before slipping in with a coded knock. He doesn’t even look up, the knock telling him all he needs to know.

“Captain,” he says, by way of greeting, eyes still fixed on his pile of paperwork. “What can I do for you?” she slides the request on top of the pile and directly under his nose, before stepping back, hands clasped behind her back. He studies it for a moment before responding teasingly, “You’re getting sick of me already?”

“I need a week to clear out my father’s house before I sell it,” she says, and the tense silence that follows is palpable.

“Is that so? Are you going alone or is Catalina going to help?” he asks, knowing full well Rebecca is far too busy as the Furher’s assistant.

“Just me,” she tells him. “It shouldn’t take long; my father didn’t keep much around the house.” He looks like he considers this for a moment - looks like being the operative phrase here - and leans back in his chair, thoughtfully tapping his pen against the top of the desk, and her ears prick up. Tapping is their way of cluing the other person in that there’s going to be code or subtext in the talk to follow. This is an old practice, from when they still needed a signal, but one they’ve carried on for years.

“You know I’ve been thinking about taking some time off too,” he says casually and she resists the urge to roll her eyes.

“I think you should hold off until I get back,” she tells him pointedly, and he meets her even gaze with his own. He’s steepled his fingers and is peering over them as though they were in a chess match and he’d just made a bold move. “Someone has to run the office.”

“And what makes you think I’ll get anything done with you gone?” He asks, a smile ghosting his lips. They often joke about his lack of work ethic, how ‘useless’ he is without her (and he isn’t useless, only unmotivated) but something about his tone now gives her pause. He sounds almost flirtatious but underneath something in his eyes causes her stomach to knot and she realizes they’ve been practically glued to each others sides for a year.

“You’ll live,” she says sternly. “I’m sure you’ll cope how you always cope and waste time talking to some woman or other. Anyway, will you approve it?” A smile slowly spreads over his face at her implicit approval of a few coded phone calls, and the sickly-sweet feeling in her stomach intensifies.

“All right,” he says at last. “I guess we’ll have to manage somehow.”

-x-

The house is just as she remembers it, and a lump forms in her throat as she walks up to the front door, getting the key out of her pocket and fitting it into the lock with hands that nevertheless remain steady.

It’s like walking into a tomb - everything frozen in time, sheets still over the furniture from when she had placed them there almost ten years ago. She’d been a child then, she thinks, moving through the house and pulling the sheets off furniture, opening curtains to let the light in. Everything of her was pretty much gone from this place - she had taken what few possessions she wanted and simply left the rest. Her father wasn’t a material man but even after his death she’d stayed away from the study. Even now she isn’t looking forward to clearing it out.

So she doesn’’t, not yet anyway, choosing instead to start on the ground floor. She had decided on the train ride here to sell the place furnished, and so it’s only a matter of taking small things, sorting them into boxes to either donate or throw away entirely. Photos, books, knick-knacks. She does not have a box for things to keep.

She gets the first phone call about half an hour after arriving, and as she heads to the phone, still sitting on the table off the hallway, she thinks wryly that someone must have checked the train times. It certainly wasn’t information she’d included in her leave request.

“Hello?” she answers neutrally to be safe, unsure if this is an official phone call or if it’s General Mustang trying to reach his old flame Elizabeth.

“Elizabeth, it’s been a long time,” a flirtatious baritone dances down the line and her annoyance melts away.

“Yes, Roy, it has,” she replies in kind, slipping easily into the familiar character. There’s only a slim chance now that his calls are being listened to - slim, but possible - so she plays along. She, Riza, has never referred to the General by his first name in her adult life, but Elizabeth is another story. It’s almost thrilling, and while she isn’t sure she imagines that he enjoys it as well. “To what do I owe the pleasure of hearing from you?”

“The workload is light this week; my Captain is out of town,” he explains. The Captain in question leans against the wall, holding the old fashioned earpiece up with a smile playing across her mouth. “I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“Not at all,” she replies, tone light and breezy. “I’ve just been doing some packing.”

“Packing?” he replies. “Not moving, I hope?”

“Not me, my cousin,” she tells him smoothly. “I just got back from her place. I was about to take a shower, actually.” Elizabeth is shameless. “Moving is hard work, it turns out.”

“I bet,” he says and she can hear him grinning. “Well if you never need any brute strength I’m available this weekend,” he offers and she knows it isn’t directed towards Elizabeth. “You can save all the unpleasant work for me, I’d be happy to come help.” She’s quiet for a moment, thinking of the study that needs to be cleaned out eventually. “Elizabeth?” his voice comes through, softer this time. “I mean it. Say the word and I’ll help any way I can.” She takes a shaky breath.

“Thank you, Roy,” she says, and means it. “But I- we’ll be fine. There’s not too much left to do. It was nice hearing from you,” she adds. “Feel free to call me more often.”

“I will,” he says. They say their goodbyes, her managing to squeeze in another use of his first name, and she returns to the work at hand, feeling somewhat comforted by the coded phone call.

The second call comes around dusk, surprising her as she’s leafing through a photo album that had to have been her mother’s. Pictures of Riza as a small child line the album, and stop abruptly when she’s about eight. Her father had clearly had no interest in finishing the book. She makes her way to the phone, wondering for only a second who it could be.

But of course, she knows.

“Checking up on me again?” she purrs into the mouthpiece of the old-fashioned phone, already in character.

“Multitasking,” he says briskly. He wasn’t calling Elizabeth, then, and she feels a flush of embarrassment for jumping the gun. “Captain, we’ve gotten orders to check up on Munin, and then we’re moving on to Werthem on the Fuhrer’s orders. I guess there was a break in at the house of a retired state alchemist and for some reason Grumman thinks Werthem could be a target.” She can hear the shrug in his voice, but without him in front of her it’s impossible to read what he’s thinking. It’s no accident that Grumman is sending Mustang’s crew to her tiny hometown; he would of course know precisely which alchemist lived in Werthem and would have reason not to want that alchemist’s work stolen. “We should be there in the morning.”

“Do you mean you’ll be in town or that you’ll be here as in my house?”

“I’ve got to go, Captain, have a good night!”

“Wait, General-”

There is a click as he hangs up and Riza slams the receiver down, irritated. She wants to believe he’s smart enough not to bring their entire team to her father’s house. She wants to, but she isn’t sure he has that kind of restraint. She spends most of the night cleaning up the ground floor, looking for any traces of him in the tarnished frames and worn leather albums. It’s not until she’s dug deeper, clearing out a disused drawer in the kitchen that she finds a solitary piece of paper with alchemical equations scrawled lazily in familiar handwriting. She means to throw it away, but instead fondly folds it up and tucks it into her pocket.

