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kyotakumrau · 4 years

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2021.03.10 USEN STUDIO COAST 1st session with Toshiya and Kyo

They changed the tables for some reason, going from two bigger rectangle ones to four one person round high tables.

Fujieda and Takabayashi came on stage, F greeted fans as usual and asked for the applause for the band members.

After a moment of waiting with bated breath, Toshiya appeared and Kyo after him.

Kyo wore a big light grey coat, white shirt, black (most likely Madara)short shorts, white socks with red print and big sneakers.

Toshiya had white shirt, pearls?, and black slacks.

They sat in order Ta, T, K, F from right to left.

T: [As it's an official event] so, I'm Toshiya, the bassist from DIR EN GREY.

K: I'm Kyo.

F: It's 1st time for T to attend a talk event this year, how do you feel?

T: normal.

F: you've played here even as the venue has a new name. But it's been while. How do you feel K?

K: just usual.

F: you don't feel like it's been a while?

K: not really.

T: playing at Rock-May-Kan definitely made me feel it's been a while. The place is so small. We played with no audience, it was a first time in RMK which felt so strange.

F: rehearsal felt normal.

T: yeah.

F: anything from then?

T: it was nice to see all the staff.

F: how about you, K? We watched the live footage in February, anything feels different?

K: ... I don't remember it anymore.

F: the recording was done a long time ago.

K: Can't remember. At all.

F: I want to ask... (K just started staring at him and that was the end of it😂).

Next, F talked about the leaflet (he also mentioned how awesome it is that camera can move and zoom in this time, was it for K?😆), the photo being quite shocking/impactful. Was shooting hard? Finished really quickly, right?

T: Yeah.

K: it was refreshing. I said it was refreshing/cool, I didn't lie. It's like coolness in summer. It's auspicious/celebratory. Celebrating being born. When you're being born it's never pretty. So I didn't lie before, not even once, I said it's like a cool wind, I just didn't say anything about the celebration part to avoid spoiling it.

F: so far K said Oboro is refreshing, like Taiyou no Ao, Kaoru said it's refreshing, but more like Myaku remix. Shinya said it's like '肉付きに龍(flesh and dragon)' How about you, T?

T: you will know when you listen to it. It's not something that can be explained with words.

F: what about TDFF?

K: it's also refreshing. I listened to the file yesterday, it's like a cream soda, refreshing with a bit of a mellow hint.

F: Vanilla flavor?

K: maybe not just vanilla, mixing other stuff in until it almost spills.

F: what do you think T?

T: ...so, refreshing then.

F: ok, it's refreshing.

K: and auspicious.

And auspicious.

F read the info about the May show in Tokyo Garden Theater and fans clapped.

T: it's been over a year since our last show in Japan, I'm really looking forward to it. In this condition holding concerts is not entirely called for, but we as DIR EN GREY have decided to do it. If you're able to please come.

K: it's been a long time since the last concert. But. Isn't it a weekday? Utterly a weekday. It's almost like bullying [the fans]. Shouldn't we try to book a better date for such an important concert? This is really so much like us.

F: it's just after Golden Week (a week long holiday in Japan).

K: people will be so busy getting back to work. (after F encouragement to say something inviting) So, I'm looking forward to the show when people will have to work because it's weekday (sarcasm by Kyo 👌)

Next was merchandise corner. F again asked us and band members to look at the flyer.

F: T, are there any items you really like?

T: all of them.

F: Shinya uses the tote bag in private now.

K: Did you actually saw him use it?

F: he had it yesterday.

K: huh.

Ta: can we really say yesterday was using it in private though?

Next F showed us the hoodie and the towel, holding the towel up.

K: you should present it more properly.

F held it properly so we could see the whole towel, but K continued to give him dissatisfied look😆

Next F talked about the travel pouch saying it's useful when you travel on the tour you can hang it as it has a small hook.

K started to point out the problems with F explanation, where to hang it, isn't it better to just put on the table, the hook is then useless. A hook for a bag you will put on the table, what. You're terrible at explaining the merch.

😂

T: isn't that for shower room?

F: to put shampoo in and so on?

K just stares at F, that face oh my🤣

F: we talked about it being for shower stuff but we worried about it being waterproof.

K: You actually don't know, do you?🤦‍♂️ are you a scam? Why don't you know??? You should know more about the items!

