#is it a low effort banner? yes. is it a banner? also yes. take what y’all can get. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

magic-is-something-we-create · 2 years ago

Text

And here's the in-post alt text! Behind the cut because, you know, transcribing 10 slides and multiple images. Enjoy!

A low-effort powerpoint presentation entirely in comic sans.

The title slide reads: WHISPERS!!! wait hang on that's too loud. [smaller] whispers!!! featuring a super long overdue reintro and a renewed hyperfixation from struggling with TMS [victory sign emoji]. PS. proper intro coming soon i still have to figure out what i want that banner to look like. by yours truly: magic is something we create.

Around the slide, themes are scattered at haphazard angles, reading:

"disabled, trans, and trans disabled MCs!", "strangers to lovers to enemies to reluctant allies to lovers to doomed by the narrative!!", "the fantasy mafia pyramid scheme run by an evil sorceress vs. the only folk hero(es) in the ehlverse who live up to their reputation FIGHT", "characters who take the tumblr "bite maim kill kill eviscerate" tags a bit too literally", "a tragedy spanning multiple decades via timeline fuckery", "do u wanna go apeshitt. arent u tired of beign nice", "exactly one (1) magical gun", "first murder happens in chapter 2", "every character has to face their bad decisions in the faces of their broken family at least once", "violence. thats it thats the post.", "no but seriously im bringing this wip out of purgatory u HAVE to be aware it's chock fucking full of potentially triggering shit before u even think about the taglist.", "no one is getting out of this untraumatized, not even the reader", and in small text by the title, "yes i reused the joke. what are u gonna do, sue me?".

Slide two is titled "where are we this time???" "oh look it's Ehl. again. huh. who woulda thunk. (its me. i thunk) (reusing jokes left and right today)" and features a series of maps prominently, showing an overview of a world map that zooms into the northernmost continent, then zooming from the continent to pinpoint a city labelled "Fowden" near the north pole with a comically unnecessary red circle and arrow pointing to it. Fowden is separated from the rest of the continent by a massive ice plains and a range of mountains.

Further writing on the page reads: "but!!! this time we're in Emarye. which is not The Maelands. aka where TMS happens. emarye does independent city states instead of federal governments. that in mind... our main bitch fowden is a MESS. several crime lords live there, not the least of which is The Shadow of Fowden, aka leader of the Whispers. it takes place about 12 years after Firebreathers, for reasons you'll understand once i've written Goddess-Touched."

Above the most zoomed-in map, small text reads "psst if u like the look of the fancy maps u can download the Clip Studio Paint brushes on my ko-fi for Pay What You Want", followed by a winking emoticon.

The third slide is titled "ok? what are we whispering about..." and reads:

"excessive violence and life-ruining knowledge. the whispers are a criminal group thats so widespread and insidious, they have a huge influence on TMS, which is an ocean away and also more than a decade BEFORE this book, and their power only grows. their leader, The Shadow, is notorious for helping people out in dire need, and then incurring a debt equal to how much that help changed their life. those 20 dollars that dude with a cool tatt lent u when you were buying bread for your starving little brother? when he said a new debt stands, he means one equal to [emphasized in red bold text] your brother's life. [end emphasis]

they've got people EVERYWHERE, and the Shadow has tricks up her (literal) sleeve that magically bind them to her will. most debts are smaller, so she makes those people repay her by creating and collecting debts and acting as spies in literally every corner of the world. there's a common saying, even in the time of TMS, that the Shadow knows everything you don't want anyone to know, and everything else about you, too."

At the bottom right of the slide, in small red text: "she knew a major plot-centric secret in TMS before TMS began, and it's the kind that literally almost ends the world when it's revealed."

The fourth slide is titled "what if i just didnt pay my debt. what then", and proceeds to read:

"everything of any kind of value in your life will be taken away one by one until you cave."

Followed by a red bulleted list titled "things of value (tm) include:"

"your family, your home, your job, your friends, your money, your reputation, your secrets"

Followed by: "if that runs out? they'll start killing off everyone you've ever spoken to in your [emphasized] life [end emphasis] and make sure everyone will know it was your fault for not listening to their warnings." and cascading text that reads: "don't FUCK with the whispers, man. Just. Don't."

The fifth slide begins with "anyway here's the characters".

On the right side of the slide is a clean, line art and shading-heavy illustration of a pale woman wearing a wool-lined cloak, her head obscured with shadowy fog and green cat eyes piercing the darkness. Green tendrils of magic-like smoke flow from her eyes and the clawing motion of one hand in front of her. She is dressed entirely in black.

The rest of the slide reads: "meet The Shadow. as mentioned before, she's the boss of the Whispers, and also a Sorceress. sorcery is basically magical gaslighting that warps your perception of reality to a more detailed degree the more powerful the sorcerer is, and she's the most powerful Sorceress of the last millennium. she's also vindictive, very smart, and has a hair-trigger temper that often ends with blood all over the metal claws she ripped out her fingernails for and at least one building burning to the ground. she oscillates wildly between antag, antihero, and deuteragonist depending on POV and how well her manipulation is going at any point. she's the most well rendered because i got impatient with everyone else so enjoy the pretty smooth lines while u can."

In small text on the side, "she's the one with the magic gun", followed by a heart emoticon.

On the bottom right, ""but what about protags?" i hear u saying......"

Slide six is titled "meet Marika Swiftfoot and Ivan Greyheart", and features two illustrations on opposite corners, each character's information balanced across the page. In the middle, shared information reads "they had a fling 10-ish years ago and neither of them are normal about it. they also both do extracurricular murder all the time without the shadow even needing to tell them to so take that as u will."

Marika is a stern, thin woman with slightly darker skin, green eyes, and a slightly curly ginger pixie cut, the bottom of which fades to white like the coloring of a fox. She wears a dark cloak with a blue shirt underneath, and glares at the camera. Her ears are pointed, and her upper lip is cleft. Her description reads: "a vindictive woman who bullies first and forms human connection later!!!1! #girlboss. she's got a life debt to the shadow because ivan helped her out at one point, and she holds that against him just as much as she holds it against the whispers as a whole. she's also a Shifter and regularly turns into Creatures of ungodly bloodthirst. before Plot Happened, she ran an abuse victim help center, except she'd murder their abusers and craft fake IDs for them to start new lives. she's planning [ivan's] murder the moment he shows up to collect in chapter one, despite his obvious reluctance to follow through. trans: she/her only or get mauled."

Ivan is a roughed-up pale man with scars on his cheek. He has a full beard along his jaw and chin, and wears his hair back in a ponytail. Both are grey, like the coloring of a wolf, and his ears are squared in a distinctly non-human way. He wears a reddish-brown cloak, and his description reads: "a guy who just really wants to see the world but has been trapped working for the Shadow for more than a decade because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. note: he's also referred to by a bajillion pseudonyms, but the second most common in narration is Alexei. he's kinda still not over the breakup but he's chill, he's fine, *affirmations to grip the edge of the sink to while u scream cry*. in the sweet spot between muscle man and gunslinger. cis; he/him but he doesn't really care. he's like 32 he's just not human and has wolf coloring to his hair and shit."

Slide seven is titled "and Dakarsa Silentstep and WHOAH she looks important (she is her name is Lorelei Witmouth and she's the folk hero mentioned on the title slide)", and features a similar layout to the previous slide with two illustrations and balanced information.

Dakarsa is a round-faced young man with medium-brown skin and short curly black hair. His ear is more pointed than Marika's, and his upper lip has a deeper cleft. He wears a brown coat and red scarf. His description reads: "third in what i'm calling the Lackey trio, a solid half of the book follows them, if not more. he looks younger than he is an Marika immediately thinks he's A Child even though he's 25 and it upsets him. Also she calls him a softie all the time but in a mean way. he has faked his death so well that the shadow didn't know he still existed though so maybe he's not as soft as one may think. he uses leg braces because of an injury sustained during said faked death that never healed right. also trans; he/him or he will show u how not soft he is."

Lorelei is a pale woman with a small nose and ambiguously-long beige hair tucked under a metal helmet. The face guard of the helmet is a silvery metal, while the rest of the helmet is a bronze-like orange, and has two horns that curl back and suspend purple ribbons between them. She wears a suit of silver armor over similar bronze-like chainmail, and has two pink earrings hanging from her pointed ear. Her description reads: "she's basically a knight of the People, and she lives in Myshari which is on the opposite side of the continent. the Shadow has been on her List of Problems to Solve ever since she first showed up and hoo boy has it been a rough twenty some years since then. HOWEVER, much of her POV actually takes place in the past, and it's exploring a few formative incidents in her childhood that may or may not connect elsewhere (smile emoticon). her swords are also used as crutches when in their cane sheaths! cis+; she/her or they/them is cool".

The eighth slide starts with a surprised, open-mouthed emoticon, and is titled "whats the plot??". It reads: "well, remember how ivan's been working for the Shadow for 10+ years, but neither marika nor dakarsa had such a specification?? yeah they're both fresh lackeys (and all three of them hate each other right off the bat). and the Shadow instantly wants them to help with a long-awaited plan that may or may not rip emarye apart starting with taking down the folk heroes that have stood in the whisper's way. bad news for lorelei? probably. but the Shadow promises the trio a collective pardon for their life debts and that is too good to pass up, innocents be damned."

Smaller text in the bottom right reads: "Can't say too much more without treading the tightrope of the urge to spoil the entire plot but yeah that's a decent summary of the Premise. (also this is meant to be a standalone novel did i mention that)"

The ninth slide is titled "what intro of mine would this be without memes", and features a series of meme formats throughout the page.

The first is the anakin and padme "you'll do it better, right?" meme format edited to read: Marika: God, I want to fuck Ivan. Dakarsa: ... up, right? Fuck him up? Marika: (zooms in on her unchanged expression) Dakarsa: Right??.

The second is the meme of a little girl smiling coyly at the camera as a house burns down, and the girl is labelled "Marika and/or the Shadow".

The third is the "Jesse, what are you talking about?" meme from breaking bad, edited to read:

Ivan: Yes, he called me Ivan even though you know me as Alexei and the other dude called me Eli and another called me Ivo and it's really starting to get hard to keep track of what my name actually is.

Marika: Who asked.

Ivan: You know Hio Greyheart and how like the name is kinda like naming someone Cain to show that their downfall is coming and how I chose the pseudonym Ivan Greyheart?

Ivan: That was intentional because I am literally so depressed and no one cares but I am a literature nerd and no one ever bothers to acknowledge that even though I put effort into making names and I even helped you choose yours Marika remember the book we picked it out of?

Marika: Mention the fucking book again and I'll kill you.

The next meme is the car speeding onto the off ramp meme, edited to read as Loreleie swerving away from getting help fighting literally anything or anyone, including the Shadow, and barrelling towards Fuck you, I'll do it myself.

The last meme is the Monkey Puppet looking away awkwardly meme, with the context above reading "Ivan when Marika castrates a dude before shoving him down the stairs and telling anyone trying to help him to just let him bleed out in chapter two".

The final slide is titled "THANKS FOR READING heres a list of recurring potential triggers so u can have informed consent on the taglist if u so choose" and features a long bulleted list, which reads:

"violence/murder/blood/death, sharp objects and guns, emotional abuse, manipulation, gaslighting, transphobia (mostly backstory, but still pops up occasionally), fires/arson, child abuse (in flashbacks, very vague), sexual harrassment (vague), sex in general (by god i will write an actual non-fakeout sex scene this time), kidnapping, detailed depictions of gore and unreality trips, and mind control/removal of autonomy"

The final disclaimer reads "also it's a dark fantasy tragedy, so please keep that in mind if that isn't your thing."

A final note in small text at the bottom right reads "also psst if u liked the art of the Shadow enough to see ur oc in that style, you can commission me on ko-fi (heart emoticon). most of my loose-line work is a lot cleaner than the other characters too so take a look at my my.art tag if u wanna see more examples."

WHISPERS, A SHITTY COMIC SANS RE-INTRO

Transcriptions/IDs are in the alt text! I'll also add them into a reblog down the line, so that those who need it that way can access the same information as everyone else!

This reintro has been a hot minute on the way, but until a few days ago, I'd kind of set the story down to marinate so I could focus on the Millennium Saga. But, after realizing I need to let that marinate a little bit longer, I picked it up again! And it's going insanely well!

So here, I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do, and I'm going to try to get the ~proper~ intro out sometime in the next week, so you get a better idea of the tone of this WIP!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged when I post updates/excerpts!! I'll tag you on all relevant excerpts, but if you're a minor, I will not tag you for excerpts that are explicit.

General Writing Taglist (let me know to be +/-):

@sadsentinel ; @writingbyjillian ; @hysteriwah ; @writeblrfantasy ; @zonnemaagd ; @47crayons ; @sageblogsthings ; @pepperdee ; @naps-tries-writing ; @faithfire ; @dahliaornelas ; @justwriteyoudummy ; @ashen-crest

#self reblog #image description #q

64 notes · View notes

eternally-writing · 4 years ago

Text

tour troubles | jjk

genre: fluff, angst

rating: G (no swearing or sexual content)

pairing: Jungkook x reader

theme: idol!au, boyfriend!au, one-shot

word count: 1.8k

warnings: none

Synopsis: When surprising your boyfriend Jungkook on tour doesn’t quite go as you planned, it’s up to you now to help cheer him up.

banner by me!

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

After a grueling 6 months apart, you were more than happy to be in MetLife Stadium watching your boyfriend live out his dreams on stage. The Map of the Soul Tour was no joke; Jungkook was practicing all day and performing all night, and combined with your final exam season passing by it left little time for you to talk to each other.

Finally wrapping up the school year, you got in touch with Jimin to see if he could help you plan a surprise visit for Jungkook on one of their final tour stops.

All of the members had become like family to you, but it's no secret that aside from Jungkook you are closest with Jimin. He was like the older brother you never had, and you always ran to him whenever you needed relationship advice or a good hug.

As you watched Jungkook on stage you noticed his smile falter sometimes as he would be slightly out of position or dance off beat. You could only pick this out because you had spent hours in the practice room dancing with Jungkook.

You and Jungkook had come together because of your shared love for dance. He had first asked you out inside a very sweaty-scented Big Hit practice room, almost half of your dates ended with some form of dancing, and whenever one of you was frustrated you could always find the other teary-eyed, lying on the marley floor of a dance studio. You had always been there to whisper words of encouragement in his ear when he was feeling down, and you wished nothing more than for her voice to reach the stage at the moment.

Soon enough, the concert came to an end and you were flashing her pass to the backstage security guard to get to see the boys. Despite your uneasy feeling watching the concert, you couldn't ease the butterflies in your stomach at seeing your boyfriend for the first time in months.

Ever since you had planned this, you spent your nights imagining exactly how Jungkook would react: whether he would hug and kiss you first, stay frozen on the spot in shock, or start crying right away.

As you stepped into the Big Hit dressing room, you were instantly greeted with several smiling faces.

I didn't take you long to do a head count and realize that there were only 6 boys standing in front of you, and that your boyfriend was nowhere to be found.

Making eye contact with Jimin, you saw the softness in his eyes as he motioned for you to come closer so he could explain.

“He’s not feeling well Y/N, and none of us can get him to talk about it. We’re so worried. I swear I’ve only gotten like 2 words out of him tonight, and I even tried to make a nutella sandwich for him to cheer him up. I’m sorry this isn’t what you had planned, but can you talk to him please? For us?”

You took a deep breath before pulling back the curtain divider in the dressing room. Your nerves catching up to you, you considered just turning around and telling the boys you would surprise him at their next concert instead.

You had dealt with Jungkook being troubled and frustrated more times than you could count, but you were worried you had lost her touch after being apart from him for months.

Your mind also flew the other way. How many times has he felt like this after a concert and never told you? When he said "It was fun I'm just really tired now" after every concert was he truly feeling like this?

With that, you pushed forward because you knew that you had to be there to support Jungkook today, even if you couldn't be there for all the other times.

The sight that greeted you behind the curtain was not a pretty one.

Jungkook was staring blankly at the monitor in front of him, dark fringes of his hair matted against his sweaty forehead, tour hoodie zipped up completely with the hood on, and worst of all, his eyes were clearly puffy and swollen, with tinges of red coming through from underneath his makeup.

Jungkook barely even glanced your way as you sat down an ample distance away from Jungkook on the couch. It was clear from his lack of surprise at your appearance that one of the boys (probably Jimin) had probably told him about your surprise visit earlier in an effort to cheer him up after the concert, but even that could not get him out of this slump.

Of all the scenarios you came up with for how Jungkook would react to your surprise, somehow this one never crossed your mind.

You turned your focus to where Jungkook was staring - a TV monitor replaying video footage from tonight's concert. You watched as his eyebrows stayed furrowed as he glared disapprovingly at himself for making even the smallest of mistakes in the video, almost wincing as the TV monitor continued to play the footage.

"Do you want me to help point out things in the video?"

Jungkook didn’t even move a muscle.

You took the silence as a yes, and pulled a pen and the closest thing you could find to paper, a napkin, out of your purse to write on.

Working as a dance teacher had taught you more than a couple tricks about how to give constructive feedback, and you were a firm believer in the "give 2 compliments and then 1 thing to work on" approach. However, you knew the issue with Jungkook wasn't that he was truly bad at dancing, but rather that he was way too hard on himself for the smallest details that the audience wouldn't even notice - so she threw in a few more compliments than usual. Unsure of how Jungkook would react to seeing the list, you still threw some of those very nit-picky details on there, knowing that if he was still frustrated he would throw the list out all together if he thought you were just coddling him.

And so you both sat together in front of that grainy TV monitor, in complete silence aside from the sound of your pen scratching against the napkin.

June 10, 2020 MOTS:7 Tour Feedback Report for Jeon Jungkook ( by Y/N)

- match angle of arm placement in Black Swan Opening Choreo

- footwork on DNA ending choreo could be cleaned up

- the ARMY at the corner of the screen during Euphoria had the biggest smile when you looked at her. I think she’s gonna remember that moment for the rest of her life.

- I like the way you wink at the camera during So What! Gave me butterflies babe.

- could add more energy into the last Fake love chorus ( hot bod btw!!)

And the list kept going on and on as you diligently focused on the screen and writing notes, taking occasional glances at your silent boyfriend.

Upon glancing over your shoulder and seeing your list, Jungkook smiled at your thoughtful and sweet comments.

All of sudden, a wave of consciousness and realization washed over him.

He finally has the girl he loves in front of him again after months apart, and instead of cherishing his limited time with you he was spending it watching himself dance, which is what he had already spent the last 9 years of his life doing. Most of all, you never let your smile falter once in front of him, even though he knew you may be upset with his response to your surprise, and you went along with whatever he wanted to do - even if that meant watching a very very low-quality video of his performances on a loop.

Grabbing the napkin gently out of her hands and placing it on the table, Jungkook cupped your face and looked gently into your eyes.

"Thank you", he said softly, as if not wanting to startle you with his sudden character change.

In your head there was absolutely no need for Jungkook to be thanking her for anything she was doing. She knew dating an idol would have its challenges, and she made a promise to Jungkook that she would be by his side through it all, even if that included rewatching Euphoria on loop.

It was now your turn to sigh.

“There’s nothing to thank me for babe, it’s just me. I wanna be here for you when you’re like this - I didn’t just date you so I could be there to celebrate your Billboard #1s and daesang sweeps, I’m here for these moments too.”

Jungkook further eliminated the space between you both by wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. In that moment he realized that maybe all he needed was you. That all these hurdles he had been facing alone would have been much easier if he had just let you in on his problems.

“I just feel bad Y/N, I haven’t even seen you for months and the first time I see you I’m like this? I’m sorry.”

The gears started turning in your head. Batting your eyes overdramatically at your boyfriend, you smiled.

“Okay how about we make a deal then babe?”

Jungkook looked at you curiously and let you carry on.

“From now on, every time you feel like this you come to me okay? We can figure this out together, but I can’t help you if you don’t let me in,” you expressed, grabbing his hands in yours.

“Also, if you felt like making it up to me you could buy me some ice cream? It’s not the same when I eat it without you,” you joked.

Jungkook’s melodic laugh vibrated through the room.

“Just ice cream? You’re selling yourself short babe. I’d buy the whole world for you, my love.”

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

As you emerged from behind the curtained section of the dressing room, hand in hand with a smiley Jungkook ( a stark comparison from how he was a mere hour early), you were greeted with Jimin jumping up and cheering loudly upon seeing the maknae.

Unable to contain his excitement, Jimin ran towards the two of you, chiming “you did it Y/N!! You brought back our maknae!”

“Good to see you smiling, Jungkookie,” beamed Jimin as he stepped forward to ruffle Jungkook’s hair.

Jungkook chuckled and looked up at his hyungs.

“I think I owe you all some ice cream. Ready to go? It’ll be treat.”

If his hyungs weren’t already excited to see Jungkook feeling like himself, now they were ecstatic. And you definitely felt the same way as well. ♡

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

If you liked this, please interact/follow! Thank you for reading ♡

- Emily

320 notes · View notes

jamesbuchananxsteviegrant · 3 years ago

Text

She Who Shan't Be Named - Part 1 | Sugar Lips (Tony x Reader, Clint x Reader, ??? x Reader)

Category: Smut (Mandatory) Age: 18+ Trigger Warnings: Explicit language, oral sex (male receiving), suggestive language, alcohol, drunk sexual actions, casual sexual actions, flirting with a lot of people Ship: Tony x Reader, Clint x Reader, ??? x Reader Summary: Tony lets his life-long friend crash at the Avengers HQ while she has nowhere else to go. What could go wrong with so many attractive individuals living in the same home? Word Count: 1.7k Masterlist: LINK

(hmu if you want adding to the tag-list for this series)

---

“I, unfortunately, have someone I want to introduce you all to.” Tony begins as he’s gathered everyone in the living quarters.

“Unfortunately? Well, that always sounds like a good start, Stark.” Natasha jokes, sitting alongside Bucky and Sam on one of the couches.

Tony rolls his eyes and shrugs.

“Yeah, well,” He trails off. “This is (Y/N) (L/N).” He gestures, pointing to the woman leaning against a pillar in the back corner of the room.

She makes an effort to stand upright and walk further into the room.

“Well, hello. It’s nice to finally meet you all in person.”

To say everyone in the room falls speechless with their eyes wide and jaws dropped is an understatement.

“Oh my God, you lot are insatiable.” Tony groans, rolling his eyes once more.

(Y/N) can only smirk and wink at just about everyone in the room.

“You’re welcome, Starky Boy.”

“Put a sock in it, sugar-lips.”

“Sugar-lips?” Rhodey quizzes, amusement dripping from his voice.

Tony and (Y/N) can only stare at one another and grin as they remember where that nickname came from.

*** flashback ***

“One more for the road?” Tony suggests to the very, very drunk (Y/N) beside him.

It’s three-thirty-AM, they’re both at their favourite bar in Manhattan, enjoying a belated birthday weekend of (Y/N)’s which he regretfully missed due to Avenger work.

“You know how to tempt me, Starky-boy.” She teases with a wink, waving her hand up to catch the attention of the bartender, Harrison, who they’ve grown acquainted with over the years of drinking at his bar.

Tony falls into a comfortable silence as he simply stares at the woman he’s been friends with since he was a teen at Phillips Academy.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” The woman’s sarcastic comment pushes him over the edge. Within a second, his hands are grabbing her head and pulling her in for a harsh, desperate, passion-fueled kiss.

Harrison smirks as he sits their drinks down, watching how the pair have had ridiculous amounts of sexual tension coursing through them since they first started coming to the bar over ten years ago.

“What, the fuck?” (Y/N) manages to breathe between kisses.

“Stop talking.” Tony murmurs in response, only intensifying the kiss more and more.

“Tony,” She attempts but makes no effort to stop the man. No. Absolutely not.

She’s gotten herself off to the thought of this man too many times for her to want to stop.

Her hands are grasping at the black shirt that adorns his torso, his own hands moving down to grab her hips, itching to have her closer and closer.

“Jesus Christ.” The woman gasps as best she can. “Anthony!”

The man pulls back at the use of his full name but doesn’t let go of her hips.

“Tell me you haven’t wanted to do that?” He asks, voice deep. Low. Husky.

“Of course I wanted to fucking do it, you imbecile!”

His hand jumps up to grasp at her throat, a gasp escaping her lips.

“Watch your mouth.”

“Guys, you’re gonna make my customers leave; the back lounge is empty.” Harrison interrupts. Tony continues to make no effort to stop his actions. They’re both too drunk to care.

Not that he’d care anymore so when he’s sober.

The billionaire practically drags the woman off of their barstools, (Y/N) frantically grabbing their drinks, spilling half of them on the floor - to which she gives Harrison an apologetic look but he simply rolls his eyes with a grin.

A small shriek escapes the woman’s lips as Tony throws her into the room, her hands managing to sit the, now half-empty, drinks on the coffee table.

“On your knees.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” She grins, obeying the man’s order whilst quickly throwing her hair into a messy ponytail.

“Always knew you were a slut.” The man growls, unbuckling his belt and zipper on his smart trousers.

“You know me best, Starky Boy.”

She wastes no time in taking the man’s solid cock into her mouth, moaning at the feeling and taste, Tony groaning in satisfaction.

“Look how desperate you are for it.” He condescends yet continues to thrust into her mouth, fucking the back of her throat.

No words can be formed to give the man a reply. She’s too busy focusing on taking his impressive shaft down her throat, making sure her lips are touching his pelvis.

“Christ!”

He can’t help himself. His hands are in her hair, grabbing it and yanking her closer to his body, not thinking about anything other than the noise of her gagging.

“FUCK! You filthy fucking slut.”

She moans at that, working his cock more and more.

It’s not too long later before the man is releasing all over the woman’s face, her sticking her tongue out and taking as much of it as she can.

“This was a brand new blouse, Stark.” She complains, jokingly, as she licks her white lips. “Ugh, salty.”

“Don’t lie, you know it’s sweeter than sugar.” Tony laughs, re-doing his trousers.