-x-

Chapter Two: Mortal/Immortal

#roy mustang #riza hawkeye #royaiweek19 #fullmetal alchemist #why do I do these things to myself #aint nobody have time for editing its royai week nerds #yeehaaaawww

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quicksilversquared · 6 years ago

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A Mountain of Fun

A field trip to a downhill ski area doesn't sound that out of the ordinary. But add in two (only slightly) panicky dorks who have never skied before (and their very unhelpful friends), and you get a fun day, full of snow and laughter and hopefully not too many bumps and bruises.

links in the reblog

Everyone had been looking forward to this day for ages. Getting out of the classroom, getting out of Paris, and being outdoors for a day. It had been talked up for weeks, people checking with each other- can you come? Can you come? How about you?- to make sure that their friends would be there, too. They had talked about nothing else for the days leading up to it, and now it was here.

The school field trip to a downhill ski area. They had taken a train out of Paris early- too early for Marinette's liking, and she had napped for most of their time on it- and now a bus was shuttling them from the train station the rest of the way to their destination.

Despite the fact that most of the group had either never been skiing before or hadn't really skied much, the excitement levels were high. Kim and Alix boasted about what runs they wanted to do, each talking up larger and harder slopes until Ms. Bustier put her foot down and informed them in no uncertain terms that some of the slopes would be off-limits to them, since the teachers weren't comfortable with how potentially dangerous they could be and there was no way of knowing if their parents would be okay with it..

"We are not going to have any broken arms today," she told them sternly. "So if you want to go off on your own and do anything bigger than the bunny hill, we'll have an instructor go with you for a run or two to make sure that you can handle it."

"They could have asked our parents, too," Alya pointed out as Kim and Alix settled back down with nearly identical pouts on their faces. "I've been downhill skiing loads of times. I'm not going to do anything crazy, of course, but I can definitely move off of the bunny hill."

"Yeah, I'm mostly going to be on the blue slopes, and maybe some of the easiest red slopes," Nino agreed, and both Adrien and Marinette frowned.

"Red slopes? Blue slopes? What does that mean?"

"Intermediate and beginner slopes," Alya explained. "It's the classification system, so that people know what hills they'll be able to do safely before they get to the top of the hill. I'd be surprised if all of the red hills are open to us, actually. There's a couple that are easier and then a few that are more difficult even within the red classification, so people can choose what they want."

Marinette nodded nervously. She hadn't ever been downhill skiing before, so everything was so new. "Why don't they make smaller classification types, then? Wouldn't it make sense to mark hills as specifically as possible so that people don't get hurt?"

"That's what all of the waivers are for," Nino joked, waving the forms that they had been given to fill out at home. "We sign our lives away before we even get out there."

"Not helping."

"They usually have write-ups of the slopes in the brochure," Alya told Marinette, sounding tired. "Nora had a copy from when she went last year with some of her friends, so I've been looking at them and deciding which ones I want to try. I'll start on the easier slopes, I think, and work my way up."

Marinette nodded. She would be starting on the bunny hill, and in all honesty would probably be staying there. Even though her coordination had improved since becoming Ladybug, putting heavy boots and skis on her feet would probably throw all of that out the window. She probably wouldn't see Alya all day, which was disappointing. But she didn't want to hold Alya back, either, and being on the bunny hill when she was used to intermediate slopes wouldn't be fun at all.

"I wouldn't even touch red slopes in some places," Nino was saying when Marinette tuned back in. "The really big areas that are way out? Nope, not a chance. I like my neck too much. But this is a smaller area, so the slopes aren't as long or as steep as some places."

"There was one place I went to once- because my mom was catering for a party there, we got free passes- where I only dared touch, like, half of the green slopes," Alya agreed. "And then there were people whipping down the black slopes, and I was just like, are you nuts? You could die! And there were always accidents. Several injuries per day wasn't uncommon- but not necessarily bad injuries!" Alya added hastily, seeing the looks on Adrien and Marinette's faces. "Like, sprains and concussions. I mean, there were some broken bones, but-"

"Alya, just stop talking," Nino cut her off with a laugh. "The injuries were on the more difficult hills. The most you'll get on the bunny hill is a couple bruises, probably."

"I'm not liking these qualifiers," Adrien told Marinette. "And there seem to be a lot of them."

"It'll be fine, I promise!"

"So Alya, if you ski so much, why don't you have your own equipment?" Marinette wanted to know, changing the topic before Alya and Nino could devolve into debating all the possible injuries that one might be able to get on the bunny hill. "Nino does."

"I outgrew mine last year," Alya admitted grumpily. "And I'm not tall enough for Nora's old skis yet. So I'm renting this year and probably next year, too, unless my dad has an afternoon off and we can make it to a used equipment store or something."

"Downhill stuff isn't cheap," Nino added. "My family always buys used. Used, or deeply, deeply discounted, when the stores have old stock sales."

"I did bring my own helmet, though, since I don't really want to use the ones in the rental shop," Alya told them. "And my goggles. I didn't outgrow those."

Marinette's anxiety mounted as the bus continued down the highway, even as their conversation moved onto other topics. She could already see herself tripping and falling and somehow breaking an arm or a leg or something- or worse, breaking someone else's bones. Maybe she would accidentally stab someone with a pole while falling. Maybe…

Oh, gosh, what if she hurt Adrien? She'd never be able to face him again.

"They won't give beginners poles." Nino's voice cut Marinette's thoughts short. He was talking to Adrien, who looked about as concerned as Marinette felt. "It's just one more thing to trip over and worry about. You don't need 'em, really. Not for the basic runs."

"Oh, thank god."

The bus slowed and turned onto a smaller road, and the excited chatter in the bus turned up another degree. They wound through a tall forest of pine trees, branches brushing over the top of the bus.

"Oh, great," Adrien muttered. "If there are trees like this on the hill, we're going to end up running into them, aren't we?"

Nino whacked his shoulder. "Stop worrying so much."

"Sorry, that's impossible."

"Oh my god, you're such a downer, dude."

The bus continued through the trees for a bit, winding upwards. Slowly, the trees thinned out and bright white snow replaced their view, extending out in all directions as far as the eye could see. Automatically, Marinette peered out the window at the gleaming slopes outside. Immediately, though, she wished that she hadn't.

"That's small?" she demanded in a squeak, eyes bugging out of her head as she whipped around to face Alya. Behind her, she could hear Adrien expressing a similar sentiment to Nino. "And we'll be going down those? Alya-"

"Oh, relax," her (absolutely insane) friend told her, grinning. "It'll be fun!"

Adrien's nerves weren't going away as they were shepherded into the building and through the rental area. The hills were huge, super tall and long and steep. Almost no one else seemed surprised by that, which meant that they had probably gone downhill skiing at least once before or at least was more familiar with the concept than he was.

Well, almost no one except for Marinette. She seemed as intimidated as he did, which was honestly a relief. They could stick together and be terrified as a team.

The workers behind the rental counter worked together almost seamlessly, shuttling their class through the area incredibly quickly, considering that the entire lycée was going through at once and it looked like absolute pandemonium to him. Then they were bundled up and shuffled outside to meet their instructors.

Adrien did not see any hills that didn't look absolutely terrifying. They were all tall, all steep, and worst of all-

"Why isn't there any room to stop at the bottom?!"

-there were really only maybe a dozen meters between the bottom of the closest several slopes and the mesh fence right in front of the chalet. Marinette was staring at that space with a look of horror on her face, clutching at Alya's arm as though her friend could change that somehow.