F: I will properly check!

K: with who?

F: with the merchandiser!

K just looked at him😂

F: but you can probably use it safely in the shower💦

Kyo stared...🤣

F: T, do you have any favorites?

T (after giving him a look): I said all.

F: you, K?

K: the hoodie. The picture in the back was done by my tattoo artist, on my request. I really like it.

F passed them their keychains, K just kept staring at them.

T: why are there 2 types?

F: I wonder. It's for Ochita, so one normal outfit and one bloody. Details are really nice.

And then it was time for the questions from fans.

F: there are many questions about movies, anime etc you've watched recently. K?

K: Evangelion. Not gonna spoil it, but please watch it on a big screen.

T: I want to watch Eva!

F: Ta, are you also an Eva fan?

Ta: I watched the old series, haven't seen the new ones.

Ta: there are many Q to and about F. "Most band members are from Kansai, F do you feel alienated by that?"

F: I'm from Tokyo, but not even a bit.

Ta: where exactly? Do you go back a lot?

F: my old neighborhood doesn't change, it's actually around here. Definitely no alienation.

F: "what's your favourite icecream?" There are many Q asking about sweets. How about you, K?

K: Icecream, I like Cola flavoured Sacre. And the melonpan with icecream inside, when I see that in the shop I always buy like 3. Recently not many shops have it.

F: so when you see it you always get them.

K: Yes.

F: get like 3.

K: Yes.

F: how about you, T? Recently it's a bit cold.

T: hah! I don't recently eat icecream. But I like fruity ones. I like rum raisin.

F: any questions you like, T?

While T was deciding which Q to read K just popped his papers on F's desk😂

T: "what was your first impression of other members when you first met? And how have they changed?"

F: so T will tell us about K.

T: the impression when we first met?

K: was it at Farm? In Nagoya?

T: Farm? I went to see some taiban event at GIO and we met there.

F: where is GIO?

T: in Ichikawa. And we talked there. Has he changed? Of course he has, but I thought he is someone who can laugh very carefree.

F: it was a taiban event of different bands.

T: yeah.

F: How about T, K?

K: it's bit muddled, but I remember best T playing guitar. And the strongest memory I have is T going crazy playing guitar.

F: how about other members? Kaoru?

T: I remember we didn't talk much, just said hi.

F: you met them at GIO. what about Die?

T: he was very talkative, very easy to talk to.

F: Shinya?

T: just passed by.

F: you didn't talk?

T: Just hello.

F told them how D described meeting S. Then he asked Kyo about Kaoru.

K: we met at taiban event, he was playing guitar in a band called Charm. I was impressed with his photo on the flyer. I thought he was very cool, and calm.

F: what ablut Die?

K: I found him through a flyer looking for new band members I thought he was cool. and then there was a taiban.

F: what about S?

K chuckled first😂: I remember he had a bob hair and a very long earring, just one, like a chain. And that earring was moving when he was talking. I remember that.

Ta: has he changed?

K: His looks changed, but he didn't change inside.

Ta: oh.

K: Just gradually ...got weirder. I think he hates humans. But he has many friends he does riddles with. He knows so many people, too many, he uses social media so much, I have no idea who he's hanging out with, but he even has photos with Dewi Sukarno. He probably doesn't hate humans, just hates his band members. Hates people who know about the past.

😂

Ta: "S said he's using tour merch like tshirts, how about you?"

T: 使うやつが使うね・I use stuff that's ok to use. From this event I'd use the travel pouch and usb.

K: I use our items a lot, like towels or hoodies.

F: "what's your favourite meat cut?"

K: skirt steak.

T: skirt steak or offal.

F: I love skirt steak too! - he the continued to talk about meat how good are some parts until he noticed both T and K looks🤣

F: " do you prefer bath or shower? What time do you take bath?"

K: in the evening. But when I have a fresh tattoo I can't take a bath for about 2 weeks, then I take a shower.

F: do tattoos hurt in a bath?

K: They hurt or sting. It's like an injury so like a cut it stings in a bath. Did you think tattos are like a stamp?!

F: it seems it's tough.

Ta: you know tattoos are allowed in our company...

I loved Ta's jab, but what came after this from Kyo was just pure ❤️🤣

K: I will even buy a tattoo machine and do it so you F can get a tattoo.

F: what kind of desing?