“It definitely fucking isn’t.” (Y/N) groans, standing up and licking the rest of the mess off of her mouth.

“Whatever you say, sugar-lips.”

“TONY!”

*** flashback end ***

“A nickname I gave her once upon a time.” Tony vaguely explains, (Y/N) chuckling.

“Okay. So why’s she here?” Bucky asks, not taking his eyes off the most attractive woman he’s ever seen in his life.

“She has a name.” (Y/N) comments, quirking a flirtatious brow at the man.

The super soldier raises his brows but smirks.

“Why’re you here, doll?”

Now, that does something to her core.

“Starky Boy told me that y’all need a babysitter, so here I am!” She boasts, evidently joking but it makes everyone grin and not ask anymore questions.

“I’ve known her since I was in my teens, she’s a family friend.” Tony adds, reassuring everyone that she’s not someone to be cautious of.

“Pft, family friend? Don’t compliment yourself, Stark.” (Y/N) jokes, everyone laughing with her. “Anyway, in all seriousness, hello, I’m (Y/N). I’m temporarily chilling here if you’re all alright with it since I got nowhere else to be.”

“A pleasure, (Y/N). Steve Rogers.” Captain America begins, stepping forward and shaking the woman’s hand.

“Pleasure’s all mine, Captain.” She winks, the man smirking at her antics which will be refreshing around the compound.

“Bucky.” The Winter Soldier greets, nodding his head at the woman from his seat on the couch.

“Romanoff.” Black Widow follows, (Y/N) biting her lip at the red-head. “Natasha Romanoff.”

“Alright, James Bond.” Sam jokes, everyone laughing.

“Tony, I can’t believe this is the first time you’ve given me the opportunity to meet the Natasha Romanoff.” (Y/N) beams, winking at the woman who returns the gesture with a smug smile.

“Christ.” Tony groans, face-palming harder than ever.

“Sam Wilson.” The man smirks, reaching out to shake the woman’s hand from his position on the couch.

“Bird Boy.”

He gives a hearty laugh at that.

“Sure.”

“James Rhodes, but call me Rhodey.”

“So you’re the Transformer’s identical twin, right?” The woman quizzes, rhetorically, shaking the man’s hand.

Another round of laughter.

“Something like that.”

“Bruce. Bruce Banner.”

“The guy I don’t wanna piss off; got it.” (Y/N) smiles, watching the brunet give her an anxious smile and chuckle. “Or maybe I do.” She adds with a wink, basking in the entertainment that comes from his embarrassed expression.

“(Y/N).” Tony groans, semi-threateningly.

“Yes, Anthony?” She asks, smiling at him like an innocent child who’s never done wrong.

“Good day to you, beautiful mortal. I am Thor of Asgard.”

“Wowee…” The woman widens her eyes as the God leans down to kiss her cheeks. “The one and only.”

“That would be I.” He smiles, throwing her a wink also. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Stop hogging the limelight already.” A voice complains from beside the God of Thunder.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the God of Mischief.”

“Well, well, well, a beautiful lady such as yourself knows who I am, huh?” Loki greets, taking her hand and leans down to press a kiss to her knuckles, Tony continuing to grunt and groan in the background.

“Hard not to when you get off on destroying New York.” (Y/N) grins, a chorus of laughter filling the room yet again.

“Stop hogging the limelight.” A female voice mimics Loki's previous words.

“Well if it isn’t the Scarlet Witch!”

“That is I.” Wanda grins. “Wanda.” She adds, holding her hand out for (Y/N) to shake, which she accepts graciously.

“Tony, do you know how pissed I am that you’ve not introduced me to these people until now?”

“Oh my God, I’m literally going to kick you out.” The billionaire responds, pouring himself a whisky from the bar at the back of the living quarters.

“Yeah, yeah.” (Y/N) retorts, winking at Wanda before turning to the couch beside her which a certain Archer is leisurely laid across. “Barton.”

“(L/N).”

“Long time no see.”

“Ya think?” Clint quirks a brow, jokingly.

“How’s Laura? How’re the kids?”

“Not bad, not bad. How’s Michael?”

“Dead if I had any say in the matter.” The woman casually threatens as the brunet mentions her ex-boyfriend.

He breathes out a laugh.

“Commitment issues as good as ever then?”

“You know me, Robin.” She jokes, using the nickname she gave me when he came on a night out with Tony and her many moons ago.

“You two know each other?” Wanda questions.

They both shrug.

“Somewhat.” Clint answers, (Y/N) giving him a playful slap on the shoulder.

“You love me!”

He grins and sits up before standing.

“You know I do, come ‘ere.” The man chuckles, pulling the woman in for a tight embrace.

“Missed you, Robin.”

“You too, Marian.” He responds, using the fairytale nicknames from Robin Hood.

“Those two have definitely banged.” Sam snarks from across the room, Natasha agreeing.

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Wilson.” Clint teases, flashing a wink his way.

“Now, now, boys.” The woman settles, turning to the young gentleman on the other couch, staring at her with some much awe in his eyes. “Who’s the kid?” She asks, staring at him directly yet directing her question at Tony.

“Uh, hi, I’m Peter. Peter Parker.” He stumbles, standing upright and holding out his hand for her to shake.

She giggles.

“Corruptible.”

“(L/N)!” Tony yells, the woman only laughing as she shakes the young man’s hand.

“A pleasure, spider-boy.”

Peter’s eyes widen at her knowing.

“Right, are we done? That was exhausting.” Tony complains for the nth time.

“Oh, grow a pair, Stark.” (Y/N) retorts.

“I will literally kick you out of this building.”

“You ain’t got the nerve.”

Downing a swig of his whisky, Tony takes a deep breath but smiles at the woman.

“It’ll be nice to have you around, sugar-lips.”

“I bet.” She winks, everyone chuckling again.

And that’s just the beginning of her relationships with everyone at the Avengers HQ.

---

77 notes · View notes

little-mad · 3 years ago

Text

Downsides of Thievery Pt. 10

~ Previous Part ~ Next Part ~

What was going on around Gavin was essentially up to his imagination due to the fact that Rael wouldn’t move his damn hands. While he wasn’t really eager to encounter any more alteons, Gavin was beginning to feel claustrophobic with parts of Rael’s body surrounding him on all sides.

After the interaction with the guard at the entrance, Gavin heard Rael exchange a few more brief greetings as he made his way through the palace. It was bizarre, being so near to other people but being unnoticed or otherwise unacknowledged.

Gavin found it kind of odd that no one had even commented on the weird way Rael’s hands were situated. Surely at least some of them had noticed, right? So why didn’t they mention it? Maybe minding one’s own business was a big staple of alteon culture or something…

The din of voices, rummaging around, and clanging dishes that had been present ever since entering the building began to fade. Only once everything had fallen silent did Rael speak up. “I’m going to remove my hand now,” he stated.

Before Gavin could get the chance to try to prepare himself, he suddenly found himself bombarded with light. “Ah, god,” he complained as he blinked away the spots in his eyes.

Once his vision had recovered from the initial assault, Gavin carefully opened his eyes all the way. The sight he was met with took his breath away. Sure it may have just been a hallway, but it was the most stunning hallway he had ever been in!

The walls were made of smooth gray stone that rose up into arches in the ceiling. Banners of a rich blue color, decorated with a complex emblem hung from the walls on either side. Floor candelabras that looked to be made out of some kind of dark metal stood every few feet along the sides of the hallway--it was impressive how well candles managed to light the area.

The centerpiece of the room was the tall door that Rael stood directly in front of. The thing was made of dark wood that had been carved with intricate designs. It looked as though it would weigh a ton, even to someone Rael’s size.

Gavin had been in a lot of fancy places in his day--it had usually been while he was breaking and entering, but that was besides the point. The point was, none of those places matched the grandiose nature this literal castle possessed. “Think of all the riches I could find here…” Gavin’s thief brain was kicking in and he very nearly smacked himself as a result. “Yeah, like I haven’t gotten in enough trouble for stealing from alteons,” the more rational section of his mind countered.

“Hey, are you listening?” Gavin was abruptly jerked out of his own mental argument by the sound of Rael’s voice, which he only now realized had been going off in the background for the past few seconds.

“Uh--sorry, what did you say?” Gavin asked sheepishly as he leaned back to look up at the alteon’s face.

Rael blew out an impatient sigh. “I said, this door leads to the central part of the palace,” he summarized. “I also said that I’m going to keep you uncovered from now on.”

Gavin wasn’t really sure whether to be pleased or upset by this news. On one hand, he was eager to not be stuck in the oppressive dark. However, on the other hand, being out in the open meant getting ogled at by giants. Plus there was the risk of someone snatching him again… “No one's gonna try and grab me, are they?” He voiced his concern.

Rael’s expression softened so slightly Gavin barely even managed to detect it. “No, the palace is the most secure location in the world, you’ll be fine,” the dark haired giant assured him.

Satisfied with the response, Gavin gave a nod. He relaxed just a bit. Despite the many ups and downs they’d had together, Gavin trusted Rael’s judgement as well as his ability to protect him. Though the giant had managed to handle the Kaydin situation with words rather than violence, Gavin didn’t doubt that the guy would kick ass in a fight--if the definition in the guy’s biceps were anything to go by anyways.

To be honest, Rael would have preferred to keep Gavin hidden until the moment he delivered him to the Emperor. However, he knew that while the servants he’d passed by already had known better than to intrude upon a soldier’s business, most of the people in the central part of the palace would have no qualms in doing so. If he were to walk in, clearly hiding something, he would no doubt get stopped at least several times. At least with Gavin on display, everyone would instantly know the situation. Of course that may not prevent them from interfering, but Rael could only hope for minimal interaction.

After a quick glance downwards to ensure his passenger was secure, Rael pulled open the large door that separated the servant’s section from the rest of the palace.

The decor and architecture in this area, while similar to that of the previous section, was far grander and more extravagant. Rael didn’t even have to look to know Gavin was stunned by the sight. He took a small bit of pride in knowing the human was impressed by alteon craftsmanship.

The room they were in was the front entryway, it was where most visitors would first enter the palace. A handful of guards dotted the room, and of course, as soon as they all spotted Gavin, their eyes were glued to the little man.

Rael could feel Gavin fidgeting nervously in his hand, and honestly, the feeling was somewhat mutual. While Rael wasn’t the focus of anyone’s stares, he was still getting far more attention than he would prefer. Imagining what they could all be thinking about him made Rael feel sick to his stomach.

“Just...try to ignore them,” he advised himself as he began to walk further into the entryway. Avoiding making eye contact with anyone, he made his way towards the grand staircase that was the focal point of the room.

After ascending the steps, Rael was met with the enormous doors that would lead into the throne room. Rather than going through them, he made a right down the hallway that would take him to the Emperor’s office. The throne room was only used for official, large scale events. The Emperor was far more likely to be working in his office at this hour.

Unfortunately, there was no shortage of people milling around, and while so far everyone had refrained from approaching Rael, that streak was about to come to an end. “Ah, so this must be the human who attempted to rob Lady Elyth,” remarked a woman he recognized as being one of the Emperor’s scribes.

The scribe stood in front of Rael, effectively blocking his path. He sighed internally. Despite having no actual title, the Emperor’s scribes were well respected around the palace, and as close servants of the Emperor, soldiers like Rael were expected to defer to them. This meant he would be forced to humor this woman.

“Yes, I’m on my way to bring him to the Emperor now,” Rael stated, hoping the scribe would want to avoid getting in the way of Imperial orders.

Rael had to fight the urge to look down when he felt Gavin inching backwards on his palm. The little guy seemed to be trying to put some distance between himself at the unfamiliar alteon that was currently staring at him.

The woman gave a nod of understanding but still didn’t move. “This one certainly appears younger than the other ones I’ve seen,” she commented as she leaned in for a closer look.

Rather than jerking backwards as he reflexively wanted to, Rael remained still. He glanced down to see that Gavin had retreated all the way towards his chest. It was evident he was trying to keep a calm expression on his face, but it was easy to tell the man was highly uncomfortable. “Just hang in there,” Rael thought, wishing he could mentally send the message to the human.

Finally, after several long moments of ogling, the scribe pulled back and straightened up. “The Emperor is currently meeting with one of his advisors in his office, so you’ll have to wait until he’s finished” she informed him. “Anyways, enjoy the rest of your day, soldier.”

“And you as well, miss,” Rael replied. He waited until the woman had walked past him and out of sight before he started forward once again.

Gavin let out a deep sigh of relief, but otherwise kept quiet, which was for the best considering there were still guards about. Rael didn’t fail to notice that the human hadn’t moved away from his body. Even through his clothes, Rael could feel the slight movements that brushed against his chest. Were he not a man of fortitude, he may have reacted to the ticklish sensation.

After turning a corner, Rael made it to the more secluded area of the palace that housed the Emperor’s personal office. He was surprised to find the small sitting area outside the office completely vacant. Typically, there was at least one guard stationed outside the door so long as the Emperor was inside.

Rael furrowed his brows. Had the scribe not confirmed that the Emperor was indeed in his office, he might have suspected the ruler was elsewhere. But, since Rael couldn’t risk potentially barging in on a private meeting, he wouldn’t be able to check to be certain. “We’re going to have to wait,” he told Gavin in a low voice.

“Okay, yeah..good,” the human replied, not bothering to hide his relief at getting to postpone his impending judgement.

Being sure to keep Gavin steady, Rael took a seat on the stone bench across from the door to the Emperor’s office. It was only once he was seated that he realized how cramped the hand that was holding Gavin was. For quite awhile now he’d been making a concentrated effort to keep the appendage still so as to not accidentally exacerbate the human’s injuries.

“I’m going to set you down beside me, alright?” Rael waited for Gavin’s nod of confirmation before carefully relocating him onto the bench. Once the human was safely settled on his own two feet, Rael gratefully shook out his aching hand.

“Nothing like a giant castle to make a guy feel small,” Gavin remarked with a nervous chuckle as he sat down.

Rael glanced down at the human thoughtfully. Sometimes he forgot that in Gavin’s eyes, humans weren’t unusually tiny and weak creatures. To him, humans were normal sized--therefore he perceived alteons as giants. It was strange for Rael to imagine, because he couldn’t help but see Gavin as anything but tiny. “It’s quite large even to us alteons, if that’s any consolation,” he said honestly. “Anyone unfamiliar with the layout is bound to get lost.”

It had taken a good few weeks after beginning work at the palace for Rael to get a hang of navigating the expansive property. The winding hallways and innumerable doors made the place a virtual maze. He could only imagine how daunting it must be for someone of Gavin’s size. It would be effortless for the little guy to get hopelessly lost.

Just then, Rael’s attention was drawn to the office door, which had begun opening. The person who exited was familiar--he was a fellow member of the Imperial Guard. Rael quickly realized that he must have been the one who was meant to be on duty outside the office, though that didn’t explain what he’d been doing inside the room.

“Rael, there you are,” Ashryn greeted as he swiftly shut the door behind him before Rael could even get a glimpse inside the office. “I was wondering when you would arrive.”

Ashryn was tall and well muscled. His skin was a touch lighter than Rael’s and his braided hair was of a chestnut brown color. Judging by his broad shoulders and sharp jawline, the guy would undoubtedly make for an intimidating adversary.

“The Emperor just asked me for some insight on a few matters,” Ashryn explained, gesturing back towards the office. Rael suppressed a look of confusion. He had never really heard of a guard of Ashryn’s rank being asked for input from the Emperor himself. “But enough about that,” Ashryn declared, interrupting Rael’s contemplation. “I’m eager to meet this human criminal.” In an instant his gaze was upon Gavin. A sly smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and there was a glint in those pale green eyes of his that Rael didn’t like in the slightest.

#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #my writing #oc: gavin stone #oc: rael

57 notes · View notes

wingsonghalo · 4 years ago

Text

A Bird in the Hand: a HanaNene fic

Eyyyy hello this is my 9th HanaNene fic!!! it’s been quite a while, huh?? Life’s been kind of oof for me lately!! But I hope you’ll enjoy the result of my effort!

Title: A Bird in the Hand Fandom: Toilet-Bound Hanako-kun/Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun Pairing: Hanako/Nene Wordcount: 9,712 Rating: T Summary: “Hanako-kun!” she exclaimed, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him a little. “Did that apparition curse you so you could only tell the truth?!” “Yes!” he shouted, throwing up his hands in irritation. “Weren’t you listening?! ‘For three days hence’!” Her eyes bored into his honey-colored ones intently. “So you’re saying I can ask you anything right now, and you’d have to answer me truthfully,” she rephrased. “I can’t focus when you’re staring into my eyes like that,” was Hanako’s only response. Hanako is cursed to spill everything he's hiding. Nene wonders why he's still so hard to figure out. Also available on: Ao3 (check replies for link because tumblr is silly) Support me on: Patreon | Ko-fi

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A Bird in the Hand

Hanako-san of the Toilet was many things. He was a courageous protector of all of Kamome Academy’s students. He was witty and clever, always ready with a snarky comment or a cunning solution to any problem. He was mischievous, teasing his friends and foes alike seemingly for the fun of it.

But if one were to list Hanako’s defining traits, honesty would definitely not be among them.

So when he smiled brightly and said “This will be a piece of cake!”, Nene couldn’t help feeling a bit dubious about it.

“That’s what you said yesterday when we tried to take this thing down,” she reminded him, sticking her head out of the classroom door and looking around warily before ducking back inside and closing it again, “and Kou-kun’s not here to back us up this time!” Honestly, what a time for the Minamotos to have a family retreat.

“True,” said her ghostly friend, doing a nonchalant loop-the-loop in the air, “but we can definitely handle this apparition with just the two of us. Trust me.”

Darn it. If he said trust me like that, Nene had no choice. He’d saved her far too many times for her to not trust him. Resigned, she sighed, resting her back against the wall next to the door. “Fine...”

“Look, this is a really low-level apparition,” Hanako reassured her, drawing closer to Nene so he could put a hand on her shoulder. “Technically, it’s just a servant to the real apparition, so it has only a fraction of its master’s power right now.”

“Great,” said Nene, her lack of enthusiasm evident in her flat tone. “I just hope its master doesn’t show up, then.”

Hanako waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, the Lady of the Wall has better things to do than hang around at a school.” He said it as if Nene was supposed to know who he was talking about.

“Well so do I,” Nene shot back, even though it wasn’t really true. She crossed her arms, hoping the gesture would come across as one of annoyance and not like she was trying to hug herself. “Why are we in this classroom, anyway?”

In answer, Hanako drifted over to a large expanse of light-blue paper stapled to the wall at the back of the room, and tapped the words written on the banner at the top. “Because of this.”

“‘Our Goals After Graduation?’” Nene read off, making her way over to the back wall. The blue paper was covered in current students’ scrawled aspirations and hopes for the future. Some of them were as humble as Live a healthy life. Some were as extravagant as Make a fortune as an idol singer! But the one that caught Nene’s attention the most was the one written in bubbly hiragana near the corner, circled in a puffy little cloud with hearts around it: Stay with A-kun forever! Really, how foolish, basing your future happiness on something as fickle as high school romance. Didn’t this person know how unlikely it was that they would marry their high school sweetheart? They were only setting themselves up for disappointment!

...Okay, fine, so she was actually just jealous that someone could plan for a future with the person they loved. Not everyone got that chance!

“So what does this have to do with our apparition?” Oops. Some of her resentment had trickled into her voice. She sounded a bit surly.

“This particular apparition is drawn to places where people have lied a lot,” Hanako explained with a smirk, “and there’s no better place to find a bunch of lies than on a list of high school seniors’ future goals.”

“Lies?” Nene’s eyes scanned all the different handwriting. “What makes you so sure they’re lies?”

Hanako lifted an eyebrow, and jabbed a thumb at one of the future goals. “How many actual people do you know whose goal it is to ‘Get a stable job in economics like my father’?”

Well, she couldn’t argue with that. “Point taken.” Bringing a finger to her chin, she thought a moment. “If it’s drawn by lies, maybe we could lure it here by telling some right now?”

“Good idea,” said Hanako, and cupped his hands around his mouth before bellowing, “YASHIRO’S LEGS ARE SLENDER AND DAINTY!”

“Hanako-kun!” she growled, pummeling him with flailing fists as the ghost just laughed. “You’re so mean! I hate you!”

“Well that’s not true,” said an unfamiliar voice, and their heads whipped around to see a small red bird sitting neatly on one of the classroom desks. It looked similar to the average Japanese robin, spindly little straight legs under a round body, but it was bright crimson from head to tail. The little bird tilted its head. “You shouldn’t say things that aren’t true.”

It was kind of creepy to hear a bird talk with a human’s voice, instead of the squawky way that parrots talked. “H-Hello there,” said Nene, offering a little wave. What was the proper etiquette for greeting bothersome supernaturals? “You must be the apparition we’ve been looking for.”

The bird turned its beady eyes on her, its head rotating to the side. “You may call me Makoto.”

“I’ll call you finished instead,” said Hanako, pulling out his knife as he narrowed his eyes at the tiny creature. “I can’t allow you to keep making trouble for the people here.”

“Hanako-kun, it’s just a little bird!” Nene protested, holding an arm in front of her belligerent friend to keep him from rushing forward. “Maybe we should hear it out first.”

He huffed out a sigh and pushed her arm out of the way. “Yashiro, you’re playing right into its talons! It’s not even really a bird!”

Makoto ruffled its feathers, and eyed Hanako with an unnerving level of intelligence. “You tell lies quite often, don’t you? Is that why my presence disturbs you, spirit?” it chirped. “Does telling the truth frighten you?”

“Truthfully… you manipulative types of apparitions disgust me,” the ghost replied, his lip curling. “What gives you the right to expose things people would rather keep to themselves?”

“True understanding is only begotten of mutual honesty,” said the little bird.

“Oh really?” Hanako snorted. “Do you know how many breakups, fistfights, and public meltdowns you’ve been responsible for this past week?” He raised his knife again, the orange light from the window glinting off its blade. “Some things are better left unsaid.”

Nene bit her lip. Was that really how he felt? Was it really for the best to allow everyone to keep lying and hiding their true feelings? She couldn’t even count how many times she wished she knew what everyone really thought. Would that really be so terrible, if everyone were honest? Nene didn’t think so.

So when Hanako thrust out a hand towards the little bird and shouted, “Hakujoudai! Restrain it!”, Nene did something very stupid.

“WAAAAAAIT!” she yelled, sliding in front of Makoto and spreading her arms protectively as her friend’s hitodama barreled towards her.

“Y-Yashiro!” he squawked, halting the tsueshiro’s progress mere inches from Nene’s wincing face. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

Nene’s legs trembled a little at the close call, but she was determined to speak up. “Would it really be so bad if everyone told the truth?” she asked, her voice shaking. “I’m sorry, but I can’t think of an apparition that spreads truth as something evil!”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Hanako groaned, bringing a hand to his face.

“You are wise, Yashiro Nene,” the red bird said smugly, and lighted on her shoulder. “I thank you for your words, and shall reward you for protecting me.”

Though Makoto was tiny, its weight on her shoulder felt like something enormous and crushing. She stumbled, suddenly off-balance, but before she could respond, the bird had flown over to sit on Hanako’s shoulder instead.

“G-Get off me!” he shouted, trying to wave the bird off him, but its little talons dug into the fabric of his gakuran firmly. His movements seemed labored and slow, and he nearly toppled sideways—the creature’s weight must have been disproportionately heavy for him, too.

“For three days hence, you will speak only the truths you try to conceal,” Makoto twittered, and then jabbed its sharp beak towards the side of Hanako’s head.

“Ow!” Hanako yelped, and when the red bird drew back, Nene saw that some of the ghost’s dark hair was clasped in its mouth. “No—give that back!” He swiped at the feathery thief, but it dodged his sluggish strike nimbly, flapping its wings and darting into the air again, moving so fast that Nene’s eyes struggled to follow it.

“May you reach deeper understanding,” the bird’s voice sounded, and before either of them could even think of moving towards it, it was escaping in a flash of crimson, flying out of the half-open window behind them.

“No—damn it!” Hanako rushed over to the window and peered out at the grounds below, but it was no use: Makoto was long gone. After a few moments of tense silence, he whirled on Nene, his brows drawn down in harsh angles. “Why would you do that?!”

The bark in his voice, the intensity in his eyes, frightened her a little. “I—I didn’t want to see you kill that little bird!” she defended herself, her fists clenched at her sides.

Her friend covered his face with both hands this time, scrubbing them over it so fretfully that his hat was knocked askew. “Yashiro. You had to have noticed how heavy that thing was when it sat on your shoulder. It’s not a bird! It’s a messenger spirit! Do you really think I’d go around cutting down birds?!”

It was as if all the air was sucked out of Nene’s lungs. Her shoulders slumped, and she felt all at once regretful and sheepish. “It… it was pretty heavy…”

“Yeah, well, the truth does tend to weigh on people pretty heavily,” he noted, turning towards the window. “It’s going to be so much stronger the next time we see it now…”

“I’m… I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice, walking over to join him. She ran her fingers over her brooch nervously. “Are you angry with me, Hanako-kun?”

“Of course not,” he responded at once. “I can’t ever get mad at you, no matter how hard I try.” And then he slapped his hands over his mouth, his eyes widening.

Well, this behavior was unusual. “What’s wrong?” she asked. Hanako mumbled something under his hands, but Nene couldn’t make it out. Impatient, she grabbed both of them, prying them off his mouth. “Hanako-kun, are you all right?”

“I didn’t actually hear what you said just now, because I’m too distracted by the fact that you’re holding my hands,” he blurted in a rush, and then yanked his hands out of her grip, placing them firmly over his mouth again. His face filled with color.

Her own face was feeling a bit warm now, too. “Wh-What are you saying?” she squeaked, even though she’d heard him perfectly.

“Your inability to read my signals is infinitely frustrating to me, but I can’t hold it against you because you’re cute when you’re confused,” Hanako wheezed, sounding like the words were being pulled from him against his will.