"You start slowing down before you hit that bit," Alya told them. "Slow and then turn so that you run along the bottom instead of straight into the building."

"How?"

Adrien wanted to know that, too.

"They'll teach you," Nino reassured them. "You won't just hop on the hill without any idea of what to do. They'll tell you how to slow down and stop first."

"But we're just supposed to go up without any practice?" Adrien demanded, voice coming out embarrassingly high. "There's no short slope to practice on first?"

Nino gave him a disbelieving look. "Dude, that is the short slope."

Adrien made a noise that he wasn't sure was entirely human.

"Can the more experienced skiers come this way, please!" one of the instructors called. "We're just going to do a quick run or two down the hill before we turn you guys loose."

"Right, see you guys later," Nino told them with a grin. "Don't die on us!"

Alya slapped his shoulder. "Nino, don't joke about that!"

"I was just trying to be funny, I swear!"

And then Adrien and Marinette were left on their own. Adrien suddenly wondered if it would be suspicious if he vanished and Chat Noir appeared to ski in his place. He would feel a lot safer in a indestructible super suit, but somehow he suspected that his classmates weren't that oblivious.

They watched as their more experienced classmates hopped onto the lift, slowly ascending the slope before vanishing at the top. There were a few minutes of nothing, and then they started appearing, zipping down the hill like it was nothing.

As though there wasn't an entire freaking building at the bottom, solid and imposing and unmoving.

Someone was doing fancy zigzags, curving from side to side as they went down. They all started slowing down as they approached the base of the hill, though Adrien couldn't tell how.

Whose bright idea was it to strap bits of plastic and metal to their feet and go plummeting down a hill? Seriously, how did anyone find that fun?

The group piled back onto the lift and headed back up. Adrien would have kept watching, but the instructors had started dividing the rest of the students up into groups and he wanted to be sure that he stayed with Marinette. They could fall down the hill together.

And then their lesson started. Adrien listened as closely as he could, trying to soak up all of the information before they got sent down the slopes. He was hoping that Nino was joking, that the actual bunny hill was hidden away somewhere, but no such luck.

At least it wasn't one of the hills with the chalet immediately at the bottom. If they didn't stop or turn right away, at least they wouldn't go straight into the side of the building, just the mesh fence and all of the ski racks at the side of the building.

(Well. Unless they turned in the wrong direction, they wouldn't go into the side of the building. If they did, they would be in for a world of pain.)

"I'm honestly surprised that we're still doing field trips like this," Marinette said quietly as they were shuffled towards the lift. "What with Hawkmoth's akumas interrupting class so often…"

Adrien nodded. It was a struggle for the teachers to stay caught up on the curriculum when classes were interrupted, and although not all attacks caused interruptions (for the majority of the school, at least), the ones that did added up over time. He had only dared to leave the city because Hawkmoth and his kwami had been injured in the last attack, two weeks prior, and their magic hadn't recovered enough yet for him to be able to akumatize anyone. "Maybe they knew that people would complain if they canceled. I bet a lot of people were looking forward to it."

"Crazy people."

Adrien could only laugh and agree.

They were up next for the lift, and Adrien's knuckles turned white under his gloves as he sat down and gripped the bars. His feet felt awkward and heavy- a huge change from when he was fencing, or playing basketball, or being Chat Noir- and his skis clunked together and criss-crossed as they lifted up into the air. Marinette didn't look like she was faring much better.

They climbed up, and up, and up. The top of the hill grew closer, and Adrien gulped as he glanced back down the slope.

Could he just stay on the lift and go back down? He had changed his mind, he didn't want to do this.

Their instructor left them no choice. She met them at the top, ushering them off and into a haphazard line.

"We'll go two at a time, to make sure that we aren't tripping over each other," she told them. "Ready?"

"Nope," Adrien muttered under his breath, and next to him, Marinette let out a nervous giggle.

In pairs, starting with the people who had skied a couple times before, the group started down the hill. They wobbled, swerving unevenly back and forth as they made their way down the hill.

It didn't look any smaller from the top. Adrien gulped, watching the line get shorter and shorter as he and Marinette got closer to the front.

And then the first of the first-timers went, sliding haltingly down the hill.. They let out a screech as they fell, only a dozen meters or so from the top of the hill.

That was embarrassing. Adrien hoped that he wouldn't do that. He had a reputation as athletic and coordinated that he wanted to uphold, so hopefully he wouldn't be wiping out. Not right away, at least.

If he got to the bottom of the hill and wiped out, that would probably be understandable. Bottom or two-thirds of the way, at least. Of course, if he fell then, he would probably be going faster than he really wanted. Going faster and coming to a sudden stop would probably mean a higher chance of breaking bones or otherwise injuring something, right?

...maybe he could swallow his pride and be fine with falling earlier. He probably wouldn't have a lot of choice in the matter, after all. And the only people who might actually judge him- Kim and Alix, mostly, plus a couple people from his fencing team- were already scattered across the mountain, far out of sight.

And Marinette wouldn't tell anyone. She would probably be falling right next to him on their way down the hill.

"Okay, you two next," their instructor told them. "Snowplow the entire way down, so that you don't pick up speed, and then get out of the way once you reach the bottom."

Adrien gulped and glanced down the hill. Nope, it hadn't shrunk at all since the last time he had looked. Not even a little bit. Still, Marinette was inching her way forward, so he couldn't stall any longer.

His skis inched over the edge, and then he was moving downward in starts and stops, wavering uncertainly. Marinette had started making a noise that was not unsimilar to a teakettle as she moved down the hill, just a bit faster than Adrien was going.

He managed a smile at that. Even when flustered, Marinette was cute.

"Wait, how do I turn at the bottom again?" Marinette yelled as they reached the halfway point. "I've forgotten!"

"You do something else with your skis, I think!" Adrien hollered back from nearly a dozen meters behind her. "At least I hope that that's what it is, because that's what I was planning on doing!"

Marinette turned her head partway, clearly about to give him a dubious look, but then she wobbled alarmingly and whipped back to face the front, arms extended to try to keep her balance. Adrien winced, fully expecting her to fall, but she didn't. Surprisingly enough, Marinette made it to the bottom of the hill upright and wobbled across the flat part at the base of the hill, finally inching to a halt right before the plastic mesh fence.

Adrien was still a third of the way up the hill, inching his way down at a much slower pace.

"Are you scared of going faster?" Plagg asked, popping his head out of Adrien's jacket. "This is so slow!"

"I picked this speed and I'm sticking to it," Adrien insisted. He tried adjusting his skis and squawked when he jolted forward. "It's a perfectly good speed."

"Your friend is already at the bottom of the hill," Plagg pointed out helpfully.

"Yeah, she must have been doing something different." Adrien wobbled as he hit a bump in the snow, windmilling his arms to stay up. "I'll get there. Eventually."

"Yeah, tomorrow."