K: a giraffe. On your back. Wouldn't it be more scary than oni or a dragon? I'm serious (he was trying so hard not to laugh😂), it's the scariest option, a giraffe.

F: you would design it?

K: Of course. A yellow one. Guys who have scribble/doodle like tattoos are the really scary ones! A yellow giraffe.

F: Let me think about it.

K: please do!

🤣🤣🤣

F: how about you T, a bath or shower?

T: sometimes a lomg bath, sometimes a ahort one, sometimes a shower.

T: "do you eat sweets?" I don't really. if anything, then chocolate.

F: what type?

T: My favorite was Kirinokibune (霧の浮舟, a bit like Aero. Has been discountinued).

F: I'll check it, you K?

K: isn't half of me sweets?😆

F: what do you like recently?

K: cookies, chocolate cookies.

F: from Morinaga? (big chocolate company in Japan, you can find it in every supermarket etc)

K: Morinaga? I don't like soft cookies, they have to be hard, chocolate cookie with chocolate. Recently, near Harajuku station there's a shop with a red fluffy character that looks like MUCC, I love their cookies.

Then F suggested sth only older people would know it and if looks could kill F would be anihilated by K on the spot🤣

F: last Q, let's choose something easy to answer.

F: "what do you like to eat with rice? I like umeboshi (pickled plum)"

T: in Nagano we eat nametake.

F was a bit clueless how to eat it etc and made T explain more.

F: you K?

K: I don't care. Don't you just eat it with side dishes? No one eats only rice with pickled plum? It's not postwar period!

F: so what side dishes do you like?

K: Sushi.

🤣

F: ...sushi?? Isn't that a bit different??

K: you eat fish with rice, no?

F: so what sushi do you like?

K: fatty cut of flounder fin(あぶりのえんがわ)

And finally last comments:

Toshiya: thank you for today, DIR has decided to hold a concert with audience in May, please come if you can. But you have to decide that for yourself. We made our decision.

Kyo: I don't have anything, as usual. ...your t-shirts will increase, it's hard for people living far from Tokyo, nothing much to say.

F: you mean you will like to see everyone in May and so on?

K: I said I have nothing to say, didn't I?!💢

#dir en grey #kyo #京 #toshiya #目黒鹿鳴館gig #爆音会 #talk event #attempt at live report #新木場studio coast

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keelywolfe · 4 years

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FIC: Just Swimmingly ch.2 (BAON)

Summary: Jeff has a lot to think about and what better place to do it than at the bar with his best buddy, Stretch?

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Additional Tags To Come

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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Read it on AO3

Read it here!

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The night wasn’t as young as it used to be, but to be fair, neither was Jeff. After a few hours of sitting on a bar stool, his tailbone would be more than willing to testify on that.

He leaned back against the bar in an effort to take some of his weight off of it, grimacing as he watched the dance floor. Colored lights flashed to the thrumming bass beat over the gyrating dancers and out in the thrashing sea of sweaty human bodies there was a head that was above almost all of them. Stretch towered over most humans and never was it more obvious than right then. The lights reflected off his smooth skull, a living disco ball, and around him other humans were laughing and cheering as they danced.

Edge would be having a conniption right about now and Jeff was a little bemused to find his anxiety having an internal dance competition of its own. Currently it was at ‘chachacha’ levels, watching all those Humans grinding up on Stretch. He didn’t want to think anyone here would hurt Stretch, intentionally or otherwise, but the threat of low HP always loomed. His trust in humanity took a pretty big dip a few months ago outside a Chinese restaurant and he had the scars to prove it.

Jeff took another sip of his drink. His straw crackled against the bottom of the glass as he finished it off, leaving only lonely ice cubes behind and he set it back on the bar as he settled back in for a little spare contemplation.

If he were honest, wasn’t a huge fan of the club scene even before he started dating Antwan. Not that he didn’t like going out but his problems with it were twofold. One, bars sucked to go to alone and back then he didn’t have a lot of real estate in the friend territory and two, it cost money. His disposable cash in those days was a lot like a pink unicorn: nonexistent.

Being friends with Stretch took care of both of those problems but a third loomed up to take their place like an unwanted acquaintance. Put bluntly, Jeff could not dance and until Kevin Bacon showed up to give him a few lessons, he probably wasn’t gonna learn how.