And it was then that Nene realized that that was exactly what was happening.

“Hanako-kun!” she exclaimed, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him a little. “Did that apparition curse you so you could only tell the truth?!”

“Yes!” he shouted, throwing up his hands in irritation. “Weren’t you listening?! ‘For three days hence’!”

Her eyes bored into his honey-colored ones intently. “So you’re saying I can ask you anything right now, and you’d have to answer me truthfully,” she rephrased. Boy, did she have a lot of questions she’d like to get actual answers for.

“I can’t focus when you’re staring into my eyes like that,” was Hanako’s only response, followed by a mournful sound halfway between a whine and a groan as he buried his forehead in his palms.

Nene’s cheeks got even warmer. “H-Huh?!” If he was forced to tell the truth, why hadn’t he answered her question plainly?

“It seems I don’t have to answer everything you ask me,” Hanako explained as if reading her mind, lifting his head again. “I’m just being forced to tell you what I’m really thinking about at any given time—” He clenched his mouth shut firmly, but after only a moment, the words broke free anyway: “And right now I’m thinking that I don’t want to tell you about that time I possessed one of your classmates for an entire day just so I could stay close to you!” Turning away, he thumped his head against the wall. “Make it stop!”

Was this what Makoto had meant by ‘honesty’? It looked more like torture! She felt shame wash over her, hot and uncomfortable. “I-I’m so sorry, Hanako-kun,” she told him. “This is all my fault!”

“Yes, it is!” Whirling back around, he fixed his panicked eyes on her. “Now I’m going to make up an unconvincing excuse to leave, like telling you that I promised I’d bring Number 5 some books, but really I’m just trying to avoid confronting my feelings like always!”

Well, he hardly had to come up with an excuse now, since his intention had been made clear, but that wasn’t the point. Her brow furrowed in consternation as she reached for his hand again. “Wait, maybe we can figure this o—”

“I’m afraid of what I might say if I stay around you,” the ghost blurted, and then screwed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth, exasperation written all over his face. “So… Bye!”

And before Nene could even open her mouth to protest, Hanako had disappeared, leaving her alone in the fading sunlight.

She only stood there in stunned silence for about ten seconds before taking off in a sprint, heading for the third floor girls’ bathroom.

***

As she’d suspected, Hanako was in his bathroom, sitting on the windowsill, his arms hugging his knees to his chest. He looked scared. Small. Vulnerable.

Not like Hanako-kun at all.

“Hey,” she said softly as she approached him.

He didn’t look at her. “I was hoping you’d go home.”

“Sorry. Can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“I don’t want to get rid of you,” he mumbled. “If it was up to me, I’d keep you forever.” Then he dropped his forehead onto his knees, clearly having just let something slip again that he hadn’t meant to.

The words weren’t that different from ones he’d said to her before while being clingy and possessive, but somehow, knowing they were the absolute truth made them seem a lot more significant. Nene tucked some hair behind her ear, staring at the wood floor. “Um… thank you,” she squeaked out, and then crossed her arms and rested her elbows against the windowsill next to Hanako’s legs, looking out at the last vestiges of red sunlight. “Look… maybe this doesn’t have to be a bad thing. It’s only three days. We can get through that, right?”

Hanako’s words emerged as he lifted his head again. “The passage of time is meaningless to me. I never cared about what day it was until I met you.”

She blinked, looking up at him curiously. “Really?”

The eyebrow he raised at her was somehow both amused and sardonic. “Since I literally cannot lie to you right now, yes, really.”

Nene watched a normal, non-supernatural bird fly by outside the window, coming to rest in the branches of a distant tree. “Maybe I can just leave you alone when I’m not cleaning the bathroom,” she suggested, “so you don’t have to tell me any more than necessary.”

“Making you clean the bathroom is just an excuse to get you to spend time with me at this point anyway,” her friend replied, and the only indication that he hadn’t meant to say it was in the dissatisfied pull at his mouth. “And I don’t want you to leave me alone.”

“You don’t?” Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. “But you’re clearly not enjoying the effects of this curse. I would have thought you’d want me to go away until it wears off.”

“You underestimate how much I need your company.”

Her eyes locked onto his, and she searched his face for any indication of whether he had intended these words to come out or not. The ghost’s amber eyes looked back at her, unwavering. Nene’s face heated up again. “I-I see...” was all she could stammer out. Clearing her throat, she took a step back from the windowsill. “In that case, maybe it would be best if you got several things out of the way upfront. What’s on your mind now?” If she got him to confess things he’d been holding back for a long time, perhaps it wouldn’t be as embarrassing or surprising later on.

“I’m thinking about that time I stole your brooch for a whole 3 hours and you didn’t notice,” Hanako sighed, rolling his head on his shoulders to throw her a smile. The sunset made his eyes look like they were glowing, catlike. “And about how I like to hug you because you’re so warm and you smell nice.”

Nene’s face was rapidly heating up again. “Oh…?” What the heck was all this he was saying?! And why was it so much more embarrassing to hear him talk about why he was so clingy than it was to actually deal with him clinging to her?

“And...” Hanako turned his head again, resting his head against the stained glass. “Remember that time you thought someone tried to prank you because your locker door was bent and there were a bunch of candy wrappers in there?” He paused a moment, but didn’t give her adequate time to respond before he continued: “You weren’t being pranked. I had written a note to you and slipped it into your locker, but then I regretted it and tried to get it back. And then the Mokke ate all the candy I’d put in there for you.”

“That was you?!” she roared, suddenly indignant. “Hanako-kun, I had to go to the office and get scolded for exhibiting ‘violent behavior’ because of you!” And besides that, what kind of note would he even need to leave for her? He could come visit her whenever he wanted while she was in school and no one else would see him!

“And speaking of the Mokke… You know that time I beat them at cards?” He whipped his head around, his face crumpling in dismay and shame. “I cheated, Yashiro! I cheated!”

Why did he sound so much more regretful about that than destroying Nene’s locker?! “I’m sure they’ll forgive you,” she ground out, crossing her arms again. “But going back to my vandalized locker, why would you go to all that trouble to leave me a note?”

Fear swept over Hanako’s face, and he closed his mouth and covered it with both arms desperately. He mumbled something Nene couldn’t make out, but it was clear he didn’t want her to hear whatever his answer was.

“Can’t tell me?” she asked listlessly. Hanako shook his head, his eyes begging her to let this go.

She sighed, because she was not-so-secretly a pushover when it came to Hanako-kun. “Fine.”

“Oh, thank you,” he breathed, lowering his arms. “I’m so grateful I could kiss you, except I think you’d get mad if I did that, so I’m just going to keep talking as I try to redirect my thoughts into a safer area, like to the spot on that mirror that’s kind of shaped like a spider—no, wait, I think it’s an actual spider—”

“Hanako-kun,” Nene interrupted him.

He looked pained. “Even when you sound annoyed, I love it when you say my name.”

“I don’t think we can take three days of this,” she said very seriously.

“Obviously!” he exploded, vacating his spot on the windowsill in favor of floating around the bathroom restlessly. “I mean, if we don’t fix this as soon as possible, I won’t be able to stop myself from telling you about all the times I—” The rest of his sentence was impeded by the fact that he’d yanked his hat off his head and stuffed it into his mouth as a gag.

If he was desperate enough to eat his hat to prevent Nene from hearing whatever that was, it made her even more curious. Hanako never opened up about his past or his feelings, always changing the subject or making things into a joke whenever things got too emotional. Part of Nene wanted to hear everything he was still trying so hard to hide from her, because she was tired of waiting.

But… Hanako had promised to tell her everything one day. She still trusted in that. And so she would wait for Hanako to be ready to tell her everything, instead of dragging the truth out of him against his will.

It was hard being a good person sometimes.

“I can’t bear to see you in such distress, knowing I’m the reason for it,” she confessed, her brows furrowed as she dropped her gaze down to the floor. “I think I’ll go home for today, Hanako-kun. It’s not that I want to leave you or anything,” she hastened to add, “it’s just that I think you won’t have as much trouble if I’m not here.”

Her ghostly friend looked melancholy, but he nodded. The emotional gravitas of the moment was somewhat undercut by the fact that his hat was still balled up in his mouth, its brim sticking out like a strange duck bill.

“I’ll help you lure Makoto out tomorrow so you can take care of it,” she promised, bringing a hand to her chest solemnly. “We’ll fix this together!”

Nodding again, Hanako finally un-gagged himself. “I’ll casually send you off right now like it’s no big deal, but then count the minutes until I see you again,” he blurted out, and then grimaced. “Hm. I should have left the hat in my mouth.”

She couldn’t help but stifle a giggle behind her hand at that. “I’m looking forward to seeing you, too. Bye for now.” With that, she turned and made her exit before Hanako was forced to say anything else that would embarrass him.

The small murmur of “I’ll be waiting” still reached her ears, though.

***

As she sat in her last class of the day, Nene tapped her pencil idly against the doodle of the little bird she’d drawn in her notebook and ran everything over again in her mind.

Hanako had called Makoto a manipulative apparition. But as far as she could tell, the bird only brought secrets out. She hadn’t seen anything to suggest that it was influencing or changing what people thought, but perhaps she’d been thinking about it all wrong. It wasn’t one’s thoughts that were being manipulated; rather, it was the consequences of those thoughts that were being tampered with. Dragged out into the open, an innocent fleeting thought could turn into something that could anger or hurt people. Makoto’s ability to make anyone spill out all the words they were trying not to say… it didn’t make anyone more truthful. It just exposed everyone’s most shameful thoughts, the ones they pushed out of their head because they were a result of a momentary sensation and not rational logic. Nene couldn’t even count how many times a week she would glare at another girl’s slender ankles and think spitefully, I wish she would wake up tomorrow with ankles like mine and see how it feels. Did that mean that such a thing reflected her true feelings?

Of course not, she thought as she brushed some eraser shavings off her paper. She wouldn’t actually wish these ankles on anyone else, especially not someone who hadn’t even done anything to her to deserve such suffering.

In being forced to say only things they wanted to keep to themselves, Makoto’s victims were being set up to cause pain, misunderstandings, and embarrassment. If Nene was forced to babble about how many love poems she’d written about him whenever she caught sight of Minamoto-senpai (or, more recently, a certain other boy who may or may not haunt a girls’ bathroom), she’d have to change schools and assume a new identity. Possibly move to another country, even. She wouldn’t call that “telling the truth.” It seemed more like “losing any semblance of control over one’s words and thoughts.”

Suddenly, calling Makoto’s influence “manipulation” seemed a lot more appropriate.

She should have trusted Hanako’s judgment and not gotten in his way, she told herself for the tenth time.

Nene sighed heavily and rested her chin in her hand, guilt prickling her spine. It wasn’t entirely her fault, though, was it? Hanako hadn’t exactly explained things to her, even the first day they’d tried to dispatch this supposed low-level supernatural. He could stand to be a little more forthcoming.

As she absentmindedly began doodling a boy in a hat, only half-listening to her teacher’s lecture, she wondered: How much of what Hanako had said yesterday had been errant thoughts that meant nothing, and how much of it had been his honest, longterm feelings? A lot of what he’d said had been confessions about past actions, like stealing her brooch, possessing her classmate, and cheating at cards. Those seemed like they had to be facts, rather than something subjective. But there had been other things, things she couldn’t just explain away as one-off mistakes he felt guilty about…

Things like I can’t ever get mad at you or I can’t focus when you’re staring into my eyes or I love when you say my name.

Her face burned at the recollection. That stuff was so unmistakably emotional, it was no wonder he’d been so humiliated at having to blurt it out.

And if he allowed himself to say words like You’re warm and you smell nice and You’re cute when you’re confused, what on earth had been so bad that he’d had to muffle it into his arms or his hat? Had he been about to reveal something about his past? Or a secret to be shared only among School Mysteries?

Or—she chided herself for entertaining such indulgent notions—maybe he’d been about to confess his love for her?

Bringing her free hand to one heated cheek and forcing down the butterflies in her stomach, she hastily erased the hearts she’d started to draw around Doodle Hanako’s face. No no no. She was not letting herself get lost in thinking about that again. She was done looking for reciprocation where there was none!

And yet… it would make sense, considering everything he had let slip, wouldn’t it? He’d said so many nice things, and cut himself off from answering when she’d asked him why he would put a note in her locker. When she’d let the topic drop, he’d even said he felt so grateful he could kiss her.

Still, though, Yashiro Nene knew better than just about anyone that as soon as you thought you knew something about Hanako-kun, you were proven wrong 90% of the time. It was more likely that he’d been trying not to tell her that he thought she was a lousy assistant or that he preferred bustier women.

At least, that was what Nene tried to convince herself of, even as she went right back to drawing hearts.

***

“Good afternoon, Hanako-kun,” she said brightly as she let the bathroom door close behind her.

“Someday very soon you’re going to find out what a horrifying thing I really am, and then you won’t be so pleased to see me,” he said in a very tired voice from his stall.

She wasn’t sure how to react to that, so she just pushed the bathroom stall’s door open. Hanako was sitting there on top of the toilet tank, hugging his knees again and looking as weary as someone who had not slept for days (not that he usually slept anyway). Nene guessed he must have had a very long day of embarrassing answers to embarrassing questions. “I guess I don’t have to knock three times and ask if you’re in here,” she remarked. “Are you… okay?”

“Not usually,” he answered, “but especially not now. Let’s just take this thing down before I spill my guts about—” And there went the hat again.

“Hanako-kun, you look miserable,” said Nene, and her ghostly friend didn’t need to say a word to communicate the sarcastic No, really? that was in the lift of his eyebrows. “I know I said this yesterday,” she went on, choosing to ignore that, “but I really am sorry for all this trouble. I… I want to know everything you’re not telling me, but I want to know it on your terms, not because you were cursed to say it against your will.”

His golden eyes widened slightly, and when he took the hat out of his mouth, he was silent for a moment before saying, “You waste your kindness and patience on me. I don’t deserve it.”

“That’s not true.” Her voice was firm, brooking no argument.

“Yes it is,” he shot back. “I can only say true things right now.”

“No, you can only say things that you feel are true right this second,” she corrected him, and put her hands on her hips. “Now get off of that toilet before I make you.”

“That tops the list of ‘Sentences I Never Expected to Find Attractive,’” he grumbled, but he did as she told him and floated over the top of the door, so Nene left the stall as well.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking about this curse all day today,” she informed him when they were both leaning against the wall, “and I think I realized: this curse doesn’t make you reveal the truth. It makes you reveal what you’re truly thinking. But a thought about your perception of things, by itself, isn’t true or false. If the curse really made you tell the truth, you’d have to answer every question I asked instead of just blurting out whatever you’re thinking.”

“I’m nodding, but I didn’t understand most of that and I’m too embarrassed to tell you,” said Hanako, nodding.

She sighed, frustrated. “Basically: that feathery little jerk lied to us about wanting everyone to tell the truth!”

“Well duh, I could have told you that much.” He crossed his arms and tilted his head at her. “But I’m impressed you reached that conclusion by yourself. You never cease to amaze me.”

Nene combed her fingers through a strand of her hair, a little shy all of a sudden. “Gee, thank you…”

“Cute,” Hanako decided, not even trying to stifle it.

“A-Anyway,” Nene went on, ignoring the heat that flooded her face, “I guess it’s up to me to lure Makoto here today, since you can’t say anything untrue at the moment.” Tapping a finger against her chin, she thought a moment. “I wonder what I should say?...”

“You could say you hate me again,” Hanako suggested, “but even knowing it’s a lie, it would still kind of break my heart to hear.”

Her eyes slid over to him in surprise. “My opinion of you really means so much?”

“More than anyone else’s ever has.” Hanging his head a little, he stared at the floor, but he must have felt these words were important for her to hear, because he wasn’t doing anything to prevent them from escaping. “If you really hated me, I wouldn’t be able to bear it.”

“I could never hate you, ever!” she declared, turning herself to face him and clenching her hands into resolute fists. Wasn’t that totally obvious by now?

Hanako looked relieved. “Good, because I—” Honesty Time must have been over, because it was now that he finally covered his mouth again.

She couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. “Hanako-kun, if you know I would never hate you, why are you still trying so hard to keep things from me?” It was kind of selfish of her to ask him this, after telling him that she would wait for him to be ready to share his secrets. But she wasn’t really asking for his secrets now, was she? She was only asking why they were secret.

But Hanako winced anyway, and reluctantly pulled his hand away. “I don’t want to say anything that will only end up hurting you,” he murmured.

Nene took a step back, her chest constricting. What did he have to say that he was so worried would hurt her? A million possibilities raced through her mind, each more unhappy than the last. Was he holding back some terrible secret about his past that would change her perception of him forever? Did he think she was a terrible assistant after all? Or… perhaps he had figured out how she really felt, and was trying not to tell her that he didn’t feel the same.

Her knees suddenly felt shaky. Did this mean that this whole time, he was only trying to protect her feelings, not his own? “I… I see,” she got out, even though her lower lip was wobbling.

“Saying untrue things again?” At the chirping voice, both Hanako’s and Nene’s heads whipped around to the windowsill. The little red bird was perched there, and now that she understood what kind of creature this was, Nene thought its intelligent black eyes looked a little more uncanny. “That will not do. Honesty cannot flourish if it does not go both ways.”

“You!” Nene barked, and thrust a finger out at it threateningly. “Stop being mean to Hanako-kun! He’s endured nothing but suffering since you cursed him!”

“Mean?” The bird tilted its head. “I do not understand.”

“Cut the crap,” said Hanako, holding out an arm for one of his tsueshiro to spiral up and transform him. Evidently, he was finished taking this creature lightly. He widened his stance, his cape billowing in a breeze that only existed around him. “You’ve had your fun.” His eyes became dangerous golden slits. “But now, it’s time for you to go.”

“But there are still so many lies within you,” Makoto protested, ruffling its feathers. “We have barely scratched the surface of all the things you have not told the truth about. Your brother. Your death. The ghastly things you’ve done. Your—”

“Enough!” Hanako was done letting the creature talk, rushing forward with knife drawn and poised to run it through, but unfortunately, his target was small and agile. Makoto wove around his strikes, its wings shimmering like fire in the light through the stained-glass window. Hanako swung his blade down when the bird flew under his arm, jabbed to the side when it fluttered past his head, yelled out in frustration when it pecked at his cape and his retaliatory slash only met air. Nene stood there motionless in surprise—she’d never seen Hanako struggle like this against something so small.

“Fascinating,” said Makoto, unconcerned with the sharp knife being bandied about. “I have never seen anyone more adept at redirecting their thoughts around the most uncomfortable truths. Those under my influence normally babble their thoughts unceasingly. You have had lots of practice hiding the truth even from yourself, haven’t you? I wonder—how ever did you discover the secret to perpetual dishonesty?”

“A little birdie told me,” Hanako spat contemptuously.

By this point, Nene was quite tired of letting this apparition say whatever it wanted while Hanako struggled to even touch it. “You’re the one babbling unceasingly!” she growled, chucking various supplies from her school bag at the detestable creature. She was not a projectile-throwing specialist, but perhaps she could at least distract their foe. “You don’t care about the truth!” She launched a ballpoint pen. “You just want everyone to say terrible things to each other!” An eraser this time. “You should be ashamed of yourself!” A daily planner.

This last object, being quite a bit larger than the rest, only missed the bird by inches. Makoto twittered in alarm and swooped sideways to avoid it, but it was clear that it hadn’t been expecting Nene’s interference. “I believed you were more sensible than this, Yashiro Nene!” it scolded her. “You have left me no choice. I shall have to take more drastic measures.”

And then the creature circled around in the air and perched atop Hanako’s head.

“Get off me!” He tried to shake it off, but the bird refused to budge.

“Leave him alone!” cried Nene, throwing one more object from her school bag in a panic.

“Yashir—OW, don’t hit me!” Hanako barked, having just been hit in the head with the math textbook that Makoto had skittered out of the way of.

“S-Sorry,” she mumbled, sheepish. Perhaps she should let Hanako handle this.

The red bird bobbed its head. “Speak, little liar,” it twittered. “You have so much to confess.”

Hanako doubled over as if stricken with a sudden intense headache, his hands flying to his temples. “I—I call Minamoto Kou ‘kid’ because I have a height complex and I can’t stand that he’s taller,” he ground out, like the words were being punched out of him. Sinking to his knees as if collapsing under a great weight, his hands slapped against the floor. “I’m… terrified that Yashiro likes him better, because he’s a good person and I’m a monster!” He paused a moment to take a shaky breath, but then continued: “I’m afraid I won’t find a way to save Yashiro before it’s too late.” Pain flashed across his features. “I’m a failure as a wish-granting supernatural!”

Nene was rooted to the spot, fear sitting cold and heavy in her stomach. Her shaking hands covered her mouth, as if it would help stop Hanako’s words before they could do any more damage. “Hey, that’s enough… Why are you doing this?!”

But the bird ignored her. “Very good,” it said, pleased. “What else?”

“Nngh—I used to let terrible things happen to students, even if I knew they were going to h-happen, because…” His face was twisted in agony, his hands curling into trembling fists, and he gasped, trying to resist the compulsion to speak but unable to stop. “...Because I was angry that no one had interfered before I died! I w-wanted them to suffer like we had!”

“Hanako-kun!” His name came out shrill and frightened. His words were broken glass—painful to listen to, but probably even more painful to speak. She hated seeing him like this. Desperately, Nene’s eyes scanned their surroundings, looking for something, anything she could use to help, but she could see nothing. Her vision swam, frustrated tears welling up in her eyes, but she blinked them away hastily. Now was not the time for tears!

Wasn’t this only supposed to be a low-level apparition? Why was it so powerful against the mightiest apparition at Kamome Academy? Was the weight of his secrets what was really crushing him? Surely Hanako had better tools at his disposal than a stupid bird did. Her gaze fell upon the floating orb hovering near her friend. “H-Hitodama-chan… do something!”

The tsueshiro was bobbing around Hanako’s head, trying to attack the assailant but hitting some kind of barrier before it could reach it. Was it because it couldn’t attack without hitting Hanako-kun? “Stop… please, stop,” the prone ghost panted, making an exhausted swipe at the creature on his head, but it merely hopped out of reach, weaving around his hand like it was performing a trick.

"It would feel much better to tell the truth," it coaxed.

Hanako's teeth gritted, his face crumpling into a snarl, and there was a sort of manic desperation in his eyes that made Nene's heart clench. "I… can’t!"

But the little bird was not convinced. It dug its talons into the top of Hanako's head, making him cry out. "You can," it said.

There were actually tears at the corners of his widened eyes. "I—I've hurt people!" he gasped, and his forehead met the floor with a thump. "More people than I can remember... it n-never mattered before... but it's different now!"

"Stop it!" Nene begged. From how hard Hanako was straining, it was obvious that he was being forced to reveal something truly devastating.

"And why is it different now?" Makoto's voice was so bright and cheerful that it was almost as if it wasn’t a malevolent monster who was hurting Nene’s friend.

"Because..." His eyes shut tightly. His brow furrowed. He gritted his teeth, but he could not prevent the words from spilling out: "I'm in love with Yashiro!"

Those words seemed to echo throughout the surroundings into eternity. Nene's whole world slid to a stop. Her heart dropped from her chest into her stomach, she felt suspended in midair, and the breath she dragged in was shaky. "H-Hanako-kun?" Was that really it? The thing he had most wanted to conceal from the world? From her?

Apparently satisfied, the red bird took flight, leaving Hanako to nearly collapse facefirst onto the ground, catching himself with one fist. "How funny.” Makoto's chirping sounded amused. "A dangerous, violent supernatural falling in love." Flying around Hanako's head as his chest heaved with shallow breaths, it took delight in taunting him. "Over half a century of sin, and something silly like this is your most closely-guarded secret. I’ve never seen the like before. How embarrassing for you. How shameful. She can't accept you and you know it. It's the truth. How funny."

There was a ringing in Nene’s ears. Her vision tunneled, and where there was once terrified indecision, a righteous anger boiled in her core and solidified her resolve. "IT’S NOT FUNNY!" she roared, and faster than she knew she was capable of, she barreled forward. She wasn't sure what she was thinking (perhaps she hadn’t been). It was completely instinctual, and completely irrational. She never would have even dreamed that she could do such a thing, but—

She had thrust out her arm and caught the little bird right out of the air, holding it in her hand like a feathery tennis ball.

Nene gaped at the creature in her grip, who was squawking and squirming. "Release me!" it demanded. "You cannot silence the truth!"

Hanako, who had been gaping just as wide as Nene, recovered his senses and hoisted himself to his feet. "I think I can, actually," he murmured. "Don't move, Yashiro."

Nene nodded, holding out the bird, which was squawking like the world's most evil, annoying cuckoo clock. Why was it that she was able to hold it now without her arm shattering under its massive weight? It felt like an ordinary bird now, nothing more. Perhaps it was that the secrets that had made the truth so heavy had now been spoken.

"Goodbye, apparition," Hanako said, raising his knife. Nene braced herself, clenching one eye shut and turning her face away. "I'd say it was nice knowing you, but I can't tell a lie."

Then he plunged his blade downward, and Makoto’s screeching abruptly ceased as it exploded into a cloud of fire-colored plumage. Slowly, the tiny feathers drifted in zigzags to the ground, but they vanished before they could reach it.

Hanako, putting away his knife and letting Hakujoudai spiral down his arm to de-transform him, stood there and watched as the last feather faded away. All was quiet.

Nene was paralyzed, painfully unsure of what to say. Her heartbeat was still pounding in her throat, residual adrenaline from her reckless actions mingling with the panic of being suddenly alone with the person who had been forced to confess his love for her. She balled her hands into fists to stop their trembling, and trapped all her unformed words behind her tightly-closed lips.

"Just..." Hanako's voice was raw, brittle. It sounded like something pulled taut, something that would snap if strained any more. "...Forget what you heard. Please."

She wanted to nod. To reassure him that it hadn't counted because it had been against his will. To do everything he asked of her.