"I don't exactly have a supersuit on right now," Adrien pointed out tensely. "If I fall or run into anything, I could actually get hurt. And if I get hurt, then I can't fight akumas as well as usual."

Plagg groaned loudly. "Oh my god, I can tell already why you don't have any downhill skiing experience, you're such a worrywart. I'm surprised that your parents didn't have you learn."

"Neither of them liked it, so why would they teach me?" Adrien let out a yelp as his ski hit a bump and made him wobble. "And I can see why they wouldn't like it, too!"

Plagg snorted and retreated back into Adrien's jacket as they finally got to the bottom of the hill. Adrien wobbled to a stop, then shuffled his way over towards Marinette.

"I thought that I wouldn't be able to stop," Marinette told him with a laugh. "I nearly hit the fence!"

"At least it wouldn't have been a hard hit," Adrien pointed out. "And you were going faster than I was. I was going at the approximate speed of a particularly tired snail."

Marinette giggled, and they moved over to join the rest of the group. "I wanted to go slower, but I didn't dare adjust my skis at all. By the time I was halfway down, I was fine with it. Mostly."

Adrien grinned at that.

It wasn't long before their instructor joined them. She waved them into a tight group, then smiled at them. "Okay! That was a nice first run. Now we're going to divide up a bit- people who didn't fall on the run will try doing a loose zigzag. Maddie will demonstrate- you want to go from one side of the run to the other and back, very shallow zigzags so that you don't go too fast. People who fell will do another snowplow run."

"Oh god," Adrien muttered as the assistant instructor started divvying them up. "Zigzags? That sounds like it requires adjusting the skis mid-hill."

He wasn't looking forward to that. There would no doubt be several seconds of the skis facing directly downhill while they made the turn itself, and if they weren't turned in time he could find himself zipping straight down the hill.

"I promise not to laugh if you fall," Marinette offered helpfully. "As long as you don't laugh when I fall."

"And I'll even promise to do my best to not fall on you if you fall," Adrien said with a laugh. "I'm not sure how much my best counts for, though."

They rode up the lift again, waiting anxiously in line for their turn. Their assistant instructor went first, making smooth turns before heading easily across the snow again. The first pair went, and Adrien was surprised when there was no falling.

Then he remembered that oh, right, some of the others have skied before. They just hadn't skied much, which was why they were in lessons with the rest of the beginners. They would be more confident than he and Marinette were on their skis, just not confident enough to head off without a review first.

"I can't wait for lunch," Marinette commented as they inched forward in line. "Getting off this hill and having a break? Eating food? That I can handle."

"I think we have to have mastered the basics before we can go in," Adrien said glumly, because now that she mentioned it he was remembering the food choices on the menu that he had looked up, and some of the offerings sounded really good. "And maybe it's a good thing. If they can make this at all enjoyable before we go in, maybe I'll go back out after eating instead of staying in and playing games on my phone."

Marinette made a face. Clearly she was in favor of just staying in. Adrien was leaning that way too, to be honest, but he had only done one run so far. Maybe it would get better.

Of course, maybe he would end up falling down on his face like the person who had just started their run down the hill. That didn't look comfortable.

And then it was time for him and Marinette to go.

Adrien gulped as their instructor angled him and then gave him a gentle push off the top of the hill. He started across the hill, at a shallow enough angle that he wasn't picking up too much speed, right at the trees that bordered the run.

He wasn't a fan of that bit. Couldn't the run be bordered by cushions or something? Maybe some pillows?

Behind him, Marinette's teakettle noise had started up again. Adrien chanced a glance behind him, spotting Marinette as she caught up to him.

Apparently she was going faster than him again.

Marinette took the turn before he did, letting out a tiny cheer as she successfully got herself turned around. Adrien tried to follow, and instead found himself angled a little too far down.

Oh, no. He didn't like this. Not one bit. Not at all. He wanted off, now.

"Adrien!"

"Shoot shoot shoot, what do I do?" Adrien yelped, wobbling as he picked up more speed. "Plagg-"

"Turn, kid! Turn or fall!" Plagg had stuck his head out again and was watching nervously as the opposite side of the slope approached quickly. "Or do that snowplow thing that you were doing earlier!"

Adrien tried. He pushed his heels out and his toes in, trying to put on the brakes. Instead, his skis got tangled up and he pitched forward into the snow. There was a loud click from the vague direction of his feet, and he had enough presence of mind to hope that it was his boot or the ski instead of his bones or something else important before he hit the ground face-first.

Nothing seemed to hurt, at least. Well, except for the sting of the snow against his face.

"Adrien, are you okay?" Marinette's worried voice cut through Adrien's mental groan (he couldn't have at least had a slightly dignified tumble? It had to be a complete and utter failure of a fall?) "Adrien- oh! Your ski!"

Adrien extracted his face from the snow in time to see one of his rented skis head down the rest of the hill without him. He stared after it for a few seconds- that explained the click, at least- then heaved a sigh and planted his face right back in the snow.

There was a distinct snicker from his jacket. Apparently Plagg was amused by the situation. That made exactly one of them.

"Adrien, can you get up?" Marinette pressed, and Adrien resigned himself to getting up. There was no point in needlessly worrying his friend just because he was embarrassed. "Adrien?"

"'M fine," Adrien assured her, pushing himself to his knees. To his surprise, Marinette was only a meter away and had somehow managed to grind to a near-halt without falling herself. He blinked at her, and after a moment realized that she had probably been headed straight for where his head had been before she had stopped herself.

Well. That was fortunate that she seemed to be doing better than he was at downhill skiing, at least.

Marinette's whole body drooped with relief. "Oh, good! I was worried! That looked like a nasty fall," she added. "And your legs kind of went at funny angles, too, so…"

"Everything feels all right," Adrien told her hastily. Then, just to lighten the mood, he added, "Well, except for my pride. But it'll recover."

Marinette was still watching him like a hawk. "Are you sure?"

"I promise." Adrien glanced down the hill, where his ski had settled against the side of the building. "I'm not sure how I'm meant to get down now, though. If downhill skiing sounded hard, downhill skiing with only one ski sounds even harder."

Marinette craned her neck and wobbled dangerously. Adrien winced, fully expecting her to topple over on him. Miraculously, though, she stayed up. "I think I see one of the instructors getting it. They'll probably bring it back to you."

Adrien briefly wondered if he could just bury his face in the snow again. No other student had needed a teacher to come down and help them mid-hill, so it was embarrassing that he did.

It didn't take long at all for the instructor with Adrien's ski to get up the hill and then back down to him, expertly sliding to a stop next to him.

"Marinette, please proceed down the hill," she told Marinette, who had managed to stay relatively close to Adrien. She hadn't been able to completely stop moving, so she had made a sharp turn and was now creeping past on Adrien's downhill side. "We'll meet you down there."

With one last look at Adrien, Marinette adjusted her skis and started moving down the hill again, slow but steady.

She was definitely getting the hang of this faster than Adrien was. He would have been jealous, but honestly he was proud of her. She was dealing with her nerves a whole lot better than he was.

"All right, Adrien," the instructor said, turning to him and holding out his ski. "Let's get this on and finish the hill, all right?"