Not that he really minded that much. Guarding their drinks and listening to the music wasn’t a bad way to spend the night.

Besides, Stretch didn’t seem to care if he wasn’t up to evacuating the dance floor. He mostly let Jeff sit at the bar where he tried to look like someone with deep and mysterious thoughts to process instead of the person he actually was, far more likely to accidently spill his drink into his lap than anything else. On either side of him were other people doing the same, a row of wallflowers watching the dance floor with wistful envy.

Mostly Stretch left him to it but sometimes he’d bounce his way back and haul Jeff out for a song, any song, fast, slow, techno-bop, dubstep, didn’t matter to Stretch, he was an equal opportunist when it came to friendly torment and if Jeff felt a lot like Frankenstein’s monster tromping around next to Stretch’s lithe booty shake, eh, that was okay. Sacrificing a little dignity for a friend’s fun times was part of the package.

As far as he knew, Stretch didn’t go out to the clubs often either, but if there was one thing Jeff had learned when it came to Stretch, it was there were no half-measures. If he was in, he was all in, and that included drinking, dancing, and on the weekends, the occasional explosion caused by a thermal reaction. Truly a wide variety of hobbies came into play when hanging out with Stretch and going out to the bars pretty much guaranteed something interesting would happen.

Like the time they met those guys who’d come into town for the last beat poetry night. One of them mentioned liking Stretch’s Intergalactic Beastie Boys t-shirt so Stretch convinced them all to swap shirts and then swapped them around again, until they were all three shirts removed from the one they’d arrived in. Pants were a harder sell and if Stretch were ever hard up for money, he might take up selling ice to penguins because in no time they were all out on the sidewalk, firmly dismissed from Grillby’s over their rampant laughter drowning out the poet’s rambling about the burden of solitude. The Waffle House they ended up at had a less stringent dress code and all of them crammed into a booth to eat greasy breakfast food at two am in their boxer shorts. At least those were all their own and his plain cotton boxer briefs were no match against Stretch’s ‘wanna tickle my pickle’ pair.

He was pretty sure all those guys still followed Stretch on twitter.

He wondered what Edge had thought of Stretch wandering home in an entirely new wardrobe, minus pants. There was no way he didn’t notice, Edge was very intent on fashion, even Stretch’s version of it. Knowing him, he probably made Stretch strip right in the living room and soaked both him and his clothes in Lysol before burning his boxer shorts. The old-new t-shirt Jeff ended up with was hanging in closet even though it was two sizes too big for him. Antwan stole it sometimes for lounging around the house purposes and seeing him in it was always a cheap thrill.

Huh, now that he was thinking about it, he’d gone to the bar more this past year than in his whole life before. Not just with Stretch either, Blue and Papyrus had brought him along for karaoke a few times and that was an experience right there. Their singing was like a vocal interpretation of his dancing and just as painful for witnesses.

He’d even had a drink a couple of times with Red. Well, he’d been a tag along with Antwan but still. Red was still vaguely terrifying, but Jeff had gotten the occasional glimpse under his onion layers. He knew a little of what Edge and Red went through before they came here. His knowledge pretty much barely skimmed the surface, they’d both been soldiers and they might’ve gotten out alive, but not entirely unscathed. Knowing Red’s HP was similar to Stretch’s and he’d still survived? Perspective was a hell of a thing and it paid to look at Red from a slant.

Speaking of perspective, he was definitely liking the music. They were a local band and this place was close to the college, a good spot to hopefully get noticed and work their way up. The bar itself had probably been here for fifty years, the bartop pitted with scratches and scars from college students of yore, the stools definitely up for reupholstering.

It was really no surprise to find out that Stretch knew the current owner. He knew loads of people, wriggled his way into their lives a lot like he’d wriggled into Jeff’s. Only difference was, he didn’t usually let the other person wriggle back and yeah, okay, that metaphor was going in weird places, but the meaning stood. Stretch was good with shortcuts and he knew a lot of people, but he wasn’t necessarily friends with a lot. Jeff was pretty happy to be on the short list.

Knowing people came in handy, too, and bringing Stretch along always came with added perks. Catty only asked him to listen to the bands on the list to get a feel for their sound, but he’d be able to bring her a better report than that since they were going to go meet the band after their set was done. It would give him a chance feel them out, see if they were even interested in participating in the Midnight Monster Jamboree, as Catty had slyly dubbed it. After everything went down in California, they needed some serious good will.