But instead, her vision blurred as her eyes filled with tears, and she bit down the sob that wrenched itself from her throat as she buried her face in her hands.

"Wh—Yashiro, what's wrong?!" His cold hands clenched on her shoulders. "Was it the knife? I'm sorry I had to kill the bird in front of you!"

"It wasn't even a bird!" she blubbered. "And that's not what I'm upset about!"

"What, then?" The question was gentle, but urgent.

"You just told me to forget..." Her lip wobbled, but she lowered her hands, lifted her eyes to meet his, and forced the rest out: "You told me to forget the best thing that's ever happened to me!"

Reeling back in shock, he let go of her to take a step backward. "Wh-What?"

"I know it wasn't on purpose… but I've never been confessed to before." She didn't know if the heat in her face was from her blush or from the tears that seemed to be spilling endlessly from her eyes. "You asked me to forget, but I don’t think I can, because even though we were in a scary situation, it still made me so h-happy...!"

"Shh, shh, you're going to get all scaly," he soothed her, drawing close again to wipe away her tears with his thumbs. She just sniffled and looked up at him, and how in the world had she ever failed to see the softness in the molten honey of his eyes? How had she ever seen anything but love there? How long had he been looking at her like that? "Okay. You don't have to forget if you don't want to."

"Hanako-kun," she said shakily, "I'm in l—"

But she couldn't get any further than that, because he had placed two fingers against her lips to stop her words. "Wait," he breathed, and the crease in his brow looked... frightened. "You... you don't have to say that. Some things are better left unsaid."

It had felt difficult to say before, but for some reason, being told she didn't have to say it made irritation prickle the back of her neck. Nene would decide what she did and did not have to say, thank you very much! She leveled a glare at him, pushing his hand away. "Yes, some things are better left unsaid," she said, voice much surer than it had been a moment ago. "But this is not one of those things!" Grabbing his face between her hands, she finished at the top of her lungs: "I'm in love with you! So there!"

His already-wide amber eyes widened even further, his mouth dropping open. Nene waited for him to say something, but even as garnet stared into gold, all that came out of his mouth was a small, weak stutter of "A-Ah…"

"Say something," she begged him, her cheeks filling with heat. Had she just made a total fool of herself?

"You—you can't," he got out, his jaw having seemingly regained its function. "You're... that isn’t supposed to happen."

"Supposed to happen?" she echoed. "According to who?"

His answer was to place his cold hands on hers and gently pull them away from his face. He didn't let go of them as they lowered to their sides, though. His thumbs stroked her knuckles once, just a whisper of tenderness. "Me. The world. God. Everyone."

"Well, I don't care what anyone says," she insisted. "No matter what, I love you."

It was at this point that Hanako let go of her, turning away and clutching his head in frustration. "This is exactly why I didn't want to tell you the truth," he sighed. "I knew you'd react like this."

"What, you knew I'd confess my love for you?!" Her hands were balled into fists again. "Well, sorry to be so predictable!”

"That's not what I mean." Swiping his hat off his head, he ran a hand through his hair. "Just... You keep giving me everything I want, Yashiro. A client. An assistant. A nickname. A friend, a partner. All I do is take, take, take from you." He was still turned away from her, but Nene saw the way his hand clenched around his hat. "The kindness you shower me with so freely... it's the best thing I’ve ever gotten. But once I've used up every bit of kindness in you... what will you have left?" The agonized look on his face when he turned back around tangled her stomach into knots. "I'm dead, Yashiro. I can't ever give you anything back. All I can do is take, and I don't want to take more than I have already. I... I can't bear it."

One of her feet stepped back without conscious thought, as if she could distance herself from what he had said. "But... that's not true.” The words were small, fragile, so she swallowed and spoke again, stronger this time. "Kindness isn’t a finite resource, you know… it’s not like I’m going to run out of it. And you say you don't give anything back... but don't you get it? I wouldn't have fallen in love with you if you hadn't given me so much to love."

Hanako scoffed, jamming his hat back onto his head and then turning his face to the side as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "Sure. A dead killer who has more secrets and sins than hairs on his head. So lovable."

"You taught me that I didn't have to be anyone but myself to get people to like me." She took a step forward. "You were someone I could laugh with and have fun with." Another step. "Because of you, I got to make a difference, helping the Mokke and the other supernaturals." A final step that brought her a mere foot away from him. "And... even though I live in a universe that would throw me away without care before I can even graduate... you thought I was important enough to build a whole world around."

"Don't," he said, but he didn't yank his hands out of her grip when she wrapped her fingers around them. "Don't make it sound like it was some noble thing. I was just putting you in a cage so I wouldn't have to lose you. It was stupid, and selfish."

"Yes," she agreed, smiling at a little at the way Hanako winced, "but I wouldn't want to lose you either, so I understand how you felt."

As he closed his eyes, Nene wondered if he was trying to avoid looking at her. "Yashiro... I never wanted to tell you how I felt, because I was afraid…" He paused, and when he met her eyes and spoke again, there was a catch in his voice. "…That you would be foolish enough—kind enough—to want to love me back, even if I told you everything about me.”

"Well," she whispered, "you were right... But I don't think love can be foolish. Not the real kind."

"Can it really be called 'the real kind' if it's with a supernatural?" he laughed, but it sounded choked.

"Yes," she said. "It can, and it is."

And she was sure that he would shove her away, but when she leaned forward to press her lips to his, Hanako's eyes were already falling closed. He responded to her clumsy first attempt at a kiss with a restrained sort of neediness, pulling her in with his movements rather than pushing back against her. Nene's heart launched into orbit. The butterflies in her stomach were forming their own hurricane. Her pulse was pounding in her ears, and she knew nothing but the desire to be as close to him as possible as she flung her arms around his neck and refused to let him get away. Hanako seemed fine with that, his fingers clenching in the fabric of the back of her uniform, one at the small of her back and one between her shoulder blades. Pressed together like this from chest to waist, Nene felt all the coldness emanating from him, but the sensation only translated to heat swirling inside her. She shivered, and pressed against his soft mouth, which he tilted in response to meet hers.

It might have been one long kiss, or five short ones. It might have been imperfect, uneven, hesitant in some areas and overeager in others. It might have lasted only seconds, or perhaps the reason they were both panting when they pulled away was because neither had wanted to separate long enough to breathe. Nene had no idea if kisses were supposed to feel like this—like you were pouring out your whole heart between the nonexistent space between lips—or if the swooping sensation in her gut was merely anxiety. But when the ghost's eyes blinked open and met with hers, a giddy smile stretched unbidden across her face.

His smile was quieter, reluctant and timid and lopsided, but definitely present. When Nene lowered one of her hands to his sealed left cheek, he turned his face into the touch. Though the skin was flushed, Nene felt no heat against her palm. "You're giving me everything I want again," he chided her, and his voice was soft and yet roughened in a way that made a thrill race down her spine.

"Well, r-right back at you," she retorted, and then said in an embarrassed murmur: "After all, what I want most is you."

Hanako's eyebrows flew up. "Oh?" It was almost a relief to hear that teasing lilt in his voice again. "Is that so? Do you desire me, Yashiro?"

She knew full well now that the humor dancing in his eyes was a mask covering up his deepest fears. She knew he was scared to have shown her how much he needed her. She also knew that he was trying to provoke her into breaking the tension with some kind of amusing violent response. She knew him so much better than he thought.

So she decided to deprive him of this escape. Her mouth turned down into a resolute frown. "That's right," she said. "I desire you more than I've ever desired anything or anyone.”

It was almost comical, the shock that flashed across his face as he released her and stumbled back. "Yashiro!"

Hiding her smirk behind her hand, she stifled laughter. "Hanako-kun," she responded.

His entire face was as red as Makoto. "Y-You shouldn't say things like that."

That was pretty rich, coming from him. "I'm just being honest," she said with a shrug. "What, you mean you don't want me back?” She stuck her lower lip out in a pout. "I thought you loved me." It was probably cruel to tease him like this after the emotional rollercoaster he’d just been through, but after so long of being the one to be teased, Nene felt it was only fair.

In answer, he grabbed her shoulders and kissed her, and this time he didn't hold back at all, his mouth demanding everything she was willing to give. Nene struggled to not let her knees give out, holding onto the front of his gakuran for dear life and letting a needy murmur escape when he slid his tongue against hers. How had he learned to kiss like this?! She hadn't been prepared for this kind of attack on her heart. It felt like it was trying to leap out of her chest.

"I do love you," he said when their mouths disconnected, brushing some hair away from her overheated face. "And I want you so much it aches." Nene's stomach did a somersault. When he said it like that, with darkened eyes and a low voice, she wasn't entirely sure what he meant by want; just that he meant it with everything he had.

"I wish you'd told me before," she confessed. Looking down at the floor, her fingers tightened in the fabric of his jacket. "I understand why you didn't, but… I feel like we've lost a lot of time…"

"I'm sorry I wasn't honest." The hand that guided her face upward to look at him was as gentle as it was cold. "But no more." His eyes were honey-sweet, so drastically different from how they looked when he was staring down an enemy. "I promised I would tell you everything someday, but I kept putting it off because I was afraid once you knew everything, you wouldn't want to stay with me."

"I won't leave,” she promised.

"I know," he whispered, and kissed her forehead. "I see that now. You were—literally, even—able to take the weight of the secrets that were crushing me and turn it into something easy to bear. Thank you."

Nene smiled. "Does that mean you're going to tell me everything now?"

He nodded. "It does." His eyes fell to the floor, and he scratched at his sealed cheek nervously. "I can't pretend I'm not still afraid, but… You’ve earned this."

“First question: That note you put in my locker… was it a love note?” It might have been a frivolous question, but she couldn’t help being curious.

Red stained his cheeks. “Of course it was a love note,” he grumbled, and Nene giggled. “Now shush. I’m going to start from the beginning.”

Maybe to anyone else it would look strange, a girl sitting on a bathroom floor under a stained-glass window, listening with the kind of awestricken intensity usually reserved for enjoying a sweeping orchestral, as the first stars began to dot the darkening sky.

But the truth was, Nene didn't much care about how anyone else would see her anymore.

Hanako, who had taken a seat next to her, their knees bumping together, took a deep breath.

And at last, he found the courage to speak all the truths he had concealed, trusting for the first time that someone loved him enough to forgive him.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Today's apparition: A kenzokushin, a messenger servant in the form of an animal who serves Osakabehime, The Lady of the Walls. Osakabehime can see a person's true desires and then manipulate them however she wants. Inspiration was also taken from shittenou (lesser gods who serve a greater one) and the Ssu Ling, the guardians of the four cardinal directions. Makoto is based on the guardian of the South direction, who often takes the form of a red bird. It is associated with fire and the sun, and supposedly has domain over the heart.

Makoto's name is written 真, and means "truth" or "sincerity." Yes, the irony is intentional.

And lastly, the title comes from the saying "a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush," meaning that it is wiser to hold onto something you already have rather than risk losing everything by trying to get more. Obviously, this is how Hanako thought of his friendship with Nene, but also a bird is literally in the hand at one point in this story, LOL.

I have a new little discord server for Hananene, if you'd like to hang out and chitchat with me and a few others! Hit me up for a link~

Thank you so much for reading! Have a great day <3333

#jibaku shounen hanako kun #toilet bound hanako kun #hananene #stuff i write

209 notes · View notes

kyoonqs · 4 years ago

Text

iluso amor ; first part.

↬ summary: Cora has always considered herself elusive, easy to bore and adventurous to the last fiber of her body. One day for no apparent reason, she appears in front of the manager of a globetrotting circus passing through the city where she is temporarily staying to fill her life with magic. Baekhyun, as serious as he is handsome, has no intention of playing a role other than on the main canvas of the circus. He decides to separate Cora from her life of fantasies created by her travels and sets out to show her reality as raw and cruel as he knows it. Or so he believes.

Will time run out too quickly before love and passion devour him and he decides to risk everything for a love that lasts… Forever?

↬ pairing: baekhyun x cora fem!reader.

↬ circus!au ; illusionist!baek x hitchhiker!oc ; strangers to lovers au!

↬ genre: fluff ; romance ; angst ; drama.

↬ length: 2.8 k words.

↬ tag list: @changshapatrol @spacebyuns @fluffyhunnie @soos-goddess @hoho-cham @shadoukiti @sunbyun21 @mangobaek @suhotly @pororodks @bbhbae

If you’d like to be tagged for future chapters, please let me know!

↬ masterlist.

↬ author’s note: this is my first time writing a series, hope you enjoy it and any feedback will be appreciated. thanks for reading! ♡

Vanilla, caramel and butter scents invaded her nostrils the moment she stepped on the re-centering and she reminded herself that from now on she should get used to the smell due to her timely madness. Beyond her view, occasionally blocked by some old trucks, a red and yellowish-white circus tent loomed along with several smaller tents and a host of caravans. The largest tent, dotted with gold stars, had a large, deep blue sign bearing the name of the circus and its owner. In addition to a few tethered horses, Cora saw a number of huge cages with animals and all kinds of unsavory people, including some pretty dirty men, most of them encrusted with mud and rust.

She was beginning to regret the moment when she had ripped the worn out brochure from the lamppost and the idea of joining the circus scene rose out of boredom. Yes, that was the case, curiosity had killed the cat and she could not contain herself that late afternoon when she had driven her bicycle past the front of the tents and the multicolored costumes of the artists had simultaneously caught her eye. But now it was not like that, the moment she advanced towards the train car where she was to present herself for the position, everyone stopped what they were doing and fixed their eyes on her. Without thinking too much, she stepped forward steadily as her sneakers sank into the sandy ground and she staggering as she stared at the ticket booth where the same brochure she was carrying was presented.

Away from the scrutinizing stares that once haunted her, she took the steps of the carriage two at a time and froze when she saw him inside. He had hair as dark as molten chocolate and chiseled features that would make his face look too beautiful if it weren't for the firm jaw and menacing frown. Men who possessed that brutal appeal had always attracted her but at that moment she would have chosen someone less intimidating to interview her. She tried to calm herself by reminding herself that she would not have to spend more than a couple of hours with him and that it would all be over as soon as she explained clearly why she was applying for the job, which she was still completely unaware of.

She cleared her throat and began with her introduction, first name, last name, place of birth, previous jobs and reason why she was there - from the latter she omitted boredom as a possible factor. The man in question did not give her a single glance and, of course, did not speak a word. She stared straight ahead, the unyielding lines of that hard profile making her skin tingle.

–“I, I want to learn about the trade...” She swallowed.

–“I'm really interested in the job, whatever it is...” She swallowed again.

–“Bastard.”

Until the man in front of her turned his head and looked at her, she didn't realize what she had said. He arched a dark brow with mild curiosity, as if he wasn't sure he had heard correctly. Her impulsiveness took control and she felt her lips tremble, for it was clear that they didn't share her problems in restraining her inappropriate thoughts.

The metal legs of the chair where he was sitting screeched against the hard floor of the wagon. He stood up, ironed the wrinkles of his pants with his hands and looking into her eyes for the first time, he said in a stern and inflexible voice:

–“You are hired. Meet me after the last show behind the main tent.” And without further ado, he passed her by without giving any other explanation.

She could barely suppress a sigh. She directed a furtive glance at the boy, still nameless and wondered what she had gotten into but an irrelevant part of her was dying for new adventures and without a doubt, he would be the greatest from that precise moment.

–“Ladies and gentlemen, the show is about to begin! Come closer everyone!”

The man who made the announcement was the same man who was encouraging people to buy tickets the day the circus had arrived in town, although now he was wearing a red master of ceremonies jacket. At that moment Cora appeared before the young man in the carriage, leading a black horse by the reins with one hand. It was then that she realized that he was not only the manager of the circus but also one of its performers.

He was dressed in a velvet jacket, a velvet vest with nothing underneath and black trousers tucked into high leather boots that snuggled over his calves. A jewel-encrusted band of all colors surrounded his torso accompanied by fine iridescent chains and some ribbons of razo that fell from his pocket. He also carried a rolled whip hanging from one shoulder. Curious about the skills he would display in the arena –she had gotten one of the dancers to tell her when they would leave and to her surprise it would be the next morning– she followed the man with his eyes. At that moment he saw her. The decision she had made had been too recent to seek a way out and she still did not feel comfortable talking to him. Cora tucked her hair nervously behind her ear and refuse to take her gaze from the horse following him when he began to walk towards her.

–“There are unsavory people hanging around the circus. Until you know how everything goes, stay where the rest of the audience is, always” he told her as he adjusted some rings on his slender fingers.

–“Understood.” She responded, since she had just promised herself that she was going to put forth her best effort and not get carried away by first impressions that day.

–“Come in and take a look at the show.” His tone was firm, despite the fact that she was already heading back to where she was previously.

–“Wait! What is your name!?” She asked hastily, not realizing that perhaps she had sounded somewhat desperate.

He glanced at her over his shoulder with the corner of his mouth slightly curved. “Baekhyun!” He said, chuckling, and with that he returned to his place in line with the rest of the artists.

She was still feeling hot as she circled the crowd and entered the tent through the back entrance. She found a free spot in the stands. They were weathered white-painted planks of wood, hard and narrow, with nowhere else to rest one’s feet but on the seat of the spectators in the row below. But she quickly set aside her feelins of discomfort the awkwardness when the lights dimmed, a drum roll crescendoed and a spotlight illuminated the emcee on center court.

–“Welcome to the happiest circus in Valencia, welcome to Gran Fele Circus!”

The music exploded, played by a band consisting of two musicians with drums, a synthesizer, and a consola. A lively version of New York, New York began to play and a white horse entered in the arena with a girl who carried a flag with the name of the circus. The other artists followed, carrying colorful banners, smiling and waving to the crowd.

It was the troupe of acrobats that caught Cora's attention; three handsome men and a beautiful woman –whom she identified as the dancer who had helped her earlier– named Laia, dressed in gold sequins, shiny leggings and thick makeup. They were followed by a group of horsemen, clowns, jugglers, and trained dogs.

Baekhyun entered the arena alone, riding his fierce horse, and unlike the other artists, he didn’t wave his hands or smile. As he circled the track, he seemed such a distant and mysterious being. He was no stranger to the presence of the people, but somehow he remained isolated and gave a strange dignity to the colorful display.

As the show progressed, Cora was amazed at such talent.

Suddenly, the lights went out and the music died away. A blue spotlight illuminated the master of ceremonies, the only one occupying the dark center court. His voice turned dramatically low and a haunting, folk melody began to play in the background.

–“How many times have we wondered if we were crazy? How many times did someone make us doubt our actions? How many times has someone come before us with the idea of changing our thinking? Sanity makes us useless, many times it is better to be crazy. Life is made for taking risks and if you don't think so, let the next person convince you otherwise...before time runs out.”

The lights began to gradually increase in intensity, the music resounded and Baekhyun entered the middle of a path that seemed illuminated by small streetlights, thin beams of light that danced around him and that were reflected in the small sequins of his suit. With indisputable ease, he untangled the whip dangling from a waistband and sliced through the air in all directions with it. Small particles, like glitter, floated in the air suspended around him. He performed a series of skillfully executed feats that were both daring and dramatic. They had brought a few accessories onto the floor during the emcee's presentation: ribbon targets, fluorescent balloons, chandeliers, and more. Circling the runway, he popped the balloons one by one, and a bright red explosion, like drops of blood, shot through the air with each snap of the whip.

The lights dimmed until only he was illuminated by the spotlight, and he grabbed a second whip and made them pop and dance in all directions with such masculine grace, Cora gasped. The dance was increasing, with faster and faster movements and, as if by magic, the two whips became one. With a powerful twist of his arm, Baekhyun lifted him above his head to set him off in flames. The audience gasped, the lights went out, and the flaming whip danced wildly through the darkness. When the lights came on again, he had vanished.

–“What are you doing here? Hasn't anyone taken you to the motorhome yet?”

Cora roused herself, her eyes snapping open. Looking up, she saw the same deep brown eyes plaguing since afternoon that day. For a moment, she couldn't remember where she was but then everything came to mind: the circus, the manager, the show, his whip.

She suddenly became aware of Baekhyun's hands on her shoulders, it was the only thing that had kept her from falling off the old stool that she had been seated on while waiting for him. She had decided to wait there since it was the most illuminated area around the tent, next to government mandated public toilets where there was still a queue to pass them.

She shifted uneasily under his hands and tried to regain her balance with the idea that he would release her.

–“Could you tell me what time it is? I've lost track of it waiting here for you.”

–“It's about 30 minutes to midnight,” Baekhyun put his hands in the pockets of his coat. Instead of the suit he donned for the show, he wore jeans ripped at the knees and a white t-shirt printed with the word ‘Supreme’ in terms of design. Despite the casual attire he didn’t look any less intimidating.

–“Look dulzura, you will have to get used to my presence, since I will be your guide and housemate from now on”. It wasn’t as if Cora hadn’t tried to do it before, in fact she had been attracted to him the moment she met him, only his personality –and now a whip– had slowed her down. He, at her lack of response, muttered something under his breath and after a sigh, spoke again.

–“Come on dulzura, I'll show you where you'll sleep for the next few months.” He turned and left at a fast pace to where the group of caravans were together, paying little attention to the fact that she had luggage that weighed a ton, the consequence of her idea to buy a memorable garment from each city she had visited until now.

–“Wait!” Her scream had an edge of hysteria, but he seemed not to hear it as he continued walking toward the line of caravans. She rubbed the sole of her sneakers across the ruff, gathering some on the toe of it as she dragged her foot. With a gasp, Cora started walking again. Baekhyun approached two vehicles that were parked next to each other. The closest one was a modern white caravan, it looked spacious inside and on its roof you could see a satellite dish. Next to it was another caravan, dented and rusty that appeared to have been silver previously. She begged to herself that it was the space caravan and not the other.

He stood in front of the ugly rusty trailer, opened the door, and disappeared inside. Cora grunted but conceded since she had stayed in worse places. Perhaps the inside wasn’t as hideous as it looked on the outside. Baekhyun reappeared at the door a moment later and watched as she approached fighting with her backpack towards him. When she finally reached the metal step, he offered her a cynical smile.

–“Home, sweet home, dulzura. Come in and settle”.

Cora had always found the Spanish language something to delight in but this was the third time the nickname had come out of his mouth directed at her and she could swear that the way the word rolled on his tongue and briefly hissed before pronouncing the syllable "zu", surely it was close to the song of the angels that received you when you entered paradise.

She sniffed and climbed the four steps that separated her and...the interior was much worse than the outside. Narrow, messy, it smelled musty and old, with a hint of mothball. In front of her was a miniature kitchen, the countertop metal, it had spots with peeling paint. To the right of the kitchen, the faded upholstery of the small sofa was barely visible under a pile of books, newspapers, and men's clothing. In addition, she saw an old, medium-sized refrigerator, wooden cabinets, and a bed with rumpled sheets.

Baekhyun stared at her blankly, genuinely doubting whether she had noticed.

–“It is a small caravan as you can see, but it is comfortable and cozy in the cold. It's all there is and all I have.”

The bed took up most of the back of the caravan, nothing separated it from the rest of the "rooms", the only thing that seemed to be secluded was the bathroom –which she would make sure to explore as soon as she had the chance. On the sheets there were tangled clothes, a towel, and something she couldn't make out from where she was standing.

–“I think I'll sleep on the couch, it would be better…”

He gazed absently at the tip of his foot, then looked up. She stared into those dark eyes –which depending on the light could be paler or even more blackened– and she felt a chill run down her spine, followed by another strange sensation that she did not want to examine further.

He slowly raised his hand, adjusting a lock of hair that had been tousled while she was struggling with her backpack, Cora froze and pursed her lips as she felt the softness of his thumb brush the hollow under her ear with something that it seemed like a caress.

–“Do whatever you want, dulzura. I have to go, I still have things to do.”

Cora gasped when she realized she should have felt danger but her skin had taken the brush of his thumb with pleasure. She felt Baekhyun's insolent hand move away from her hair as he pulled away from her, even though he had left something light on the trailing of her ear. The trailer door swung on its hinges. Baekhyun looked at her and stepped out of it, dropping his gaze from her face to a nonexistent point. Once he was out of sight, she reached for the object that was barely tickling her cheekbone and held the geranium between her fingers with a furtive smile on her face.

↬ This is all for this chapter, I promise to try to write more in the following parts. I will try to update every Saturday. Honorable mention: Oliv (@changshapatrol) without her this story would be nothing, thank you for your patience and trust in me. I love you, a lots ♡

#baekhyun fluff #baekhyun angst #baekhyun smut #baekhyun x oc #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun x you #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun scenarios #baekhyun serie #baekhyun series #baekhyun au #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo scenario #exo scenarios #exo au #iluso amor

117 notes · View notes

agustdef · 4 years ago

Text

VIBE

Pairing: Yoongi x Trans!Reader

Genre: Angst; Fluff; Friends to Lovers

Word Count: 12.4k

Warning: Cheating (not by the pairing); Brief Sexual Content; Mental Health; Mention of Emotional and Mental Abuse; Mention of Mental Health

Rating: NC17

Banner Marker: @guktro

Lovely Beta Reader: @guktro because he’s a persistent little thing and wanted to be the first to read it.

A/N: The fic was written for @guktro and takes place in my I Found You and With All My Heart universe. With that being said, I must say that this portrayal of of trans man was written with Gray in mind and to fit his feelings/what he wanted. So, while I apologize if this makes you feel unrepresented I will not deal with any invalidating of Gray’s feelings towards his own identify.

YN rushed to class after sleeping through the first five alarms he set. He’d meant to get up early, but after a night spent focused on getting a side project done he’d fallen asleep early morning. He scolded himself as he sprinted into the classroom, but at the same time he couldn’t help but be pleased with himself. His burst of late-night inspiration meant that he’d completed the graphic work he’d been tasked with, a thing that kicked his ass for weeks before that night. And it also meant that he had extra money deposited in his bank account by the time he woke up that morning.

A win.

Well, a partial win because the look his professor gave when he just barely had his butt in a seat as class started lessened some of the joy.