Marinette got to the bottom of the hill and turned one last time to glide along the flat area, a grin on her face as she managed it. She had wobbled pretty badly on several- well, most- of her turns, but for once her clumsy tendencies had worked in her favor. She had plenty of practice in catching herself before she properly fell, and there had only been one time when she floundered enough to have to push off the snow to stay up.

It was really a miracle that she hadn't overbalanced and fallen the other way. A miracle, or just really, really good luck.

"Good job!" Tikki told her proudly. "I told you that you could do it!"

"I just had to do the same thing I did when I was learning how to use my yo-yo, just like you told me to," Marinette told her kwami. "The fear is there, but I have to not let it overtake me and stop me from learning and trusting my gut. And then I was worried about Adrien, too, so I had to act on instinct- and it worked!" She was a little giddy, to be honest. The entire way down, she had been convinced that she was going to mess up and end up zipping into a tree, but she hadn't. When she had tried to turn, she had actually turned, just like she wanted to.

Marinette wasn't going to be going any faster anytime soon- the lazy curves that she had been doing were the perfect speed- but she had done it.

"I hope Adrien is all right," Marinette added, glancing back up the hill towards where Adrien and the extra instructor were making their way down the hill. She seemed to be making sure that he wasn't going any faster than he wanted to be. "That was a really nasty fall. I didn't even see what happened."

"I think he tried to snowplow and angled his skis too much," Tikki told her. "And then they criss-crossed and he came to a faster stop than he expected."

Marinette winced.

Adrien's face was pink when he finally got to the bottom and shuffled over to join her in line for the lift. He looked distinctly disgruntled.

"You have snow in your jacket," Marinette commented, automatically reaching up to try to brush some of it off. "That doesn't look comfortable."

Adrien winced as he reached up as well, digging his fingers down the back of his jacket and pulling out several chunks of snow. "Yeah. That's what I get for being an idiot and falling."

"You're not an idiot," Marinette said immediately. "You're just learning."

"You're learning faster than I am," Adrien said, sounding discouraged. "I mean, the rest of the run went all right, I guess, but the instructor was pretty much tugging me into place every time. I keep not being able to do turns as tightly as I want to."

"I was nearly falling every time I did the turns," Marinette pointed out. "Except for that one time when I was barely moving at all. It's not like I was zipping down effortlessly."

"I'd rather nearly fall but make the turn right than end up not making enough of a turn and send myself zipping straight into the trees." They moved into position and sat down on the lift seat before starting their ascent again. "I wish we had a shorter slope to practice on. Shorter, and less steep."

Marinette nodded. That would be nice.

During the next run, she finally fell on a turn. It wasn't a hard fall, though, and most of the other turns seemed less wobbly, so she was going to count that as improvement. Maybe this would be fun after all.

Adrien seemed less convinced. He had nearly fallen once, but had also been snowplowing all the way down, except when he was turning. It was a surprise, really, since he was fabulous at every other sport ever, it seemed, but Marinette supposed that Adrien couldn't be good at everything. Besides, maybe he had had a steep learning curve for all of his sports but it had just been so long ago that he didn't remember it. She had heard that once somewhere, that little kids were less worried about getting hurt (or maybe they just couldn't know how badly they could potentially get hurt) so they didn't hold themselves back as much as teens and adults. Maybe that was what was going on with Adrien, too.

"Is it lunch yet?" Adrien asked as they headed up again. "It has to be soon, right?"

Marinette tried not to giggle at his exaggerated pout. "You just want to be done, don't you?"

"I mean- yeah, kind of," Adrien admitted. "It's frustrating that I'm so good at other sports and yet I'm at a complete loss here."

Marinette glanced over at him, curious. "Didn't you start out not so good at your other sports, too? I mean, you didn't just get thrown into fencing and immediately start winning trophies, right?"

Adrien laughed at that. "No, definitely not. But those sports are fairly safe, you know? If I ever felt uncomfortable when I was doing them, I could just stop. And none of my normal sports ever threw me onto a slippery hill with two bits of fiberglass strapped to my feet. It's that bit I don't like." He shrugged, wriggling his feet a bit and watching little bits of snow tumble off of his skis and fall to the ground below. "But there's also a part of me that wants to get at least one good run in, you know? Like, I have to improve enough for that, to make up for the mess earlier."

...well, if Adrien's pride was going to bring him out again after lunch, Marinette wasn't going to complain. She was intrigued now, just a little bit- and she wasn't going to lie and say that she wasn't also interested in making a nice, smooth run down the hill, free (or at least largely free) of wobbles and falls.

It turned out that the ski instructor had other ideas.

"Marinette, do you want to try going a little bit faster this time?" she asked, smiling at her. "Just a little bit! You can always snowplow if you decide that you want to slow down partway down the hill."

Marinette was sure that her whole expression dropped. Faster? Well, sure, she could try it, but wouldn't faster mean that she would be more likely to fall?

"And you can snowplow going into the turns," the instructor added, as though she was reading Marinette's mind. "So that you stay upright on them."

"You can do it!" Adrien encouraged her, beaming, and, well, there was no way she was going to say no after that.

"I bet you'll do great!" Tikki whispered as Marinette and Adrien joined the line. It was shorter than before, she noticed, and it didn't take long to realize that people were both going down faster and they weren't waiting for the full group to reconvene before having people go down again.

It gave her less time to really worry over the concept of going faster, which was probably a good thing. Hopefully it would be like when akuma fights had forced her to put aside her worries and focus on the moment instead of all the possible ways that she could mess up.

At least then she had had a magic super-suit to keep her from getting injured when the learning curve was a little too steep and she ended up falling or ramming into the side of a building.

When she and Adrien went up, Marinette started first. She did her best to avoid seizing up as her skis went a little bit faster than she had gone before.

"That's it, stay relaxed and move with the skis," Tikki coached. "You're doing well!"

"I'm repressing the urge to panic," Marinette ground out through gritted teeth.

"That's great! Keep repressing!"

For some reason, that made Marinette giggle. "And here I was thinking that repressing emotions was a bad thing!"

"Repressing is good- wait, no, that's not what I meant!" Tikki giggled as well. Then she gasped. "Oh! It's almost time to turn!"

Gradually, Marinette angled her skis in, slowing herself down until she was comfortable turning. It took a few seconds after the turn to readjust so that she would go just that little bit faster, and then she was off again.

It actually….wasn't that bad. She had slowed to a crawl, and had only really needed to work a little to keep her balance.

Huh.

She crossed the ski slope again, and this time when she turned she was confident enough to go a little faster, even. She had to give herself more time to slow down before the following turn, but it wasn't bad at all.

Cross the slope. Turn. Cross. Turn. Cross. Final turn-

"Why don't you go a little faster for the bottom one?" Tikki suggested. "It'll be fun!"

Marinette made a face. It was tempting, but… "We'll see."

She slowed down to a crawl, then re-angled herself, at a tiny bit steeper of an angle. To her surprise, it didn't feel bad at all.