The Monster community had been found not at fault for what happened right away, but Antwan told him court cases would be dragging on for a while yet. When Humans died, other Humans wanted someone to pay, and Monsters were easy scapegoats for unreasonable anger. His team was working their butts off on it, Antwan coming home at night so very tired, mostly falling into Jeff’s arms to sleep and yet still so grimly determined. Jeff couldn’t do much about all that, but he could try his damnedest to get their big public relations event off the ground.

The idea was to have a huge event for Humans and Monsters together and for it to be held in New New Home. Asgore thought that some of the problems with Humans might be a result of them thinking Monsters had something to hide, so what better way to show them who Monsters really were than a chance to see into their supposedly secret lives.

Jeff was on the lowest rung for planning and even from his view, it looked like a nightmare. Security details made up of both Human and Monsters, background checks, food, entertainment. Access was going to be extremely limited and the guest list was daunting; there were going to be some big names in politics and entertainment. That circled back to his job, getting some local bands together for the opening shows. Partly good public relations, but also an earnest desire to help out a few struggling locals with the kind of exposure most groups could only dream about. That was so like Monsters, trying to help others in the midst of helping themselves, but it sure was a lot of damn pegs getting shoved into so many slots.

He didn’t even want to know what Edge’s current schedule looked like.

There was a soft thud behind him and Jeff turned to see the bartender was bringing him another drink. The guy was probably somewhere around his age, unless you were gauging it by his world-weary expression, which probably put him at about right around three hundred.

He must’ve known Stretch, too. When they saw each other, he youthened to a spry two hundred and seventy after a complicated series of fist bumps. As an added bonus, he’d been keeping their drinks topped up and as someone who usually couldn’t even get a bartender to see him much less pour him a drink, Jeff sure did appreciate the VIP service.

He started reaching for his drink, but a sudden tap on his shoulder startled him. He turned around. A guy he didn’t recognize was standing there, not too bad on the eyes and weirdly nervous, enough that Jeff thought he might actually be trying to pick him up before he noticed the guy was holding something out.

“Did you drop this?” the guy said, barely loud enough to be heard over the music. It was a wallet and Jeff automatically checked his back pocket even as his eyes told him it wasn’t his.

He shook his head and the guy nodded, but instead of asking anyone else or handing it to the bartender, he wandered off towards the entrance.

Okay, that was odd. Jeff shrugged mentally, lots of weird people at the bar, maybe he was going to give it to the guy at the door in case whoever lost it noticed when they left.

He forgot about it as Stretch came back from the dance floor, sweat gleaming on his skull and face. That always gave Jeff a little pause, what exact purpose did sweating serve for a skeleton? Maybe he’d ask sometime when he was less busy with work. If Stretch didn’t know the answer to something, the journey to find out tended to be entertaining, and possibly less explosive this time around, although he wouldn’t put the chances at zero.

Stretch grinned at him, still panting, and picked up his own drink, gulping down half of it in one swallow. Jeff couldn’t remember was it was. Stretch tended to order more for the name than the taste, so it was probably something like a slippery nipple or a total screaming orgasm. Whatever it was, a skewer of fruit was floating in it and Stretch fished it out, pulling the cherry off the end with his teeth.

“so what do you think of the band?” Stretch asked, perfectly audible even over the loud music. There was another point of interest; when your voice was produced by magic, it didn’t always obey the rules of sound. “gonna give catty the thumbs up?

“I like it,” Jeff shrugged. He could barely hear his own voice, trusting that magical hearing worked the same way as speaking, “but I’m not the greatest judge of music. That’s why I bring you along.”

Stretch chuckled and propped his elbows on the bar, slouching back. It put him almost at head level with Jeff and the shirt he’d almost certainly borrowed from Edge pulled tight across his ribcage. “think i’m a better simon cowell than you?”

“No, you’re more Paula Abdul, and anyway, two heads are better than one.” Jeff played with the straw in his own drink. “Jokes aside, this is important, I don’t want to mess it up.”

“you’re not gonna mess it up.” Stretch scoffed. He bit a chunk of pineapple in half before polishing off the rest of his drink. “how even? you’re doing double-duty as it is. henry said once they’re finished, we can meet them backstage. i’ll have a chat with them, we’ll see if they’re assholes, and good to go! besides, it’s not like security isn’t gonna give ‘em a good, hard rundown, anyway.”