There was no time to linger on any of that though because the moment the professor started talking it was full steam ahead. They’d entered another section of the course, which brought them all closer to designing a website completely from scratch. That meant the coding, art, font, almost everything had to be crafted by them.

It was something that excited YN, but also made him extremely nervous seeing as the end product would be the deciding factor of their final grade. Plus, it was going to be done in pairs and despite having attended school their all undergrad, he wasn't buddy buddy with anyone in his classes or his major for that matter. All his friends were in different majors or different schools. Which meant it would be a random person and goodness knows the odds of that person being a team player were low.

However, he tried to keep positive or at least his friends tried to keep him positive. It didn’t help, so he’d just decided to act like it wasn’t a thing until it was. Something that worked until halfway through the class when he heard his professor mention how he’d out of the partners right that moment.

Panic was not a strong enough word for what YN felt as his head snapped up to look from his laptop screen to the front of the class. His eyes scanned the projection on the wall and he held his breath as he did, hoping that whoever the hell it was wasn’t a total shit show. When he found his own name, part of him wished that he’d had a total shitshow instead of who he got though.

After reading the name he turned his head to look towards the back of the room and his eyes met Min Yoongi’s. Yoongi smiled at YN and tipped his head, something YN did in return so not to be perceived as unhappy before turning around again.

But YN was unhappy. Well, not unhappy because he thought bad of Yoongi or anything, but because the man made him nervous as hell. He’d been in most of YN’s graphic design classes since he’d arrived in Korea and a distraction since day one. YN thought that he was ridiculously cute and then as time went by the attraction grew as he watched him go from pale, flawless skin to his arms covered in tattoos. Something about seeing all the art on him heightened things for YN and made him more of a flustered mess around him. All without having never spoken to him before.

Not that YN hadn’t tried. With bullying from his friend’s, but that day as he’d approached “to ask about the homework” Yoongi was joined by a Black woman that YN had seen around him a few times. They’d smiled at each other, linked arms, and walked away from campus as YN reached the halfway point. It left him a tad heartbroken to see that he hadn’t managed to even say hi and that Yoongi may have had a girlfriend.

From that day on YN continued his thirsting from a distance and leaving it at that.

The project pairing meant that he wouldn’t be able to do that anymore and he was unsure of how that would play out, but for the rest of the class time he told himself he could get through it. The reminder that he had a grade to worry about was enough to give some faux confidence.

That wore off as soon as Yoongi approached him as they were dismissed.

“I rented one of the computer rooms for something else, but would you mind heading there with me right now? We don’t have to get any real work done, but it could get the whole expectations part out of the way,” Yoongi said.

Startled, YN only found it in himself to nod and then off they went. Yoongi led the way out the building and to one several feet away that was filled with private rooms for students to rent for course work. They checked in and went into one of the computer rooms on the lower floor.

Yoongi didn’t say anything at first, just unpacked his stuff and booted up the computer. And that left YN awkwardly sitting in a chair next to him, his bag clutched against his chest as he waited. He didn’t know what to do next and that was more about the awkward first group mate meeting then it did any attraction that he felt.

Once Yoongi was done with all his prep he sat in the other chair and turned to YN. He must have sensed the tension because he smiled wide, one of those gum showing ones that YN had seen once or twice when he was talking to his friends. It had a strange calming effect.

“You already know, I’m Min Yoongi,” he said, his hand held out.

YN was a deer in headlights for a second, but soon enough reached out to grasp the hand.

“I’m YN LN.”

“Nice to meet you, YN. We have other classes together, right?”

“Yes, we do.”

Conversation fizzled for a second after that and the awkward tension returned, but Yoongi didn’t allow them to sit in it for too long.

“Okay. I know I said we wouldn’t do any actual work today, but do you have any ideas for what we should make the site for?”

The next beat of silence was because YN needed a second to think, before remembering that he’d made a list in the beginning of the semester, so he’d have it. Without saying a word he unlocked his phone and searched through the notes app to find it. Once it was on the screen he handed the phone over to Yoongi.

There was a look of confusion on his face before he glanced down at the screen and saw what was there. He looked over it for a moment before handing it back.

“We have some of the same ideas. I thought about using this as an excuse to build something for my shop and portfolio, but we don’t have to do that. Don’t want to make it seem like I’m trying to get unpaid work out of you.”

That piqued YN’s interest.

“For your shop?” he asked.

Yoongi nodded. “Yes, I work at a tattoo shop.”

“Ah. Then we could do that. Doing it for a real thing always makes it easier to get the work done. And at least here payment would be a grade and something to add to my resume as a real in use website. But I’d also take a tattoo as payment,” YN said jokingly.

At first Yoongi appeared taken aback, but then his smile returned.

“Anything you want.”

A shift happened in YN and he relaxed a lot more, even putting his bag on the floor.

“Cool, you have any specifics you want to try for?”

And from there they just talked, bouncing ideas off each other and cracking the occasional joke. It was an easy flow they had going and by the time they thought to save some things for a later date in mind an hour had passed.

YN cringed when he saw the clock. “Sorry, for eating into your room time.”

Yoongi waved him off.

“It’s fine. It means I can’t procrastinate and will get something done before my sister comes to meet me for a late lunch. She’ll kill me if I don’t get it done,” he said.

Thought of his own sister made YN frown, but he pushed away the thoughts and gathered his stuff to leave. He turned and smiled at Yoongi, then waved as he backed from the room.

“Text me your schedule and we can figure out when to meet again,” YN said.

Yoongi nodded and they both turned away from each other, but just as YN pushed the door open Yoongi called out to him. Confused, he turned back to see Yoongi’s brows furrow as if in that.

“What’s up?” YN asked.

“You go by he/him, right?”

Discomfort built in an instant as YN was unsure of the reaction that would come with his answer, but he nodded his head and Yoongi smiled again.

“Okay, just making sure so I don’t use the wrong thing.”

With that they said their goodbyes again and YN left, but he left with a happy feeling inside him. He’d moved past the need for outside validation of his gender, but it was always nice to feel someone being considerate. Especially when that person was someone he’d never told before and had to have heard it through the grapevine. He knew how easy it was to misgender him because his appearance screamed feminine and he had no impending plans nor made an effort to make his transition physically apparent.

It was just nice for it to not have someone make a big deal out of it.

So, he walked away from that first meeting beyond happy with the way things went and confident about the project. Which was how he felt after every meeting after that and even on the day that they presented their project.

Everything had gone so well and he only had one regret: Not getting a chance to know Yoongi much outside of their assignment. But the semester was over and YN was so busy with school, work, and life that he barely even had the time for his friends.

And the next thing he knew he was on a plane on the way back home to the US.

###

The moment YN stepped into his apartment he wished he hadn’t. He’d closed the door gently as not to rouse his boyfriend who worked the night shift, but when he turned to face the living room he saw that the man was already awake. In fact, he was awake and he had company.

On the couch sat Sam and between his legs was some “friend” of his with his dick halfway down her throat. The sight didn’t startle YN and he barely had the energy to be upset about it. Especially when both of them realized he was there and could only look like a deer in headlights. Well, Sam was pretending to care that he’d been caught, but YN saw the way he fought the little smirk that wanted to form on his lips.

“Oh, my goodness,” the girl said.

That was what made YN focus solely on her and he remembered her from a few group hang outs. She was a sweet girl who was newer to the group and Sam liked to hang around her lot, though she always seemed to put distance between them when he got too close. It seemed like she’d given up on doing that.

“I didn’t know you lived here,” she said.

“So, if I didn’t it was okay to give oral to my boyfriend?” YN asked, his voice empty.

She shook her head profusely and rose to her feet, fixing her clothes as she did.

“No. My goodness no. Sam… he, well he said you guys broke up. I wouldn’t… I’m not the type to…”

Her scrambling to find an excuse should’ve given YN some sort of relief or reassurance that she wasn’t a horrible person, but he felt nothing. He merely held up his hand to get her to stop and walked back out of the door without another word to either of them.

He’d planned to get in a quick lunch nap, thus coming home when he did, but that was out of the window. So, YN walked around aimlessly until he stumbled upon a cafe. Once inside, he ordered something and found an empty booth away from everyone.

The first few minutes were sat in silence with him merely staring at the other bench seat blankly. He didn’t speak or move until the barista brought over his drink and sandwich. A brief thank you and then he began to nibble on the food, hoping it was enough to focus his mind on something else, but it wasn’t.

All he could think about was the disaster that was his life.

When YN returned to the US he saw it as temporary and as a means to help out his family. His mother struggled a little and he wanted to help, plus he’d missed them since he hadn’t had the chance to go home during his undergrad. Things were fine for a while, but then they all just became so mean and uncaring about his feelings. His mother tried, but sometimes she was just the worst. And his little sister was rude and acted like she hated him or at least that’s what it felt like. Every second of the day it was her trying to undermine and trash talk YN, get the others on her side. And while YN’s brother wasn’t like the other two, he wasn’t the most helpful in saying anything when they ganged up on him.

It was horrible for his already not that great mental state and at some point he was pushed too far. The only option for his own health and safety was to leave, but he poured so much into them it was hard. After talking to a friend back in Korea they got him a plan to go back and he saved as much as he could for the ticket. And the moment he had enough his bags were packed and he was on a plane there.

From there he stayed with friend’s, though as they all progressed in life and started dating seriously or getting engaged it became harder for him to do. Thankfully, he had started dating and as he prepared to find someone else to move with Sam offered for them to stay together. YN had been unsure, there was a gut feeling he didn’t listen to, but living with a boyfriend prematurely was better than being homeless.

So, he moved in, but things dissolved quickly. Sam was trash. His manipulative nature became more obvious and though YN could see it, he was really into him. Certain things were let go or blatantly ignored and that gave him incentive to get worse. YN had found him cheating twice and he’d let Sam talk him into staying both times, but things were still bad. Especially as he became disillusioned and realized he had to stay until he could find a place he could afford to live.

Seoul was expensive and even on his great salary he couldn’t afford it. So, he endured it. Dealt with Sam’s bullshit and tried to remind his heart that Sam wasn’t good for them, despite how they still acted as if they were a happy couple.

Life refused to give him a break and with everything crashing down he’d flirted with returning to the US, but that was no better than staying with Sam. And he didn’t want to be there, he wanted to be in Seoul. But that didn’t stop the thoughts as he sat there and ate his subpar sandwich at the cafe he hated.

All he had to do was have a few friends go to get his stuff with him, stay with them for maybe a day and take the next plane back home. It was that easy, though nothing about it felt easy. Especially as he reminded himself he didn’t want to go back. He didn’t want his joy ruined by someone else.

Which meant that before he spiraled in a public place he needed to pull it together and check apartments again. He’d done it on the train ride back to his apartment and found nothing, but things changed.

After several deep breaths he pulled out his phone and scrolled through all the possible apps for housing. Unsurprisingly nothing that he’d rent alone was in his price range that he could do, which frustrated him and almost made him put his phone down but he pushed forward. He’d accepted a long time ago that he would need a roommate, so he narrowed his searches for those kinds and found a few, but they were mostly creepy or still too much.

That’s when he was really ready to give up, but then the app he was on glitched and refreshed the page. Annoying because he had to scroll all the way down again, but also a heaven send. As he re-scrolled he stumbled upon a listing that was below what he was willing to pay and in a great neighborhood close to his place of work.

YN had never moved so fast to look through the pictures and see what other information the person had to say. The room that would be his was spacious, had great windows, and a wonderful view. Plus, the rules laid out weren’t overbearing.

A simple scroll to the bio of the owner, Sidney, had him even happier because he saw a picture of a Black woman with a kind smile. She explained she was a resident at a prestigious hospital and her last roommate moved out, so she needed someone else to help pay the bills. And there was a direct line about not minding gender at all as long as you were a decent person.

For once life appeared to be on YN’s side, so he scrambled to message Sidney through the app giving the required info about himself and making it clear that he could come to meet her as soon as she was available.

He hoped for a response before he got off work, but what he didn’t expect was one ten minutes later as he left the cafe. She told him it was an off day so he could come after five. YN responded quickly that he got off work at fifteen minutes after five and could be there by five thirty. Sidney replied with a confirmation and YN went back to work with a pep in his step and some hope.

However, that hope turned to nerves as he made his way to the apartment. He even debated not going in once he reached the building but persisted and made his way up with the mantra “you got this” playing in his head. It was effective enough that by the time he knocked he believed it.

The door opened a few seconds after his first knock and he was greeted by the woman who’d he’d seen in the picture. She smiled at him.

“You must be YN,” she said.

YN nodded. “Yes, and you’re Sidney.”

“That I am. Please do come in.”

Sidney motioned YN inside and he paused to kick off his shoes before following her further into the apartment. It was so much nicer in person and he felt himself get excited at the thought of living there but had to remind himself that it was possible he wouldn’t. He had to get along with her after all and just because she seemed nice didn’t mean that she would just let him stay or actually was nice.

“I can show you around and then we can sit and talk or the other way around, whatever you’d prefer. Also, a random man may appear at some point, he does not live here but insists on invading my home anyway,” Sidney said, her voice grew louder as she said the last part.

“Oh, shut it,” a voice shouted out in the distance.

YN was confused at first, but also amused by whatever dynamic Sidney had with the mystery man who was supposedly an unwelcomed guest.

“Tour first is fine,” YN said.

“Tour it is then. You can put down your bag and we can start in the kitchen,” she said.

Without looking YN sat his bag on the couch and followed closely behind Sidney. She walked him through the space, pointing what was where and what was what. Every room got a somewhat detailed explanation, even the empty room that could be his. It was weird how in-depth Sidney was for showing someone who hadn’t been given the go ahead to live there yet. But YN assumed it was just how she was or some way to ensure that the person knew a lot before making a choice themselves.

Five minutes later they finished and walked back out to the living room where there was suddenly someone on the couch. YN assumed it was the person Sidney had been calling out before and shrugged it off.

“Okay, now we’ll sit down and talk for a bit. Get to know each other,” Sidney said as she plopped down onto an armchair.

“And if you aren’t some creep I get to ask you questions too,” the man said.

Something about the voice was familiar, but YN didn’t know just how familiar until he finally walked around the couch and could see the man’s tattoos and then his face. His breath caught in his throat and his eyes grew wide as he stared at him.

Yoongi’s reaction was practically the same, going from an intimidating glare to a fish out of water.

“YN?” he asked.

“Uh, you two know each other?” a confused Sidney asked.

All YN could do was nod as he thought about what kind of craziness was his life.

“Um, yeah. We went to college together. Had a lot of the same class and he even helped me build the shop's website,” Yoongi said.

That’s all it took for Sidney to join and create a trio of shocked expressions.

“He’s that YN?”

For some reason that snapped YN out of his momentary glitching as he wondered what she meant by that, but by the glare Yoongi leveled her with he was sure he’d never figure that out. Though Sidney appeared unphased by his clear displeasure and simply shrugged. Which was met with a roll of the eyes before Yoongi focused on YN again.

“I thought you went back home,” Yoongi said.

YN took a moment to clear his throat before nodding. “Yeah, I did. But the plan was always to come back and I did that two years ago.”

“Oh, that’s good. Glad you got to come back,” Yoongi said, a wide smile on his lips.

As he’d learned years back Yoongi’s smile could make anything feel okay and all the nerves and confusion YN felt before he smiled were pushed to the wayside.

“Well I’ve made my decision. You can move in,” Sidney said, disrupting the moment.

Both of them nearly broke their necks turning to look at her, eyes nearly popping out of their heads.

“W-what?” YN asked.

“You have a job and the ability to pay rent, right?”

“Yes. I’m a section leader at LE International. I can even show pay stubs if you’d like.”

“Then that’s that. Yoongi clearly isn’t opposed to you and that’s good enough for me. You can move in whenever.”

“Even right now?”

“If you want, but is that all you have to move in with?” Sidney asked, tone cautious.

Unsure of what to say YN simply shook his head, but when neither of them said anything or pushed he felt the need to give an explanation. Plus, he was let in without any issue and so he felt a sense of comfort with them.

“I do have more stuff, but it’s at my old apartment and going there isn’t a good idea. At least not right now,” he said.

At that Sidney and Yoongi shared a look for a second before Sidney turned to YN and smiled at her though it was a tad unsettling, much different from the ones she’d directed YN’s way before.

“When do they leave the apartment?” she asked.

Startled, YN looked at her for a long time before answering.

“Um, he’s off tonight but works again in two todays,” YN said.

Sidney nodded before turning Yoongi. “Call Kookie, Namjoon, and hell even Jin. Those wide ass shoulders of his are intimidating all on their own. Tell them to meet us here in fifteen.”

Yoongi didn’t say a word, just threw a reassuring look YN’s way before leaving the room to make the calls.

All of it happened so quickly that YN took a second longer to process it all.

“Oh no, you don’t have to ge-”

A shake of Sidney’s head shut him up.

“Two days is much too long to be without your stuff and even if it wasn’t it may not all be there if he sees you aren’t coming back. I know I’m overstepping a bit and I can call this all off, but you deserve to be in an environment away from whatever it is you’re trying to escape and that means without fear of never getting your stuff back. So, we can proceed and even go alone if it makes you more comfortable or stop it here.”

A warmness filled YN and he felt his shoulders shake a little as tears he didn’t know he held back fell. People he barely knew were being nicer to him than of those he’d known for years or his whole life. And they were prepared to go up against her ex for him without a single question asked. It was like a weight lifted off his shoulders.

“Please help,” he managed to mutter.

Sidney nodded and carefully moved closer to YN, asking before she touched him and then easing him into it before pulling him into a tight hug. Something YN didn’t know that he needed until it happened.

Once they got him calm and their friends arrived they headed out to YN’s ex’s place. He was nervous the whole way, but the entire thing was a bit of a blur. They got there, their friend’s Jungkook and Namjoon appearing behind YN was enough to keep Sam at bay and the others packed up his stuff. There were a few words from Sam, but any time he shifted the wrong way Jungkook took a step forward and he shut up. It was a weird switch from the sweet-faced tattooed kid she’d met at Sidney’s and the one ready to kick his ex’s ass if he breathed wrong.

Everything was moved out and Sam had his key back within about thirty minutes. And they were back at the apartment soon after that. They all helped YN unpack his stuff and get comfortable in his room, even ordering his favorite food for dinner.

By eleven that night he was curled up in his new room, in his new apartment, and for the first time in a while he felt like things clicked.

###

Comfort wasn’t something YN easily found, but it settled in after the first two weeks of living with Sidney. Though she was very busy most of the time with work and school life, she went out of her way to make sure YN was okay and taking proper care of himself. And all her friends were just the same.

After week one of being there he’d met the rest of the friend group, which consisted of Taehyung and Jimin, who he knew from work. They’d been nothing but kind and didn’t push him to tell his life story. All they requested was that he tell them when they crossed a line or truly didn’t want to participate in something; and they’d backed off quickly the one time it happened.

From there it had been so easy to mesh with them, come out of his comfort zone, and just live his life without worries of his ex or where he’d live next. Months passed so quickly and he hadn’t endured a panic attack at all.

It was a nice change of pace and put a bit of a pep in his step.

After a night of watching movies and a morning of breakfast made by Sidney who came off a twelve-hour shift and who apparently craved a mountain of homemade blueberry pancakes. YN didn’t complain because for one it was food he didn’t have to make and for two he hadn’t had pancakes in over a year. So, consuming all that crossed his plate was a must. Though as he traveled to work regret in the form of drowsiness settled in quite a bit.

All that left the moment he stepped in front of the work. Though he’d been working there a while it made him quite anxious to go in every day. He loved his job and wouldn’t trade it for the world, but sometimes that feeling was enough to make him want to try and freelance or something so he could avoid offices and a team of people.

But that wasn’t why his demeanor changed when he arrived. Oh no, it was the two men who stood off to the side of the main doors that did that. Or more so one of the men that was there.

Jimin and Yoongi stood in front of the building with smiles on their faces as they talked together about something that appeared beyond hilarious from the outside looking in. They were laughing and wrapped up in their own worlds as they spoke. Not noticing YN’s gawking nor the many others who eyed them up intensely. Though to be fair YN was sure Jimin was used to it from how much it happened daily. However, with Yoongi there and wearing a short sleeve shirt with his tattoos on full display the attention increased tenfold. Which was always the norm when he came in to work with the company on something.

At some point YN found himself drifting from the momentary drooling over how hot Yoongi was to enjoying the expressions of those who saw them. Something he got so wrapped up in that he didn’t notice Jimin calling his name and waving him over for about fifteen seconds.

Once he snapped out of it, he walked over, head ducked as he avoided the prying eyes of those who noticed where he was headed.

“Hey, we’ve been waiting for you. Thought you normally came in earlier?” Jimin asked after they parted from a hug.

YN nodded. “I do, but I woke up to Sidney cooking breakfast. There was so much of it. She wouldn’t stop filling my plate.”

Yoongi laughed at that, the first sound he’d heard after he’d walked over. It had YN staring him down out of curiosity, but that washed away once he pulled him into a side hug. The affection was brief, but still quite nice.

“Blueberry pancakes?” Yoongi asked.

That guess would’ve left YN from months before surprising, but he’d learned that Yoongi and Sidney knew each other creepy well. Like there was being close to someone and then there was this telepathic like connection where Sidney could see the way Yoongi’s nose twitched and was fast enough to get him a tissue before he sneezed and vice versa.

Though he didn’t think about it often YN was quite jealous of their sibling-like dynamic when compared to the one he had with his own siblings.

“Yeah, she said something about needing them before she lost it,” YN said.

Before Yoongi could respond to that both of them were ushered inside of the building with Jimin muttering about needing to get into the conference room on time. They went without struggle because an angry Jimin wasn’t something anyone wanted and being late wasn’t on the agenda for that morning.

Once the three of them were inside of the elevator Yoongi spoke up.

“She does that when she’s coming off multiple twelve hour shifts sometimes. She’ll either pass out or stress cook blueberry pancakes. I think with the school part of her life finally letting up she has enough energy to make the pancakes now.”

With that new information YN made a mental note to learn to make the pancakes so sometimes she could come home and eat them then pass out. He knew she was a stress cooker and baker, but surely the craving for pancakes existed even when she was dead on her feet. So, the chance for her to get the satisfaction of both was something he liked for her. She worked so hard nonstop and deserved nice things.

While YN plotted on how to get her to teach him the recipe they reached their floor and headed out, going straight to the conference they were to meet that morning. When they walked in they were the last ones, but others were clearly still settling in which meant that their entrance wasn’t the focus. They moved quickly to get into their seats and a few minutes later the meeting began.

“As you know we’re taking on work for an upcoming idol group. Usually that would mean very little from us because they have an in-house team of some sort, but this project is out of their depth. They’re looking for some top-notch work with the concept they’re going for. And because they want things to be cohesive you will be working closely to give ideas and creative direction. This is very involved,” Section Leader Kim said.

Everyone muttered words of understanding before she continued.

“Some of you have hands-on experience with prop type things, so you will be in charge of helping conceptualize that and bring it to life. While three of you will be dealing with a lot of their social media and branding stuff. You will be creating from scratch for them to ensure they appear as unique as possible.”

There were more murmurs and then she directed her gaze towards YN, Jimin, and Yoongi.

“You three will be in charge of all things social media and branding. You will craft from top to bottom. I know YN has experience in it and Yoongi has done it a few times before when he freelances for us, many of those times will partnered with Jimin. So, I’m counting on all of you to do this. Understood?”

“Yes,” they all said.

“Good. There is a meeting set with the company’s creative director, the group, and their manager for an hour from now. Go prepare with your best portfolio examples and take the van that’ll be waiting downstairs in twenty minutes.”

In an instant they were on their feet and out of the room. A mix of fear and excitement drove them to go to their desks and grab any printed things they might need as well as chargers for their tablets just in case. Well, Jimin and YN did, Yoongi simply plopped down into a random chair and started going through his own tablet. When YN walked past he saw him copying certain stuff into one file marked with the project name.

Within fifteen minutes they were ready and in the van that drove them to wherever the meeting was.

YN felt the anxious energy that filled the vehicle but tried to keep his own in check. His focus was on his own tablet organizing some things, so they were easy to find when he tried to show them. However, he did that so quickly that he needed something else to preoccupy his mind, so he opened up his coloring app and used the pen to color in the picture of a sunset. The calming effect wasn’t the same as if it had been paper and crayons, but it helped a great deal. So much so that by the time they reached the company building he felt like he was entering a lunch date with work colleagues and not walking into the lion’s den to do his job well enough to please the entertainment company and his boss.

That didn’t mean that he felt confident enough to take the lead though. Yoongi was the one to do that with YN and Jimin following close behind him. They both got so nervous in new, high pressure environments that it was good to have someone else take charge sometimes.

And with Yoongi at the helm things moved smoothly. They got inside, were brought into a conference room, provided drinks, and NDAs for them to sign. No one tried to be difficult nor did anyone side eye them as often happened, though there were lingering eyes on Yoongi’s tattoos. Would’ve been some on Jimin’s too if he hadn’t worn a long sleeve.

Their wait for others only lasted for about five minutes before they were standing and greeting the group of seven. They all introduced themselves and as the introductions took place YN was shocked to learn that the group was the four, heavily tattooed men. He was very here for it, but surprised nonetheless.

Surprises didn’t stop there though. The moment butts hit seats the creative director dove into what they were looking to do. All of it came at them fast and YN barely had time to process the gist of what the hell was going on. It was about halfway that Jimin asked them to slow down a little and they obliged, explaining things in a less excited manner. Once he finished each of the members took a turn explaining what they hoped things to look like.

From there they were all allowed to share their past work and some ideas. They’d received vague information from work so they’d kind of gotten some understanding of what was wanted, but nothing they had truly fit. That wasn’t a problem though, there was some interest in some of the stuff and it was only the first meeting.

Yoongi had finished explaining something to the manager who’d wondered if they could create some sort of glitch vibe to incorporate when one of the members, Hyun, pulled his attention.