Maybe she was getting the hang of this after all-

"Hey! Coming through!"

Marinette yelped and veered as someone went flashing by. The sudden movement threw her off, and then she was going much faster than anticipated down the remainder of the hill. She struggled to get back under control, but then she was at the bottom of the hill and skidding towards the chalet. Marinette angled her skis the best she could, altering her course enough that she wasn't headed directly at the building. There wasn't enough time to snowplow first before her turn, so she took it too fast and too sharply.

It really wasn't a surprise when she went tumbling into the mesh fence moments later. Marinette sighed at the sensation of finding herself on the ground (not that it was a new feeling, really), pushed herself back up, got herself untangled, and moved out of the way so that Adrien wouldn't hit her once he reached the bottom of the hill.

Adrien, who no longer had his ski instructor chaperone helping him. Marinette frowned, glancing around, and almost immediately spotted the instructor headed right for the man who had nearly hit her, a scowl on her face as she chased him down.

It took another minute for Adrien to get down. He seemed much steadier this time, and there was a small smile on his face as he drifted to a stop near her.

"That wasn't bad," he told her with a grin. "But that guy nearly took us out, didn't he? He knocked me over, too. What an ass."

"It looks like he's getting chewed out now," Marinette commented. "Hopefully he'll move to the other hills. Clearly he's good enough to do it."

They watched the man argue with the ski instructor for another minute before he suddenly conceded and stomped off, red-faced. The instructor glanced around, spotted them, and headed right over.

"We'll not have to deal with him again," she told them. "He had no business being on the bunny hill."

"What was he doing there in the first place?" Marinette wanted to know.

The instructor laughed. "He's from the US and didn't think that that was the bunny hill. He was raging on about how they shouldn't let beginners down the intermediate slopes, and I had to inform him that it was our bunny slope. I pointed him towards our intermediate slopes, though, and I think he maybe isn't quite so keen on them."

They both laughed.

"I'm guessing that he's from somewhere flat, where their expert slopes are our more basic intermediates," she added with a giggle. "And he probably didn't bother to look up the rise on our slopes before coming."

"So wait, what would their bunny hills look like?" Adrien wanted to know. "Not like this, apparently?"

"Very short and very flat." The instructor glanced at her watch. "On a more cheerful note, I think it's time for the lunch break! You can re-join us after lunch or ski on your own," she added. "I think you two might be interested in that slope over there. It's longer, but there are large portions that are a gentler slope than the bunny hill."

Marinette and Adrien gave the hill in question a slightly dubious look. It was taller than the bunny hill for sure, and longer, but at least it didn't have the chalet or a fence directly at the bottom. There was plenty of room to slow down.

"You can do it, I'm sure," she assured them. "And you don't have to decide right away. Think about it over lunch."

She headed off, and Adrien and Marinette shuffled towards the building. It took a bit of wrestling before they got their skis off- it was not straightforward- and then they headed in. The cafeteria area was already busy, and so the two of them dug out their money and headed over to get in line. Some of their group was already getting food, but most of the people around were adults, people who were serious skiers taking the day off to tackle the harder slopes. Still, it didn't take too long for them to get their food, and the two of them wound through the main part of the chalet to grab a table by the windows that were facing the mountains.

"I can't believe the instructor thought that I should be going anywhere near a hill that's not the bunny hill," Adrien commented as he dug in. "You, sure, since you seem to have gotten the hang of things, but she was still pulling me back on track."

"But the other hill isn't quite as steep," Marinette pointed out. Now that the instructor had suggested it, it stood like a challenge. She wanted to try it. She probably wouldn't have felt the need to do it before she became Ladybug, but now? "So you wouldn't be going as fast, right?"

Adrien glanced over at her and suddenly his expression turned thoughtful. Maybe he saw the pleading and hope in her expression- she didn't want to go down by herself, that would be no fun, and so far they seemed to have some sort of unspoken pact to stick together for the day- and was thinking about it. After a few seconds of thought, he spoke up again. "Maybe we could do the bunny hill a couple more times first? I'd- I'd be willing to try it after getting a little more practice with my turns."

"Sure!" Marinette wouldn't mind more practice, either. She needed that one good run without wobbles and falls. But more than anything, Marinette was glad that Adrien was willing to join her, despite his misgivings. It was really nice of her, and there was a tiny part of Marinette that wondered if he was going along with her because they were friends, or if maybe, maybe it was an indicator of his interest extending a bit more…?

"Oh, there's still a few people from our lesson out there," Adrien commented, pulling Marinette out of her thoughts. "I guess they wanted to try the bunny hill a few more times?"

"Maybe they just sent us in earlier because of that man who almost hit us," Marinette suggested, watching as two people slowly criss-crossed the hill. "I mean, I was a bit shaken after nearly getting hit. It was nice to get a bit of a break after that."

"Yeah- oh, look at that guy!" Adrien exclaimed, pointing, and Marinette looked. One of the other students was flailing a bit, and suddenly their skis were pointed down the hill. "Oh no! Look at them go!"

"They're not going to be able to stop!" Marinette gasped, leaning forward to watch. "At least they were most of the way down the hill when that happened, but oh! They're not snowplowing at all! And- oh, no, turn the other way!"

"Panic makes people forget all of their lessons," Adrien pointed out. He was leaning forward, too, a frown on his face as the skier slid across the flat. They hit the mesh net and went down in a heap, tangled with the plastic netting. They slid a little further before hitting the building with a low thud.

The instructors were on them in an instant, trying to untangle net and skier and then get the netting back up before anyone else came in danger of hitting the building. Somehow the skier was unharmed, and he was soon scooting off across the snow.

That did not make her want to get back out there on the hill.

"At least he didn't have poles," Adrien commented. "If he did…"

Marinette winced. Sharp, pointy objects and flailing combined? That would have been bad.

They settled into a comfortable silence as they ate lunch together, and Marinette thanked her lucky stars that she had gotten better about keeping her composure around Adrien. She only really stuttered and flailed around him now if she was trying to ask him out or if he startled her (and who knew that Adrien could be so sneaky?) but the rest of the time, they could hang out normally. The two of them had even exasperated Nino and Alya on occasion with their pun-offs, and giggling with Adrien was fun.

If she had still been getting all flustered around Adrien like she had the previous year, this trip wouldn't have been nearly as much fun. She would have been too busy tripping over both her words and her feet to be able to enjoy herself.

"Ready to head back out?" Adrien asked as they finished up their food. He scraped one last bite off of his plate and popped it into his mouth. "I'm done."

"Sure!"

The rest of the afternoon positively flew by. Adrien and Marinette hadn't returned to skiing right after lunch, instead opting to wander around and explore the area for a bit. They had watched snowboarders and skiers alike pull off crazy tricks on the terrain park hill, only leaving after seeing a particularly nasty tumble. Then they stumbled upon the trailhead for a few cross-country ski trails, which had Marinette grumbling that they hadn't been told about that.

"I mean, I've only done cross-country once and it was years and years ago," Marinette told Adrien as they headed back across the flat area. "But it was fun! And the hills were a lot smaller, too."