“I apologize if I offend you or it’s too personal, but who gave you that tattoo?” he asked.

Yoongi paused before following Hyun’s gaze to the large tattoo on his forearm that was about as intricate as the others, but glitched out and splashed with colors. It was one of YN’s favorites.

“Oh, Jimin did,” Yoongi said while pointing towards the man in question.

That led to them all looking wide eyed at as bashful Jimin buckled a bit under their gazes. There was some nervous energy wafting off him and YN wasn’t sure if it was because they all appeared amazed or because despite major changes to who could tattoo in Korea they were displeased to see it so openly admitted.

YN knew it was the former, well it mostly seemed like the former.

“You do tattoos?” Moon, another member, asked.

Jimin nodded and then cleared his throat before speaking.

“It’s something I do on the side because I like it. I usually work at Yoongi’s shop. He’s a bit of a reverse of me, works full time doing that and freelances doing this.”

Again, they looked beyond shook at the revelation and that was when things truly got rolling as they brainstormed ideas. They took a few pictures of Yoongi’s tattoo and then built off the concept of it. Though YN was not a tattoo artist, nor did he have any, it was easy to keep up since he was around them so often and found them interesting.

Time flew with their newfound excitement and suddenly four hours had passed. Since the group had other things to do they left first and after finalizing some things with them the creative director also took his leave. He said he wouldn’t need anything from them for the rest of the day, but to spend time coming up with things that fit for what they were trying to do for their meeting a few days later.

So, they left on a high note. The issue was that they were so excited and eager about everything they found themselves at Yoongi’s working on things immediately. They’d all taken up space and began working on designs that they could implement for it. They were only going for rough sketches or bare bones ideas to be decided on next meeting, but it was all consuming.

Seokjin had come through with food and forced them to sleep, but they worked so hard to get everything done. And if it weren’t for their excitement to bounce ideas off each other they would have gone all that time with no social activity at all. Not that isolated while submerging yourself in work so much you only had two people to talk to was a good thing.

Thankfully, they emerged from that behavior before Sidney had to make good to come over and kick all their asses. They’d finished everything in time for their next meeting and when that one went well they truly felt like hot shit.

However, they needed to rough draft a website. Something that Jimin knew how to do but not like them, which worked out since he had a few appointments to do and it didn’t hinder progress. Though it did leave Yoongi and YN alone, something that they hadn’t been since their college project. Which meant awkwardness to start before they got into a groove and found the right flow.

It reminded YN of how much he’d loved working with Yoongi back in college, as well as stirred up some feelings he hadn’t thought about. Not enough to say that he truly fell for the man, but enough that he wished he could ask him to accompany him on a non-work-related outing just the two of them.

Luck was on YN’s side though, because the moment that they finished the website Yoongi turned to him and smiled. One that YN returned whole heartedly before raising his hand so that they could high-five. Yoongi rolled his eyes but did it anyway and then there was a shift.

Instead of releasing YN’s hand he held onto it and stared at him for several, long seconds before he finally said anything.

“I’m going to say something and please tell me if I’m crossing a line,” Yoongi said.

“Uh, okay.”

“I know that it hasn’t been that long since the whole crazy ex thing and us reconnecting in a way we hadn’t when we first met. But I want to take you out on a date. To be clear it’s not anything extremely serious, I’ve just been feeling something and I need to act on it before I allow myself to possibly feel anything stronger.”

YN’s eyes went wide two sentences and just stayed that way for a bit. His mind replayed the words over and over in his head, knowing that he’d heard Yoongi right the first time he said it.

“You want to go on a date with me?” he finally managed to ask.

Again, Yoongi’s smile took form as he nodded. “Yes, I do if that’s something you want to do. No pressure, I’ll be fine if you say no. I’ll even be fine if you say yes and we just don’t fully click that way. A no pressure situation.”

Despite the constant reminder of no pressure, YN felt a great deal of pressure but also none at the same time. He wanted the date to go well so he wanted to try to make it work but knowing that Yoongi was prepared to continue as they were if what they thought was there wasn’t was a relief.

Probably the chillest request for a date he’d ever gotten. Definitely from the chillest person he’d ever encountered.

“Yes, I would like to go on a date with you,” YN finally said.

Yoongi’s smile getting any wider felt impossible but it did. His expression and body language screamed happy and that only enhanced the joy that spread through YN after he’d said yes.

“Anything in mind?” YN asked.

For a moment Yoongi’s lips formed a pout as he mulled it over and then his eyes lit up as he seemingly figured it out.

“There’s this temporary restaurant and art gallery in Incheon. They have some of the work by that one artist you said you liked recently. You could meet me at the shop after my last client on Saturday and we could go. If that’s something that interests you,” he said.

All it took was the mention of seeing the artist Bri’s work for YN to be on board with the plan in an instant.

“Yes. Fuck yes,” he said.

Laughter escaped Yoongi at the response and he nodded. “Saturday it is then.”

YN went home sometime after that feeling a kind of lightness and genuine excitement that he hadn’t in a while. And he didn’t care if it only lasted a few minutes or hours, he savored it.

###

The entire time YN got ready for the date he’d been calm. There were no worries or internal meltdowns, no matter how much closer he got to the actual meet up time. He’d gotten up from his binge watching of Nura: Rise of the Yokai Clan and showered, then dressed without issue. Didn’t even overthink what to wear, just found something that he deemed date appropriate and casual. Though he did pause for a moment to thank the heavens that the dress code for where they were going was relaxed.

Even as he applied his make-up and waved bye to a half away asleep, still in scrubs Sidney on the couch on his way out he was fine. It was a miracle and he was so happy to not be beside himself, but naturally that all came crashing down.

As he approached the last stop on his train ride he noticed a few people gathered together laughing and talking. They’d all been there since the stop before, but YN paid them no mind as he played a game on his phone. But an extra loud laugh drew his attention and when his head lifted to glance there way he realized he knew them. It was a collection of some of his old friends, ones who’d let them stay with them for a bit and were also the reason he’d met his ex. And with them was aforementioned ex.

A discomfort built in YN’s stomach, not from seeing them but from the idea of confrontation. Despite clear attempts to block him and keep away, Sam had made it his mission to pop up someway in YN’s life for a few months before vanishing completely. And though he’d given up, YN knew him to hold a grudge and be persistent. If he saw YN there would be some attempt to talk and with people to back him avoiding him was hard. But YN told himself he could do it.

YN looked away from them and focused on his phone once more but made sure to keep alert just in case they saw him. He made sure he had everything he came onto the train with, moved his purse from his lap to crossbody, and held his phone firm with Yoongi’s number at the ready.

The moment the train came to his stop he stood and moved past them quickly, keeping his head down and his eyes averted. However, the train jolted a little harder than usual sending him stumbling into one of them a little. He did his best to offer a quick apology and then turned back to the doors willing them to open faster. And when they did he bolted out of there just as his name was being called out by Sam.

People around him were startled by the person sprinting through the station and up to the surface, but YN didn’t stop until he was across the street from the station and amongst a group of people. He paused to catch his breath and ensure he hadn’t been followed out of there and when both of those things were clear he made his way towards the tattoo shop. Thankfully, it wasn’t far from the train station.

As he walked there the adrenaline from that close call left him and made way for the nerves that had remained at bay all day. It was as if they’d been awakened by running into people he wanted to avoid, though something told him it was more likely they’d just been waiting for the right moment to strike. What better moment was when he was only a few hundred feet from the shop's entrance.

One more time that night YN found himself pausing to pull it together, words of encouragement and surety repeated in his head to get him to make the final steps. And once he got in front of the door he was calmer, though not as much as he preferred.

“You got this,” he whispered just as he pushed the door open.

Upon entering he was greeted by Jimin who sat behind the front desk and Jungkook who’d just emerged from one of the back rooms. They both wore genuine smiles, clearly happy to see YN and that was enough for the incident from several minutes ago to leave his brain. People who actually cared deserved more of his focus than anyone else.

“Hey, he just finished up and is cleaning his space. You can go back there if you want,” Jungkook said after a brief hug.

After he hugged Jimin he headed on back without a word. He’d been to their shop a few times and it wasn’t hard to find things. Yoongi’s room was the last one in the hall and when YN reached it he took a deep breath before knocking on it. There was silence and then a soft come in before he proceeded.

When YN opened the door he was met with Yoongi wiping down his chair and the strong smell of a bleach laced cleaning substance. It made his nose wrinkle and he almost backed out of the room, but he got used to the smell quickly.

“Hi,” YN said.

Though that was the natural thing to say YN beat himself up for saying it. Something in him said he could have said something cooler, but he knew damn well trying to be cool or appear chill or whatever the hell he wanted to go for was stupid. Also, Yoongi didn’t give a fuck about that anyway.

Stopping his efforts to clean off the chair, Yoongi stood tall and turned to smile at him. It was wide and though there was a trace of tired etched into his face it didn’t detract from the genuineness of it.

“Hey. I’ll be done in a few minutes. Just want to make sure things are good since I don’t come in tomorrow.”

YN nodded. “That’s fine. I’ll just stare at this wall for a while.”

Yoongi laughed at that and then went back to cleaning.

And true to his word YN proceeded to stare at the wall. But it wasn’t like it was blank, the thing was covered in some of this work. Yoongi tended to make prints of his favorite pieces or the ones that spoke best to his ability and put them framed up on walls. Which meant that the space was beautiful and YN could get lost in examining them all for hours. He’d tuned out Yoongi, Jungkook, Jin, and Sidney talking the first time he laid eyes on it because he was so swept up in it all. They’d all taken faux offense to him ignoring them, but all voiced understanding of why. Their compliments had Yoongi turning red by the end of it.

Something was different about the first time though. At first YN couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but a few seconds later he realized a piece had been moved and there was a new one in its place. While the other had been a drawing the one in its place was a chunk of text. It was in a beautiful script that one would deem impossible to do so fluidly on skin, but Yoongi had achieved that.

Once YN got past that he noticed that it appeared to be words from Puck’s final monologue in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. That made him laugh, but also got him thinking about something that he wanted that was similar. He’d wanted a tattoo when he was younger and then as he grew up and dealt with life the urge became stronger, though he had more direction than before.

While thinking he hadn’t realized how far he’d drifted until Yoongi pressed a hand to his lower back.

“See something you want?” Yoongi asked.

Instinct told him to push the idea aside and tell Yoongi it was nothing, but his mouth and brain seemed to disconnect on the matter.

“Just thinking about how I’ve wanted a tattoo for forever. And this one just makes the urge all the more real.”

There was no response at first and that made YN start to doubt sharing that, but when he turned to glance at Yoongi he saw a thoughtful expression.

“How about we do one?” Yoongi asked after a few more moments tick by.

“Now?”

“Now. I still owe you a tattoo, don’t I? Plus, we can go to the exhibit another day. Though if you don’t want to spend our first date getting takeout and getting a tattoo then we can do it later.”

For a moment YN thought about it, but then realized there wasn’t much to think about at all.

“Yes. Let’s do that.”

And that’s all that was needed to get Yoongi smiling again and guiding YN over to his desk where he sketched out the tattoos. They dove into Yoongi’s portfolio for inspiration, but nothing fully stuck no matter how much YN loved it. After who knows how long they ordered dinner from a nearby sushi restaurant and even as they ate they focused on finding the one.

It was frustrating and YN felt a bit bad about using their date like that only for them to come up with nothing. He’d planned to voice that thought, but then suddenly Yoongi cleared all the stuff and pulled out a pencil and a sketch pad. Then he turned to face YN, expression serious, something that YN had grown used to while they worked together.

“What’s your favorite color?” Yoongi asked.

“Uh… blue.”

“Mine too. Favorite cliche tattoo?”

“Song lyrics.”

Yoongi nodded along and started writing something on the paper, but he held it so YN couldn’t quite make out what it was.

“Favorite time of year?”

“Winter.”

There was more nodding and writing before Yoongi looked up once more, his eyes fixed on YN’s as he spoke.

“And without giving me some job or basic life goal, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

And surprisingly YN knew how to respond without question. “The hero of my own story.”

That got a small smile out of him and he even reached over to squeeze YN’s knee before he wrote something down and then tore the page out of the book. YN watched Yoongi sit the paper to the side and then him sketching on the blank page under it.

Not a word was uttered as he did so, the room silent and uncomfortable. Of course, confusion filled YN but after all the time spent looking and with the determined look of Yoongi’s face he let him do his thing. Which only lasted for a few minutes before Yoongi flipped the sketch pad for YN to see what it was.

YN burst into tears as he took it in.

Everything about it was perfect despite it being in slightly rough shape. The right words were there and even the more drawing oriented parts of it fit so perfectly and didn’t overtake the words. Goodness, YN couldn’t stop focusing on the words. They just slapped him in the face with how well that fit what he wanted. How well they fit him.

Gathering himself was hard, but he managed to make it clear to Yoongi that he loved it and that’s what he wanted. Yoongi wanted to comfort him, but YN waved it off and after making sure that all was fine he got to work getting it drawn on his tablet so he could print it out for stencil.

All of it happened so fast from there, they’d found a spot for it and how it would lay and YN was in the chair ready to go. Yoongi had all his stuff ready to go and the buzz of the tattoo gun brought YN back to, but something was different then.

The euphoria from finding the right thing and finally doing something he’d wanted for years was still there, but there was that voice in the back of his head poking at it. It’s what he wanted and he knew that wouldn’t change, but something just felt off. Like it wasn’t the right time for him to be getting it. Like he wasn’t ready for it.

“Wait,” he said just before Yoongi’s needle touched his skin.

Thankfully, Yoongi heard him just in time and pulled away, turning the gun off and setting it down on the table. Though there was clear confusion on his face he didn’t say anything, just waited for YN to be ready for whatever the next thing was.

His kindness and patience made YN feel guilty and a little bit stupid. He’d gotten a date with Yoongi only for them to not go on the planned one because of some whim that YN had and couldn’t go through with.

“I… I want the tattoo, but I just can’t right now. I don’t know what the fuck it is, but I just… something is telling me that right now isn’t the right time. And I hate that because I know I love it and want it, but I’d hate to have the joy of getting it clouded by whatever weird shit is happening in my head. And I hate it more because we could have been finishing a really great date doing something we both enjoy instead of spending hours doing this only for me to chicken out during the last second. It’s unfair to you. And I’m so, so, so sorry, Yoon.”

YN’s ranting would’ve gone on longer if the guilt hadn’t increased once he realized that he’d been talking for a bit and was definitely going to keep going if he wasn’t stopped.

Following his little spiral there was silence before Yoongi reached out and held both of his hands with his own. He waited until YN looked up at him and then gave him a gentle smile while his hands squeezed YN’s lightly.

“I’m the one who offered out of nowhere. I’m the one who decided to make this a consultation kinda date. I made those choices and I stand by them. We found something and you’re not ready and that’s fine. It happens to a lot of people. Sid almost got the tattoo on her side about ten times before she finally went through with it. And she was as sure as you were about this one, probably cried just as much. I’ve had clients even do that a time or two, it’s not a big deal I promise you. We ate food, we spent time together, and though it was frustrating at times I had a good time with you. I promise. Plus, I already said we could retry that date another time. So, unless you no longer want to go on another date with me, then we can still do that.”

Relief was not the right word for what YN felt after that, but he couldn’t think of another word for it. At least not until he found himself leaned forward with his lips pressed against Yoongi’s. He was unsure if he initiated the kiss, but all that mattered is that Yoongi returned the kiss without hesitation.

When he pulled away YN found the right word for what he felt.

Bliss.

###

Several dates followed the first one and they’re all great. The initial date plan never happens because after the night they were supposed to go, the pop up ended sooner than it should have. That made YN feel even more guilty about changing their plans, but after a great afternoon spent at a festival it was forgotten. Especially with how well things went.

YN and Yoongi clicked in a romantic way. They both felt it and weren’t shy about the growth in their affection towards each other nor their feelings.

However, despite their dating for over a month neither of them had made the move to make things more official. Which wasn’t really necessary since they and everyone else knew they were together, but it didn’t stop the odd thought here and there about if Yoongi genuinely wanted to commit to YN. And he was sure Yoongi had the same thought whenever he went to introduce YN and stumbled on what to call him. Neither of them said anything though.

Everyone thought they were being stupid, including Sidney, but they let them work out their stuff at their own pace. Even if their own pace was two idiots not just addressing the one thing that could remove any inkling of doubt, while knowing the other is thinking it.

It would have gone on longer if on the day that YN and Yoongi were going on yet another date, Sidney was too. There was a doctor that she’d been sleeping with that she sometimes went out with, though usually only as a preface to sex. After an incident where she had to explain to him that anal beads were not in fact candy, things had been strained and Sidney said he’d asked her out to get closer again. She didn’t see it becoming much more, but she also wasn’t against trying so she’d agreed.

As she’d parted ways with YN after they left the apartment there had been an offhand comment from her telling YN to ensure her boyfriend didn’t eat the cookie dough she had sitting in the fridge. The recipe called for a two-day waiting period before baking and she refused to make another batch just because Yoongi was a fiend.

Usually YN brushed off the label, but it stuck with him that time and he felt his mind go into overdrive as his cheeks burned at the thought. Yoongi was not his boyfriend, but he wanted him to be and that meant that he was going to have to ask him. He needed a plan to do that, but just as his brain got to working on one Yoongi’s car pulled up.

The thought was dismissed as he hopped in and Yoongi leaned over to give him a quick peck on the lips before pulling away from the building.

For a moment all YN thought about was how soft his lips were.

That was until he realized he was unfamiliar with the route being driven and didn’t even know what the date was supposed to be.

“Uh, where are we going?” he asked.

Yoongi shook his head immediately. “I didn’t tell you for a reason. You’ll find out when we get there.”

Naturally, that made YN pout, but he didn’t press him for it.

“I would joke about you taking me somewhere to kill me, but you’re too lazy to dispose of a body. Unless Sidney didn’t actually go on a date and is waiting for you and my dead body at a second location.”

At first Yoongi laughed, but then his brows furrowed and a frown formed upon his lips.

“She has a date? Please tell me it’s not with anal bead dude?”

All YN did was sigh and that elicited a groan of annoyance from Yoongi. He didn’t care for the man and that was before the aforementioned incident. There were many times he’d told YN, Sidney, their friends, and the man in question how stupid he thought he was. And how he didn’t understand how he managed to get Sidney to be around him for more than two seconds, let alone became a doctor. It wasn’t the most he’d disliked one of the people Sid was with, but it was apparently up there on the top of the list.

“You know she isn’t even into him that much, so I don’t know why you’re so worried. Not like she’s going to marry him suddenly. She’d probably marry Jin before anyone else. They mesh,” YN offered trying to placate him.

There was a huff from Yoongi and then a nod. “True. Or Hoseok, they would probably be good together. If they ever stopped being busy when the other could finally come around.”

“One day.”

From there conversation fizzled and YN stared out of the window watching the world go by. Minutes ticked by and then they were pulled into a parking lot and headed to a train station. Even as YN realized the direction they were headed he couldn’t figure out what it was they were going to do.

Which was fine since they reached their destination and he would have never guessed it in a million years. And he was beyond happy about that.

They stood in line at a place that wore the sign of the artist he’d wanted to see the work of and from the windows he could see it was a similar pop up to the one they’d been meant to go to. The pieces were different, but it was still a set up for dining amongst the works.

YN was so shocked and giddy that he didn’t utter a word until they were seated at a table for two and waiting for their waiter to return with water.

“I didn’t know they opened another one. I’d been hoping and stalking their accounts for it, but nothing ever came up. Not even yesterday. This is so fuckin’ cool,” he said.

The ramblings of joy didn’t stop there, YN continued on gushing about the artwork and about how much he loved being there. And there were several thank yous thrown Yoongi’s way, all of which he waved off.

There just hadn’t been something that excited him like that in a while and he couldn’t shut up about it. Not that Yoongi seemed to mind. They still had a back and forth, Yoongi putting his two cents in and sometimes being the reason for why the conversation shifted in one direction or another. Though it was mostly about the artwork and sometimes about how good the food was.

Before YN knew it they’d finished dinner and began to walk around to look at the art. Though the entrance area held some there was another room down a short hallway that gave more of the feel of an actual gallery. The things hung in there had a similar feel to the things in the dining space but were vastly different. The artist tended to be more traditional with their stuff, but the things back there were more digital.

And right then YN fell more in love with their work and Yoongi found himself entranced by it for the first time.

At that point they were kids in a candy store calling over the parents every time they found something that they loved. It was chaotic, but they both had enough patience to wait for one another to come look at what they were talking about.

They were beyond adorable. But they were also so caught up in the work that they didn’t realize how much time had passed until there was an announcement of five minutes until closing. There was some pouting on both their parts, but they understood and turned to go hand and hand.

Until YN stopped suddenly.

Confused, Yoongi stopped too and turned to glance at him. He was met with a wide smile, but a determined expression. It clearly worried him and he opened his mouth to speak, but so did YN.

“Is somethi-”

“Will you be my boyfriend? Also, can we do the tattoo tonight?”

The first question had Yoongi choking on air and missing the second one.

“Repeat that,” he said.

Seconds ticked by with YN saying nothing, because despite the confidence during the initial ask, he felt his nerves kick in hard as he was requested to say it again.

“Um, well I asked if you would be my boyfriend and if I could finally get that tattoo.”

More silence came as Yoongi’s mouth opened wide and closed repeatedly, the poor man was doing a terrible fish impression. It would have been funny or something to tease him about in many situations, but all it did was make YN nervous as he waited for an answer.

Thankfully, the suffering only lasted about thirty seconds before Yoongi pulled it together. He pulled YN close, their faces inches apart and then answered.

“Yes,” he said before closing the distance and pressing a kiss to YN’s lips.

It was a gentle, yet passionate kiss that made YN melt into his embrace. He never wanted to leave that moment, but when they pulled apart he couldn’t stop the happy feeling that filled him. Which was only amplified by Yoongi’s bright smile.

They would have stayed like that, but then the two-minute warning came and they realized they needed to move. But before they left Yoongi turned to YN.

“Also, that was yes to both things if that wasn’t clear. I’ll text Kook in the car.”

And just like that they were off. They practically sprinted to the train station and then to the car once they got off the train. There was a buzz of adrenaline surrounding them and it didn’t start to lessen until they stepped foot inside the shop.

Though Yoongi still appeared incredibly happy and ready to conquer the world, YN found himself deflating a bit. Each step towards Yoongi’s room brought on nerves and by the time his butt hit the seat of the tattoo chair he felt like he was halfway ready to sprint out of the room.

All the feelings from when they chose the tattoo came back and he was there unsure of whether to go through it, despite really wanting to. It was a recipe for disappointment and he didn’t want to chicken out again, but his brain wasn’t being kind.

The shift in him went unnoticed by Yoongi until he turned to him with the printed off stencil in hand. When he saw YN’s downturned lips and the tense behavior he frowned.

“We don’t have to do this, you know,” Yoongi said softly.

That almost broke YN, because he was being so sweet about enduring YN’s indecisive ass twice in a row. It was too nice of him and it only made YN frown more, but instead of guilt flooding in certainty did. Something in YN shifted and drowned out the other voice being a pain in his ass and suddenly a smile graced his lips.

“No. I want to do it,” he said.

Of course, Yoongi appeared unsure for a moment but after staring him down he nodded and got to work.

Alcohol pads were used to wipe down YN’s arm and then the stencil was placed. It was done a few times to get the right placement, but when it was just right on his forearm Yoongi proceeded; with caution though.

He allowed YN to choose the music and asked if he was sure, then grabbed the gun and turned it on. The first mark was a tense one for both of them, but as time went on things grew more relaxed and went along smoothly.

The tattoo in question wasn’t that big, but it had some intricate details that needed all of Yoongi’s focus. It left YN alone with his thoughts, but he never drifted to a bad place. If anything he was more so worried about how long it would take and trying to play on his phone without moving the arm that Yoongi was working on.

A few hours and one small break later though, the tattoo was done. Yoongi had been able to get it done completely but said YN would have to come back once it was healed to get it colored again just to be safe.

That didn’t matter to YN though. In that moment all he wanted to do was see the thing. He’d avoided looking at it through the process and during the break so he could get the full effect, and that is definitely what he got.

The moment his eyes laid on the tattoo through the mirror his body shook as tears fell rapidly.

On his forearm was a forest of leafless trees. The setting was winter and that could be seen from the snow that was depicted falling down. While the trees were a lot of the tattoo they started before the crook up his elbow and stopped about two or three inches before his wrist. From that point on a plot of blue dahlias among snow took up the remainder of the space. Though the ones they were thinking of when coming up with the tattoo were red, they’d chosen blue because it was something that already brought YN happiness. But it didn’t stop there. Since the dahlias weren’t as tall as the trees it left space above it. So, in the midst of all the little snowflakes were words written in a beautiful script. They were truly the thing that evoked the most emotion from YN.

We'll be in full bloom at the end of these hardships.

Those words resonated with him on a whole different level and though they were bittersweet, all he felt was joy with them. Hope too. Those were things he thought were out of his reach, but he’d finally felt them.

Yoongi, Sidney, their friends, and most of all YN himself had finally helped him see he could feel like life was on his side. And it was the greatest feeling in the world.

129 notes · View notes

seijohsfairy · 4 years ago

Text

𝙿𝙴𝚃𝚄𝙻𝙰𝙽𝚃

he does his very best to give you everything, you know this better than most. so the least you can do is not get jealous. you don’t get jealous… just maybe get a little fussy instead.

.wordc. 4k+ tw (step)daddy, size kink, belly bulge, degradation, hairpulling, spit, jealousy

With his teeth in the crook of your neck with his strong arms looped around your -in comparison- tiny body, he pounds his hips up into you until your eyes roll back in your skull. “Needy- fucking- bitch,” the muffled grunts come with each thrust, and all you can do is keep your fingers stuffed into your mouth and holding onto the short hairs at the base of his skull. “Like having a cock too big to stuff your dirty, cockhungry cunt?”

“Yeah, love your— fat cock.” Each wet slap of your pussy being battered by a dick too big for you rings way too loud in the quiet of the otherwise abandoned room, his huge cock going so deep it pushes up against the edge of your poor walls. Your fingers and chin are covered in spit, eyes closed tight and tits bouncing with the motions, unable to even close your legs for a little reprieve. “So deep.”

The bench creaks against the motions. And he rests his forehead onto your shoulder for a moment to hold you down, breathing deeply. “Gonna cum?” His voice so low and gravelly, body radiating heat that leaves you both with sweat rolling down exposed skin. You think you nod in response, but it’s hard to tell when your head’s so cloudy you can’t tell left from right, trying to keep from crying out. “Wanted daddy’s cock so bad you had to beg for it like a whore, so you better.” Then he’s moving again, one hand dropping to your ass to help you along with the ruthless pace he sets in your wet slit.

“C-can’t,” you cry around your fingers when his chest brushes up against your overstimulated nipples, clenching around the heat and dripping all over him. “Wanna -quit, mhm-wan’cum. ‘S too big.” Your thighs strain with the effort to drop yourself at his rhythm, your muscles clenching more each time your clit rubs against the coarse hair around his cock. “So close, daddy!” Your voice, muffled and high pitched, is still no match for the lewd sounds that fill the room and his heavy grunts. You moan at the way his frown digs a little deeper, biting his lip in focus. “Yes, yes, ah-please!” With a few more thrusts, you drop down onto his cock all the way until it pushes against your cervix, and the tight coil in your belly snaps. “Sh- mhm— thankyouthankyou daddy!”

“Fuck,” he hisses, “milk my cock, slut.” Your walls clench around him so hard you see double, pulling your wet fingers out of your mouth to dig them into the hard muscles of his shoulders with a loud string of incoherent begs. And he follows close after, filling your belly with warmth until his thick cum spills out and makes even more of a mess. But he only stops until your body slumps entirely against his chest, so fucked out your toes tingle, and the blood rushing in your head is so loud you can’t hear anything else. He keeps you tight to his hot body, breathing deeply against your sticky skin.

Everything after that moves quicker, sadly. Your head is still pounding a little as he helps you off his lap and onto your feet, wiping your drool off your face and kissing your lips until you manage to lift your arms enough to get your shirt back on. You don’t even know how many minutes pass in silence as he helps you clean up, allowing you the time to come back to earth. “Tired?” he asks, and you nod along, collapsing against his chest with a deep whine.

“I don’t think I want to try walking for at least half an hour.” You stand and watch as he drops his boxers and digs through his bag for his gear, quick to put it all on. Though his grin grows wider the longer you stare at him, you’re not even trying to hide it. Jersey stretching over his wide chest and shoulders, before he tucks himself into fresh boxers and shorts.

“Enjoying yourself?” he chuckles when you bite your lip, nodding cutely. You go to stand onto the bench with a little sigh to motion him over, taking a brief moment to fix his hair as his large hand rests at the small of your back. Pretty hazel eyes watching you with a revering gaze. When you’re done, he clicks his tongue. “Gotta rush out there, pretty thing, I gotta go to warm-ups.” He presses a quick kiss to your pouty lips as he helps your underwear back up your body, but his gaze lingers for a moment too long for you to believe the responsible front he’s putting on. Even if he doesn’t admit it, the way his hands come to paw at your tummy says enough, pushing on it a little until you grab his wrist and squeak.

“Daddy!”

The wet squelch of his cum gushing out of you into the drenched fabric is enough to have heat rising to your face again. “Leaking my cum into those pretty panties?” You fake a frown, but enjoy the way his fingers trail up your body under his shirt. “Hm, that’s too bad.” The little purse of his lips quickly morphs back into a smile when you push his arms away from your body. “I’ll see you in a few hours,” he promises, stuffing his bag into the locker. Everyone’s definitely already warming up in the other gym. If anything you’re lucky that they haven’t come around to find their captain yet. “Cheer for me?”

“Of course, daddy,” you say back, eyeing him down a little longer. He really does look too damn unholy in the tight uniform, sending you a last little look that already has your insides warming again.

There’s very little that can make you jealous. You’ve won over a lot of obstacles to be with Meian the way you are, and though it’s technically a secret, the gazes his teammates send you when you cheer for your daddy or come around training a bit earlier than you should to watch him are far from unknowing. Of course the large majority of the crowd doesn’t know though, so it’s easy to blend into the cheers of the supporters. In all black and gold, there’s few things you enjoy more than showing off to everyone what you mean to him, jumping and cheering from the stands. You don’t care that they don’t know who you are, or that some of his fans send daggers into your back with their glares.

After all, it’s not for nothing that your skirt shows off the bruises and hickeys on your thighs, his jacket falling way down your body like it could be a dress. The number four on the back also painted on your face as you wave your banner excitedly back and forth. He sends a quick glance back, eyebrows furrowed to look for your face in the mess of people, and grins when he spots you. You wave and smile, letting your heart make a jump when he winks at you, then turning back to the team. This little game between you two is nothing new— hell, most of the players have their own little routines. The first set went by so quickly, and your side of the area is ecstatic, buzzing with excitement.

But as the whistle rings, there’s a distinct murmur right behind you that is harder to ignore by the second. “He winked this way, did you see?” “Who did? Him?” “The Captain, number 4. Meian Shugo.” You really try your best to ignore them, try to watch the game progress below you, but it’s so hard when they seem to be only one of two rows behind you. And loud at that. “At— that girl over there that’s wearing his number, you think? She looks way young.” “I know he got divorced not too long ago, you think that’s his new girl? What a shame.” The longer the conversation continues, the more you have to fight the urge to turn around, tapping your foot on the floor to quell your nerves.

“Ugh, just imagine what a man like that can do,” one of the girls sighs after a while, and even the man to your side turns around to give them a little glare. “What? Are we not allowed to talk?” she hisses, cutting her argument short when the man turns back at the sound of another whistle, the opposing team coming up to serve. They are clearly not here for the enjoyment of the sport, and though you can understand it to a degree, there’s a certain self consciousness that creeps up your spine when they continue, under their breath. “Whatever, even if he has a girlfriend, that doesn’t mean we can’t go say hi after the match. I wanna know what he’s like with a body like that.” “Yeah, same. I’d love to see what’s underneath those shorts. Ride him until he’s out of breath.”

The shrill laugh of the girls is all you can hear through the cheers, clinging a bit harder to the banner in your hands. And it’s so stupid to get jealous, but the way they talk about him hits a part of you that you don’t like giving into. After all, you’re living in the same house as him and currently have his cum soaking into your panties, but no one is allowed to know. And you’re not so sure if that’ll ever change. “If that’s really his girlfriend, I feel bad for him. She looks like she never takes charge in anything, let alone the bedroom.” Her friend snickers. “You’re so right, poor guy.” MSBY suddenly scores a point, knocking you out of your daze when the entire crowd jumps forward in cheers, squishing you to the bannister a little more. And Meian smacks the grey-haired spiker on the back with a smile, before turning back towards the stands to send you another glance.

But the smile you manage to send him is only superficial, fisting your hands into his jersey a bit tighter. The rest of the match continues mostly as normal after, with you ending up waiting patiently outside the changing rooms. And though you know you shouldn’t let it unnerve you, though you know it’s just simple gossip among friends, their words stick to the forefront of your thoughts while he keeps his distance as long as he’s with the team and through the crowd of interviewers until you both get into the car.

You get into the driver as he slumps into the passenger seat, exhausted and ready to get out of the mess of loud people to go home and sleep it off as soon as possible. “Don’t fall asleep yet, daddy, I won’t be able to get you out of the car.” You start the car with a few glances to the side of his face, a tired but contented smile on his lips when you back out of the parking lot and away from the mass of people, an agreeing hum low and calm in between you two for the first time in a few hours. Only then does his large hand find it’s way to your skin again, dropping into your lap to draw soft circles onto the inside of your thigh.

“I missed you, baby.”

“Yeah,” you drop your bottom lip from between your teeth, “missed you too.”

When you wake up with a jolt, the first thing you notice is how tight your chest feels. You’re hot all over, slotted against his chest on your side, and judging by how wet you are you’ve been this way for a while. Flushed, and your belly awfully empty. And you’ve learned what happens if you take care of yourself, definitely not in the mood to risk it. So you do the only thing you can do and shift your hips back more, pressing your ass against the bugle in his boxers. No wonder you woke up hot and bothered. “Hmm,” you whine a little when you push back more and rub your covered pussy up and down his center. You can’t help it, you want daddy’s cock more than anything right now.

It doesn’t take long for your motions to shake him awake, definitely when you bring your hand down between your legs to rub up against his half hard cock, grabbing him through the fabric. A deep rumble falls from his chest when you pull the boxers down enough to let his dick out, spitting onto your hand to grab for him. You rub your wet palm over the head of his cock a few times before wrapping your fingers around him— as much as you can at least with the size of it, still rocking your hips back against him and getting more wet by the second. “What d’ya think you’re doin,” he sighs under his breath as he cracks one eye open, grunting at the way you’re rubbing your desperate cunny along the length of him over and over.

“Woke up needing you so bad,” you bring out, just letting your panties get more and more wet the longer you continue. And his cock twitches in between your legs as you work your fingers around, rubbing the precum around all over the pretty head of his cock until he bucks his hips back against you. It presses up against you more the harder you try, tilting your hips to allow him to touch your clit over and over. “Need daddy’s cock inside,” you admit under your breath, shifting away for just a second to rid yourself of the fabric sticking to your pussy. When you’re barely done with that he’s already pulling you back to his body to push his cock between your folds a few times without actually going in. It makes your entire body heated, hairs standing on end and getting more slick by the second. You grab onto his wrist for support in pushing back against him. “Ha-nhg, please-daddy feels so good, so warm.”

You even shift your legs apart best you can to get more friction and access, something that makes him hum. His chest pressed up against your back makes you feel even smaller, packed muscles and strong arms caging you in against him. “You want it so bad, baby?” He shifts onto one elbow behind you to look at your face, how you’re tearing up with the overwhelming heat and need setting your body alight. The hot, leaking head pushes against your hole and pushes in a tiny bit, only to pull back and slap his fat cock against your pussy with a wet ‘pap’ each time. “Wanna have it in here, fill you up, filthy girl?”

“Yes!” you instantly reply, shivering when he uses his free hand to shove your shirt up your body to reveal your tits, rising and falling desperately against the heat. He rubs his thumb over each a few times, then grabbing your tits into his giant hand and squeezing softly. Still teasing the heavy head of his giant cock between your legs while you’re leaving your shiny wetness all over him. Your hips instinctively push back against him when he brings the head back to your hole, trying to lower onto it, only to be stopped by his hand on your hip. You can’t help the whine that comes out at that, still pushing back as much as you can.

“Pleasepleaseplease, daddy!! Ah-ple-hng.” You push his hand back away from your hip and reach between your legs again to push him back up to your dripping pussy again, slowly starting to sink yourself onto him. It never goes easy because he’s just that big, but the stretch of just pushing back on him is enough to have you moaning out, dropping your face into the plush. “Please, want your big -hm- cock. Wanna have daddy ruin me.” He keeps you in place again though, slowly rocking his hips around in circles to stretch you out more, popping back out again and you have to hold the overwhelming urge to kick your feet, instead arching your back and leaning into his hand when he pinches your nipples hard. “J-Fu— Wan’it, wan’it!”

“Oh, the fucking brat knows what she wants?” he mumbles back as he guides himself back between your legs, not holding you down this time. Instead he just grabs onto your thigh as he rolls his hips, your eyes stinging with wetness. “Go ahead then. Got my cocksleeve all needy and worked up and I haven’t even done anything yet.” It’d be easier to ignore his taunting tone if it wasn’t paired with a thrust, shoving another two thick inches into your gushing cunny until you’re crying and shaking on his cock, not sure if you want to get back off or not. The stretch is so painfully good, walls fluttering around the wide intrusion desperately. You roll your hips though, whimpering at the feeling of him spearing you open so wide. It’s not fair. You had him earlier today, but it feels like you’re being stretched for the first time all over again.

“Daddy, please, wanna cream around it, have it break me open please,” you reach back to cling to his forearm, taking a few deep breaths and crying out when it causes his cock to slide even further in. But for as much as you’re struggling, you know that there’s nothing more you want than all of him filling you out. “Need it, ack, d-deep. More, daddy, quickly!” you beg, forcing yourself back and onto him more again, your eyes rolling back in your skull when you arch your back and his cock presses up so good against your gummy, drooling walls. “Please use my holes as you need, ‘s all for you, daddy.” At this point you’re so fed up not being able to take more at once that you pound your little fist onto his thigh a few times and shake your head through your tears, pulling his hand in between your legs. “Put it— mhm-ahh, deeper, please!”

The little request along with the way you roll your hips back on half of his cock like a bitch in heat leaves him stunned, gripping you close by your belly as the hand between your legs rubs messy circles over your clit. “Fuck— What’s got you so fucking desperate?” he hisses when you clench on his cock again, pushing in more at your whimpers. “That feel good?” The way he’s filling you up alone is enough to have your belly tightening like crazy, going crazy at the touches to your puffy nub.

“Yes-hng, yeah, more, moremoremore. Want it all,” you nod, squeezing your own tits and breathing, feeling how he slides in further and further and the messy, quick motions of his two fingers to your clit go even faster. “All of you, ple-ah!” Same time as you try to catch your breath a little, going lightheaded, he bottoms out inside you with a hard thrust, and the coil in your belly pulls so tight you can feel it all the way to your feet. He keeps rubbing, rutting his cock almost in place to stretch you out a little more, but you don’t even get to warn him as your eyes pull closed and your pussy clenches around him like a vice. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck— daddy!” You squirm as your orgasm travels through you, vision spotting black and white and that enormous heat filling your belly.

But you barely take a break to breathe before you’re turning over your shoulder to lean into his collarbones, grabbing onto his shoulder and breathing heavily against his skin. “Daddy’s cock is mine, all mine. Only for me,” you bring out, lifting your leg over his thigh for better access, tears being smushed around your cheeks. He obliges though, pulling out and pushing back inside faster, inside your sensitive cunny with the flushed head of his cock kissing your cervix each time he fills you out.

Your brabbling is barely coherent anymore, sticking so close and rolling your hips as best as you can. “Only belongs inside me. Your pretty cock’s hmh-all mine.” Though you can’t see it though your tears, his lip is pulled between his teeth, pretty eyes focussed on the way your face changes with each thrust, in awe of your words. You’re not normally this mouthy, but the words just keep coming.“‘M gonna take all of your cum like a g-good- girl,” you moan and whine, and he pulls you even closer by your waist to thrust up into you a bit faster. “No one else.”

“Yeah,” he hums, now using his thighs to fuck up into you and to make your tits bounce, the bed banging against the wall with each thrust. He grabs onto your hair to keep your back arched for him and presses a kiss to your wet cheek, moaning. “S’all yours, pretty baby.”

“No one else -ah-can touch your cock or sit on it, okay?” you mumble, mindlessly nodding your head when he grunts your name under his breath, the pace now knocking the air out of your lungs. “Just— your good girl- ah, ah, ah, f-forever! Wanna feel your cock up here until you can’t give any more, daddy!” You manage to bring your hand to your belly to push a little against the bulge that shows each time he bottoms out, balls and hips slapping against you and the wetness of your creamed pussy around his cock filling the room.

“Shit- Look at you being all possessive,” Meian takes a deep breath and brings his hand back between your legs again, cock twitching inside you. Each thrust of his fat cock inside your ruined walls brings you back closer to your high, and the heavy, dirty words he growls when your walls flutter around him. “Little, slutty cunt drooling all over me— fuck, baby, taking me so well. You like feeling daddy’s huge cock filling you up to the brim?”

“Yes, feels so good! So big, hng-good- inside, ah— daddy, daddy!” The heat between your bodies building so hot you can’t think straight. All you know is that you’ve never felt so good, his length driving you open and bulging your belly so perfectly. Your heartbeat is so loud between your ears, neck and back held tight in place and your ass jiggling with his relentless fucking. “Ahng! Ah, ah, ah, always want to cream on your fat cock, no one else gets to. Only me- f-for daddy!” More, tighter, it builds to a peak again like the rhythmic pounding of the headboard into the wall, your cries choked and drool covering your lips, swollen from your consistent biting. “Ah- haaaa, please, wanna cum on your cock again. Gonna—”

“Already?” He brings out a surprised huff, but keeps going and even faster, close as well.

“Mhm! Ah- yes, love your big cock so much, feels -mhm- s’good!” you cry as you’re bounced on his cock all pathetically, squeezing your own tits and nipples for the most amount of stimulation. It’s inevitable when he notices how close you are and rubs your clit even faster again, making your legs shake. “S’g-good, please, wanna c-cum. Don’t stop, don’t stop, wan’ -hmng- d- ah, cumming! Cum—ming-hng -ah, ahng!”

You hit your high even harder than before, vision completely blacking for a few seconds as he helps you through it without hesitating, thrusting your spasming walls open again and again and again. Pushing up against your cervix a few more times with pleasurable pain that leaves your body shaking and pussy creaming around his cock all over again. “Daddy, daddy, daddy!” you mumble out, as he spurts his hot ropes of cum into your pussy, fucking it into you until you’re both twitching from overstimularion.

He lets go of your hair and slumps into you then, keeping you warm in his arms and pulling you close to his sweaty chest. Both of your hearts hammering in different patterns against your rib cages, his cock kept inside you. It’s Meian who catches his breath first, slowly untangling himself from your body to look down at you through narrowed eyes, ever so slowly pulling out of you after all. “Baby,” comes his chastising tone first, and you whine at it, but he’s quick to keep you just as close to press his lips to your jaw. “That was so stupidly hot,” he breathes, “locking around my cock like a fuckin’ vice.” You crack open one eye to watch him inspect you top to bottom, then playing with the edge of the shirt still shoved up above your tits. “What the fuck was that all about?”

But you just give him a lazy grin, and snuggle closer to his chest. “I’ll tell you later, daddy.”

22 notes · View notes

wwilloww · 4 years ago

Text

athair lusa | pjm

athair lusa, the ground ivy, springing up from the soil with rich, purple flowers and broad green leaves.

Origin: Ireland

Pairing: Jimin x FaePrince!Taehyung

Genre: Folklore. Suspense. Fae!Au.

Rating: NC-17

WC: 2.4k

Summary: “Is it not a strange request,” Jimin says, “to ask me to dance when there is no music?” While on his way to draw water from the well, Jimin slips on a rock. When he stands up again, the world around him seems unrecognizable, as if everything has been dusted with an unfamiliar enchantment.

Warnings: Possessive behavior.

A/N: This story, also known as “The Fairy Dance,” is a story I grew up to, one that was told to me over and over. I consider this to be part of a larger personal project to queer the stories I grew up on. It’s an effort to normalize the presence of queerness in lore and unravel gendered expectations within folktales. Because of this I’ve done my best to stick to the oral telling of this story in both content and style - meaning the writing differentiates itself significantly from my usual style! This project is special to me and I truly hope you enjoy it. I can’t wait to hear what you think of it.

Thank you to @jingabitch for helping me when I felt most stuck with this! Thanks a million to my love @ot7always for editing the image in this banner and listening to me ramble. And of course a hUGE THANKS to the lovely folk in BTS Smut Hub for being my constant inspiration and motivation.

And finally, this is part of @ksmutclub’s Twisted Fairytale collaboration!

masterlist

Athair-Lusa.

In a town on the western most coast of the Isle, there lived a young man with hair that shone like the rays of August sun. He was beloved by the townspeople, known for the enchanting melodies that lifted from his lips like birdsong, ensnaring anyone in range. His name was Jimin.

One day in late November, as the night began to draw in, Jimin set down his reading and readied himself to go out into the darkness. He preferred the stillness of sunset and often went out at this time, just to hear the soft hymn of the world slipping slowly into sleep.

Now, it has long been known that the Veil between worlds is thinnest in November. As the remaining veins of summer fade from the land, spirits and creatures of the other worlds come to press up against the thin border between their world and ours. Even nighttime comes to linger, snatching time away from the golden fingers of the sun.

On this night, Jimin decided to take his walk to the well to gather water. He swung his wooden bucket over his shoulder and set off into the darkness. The trees stood tall above him, watching his path. Jimin felt the hair on his neck raise, as if something was watching him from the shadows. However, rather than turning home, he lifted his face to the night sky and sang. The music spilling from his lips split through the darkness of the night, and Jimin felt a sense of peace wash over him.

As the small stone structure of the well came into sight, his foot slipped. He could feel his ankle twisting, and then the feeling of falling through empty space. The air wooshed up around him as he fell.

His back hit the hard earth of the path, crushing the breath out of his lungs. For a moment, Jimin simply lay there, taking deep breaths to calm the fright in his body.

When he lifted his head, his old wooden bucket was nowhere to be seen. Instead of a path hardened by thousands of years of travelers, Jimin lay on a soft field of grass, shimmering emerald green beneath the full moon. Around him, everything seemed as if it had been touched by an enchantment. The trees, whose leaves had dropped a month ago, were now blossoming with flowers of the most brilliant colors. The chill of the winter air was replaced with a soft and warm breeze, lifted off a summer sea. And as he looked up at the sky, the moon hung twice as large, as if she had come down from her high throne in the sky to take a closer look at the goings-on of the people below.

As Jimin sat up, he saw a great crowd gathered a short distance away. As his vision cleared, he realized that they were circled round a fire that danced and leaped and seemed to reach out to the figures surrounding it. As if his mind had been wiped clean of thought, Jimin stood and began to move towards the crowd, mystified by their tall frames and slender figures.

Jimin himself was of average height, his body built like the land. Ready to work, ready to dance. But at this moment in time, Jimin’s body drew him forward towards the beings that stood round the fire, till at last, he stood in the very midst of them.

They held onto their silence, watching his every step. It was at this moment that he thought to be afraid. But as he made to step backward, to step out of their circle, he realized he could not.

Panic began to rise in his throat like bile, setting his muscles alight. Just as he opened his mouth to scream, the crowd around him turned and parted and a handsome young man stepped into view. Jimin’s eyes widened as he took in the figure, who walked like a prince. He wore a red sash, deep as freshly drawn blood. A golden band dressed his long dark hair, shining like the sky on the eve of a new moon.

Jimin’s heart thrummed in his chest as he realized the handsome prince was approaching him. He walked slowly towards him, allowing his eyes to rove over the young man. When he finally reached him, he bowed and extended a hand. An offering.

“Is it not a strange request,” Jimin said, “to ask me to dance when there is no music?”

The prince raised his head from the deep bow and swept his hand into the air. Instantly, the sweetest music carried through the night, surrounding them. He took Jimin’s hand with one of his own, wrapping the other one tightly around his waist. Jimin gasped as his chest was brought to the prince’s, their closeness sending warmth to his cheeks.

"What is your name, dear stranger?" Jimin asked, his brow furrowed. His words seemed to stick in his throat, bewilderment flooding his mind. Such a handsome stranger had never wrapped him up like this before, in such beauty, in such enchantment.

The prince smirked. "You may call me Taehyung."

"Are you a prince of these people?"

"If that is the word you use—then yes."

Jimin opened his mouth to ask more, but the Prince silenced him with a twirl, sending all thought of questioning the strange being before him out of his mind.

They danced until the moon became tired and went to sleep beneath the darkness of the horizon and the stars took their leave from the dance floor. As the prince twirled him round the fire, it seemed as if Jimin was gliding through the air. He had always been known by the townsfolk for his light touch and graceful step. But in the prince’s arms, Jimin’s body felt different. The strain of the movements was eased and he felt boundless energy spring up in his chest beneath the attentive gaze of the prince.

"I have never seen a man dance with your grace," the Prince mused, his gaze falling to Jimin's lips. "Or known one to capture such beauty in his every movement."

Jimin was not used to such flattery. His cheeks were painted with his embarrassment, he ducked his head. The Prince was quick to lift his chin, bringing his face ever-so-close.

“Do you like me, sweet boy?” the Prince asked, tilting his head.

“I do not know you,” Jimin replied, slowly. “How do I know if I like you if I have just met you?”

“There is an eternity to get to know me.” A smirk flashed across the Prince’s sharp features before he pulled Jimin tightly against his tall frame and spun him further into the dance.

Twirling around the fire, it became easy to forget the rest of the world. For that moment, all that existed was the feeling of his feet leaping off the ground, and the low music, and the feeling of being held so tightly by his partner.

Just as Jimin began to feel like time was slipping away from him, the figures around him stilled and the music slowed to a complete halt. The prince still had his arms wrapped around the smaller man, his face pressed close and curious.

"Will you dine with us tonight, dear Jimin?" the prince asked, his voice threaded with sweetness. Jimin's gaze fell to the prince's lips where a small smile played along the pink, plush corner. He wondered when the Prince had learned his name.

Before he could answer, the ground rumbled and split open, a long staircase descending into the darkness of the earth. The prince held out a hand, and hesitating, Jimin took it. Despite the warmth of the tall man's palm, Jimin's skin erupted in goosebumps.

The prince led him down the flight of steps, the rest of the dancers following silently behind. It seemed as if the stairs might never end, the rock around them becoming darker and warmer as they descended. After an unspeakable time, the steps widened and a great hall appeared before them, lit by thin candles that stood as tall as Jimin. As he looked up at the ceiling of the hall, he realized there was no roof, despite the depth to which they had descended. Instead, a yawning darkness looked down upon the company and untethered, unsourced lights bobbed gently through the air as if upon an invisible current. Before them lay a great table, heaped with every delicacy Jimin had ever conceived of and decanters filled with the most aromatic wines.

The Prince squeezed his hand tenderly, guiding him to the head of the table. There, the Prince took the golden plated chair and motioned for Jimin to take the one beside it. Gratefully, he bowed his head and slipped silently into the seat, admiring the gentle merriment and splendor laid before him.