They stopped at the bunny hill next. Three runs later, Adrien was more confident with his turns and Marinette was celebrating a run that had been practically perfect.

And then Ms. Bustier informed them that their group would be leaving in just under an hour, and if they wanted to try any of the other hills, they would have to do it now.

"Wow, time really flew!" Adrien exclaimed as he and Marinette shuffled over to the hill that the instructor had pointed out earlier. "We haven't been here for that long, it seems!"

"Well, part of the day was taken up by getting here," Marinette pointed out. "It took a while. And then we had to get our stuff."

Adrien nodded. That made sense. Still, they had had to get to school early to get going on their field trip, and they weren't even trying to make it back by the normal end of the school day. It would have long since fallen dark by the time they got back to school and could go home.

This time, the lift ride was longer. Adrien's knuckles turned white again when he glanced back and saw how far off the valley floor they were getting.

It wasn't anything like the big slopes, the ones Adrien could see vanishing into the distance- the ones where there could be twenty or thirty people or even more people going down and they would still look pretty empty- but he could tell that they were going farther than before, and also just a little bit higher.

Hopefully the angry man from earlier had moved on to completely different slopes. Adrien didn't exactly want to get yelled at again. Or run down, either.

"Okay, what's the plan?" Adrien asked with a bit of a breathless laugh as they got off the lift and moved across the top of the slope. "Any preferred route down?"

"I was planning on pointing my skis straight downward and seeing how fast I could go," Marinette said, and Adrien's vision practically blurred with how quickly he whipped around to stare at her. His (confusion? Mild panic? Extreme panic?) quickly dissipated, though, when he saw the amused grin that she was (unsuccessfully) trying to hide.

"Ha-ha, you really got me," Adrien deadpanned, trying to not sound as amused as he felt. "Very funny."

Marinette's smile turned smug. "I thought so, too."

Surprisingly, their first run down the hill went better than Adrien had expected. He had fallen, sure- there had been one section that switched from really gentle slope to a slightly steeper slope, and there had been enough of a change that he had toppled- but it really wasn't bad at all. Longer, yes. It took longer to get all the way down and he and Marinette couldn't criss-cross the entire slope or they would get in someone's way, sure. But it hadn't been bad.

They went down twice more before they were called in. Adrien felt a bit bad for the workers in the rental area as an absolute pile of equipment was returned all at once as their school packed up, boots and helmets filling the counters and skis absolutely everywhere, but they didn't seem to be bothered by the complete and utter mayhem.

"Oh, gosh, my feet," Adrien groaned as he finally pried his boots off, feeling blood rush back into his feet. He could walk again! "I didn't even realize they hurt that much."

"I've got pins and needles," Marinette agreed as she hobbled towards the counter to give her boots back. "Ow ow ow."

One hasty gathering-up of their things later, and their group was bundled out the door and onto the bus, sweaty, tired, and a little bruised up. Apparently Alix and Kim had ended up on the Terrain Park later in the day and had tried a few tricks that they had really never learned. They had both wiped out pretty hard, and Alix was nursing a bruised wrist while Kim had gotten a sprained ankle. Needless to say, the teachers were not happy with them.

"So did you two ever move off the bunny hill?" Alya wanted to know as she and Nino piled into the seat in front of Adrien and Marinette. She was flushed and sweaty from skiing and her hair stood up on end as she pulled her hat off. "You must have been out a lot, Nino and I didn't see you at lunch!"

"Well, it was busy," Adrien pointed out. He tugged off his own hat- and wasn't it fabulous that Marinette had managed to find yarn in the exact shade of his favorite scarf and made a hat to match?- and did his best to tame the wild mess that his hair had turned into. "And we weren't in for long! It was nice outside."

"So the slopes weren't quite as scary as you thought, huh?" Nino asked smugly. Adrien just shook his head.

"Oh, they were just as scary." He turned to Marinette with a smile, reaching out to give her head a friendly squeeze. "But you know what? They're not so bad with a friend to keep me company."

#Miraculous Ladybug #My writing #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #I found iiiiiinternet

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coffeedrivenfiction · 6 years ago

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Recuperation (a Teen Titans story) Summary: After a gigantic battle, the Teen Titans are completely worn out and the only capable of picking them up again is... coffee!

It was the third time he had slipped into that beckoning darkness, the one that loomed so invitingly just behind his eyelids, and damn did it feel good. With each blink, he could feel his aching limbs growing lighter; with each blink, he felt the strain over his chest, so much like a stubborn brick, ease off just a bit; with each blink, all the purpling bruises that gleamed that badges of honor just underneath his clothes seemed to lose their sting.

Never, in all his life, had Beast Boy wanted to pass out so badly before.

Alas, every time he blinked for a second too long, the blasted order bell rang, along with an accompanying shout from the barista behind the counter, and he was jolted back into consciousness.

"C'mon, man, can I just… five minutes, that's all I need," he grumbled, holding his cheek in his hand, "just… five… measly... minutes…."

When he started to fade for the fourth time, it wasn't the order bell that woke him up, it was when his head bobbed a little too hard, slid out of his palm, and collided with the table. He jumped up like someone had zapped him with a cattle prod, hastily wiping drool from his bottom lip. After a quick glance around, he saw that nothing had changed… the cafe was still packed to the gills with customers who, just like him, were having their nostrils tickled by the scent of energy-fueling coffee. The line at the front counter was crazy long and Beast Boy sighed. Knowing the popularity of this place, he had planned to get here as early as possible, like crack of dawn early, and while it was technically still early morning, his battered body hadn't been up to the task of holding onto a transformation long enough to secure a safe, quick flight. So he took the bus, then fell asleep by accident, missed his stop—twice, stopped to help get this old woman's cat out of a tree—it was like some twisted 'everything can go wrong' montage from a cartoon, and the primary reason why he was still waiting thirty minutes later for his ticket to get called.

"This is nuts," he whined. "How long does it take to make five stupid cups of—"

DING-DING!

"Ticket twelve! Order twelve is up for a Misterrrr… Garfield?"

"Oh, finally!" Beast Boy exclaimed, and he pushed his way to the front, eagerly holding out both hands to the familiar server. "Man, I thought you guys were picking the beans back there yourselves!"

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my favorite green looney toon," the barista said with a smile that was just as sarcastic as it was friendly. "How ya' holding up, eh?"

"Like a rickety bridge.

"You look it, sugar."

"Oh, gee, thanks," he snorted. "And you?"

"Fairly meddling, fairly meddling," she replied blithely, grinning as she handed over one cup at a time. "Saw the news this morning, though. You guys had quite the battle yesterday from the looks of it. Felt the shockwaves all the way across town where I live!"

Unsurprisingly, even mentally dwelling on the what he and the others had barely managed to survive caused Beast Boy's body to give an unholy throb in protest and he grunted, nearly dropping his drinks. "Yeah, the, uh… the villain contingency decided to throw us a little party. You know how it goes…."

"Oh, I'm sure, I'm sure." She drummed a couple fingers over the marble surface before finally asking what he knew she had been inching toward: "Did you win?"

"You're still alive, right?" There was an unmistakable edge to Beast Boy's tone as he grabbed a four-pronged drink holder. When she nodded at him, he hunched a shoulder. "Then, yeah, we won. You're welcome, by the way."

"Much appreciated, green one, I do so enjoy living," she responded evenly, the snark in her tone easily heard even over the store's commotion. "So," she casually glanced side to side, "where's the rest of the squad? Robin and them?"

"Back at the tower, where I wish I was."

"Tired, eh?"

"What, me? Tired? Psssh, nope. Beast Boy never gets tired, not when the city needs him," he boasted, yet even as he said that, the exuberance he tried to puff his chest out with quickly deflated leaving him looking more exhausted than ever. "I'm not tired, I'm just… just—"

"Sporting fifty-pound bags under your eyes because of all the effort you put into leading your team through that battle," the barista supplied, her eyeteeth showing with the smirk she flashed him. "Obviously, right?"

"I'm glad you know," he said with a weary laugh, struggling to fit each cup into place. "Ain't easy being so awesome, lemme tell ya."

"Oh, I'm sure," she agreed genially, and without a word she spun the container in a full circle, effortlessly fitting a cup into every hole. "There you go, Mr. Hero," and she lifted her hand.

A very grateful smile grew over Beast Boy's worn face and he slapped her a congratulatory high-five. "Thanks, Jules."

The barista, whose badge read Julian Spears, snapped into the most casual salute Beast Boy had ever seen. "Hey, just doing my civic duty, hun." Then she made a shooing motion. "And you should be off getting intimate with a bed right about now, might be needing you later for round two with those villains."

Once the sun was up, the concept of rest didn't exist for Beast Boy, or any of the other Titans, really. Hence the coffee. Without any prior sleep, it was going to be a very long, very arduous day ahead, and God help them if the alarm went off for any reason, but she didn't need to know that. A big part of superheroism was putting on a brave front even when the urge to fall over was nigh unbearable.

Picking up the fifth drink, Beast Boy gave her a two-fingered salute then forced an enervated grin.

"You can count on me."

"I knew we couldn't count on him," Robin slurred, lying slumped over the kitchen counter. He had only gotten as far as pulling on his pants and his mask askew with one shoe on and one shoe off. Looking at him you wouldn't be able to tell if he was trying to get dressed or undressed. He pointed a feeble yet very accusatory finger at Cyborg. "I… blame… you."

"What, me?" The look of shock that flashed over Cyborg's face only lasted for a blink until it subsided into the pain that raged all throughout his circuitry and he sank back into the chair he had unknowingly risen from. "It wasn't my idea to send BB—it was Star's."

"That is the lie," Starfire replied groggily, and unlike the others, she was half-hanging off the back of the common room couch. Through sheer force of will, she managed to lift her head and fixed Cyborg with a bleary-eyed scowl between her curtain of red hair. "I did not suggest Beast Boy to go because I was taking a short coma."

Robin snorted against the countertop while Cyborg actively chuckled. "That was the quickest coma I've ever seen anyone fall into and get out of," he remarked with subdued awe. "You Tamaraneans are something else."

"What is this else you speak of? Am I not the flesh and blood?" Starfire wondered with sincere confusion, her head falling limp before she could finish.

"No, no, that's just—" Cyborg caught himself mid-sentence, deciding it wasn't worth the energy to explain the phrase and just nodded. "You sure are."

It was rare that Raven ventured anywhere without her hood and cape combo, mostly because how else was she going to bathe her face in the calming darkness that kept her emotions in check, so to see her now, seated at the kitchen table alongside Cyborg with half her face resting in her palm, sans her concealing garment, was almost picture worthy. Like the others, she hadn't slept a wink since last night and, also like the others, her body pulsed with an agony that made sleep a moot point anyway.

"Robin," she called in that droning monotone, "this coffee of yours… I hope it has the effects you so heartily claimed it does."

Somehow, after placing his palms flush against the counter, Robin found the strength to push himself up, showing them a self-assured grin even while his arms wobbled like jell-o. "Trust me, Raven. You don't even know what it feels like to wake up fully refreshed until you've had this."

"Whenever BB decides to come home, you mean," interjected Cyborg, reclining so heavily in his chair that it audibly began to strain. "Oh, don't you wimp out on me now, chair. Dig deep, push through, c'mon now."

Starfire lifted a thumbs up but otherwise said nothing, leaving her haggard wheezing to fill the silence of actual words. Not that anyone could blame the alien girl; each of them was struggling at the moment, whether with injuries, the fatigue, or just trying to fully wrap their heads around what had transpired. Because it really made no sense. No one could have predicted a full-frontal attack of such magnitude to kick off like it did, without warning or time to prepare—and that had instilled a very disturbing spark of anxiety within the Teen Titans. This time they were lucky, one of Cyborg's alarms had gone off only minutes prior, which gave them just enough time to get their gear together.

After that… it was chaos, a bitter struggle that lasted the better portion of three hours. Robin led to the best of his capabilities, and some onlookers might saw it was due to his leadership that they didn't get completely overwhelmed, but it became a team effort around the two hour mark with everyone splitting off to handle different objectives. The cohesion they exhibited during the entire fight was something that exceeded even their best test runs and practice simulations: orders were relayed with a single glance, team-attacks flowed as easy as breathing, where one fell short another was there to pick up the slack—they were, for lack of a better word, flawless. Erratic, but flawless.

When it was all over, when the last of the foot soldiers had either been beaten back or else was in the process of being thrown into a patrol car, the last thing Robin felt like doing was standing tall for the the influx of paparazzi or entertaining the several questions the police chief had. But he did it anyway, with his team behind him.

Because being a superhero meant working well into overtime.

"You ever think about just… I dunno…." Robin grunted as he shambled his way around the counter toward the table. "What it'd be like to be… normal? For like a day?"

In unison, Raven and Cyborg stared at Robin with varying degrees of disdain; even Starfire tilted her head so as to get a really good look at her teammate, because there was no way their leader had just asked such a stupid question.

"Riiiight," said Robin with a light chuckle, easing himself tenderly into an empty chair, "because what's normal about a trans-dimensional cross-breed, a bright-blue cyborg, a girl from another planet—"

The front door suddenly began to open and everyone seized up—Robin's hand shot to his unbuckled utility belt, a hostile green glow sparked to life around Starfire's eyes, Raven lifted a very flexed hand that swam with a miasmic black aura, and Cyborg's entire left arm made the shift into his sonic cannon—but the tension bled away just as quickly as it came when Beast Boy stumbled through, beaming triumphantly.

"—or a green-skinned shapeshifter," he finished lethargically, lurching his was over to the table and bypassing the fact that the rest of his teammates had been seconds away from flaying the skin off his hide. "I mean, we just have so many choices for normal up in here I'm surprised we picked superhero as a career path."

You can find the rest at: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13206109/1/Recuperation

#teen titans #beast boy #robin #starfire #raven #cyborg #coffee

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