As Jimin took the scene before him in, the Prince leaned closer to him, reaching out to twirl a piece of his light hair between his fingers.

“I’ve always wanted this,” the Prince said, his eyes never leaving the man’s hair.

“W-what?”

The Prince seemed to catch himself and pulled himself out of his reverie.

“I am a collector of beautiful things,” he said, as if that explained his strange words.

“I don’t understand.”

The Prince smiled softly, running his finger down Jimin’s nose and over his lips.

“Then drink and be merry,” he sang, his voice strung together in the most beautiful melody.

A dark-haired lady came between the Prince and Jimin, holding a jewel-encrusted decanter. Bowing her head, she first filled the Prince's cup, her hands wrapping slender and delicate around the silver handle. But as Jimin watched, he realized there was a slight tremble to her movements. He looked up at her, only to see her eyes darting to and from the Prince and his newest companion.

The young lady came around Jimin's other side, and as she leaned over to pour his golden goblet full of the sweet wine, she whispered in his ear, "Eat no food, and drink no wine or you will never see your home again."

With that, the woman stood abruptly and disappeared down one of the many hallways that spotted the great chamber.

Jimin quickly set the cup down on the table. The Prince took note of this, his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"My dear, sweet Jimin," he said, his voice threading through the air like song. His voice spoke of softness, of tender touches exchanged in the dark. And yet, as Jimin gazed upon him, he saw the coldness in the Prince's gaze. "Do you not enjoy the taste of my wine?"

"No, no," he said, quick to unravel the tension of the moment. "I am simply not thirsty."

The Prince leaned into him, a smile spreading across his lips. "After all that dancing, you must be thirsty." He brought the cup to Jimin's lips, but he held his mouth shut.

The others at the table had fallen silent to watch the Prince hold the goblet to the man’s lips.

A large one with silver hair that fell to his waist stood abruptly from his chair, knocking it back in the process. "Whoever comes to our table must drink with us," he growled, grabbing Jimin's arm. A deep shock ran through him, stopping his heart.

At that moment a red-haired lass, her hair split into intricate braids, snatched Jimin's free hand and tugged him from the grasp of the large silver-haired being.

"Run!" she commanded, tugging Jimin towards the stairs. The pair wove their way towards the entrance, dodging the grasp of the dancers.

Around him, Jimin could hear the bellowing anger of the Prince, echoing off the walls of the hall as if he stood in every corner. Chairs and platters crashed to the floor as his subjects jumped up, attempting to stop his exit.

While Jimin was not large and while he did not hold the brute strength that many men boasted about, he was graceful and swift. Guided by the red-haired woman's agile steps, his pace was quick, as if he had learned this kind of dance many many years ago.

The pair sprinted up the steps, hand-in-hand, until they emerged into the dark night. The coolness of the early winter air washed over them, bathing their red faces and stinging their lungs. From the satchel that hung round her waist, the woman withdrew a vine. She grabbed Jimin’s hand, opening it up so she could place the plant securely. With tenderness, she wrapped her hand around his, closing it in a fist.

"You are safe for the time being," she said, her breath heavy with effort. "Take this, and hold it until you reach home. No one can harm you." Jimin opened his palm to look down upon the large-leafed plant. Athair-Lusa. Ground ivy.

"Thank you," he whispered.

The woman nodded, a sad smile playing across her lips. Her eyes shone with the kind of grief that only one who knows their own destiny can hold.

Jimin could hear the sounds of footsteps running up the stairs and so he took the white and green plant and turned his back on the field, the stairs, and the man who had held him so tenderly; and he ran. He ran along the sward and through the forests surrounding the town, past the well, and across the path. At last, he reached his home. He threw open the wooden door and locked it behind him.

His heart beat so quickly and furiously he worried it would pound its way straight through his ribcage. Behind his back pressed to the door, he could hear a great sound emerge from the forest and a voice cried out to him—

"The power I had over you is gone through the magic of the herb that ties you to this world. But when you dance again to our music, you will stay with me forevermore, and nothing shall hinder that eternity."

Jimin closed his eyes, clutching the herb to his chest. When he had regained his breath, he made his way over to the small bed tucked in the corner of his small home, folding the leafy plant carefully beneath the collar of his shirt.

It took a while before sleep came for him, and when it did, it was restless and dreamless.

However, Jimin kept the magic branch safely tucked into his clothes every day and the Fae never troubled him.

But it took many years before the sweet, low sound of music and the searing eyes of the Prince left his dreams.

taglist: @ppersonna @thatlongspringnight @myimaginationsrunningwild @ladyartemesia @ezralia-writes @ggukcangetit

masterlist

132 notes · View notes

seiin-translations · 4 years ago

Text

2.43 S1 Chapter 1.7 - Young Yunichika

7. (COOL BUT WORST) PLAYMAKER

Translation Notes

1. The term used here, 球威, means “pitcher’s stuff”, which basically refers to how effective a pitch is at being the pitch it’s supposed to be

2. Refers to the popular myth/saying/action that writing the character for “person” on your hand and then pretending swallowing it will relieve stress

3. Some neat wordplay here. アタッカー並み means on par with an attacker, but 並みのアタッカー means average attacker

Previous || Index || Next

He felt like he could see Haijima’s smug face painted on the raised set. It was after the opponent blocker fell for the decoy in front of the net and jumped. Kuroba jumped in from behind the decoy with a back-row attack. From the point of view of the opponent blocker, a new shadow suddenly shot out from above the decoy’s head. This was the combination they were best at, called a pipe attack, and it should have been already analyzed by the opponent, but it felt great to be given a face of astonishment that said, “How did you appear there!?” every time. This is the moment when I’m the coolest one on the court.

Haijima’s sets were completely different than his senpai setter’s sets from last year. Kuroba still couldn’t explain it in theory, but even though his senpai’s sets were a big arch that “went up and fell down,” Haijima’s sets “didn’t fall down.” The ball was thrown “straight” to the place where it could only be reached by stepping in the fastest, jumping the highest and swinging his arms at the highest point. If he didn’t stop it, it would just whoosh past him. In practice, he constantly missed the timing and missing the ball, which ended into arguments. While he became reckless everyday, desperate to stop the ball next time for sure—a strange phenomenon occurred today.

As long as he jumped and swung his arms with all strength, the ball would be there. The sets fitted into his hands so cleanly, like they were sticking to his hands, that there was not even a millimeter of deviation. All he had to do was to add power and hit it out with a nice feeling. He cut through the gaps in the opponents’ defense, who were unable to take a step, and landed after seizing the ball with his eyes until it pierced the court. “Yes!” he pumped his arm into the air, still on his knees.

“Yuni!”

“You were so cool!”

While his gathered teammates messed up his hair, he searched for Haijima. He caught a glimpse of Haijima, who was always on the outside of circles like these. Haijima smiled thinly and nodded.

The rotation moved once, and Kuroba came up to the front row right after he did a back-row attack in the back row. When Haijima went down from the front row to serve in exchange, they exchanged a low high-five as they passed each other.

July 26th. The first round of the boys’ volleyball division for the Prefectural Middle School Summer Games, taking place on the two courts of A and B in the Suzumu City Municipal Gymnasium. In the first game on Court A, Monshiro Middle already took the first set. For the second set, the other side came close in the middle of the game because of a disordered receive, but they didn’t allow them to form a comeback and extended a wide lead again to close out the set. It was a three-set match, so if they took this set, they would have a straight-set win.

Haijima moved back considerably in the service zone, almost to the wall, and got into the serve position. He put the ball in his left hand and extended his arm straight out in front of him. His narrow eyes were narrowed even more sharply and he stared at the other side of the net with a fixed gaze. For a moment, the stands that were cheering loudly fell deathly silent. Everyone held their breaths at the clear, intimidating something Haijima was clad in.

Taking just one second to lightly adjust his breathing, he tossed the ball up high without any perceivable jump and hit a powerful jump serve from a beautiful, textbook-like form. The gym became filled with cheers that bordered on roars once again.

But it was a bit too long. It’s out—Kuroba could see it in his eyes, but there was no time for the receiver to avoid it. The ball bounced up all the way to the ceiling with such tremendous power (1) that the receiver nearly fell over.

Ah——.

His body moved naturally before he could think about it, and he jumped. Above the net, he caught hold of the ball that returned directly and knocked it down to the opponent’s court.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Since sixteen schools participated in the first round, the passages behind the gym were crowded with players in jerseys of all sorts of colors, teachers, and management staff.

“Somehow while I was in a daze…”

“We won!”

“With a team of only eight people!”

“Yuni, you reacted well to that direct one.”

“Well, I guess. For some reason, I feel like I can see the ball really well today. Also, when I see the opponent’s faces, I somehow know what they’re gonna do.”

“What the hell’s that, that sounds cool. I’m falling for you!”

“We should have talked to the girls from class more. All I could hear was the moms’ voices.”

“Agh, I was switching the moms’ voices with the girls’ voices in my head, but you just dragged me back to reality!”

Having finished their match in good time, everyone was still in good spirits, and there was a constant stream of excited chatter. It seemed that the match that started at the same time in Court B was carried over to the third set, so muffled cheers and the sound of the ball bouncing could be heard. When he wondered why this extremely stupid conversation never ended, he realized that it was because Haijima wasn’t there to chop through the mood. He was supposed to be with them when they left the court, but…

Their advisor, who had said he was going to drop by the management headquarters, came back just then.

“Sensei, do you know where Haijima is?”

“He went back inside. The second match in Court A is about to start soon. He said that he’s going to go watch it since it’ll decide who we face in the second round.”

“Eh…He didn’t have to go alone.”

If it’s for our next opponent, then shouldn’t we all go scouting them out, not just Haijima? A tinge of dissatisfaction sprouted in his heart as he thought that he should have at least called out to them.

“Didn’t Haijima want to give you guys a break because he was worried? You’re fine now, but if you get too excited, you won’t enough energy for the second round.”

Haijima worried about them? It was a phenomenon that seemed like it wouldn’t happen even if the heavens and earth were turned upside-down. It was exactly a phenomenon. It was equal to a natural disaster that only happened once every few hundred million years or so.

But, it was true that playing two games in one day was unfamiliar terrain for them. Although everyone seemed to be in good condition right now, it was hard to predict how tired they would be in the second game.

“But, you know, I knew Haijima had volleyball experience, but I didn’t expect him to be that good. Even when I stopped by the headquarters earlier, teachers from other schools kept coming up to me and asking who that player was.”

“Hey, what about me? They didn’t ask about me?”

“Hmm? They didn’t.”

“Tch. My efforts always get overshadowed by Haijima.”

When he pouted and grumbled that, he was soothed with “You’ve got this from now on.”

“Keep this up for the second round. Don’t get too worked up about it and just have fun with everyone.”

He thought he was in good form and stood out quite a bit, but he guessed that Haijima’s skill was so outstanding that his own level wasn’t enough to leave an impression. He couldn’t believe that he was getting noticed by the volleyball team advisors from other schools, who was probably much more discerning than their own advisor.

“We’re gonna win”—Haijima was extremely confident, but at the same time, he was a realist. He never gave lenient assessments to himself or others, and he wasn’t the type of guy who would say soft and easy effort goals like “It would be nice if we could win.” He said that back then because he had a serious expectation that was possible.

He had a feeling now that it really might not be a dream if Haijima was there.

If they won four times, they won the championship. They had already cleared one match. Three more to go.

We can…reach it…?

I want to win, he thought. I want to win next time too. And after that. And then if we win after that—. When he heard it in June, he felt a lot of bewilderment, but now for the first time, he definitely wanted to win. His heart began to beat fast.

***

Right when they entered the venue since the time for the second round’s official practice was approaching, cheers similar to an angry roar rose up, and the entire team leaned back in the same direction despite themselves.

A horizontal banner—which wasn’t there in the first round—with the words “Monshiro Middle School Boys’ Volleyball Team” written with excessively good handwriting was hanging from the second-row bleachers. And next to that, there was a square flag with “Spread your wings! Kuroba UNIVERSE!”

His face turned hot.

“Wow. Yuni’s cheering squad is amazing.”

“It’s like we’re at Koshien.”

His teammates were more taken aback and put off rather than being jealous. Their parents formed a small cheering squad for the first round, but it was just a modest thing where they cheered for their children on the spot, with no bells and whistles or anything else. The huge cheering party that newly appeared completely swallowed that up, sounding their megaphones loudly and as for his relatives, they were shouting in voices that couldn’t be called refined.

“…That’s Grandpa’s writing.”

On a pure-white cloth, the words “Monshiro Middle School Boys’ Volleyball Team” were written in bold, stirring letters like a rampaging dragon in all black ink. Come to think of it, when he went out this morning, his mother was in a hurry making phone calls to here and there. It would have been better if his family had just come here modestly instead of taking the time to organize something like that and be late for the first round.

The other one, “Spread your wings! Kuroba UNIVERSE!”, had a black background and decorated with sparkly gold tinsel, and it was a lot more lowbrow than his grandfather’s single brush stroke. Right above where that deathly embarrassing flag—which he thought of as more like harassment—was hanging, he saw Itoko shouting into a huge megaphone. …If she had the time to prepare that, she could have come for the first round. You should have seen that really nice back-row attack in the first round.

Yorimichi…didn’t seem to have come. He couldn’t spot him as far as he could see. He was sure he would have heard that there was a game today through Itoko.

“Oh, Haijima, your grandma came. I wonder if my mom also invited her.”

He tugged on Haijima’s uniform and whispered that into his ear. “Huh…” Haijima didn’t look all that happy as he looked up at the stands, straining his eyes as a wrinkle formed between his brows.

“Can’t see her.”

“Right there. She’s above ‘team.’”

“Even with contacts, my eyes aren’t as good as yours. It’s fine.”

He immediately gave up and returned his eyes to the court.

“Concentrate, Kuroba.”

He said in a low tone. He can see Haijima’s consciousness narrowing and condensing. As though saying that the world he needed only existed inside that nine-by-eighteen-meter court, he raised his awareness by shutting out outside gazes and cheers. He could feel that the power of his concentration that made his skin tingle just by being next to him.

“Y-Yeah. Got it.”

Kuroba responded vigorously with all his might, but even if he took his eyes off the stands, he couldn’t get rid of the feeling of being surrounded his relatives’ faces, faces, faces from 360 degrees.

The rotation started with Haijima on the right back as the server and Kuroba “diagonal” to him on the left front. The rotation was made so that Haijima, who was strong at serving, got to serve as much as possible, and either one of the tall Kuroba and Haijima was always in the front row. There were six people, so there were three pairs of players connected by diagonal lines, and one’s partner was called one’s “diagonal.” The diagonal relationship was always maintained even when the rotation moved. However, when he became absentminded, he sometimes lost track of his current position, which was quite confusing.

Back-row players weren’t allowed to jump up to block, and they could only spike by doing a back-row attack from behind the attack line (the line three meters from the net).

As though saying that victory went to the one who made the first move, Haijima smashed in a jump serve with all his might from the very beginning. A jump serve was hit with a lot of force, and consequently had a high risk of error. In practice games, Haijima used a low-risk jump float serve, but right when he wondered what he was going to do in the official match today, he was actively using a jump serve.

Regrettably, it went behind the end line and was out, giving their opponent their first point, but the air in the opposing court was frozen for a moment.

“Don’t worry about it!”

His teammates called out to him, but Haijima didn’t seem to care about the mistake in the first place and unashamedly responded lightly with one hand, staring over the net with a brazen expression as though that was his substitute for a greeting. Even though it didn’t result in a point, he had successfully planted the seed of fear in them that made them think, “What would happen if that had gone in?”—Their amount of experience was different by one or two orders of magnitude. And more than anything, the fearsomeness of Haijima was that he had such nerves of steel.

Haijima was making the game in a literal sense. As a setter, he didn’t just set up his teammates’ offensive, but also controlled the mood in the opponent’s court. He of course knew that the difference between their amounts of experience couldn’t be filled in overnight, but he felt strangely impatient.

He felt like it took an awfully long time for his own first serve order to come around. He impatiently waited for the rotation to move, and when he went down into the service zone and was about to receive the ball,

“…ba! Kuroba!”

Haijima’s voice burst into his ear, and he jumped. He was so out of it that he didn’t hear him, as though there was a membrane around his head. He looked and saw Haijima pointing to the right position of the front row with an unusually anxious look on his face.

The color drained out of his face. The rotation was wrong. He was in the front row for one more time. Nagato, who was in the original service order, was standing confused in a halfway place.

“S-sorry.”

“No, it’s my fault too. I thought I got it wrong when Yuni moved back…”

He talked to Nagato and hurried back to his defensive position. Haijima was about to go to him to say something, but the whistle prompting Nagato to serve sounded. The cheering squad was noisy in the stands, probably because they didn’t understand why the server was suddenly changed.

Something’s wrong…I can hear the voices from the stands well, but the voices on the court are distant. He almost felt like he was standing in the bleachers right now, not on the court.

He felt the rotation was moving quickly, contrary to earlier. His sense of time wasn’t stable. The wrong service order came around this time, and he ran to the serve zone and received the ball. He stood facing the net and took a deep breath to try to calm down, but couldn’t breathe in deeply.

Haijima’s first jump serve suddenly replayed in his mind. Kuroba also practiced the jump serve. He was getting able to hit the ball squarely more and more, and practice could be exhilarating sometimes. It would no doubt feel good to carry out that kind of thing successfully in a game. He would be able to show the cheering squad his good points, but of course his accuracy was not yet usable, so he made sure to do a jump float serve as usual…

Huh? Which foot do I usually step forward with? What’s the timing for the toss? What’s ‘usual’?

His usual way of doing things had completely slipped out of his mind.

Beep—.

The whistle sounded.

He didn’t immediately understand what the signal meant. Something was wrong. His own court was in a panic. After the referee showed the opposing team’s score, he made an “8” sign with his fingers.

An eight second violation!?

The spectators were buzzing once again about the point loss that was difficult to understand to the layman’s eye. If you didn’t serve within eight seconds after the whistle sounded, your opponent scored. It wasn’t like he didn’t hear the first whistle. And yet, he himself had absolutely no idea why he made such a basic mistake.

Haijima made a hand gesture towards the bench, and the advisor, who received it, hurriedly requested a timeout.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

“You’re nervous, aren’t you.”

Haijima poked him above his heart with his fist. He didn’t seem angry, but he was definitely fed up. A series of careless mistakes that had nothing to do with the play itself.

“Do you have stage fright or something?”

“Ugh… I’ve never really been in a situation where I’ve gotten stage fright, so I don’t know.”

Was he nervous? He was aware that he was overly concerned with unnecessary things. During the first round, he was able to see the court so well and concentrate on his own task. He knew what he should do without thinking about it and his body moved. It was as if he was being made use of by being incorporated as a part of the organic matter that was the game Haijima finished weaving. He wasn’t displeased with that at all; rather, he felt euphoric. And yet, after they entered the second round, that feeling suddenly stopped, his field of vision abruptly narrowed, and only the voices in his mind increased.

Haijima sighed at him.

“Write down ‘people’ and swallow it.” (2)

“Can’t, can’t you give better advice?”

“I’ve never been nervous. I could tell you all about play, though.”

He felt like he was being shown the disparity between them again. “Can’t be helped, Yuni. If that many of my relatives came, I’d get nervous too. Don’t worry about mistakes.” Though everyone else encouraged him, the sigh Haijima alone had given him weighed heavily on him.

The thirty second timeout went by in the blink of an eye. In the end, he noisily dashed back to the court without putting his feelings in order.

Anyways, there was nothing to do but to recover from here. Right when he moved back to the rear, he immediately got a gesture for a pipe attack from Haijima. It was a fast back-row attack from the middle using the center’s A-quick as a decoy, which was the source of their points in the first round. The shocked face of the opposing blocker who was drawn in by the decoy and jumped at it when he jumped in from over the center’s head was so satisfying—.

“!?”

This time he kept blocking. The do-or-die expression of the opposing blocker appeared from the other side of the net that was like a towering wall, blocking the course. How—!? The ball crashed straight onto the block and was knocked down onto his own side. While falling on his behind from the excess momentum, words such as “What?” came out of his mouth.

As he let his mind wander for a moment and stared at the opposing court, where there were fervent roars, from beneath the net, his teammate was held out in front of him. After he borrowed that hand and stood up, he reflexively drew back his hand when he saw that it was Haijima.

“Sorry.”

An apology slipped out of his mouth. For what? Getting blocked? Drawing back his hand?

“It’s fine. There was no helping that. They’ve already guessed that you’re the only one who could hit it properly. We should have marked them thoroughly.”

Haijima seemed to have accepted the former’s apology. His eyes never left the opponent’s court, where they were exchanging high-fives and celebrating, and spoke quickly. If the only decent hitter was Kuroba, and he was marked for it…then what were they going to do?

Haijima gave him a sharp side glance. He looked fed up again.

“I told you not to let it show on your face… Shake off the guy blocking you as much as possible. However, don’t think you’re not being marked, stay calm and watch the block. I told you about straight and cross. They’re not at a level where you can’t get rid of them.”

Well, from Haijima’s level, middle school volleyball in a rural prefecture like this would seem like a piece of cake. The prefectural finals in a place like this was probably the same size as a subdivision preliminary in Tokyo. It was no consolation for him, as it only deepened his inferiority complex.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Haijima scattered his sets to other attackers, but Kuroba always had a block on him whether he hit or not. The opponent seemed to think that as long as Kuroba was suppressed, the rest of the team couldn’t hit too hard, so they could respond with receives. Unfortunately, it was an effective strategy.

Although the team was able to score some modest points with Haijima’s skillful direction, they still were unable to score consecutively due to the lack of a decisive blow. The seesaw game where stress accumulated continued. No, in terms of overall team morale, the flow was completely on the other side. There were more and more situations where the receives were so disordered that even Haijima had trouble covering them, and when he couldn’t get the set, the rest of the team couldn’t do anything.

Far from regaining his composure, Kuroba was experiencing the sensation of gears steadily becoming less and less aligned. Even though his mind was panicking, his body wouldn’t work together with it. It was like his head and body were doing on their own thing on this side and the other side of the court. While his spike success rate had decreased, moreover, at the beginning there were many times where he would slam the ball into a block and get shut-out, and it became noticeable that he was making the mistake of getting it caught in the net himself, let alone hitting the ball into the blocking.

“Just stop looking at the blocks. It’s better not to. Don’t think about avoiding them, just hit it where it’s easy to hit.”

Haijima pulled on his uniform and whispered that, but he was only extra confused by the change in instructions. Didn’t he say “Watch their blocks” earlier?

Did my jump power go down? Aren’t my legs getting tired? The instant he realized that this is what it was to play two games in a day, his body suddenly became heavy. Are my knees okay? Don’t I feel more burdened than usual? He suddenly started to worry about the growing pains that should have been unrelated to this. What if that thing that hurts so much I couldn’t sleep at night hits me during the match? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do——?

Haijima was saying something from his diagonal position to him. But he couldn’t hear his voice. He could probably hear him physically, but his heart was blocking his ears. Listening to Haijima’s just reasonings now was of no use whatsoever.

Do you, who's completely disconnected from nervousness or agitation, have the words that I want, the words that will help me? I don’t think so.

He didn’t remember at what point—Haijima turned away with a look of resignation on his face. Ah, if Haijima has given up, then this was already a complete loss, he thought.

For some reason, only a small click of his tongue and the word “useless” reached his ears without being cut off.

***

“Get in line, Yuni.”

It was only when Nagato called out to him that he realized that the game was over. A smattering of applause came down from the stands. When he absentmindedly looked at the score board that was still standing on the court, he saw that the set count was 2-0, and the winner—Monshiro Middle School.

…Wait, what? Did something…happen…? I have almost no memory of touching the ball…

Even when he looked over the faces of his teammates standing in a line along the end line, he didn’t actually feel like they had won at all. Were these really the faces of a winning team? The atmosphere was not as merry as it had been when they won the first round, and everyone looked somewhat apathetic and subdued. And maybe it was just his imagination, but the applause from the stands seemed like it was just done out of politeness.

When he was about to line up next to Haijima, who was standing there with his expression erased, he recalled it along with the flashbacks of some scenes—it was all Haijima's doing.

Haijima’s play changed after that tongue click and badmouthing.

The jump serve was of course incredible, but Haijima’s original domain was at the net. At the net, the control of the ball was not passed over to anyone—neither opponents nor even his own teammates. Rather than entrusting the set to the attacker, the cases where he hit the ball by himself by performing dumps increased dramatically. A dump was a surprise attack where the setter pretended to set the ball and returned it to the opponent’s court with their left hand, but the power of the dump released from the left hand of the ambidextrous Haijima was not confined to the level of a surprise attack. He smashed it into the opposing court with the same power as an attacker spiking with all of their strength. It should have temporarily made the opponents agitated and close the score gap considerably.

However, it was from there that Haijima showed his demon-like true power. When the opponent marked his dumps and started to block it, he switched from hitting hard to deliberately hitting the ball lightly at the head of the block where they jumped with power in preparation for a strong hit to make it drop to his own side. He pulled off the feat of getting down low to pick up the rebound that gently dropped down without a moment’s delay and swinging it to a nearby teammate with an underhand pass and the instructions “Give it to me!” This time, he used his right hand to smash the ball that was set to him by his panicking teammate into the opponent’s side.

The venue was stunned by the powerful spike that was on par with an attacker’s, or even stronger than an average attacker’s (3), and even the referee’s whistle was a beat late.

How was he able to do that…? It was technical, but more than that, what kind of nerves did he had that enabled him to play in a way that overturned the foundation of team sports like that in front of people?

To be honest, Haijima, you’re…disgusting.

When he heard “Thank you,” he hurriedly matched them in a small voice and bowed. For an instant, he felt as if the shadow of Haijima standing next to him broke out of its human shell and swelled up into a warped shape, and a shiver ran down his spine.

Previous || Index || Next

#2.43: Seiin Koukou Danshi Volley-bu #2.43 translation #2.43 book 1

23 notes · View notes