It was the truth and he knew it, but there was always that niggling little doubt in the back of his mind, that somehow he’d find a way to mess it up, and that would be it. This was so important to the Monster community and his chance to finally payback some of what’d they’d given him. He could do this, Jeff told himself, and he’d do it right.

The band started a new set, something with a low, growling bassline and Jeff turned back to watch, only to freeze as Stretch suddenly spoke again, the single word clear as a bell in church.

“jeff.”

The name caught his attention as much as the tone, Stretch never called him Jeff, it was always Andy or kiddo or whatever nickname was currently floating his proverbial boat. The last time he’d called Jeff by his actual name, he’d been lying in a parking lot in a pool of his own blood. The taste of hot metal was strong on the back of his tongue as he turned back to Stretch, his heart pounding, and some cringing part of him expected to see that friendly face instead as the one that appeared sometimes in his worst dreams, a deathmask with one socket dark and blank, the other strobing orange with grim intensity.

But Stretch only looked like his normal self and when he spoke again, each word was calmly measured and deliberate. "i don't feel right. i think we should go."

Somehow, that was even more alarming, and his worry quickly overshadowed any lingering bad memories that were vying for his attention.

“Sure,” Jeff said, “right now.” He hopped down from the stool. Stretch pushed off from the bar and staggered, leaning hard against Jeff and thank fuck he was light because his height already made it awkward to hold him up. He started to call for the bartender, maybe there was someplace they could sit down in the back while he called Edge, when another guy came up next to them, helping hold Stretch up. Then another on Jeff’s side and he started to protest that he didn’t need help when a voice growled close to his ear.

"Don’t look at me. Keep your mouth shut or I'll kill you."

It was followed by the sensation of something hard butting into his ribs and this could not be happening. This did not happen in the real world, this wasn’t a Jason Bourne movie, there could not be a gun pressed to his side right now. Even his own fear was sitting on the sidelines, pushed out by disbelief as Jeff stumblingly followed the guiding arm around him leading towards the door. The crowd reluctantly parted and next to them, Stretch was shuffling along, his eye lights blown wide and fuzzily diffused. He started sagging, his skull lolling back on his shoulders and around them were murmurs, people starting to notice.

“Hey, what’s going on? Stretch?” From the direction of the bar, and Jeff glanced back wildly to catch the bartender watching with dawning concern. There was no time to say a word, to even mouth a desperate ‘help’ before he was forcibly swung back around and pushed through the door.

The cold night air was like a slap in the face, sobering, and fear was starting to sink its teeth in past his disbelief. The guy next to him was keeping back out of his line of sight and he could only barely see the one on Stretch, dark hair, taller, burly, did he have a gun, too, who were they and why—?

By the entrance, the bouncer looked up in surprise as they walked past. “Hey, Stretch, you guys, okay?”

“Fuck off!” The man holding onto Jeff barked and the gun swung towards the bouncer. There was a beat of incongruous silence broken by the strains of music coming from inside the bar, then a girl screamed, the waiting crowd scattering.

“Fuck! Get them in the car!” A different voice, loud and panicky and he caught another glimpse of dark hair before he was shoved forward again. He stumbled, almost falling to his knees among the cigarette butts that scattered the asphalt, and the memory of another parking lot was strong, the swell of panic gagging him.

He didn’t resist as he was pushed towards a van, the side door sliding open and then he was inside it, collapsing across the backseat.

Weight dropped directly on top of him with a clatter of bones and Jeff grunted, trying to push Stretch off of him enough to sit up. Only to lose his balance again as the van squealed away from the curb, the tangle of his own limbs catching with Stretch’s limp ones.

A new voice barked from the direction of the driver’s seat. “Get their phones, hurry up!”

Rough hands grabbing at them, and Jeff instinctively tried to recoil, but there was nowhere to go. His phone was yanked from his pocket and Stretch didn’t say a word, only breathing with a slurry snore into Jeff’s ear. There was the sound of a power window going down, of tires squealing against asphalt and the inside of the van was too dark to see.

Not that it mattered. Rough hands hauled Jeff upright and the person they belonged to was wearing a ski mask like a fucking heist cliché. Jeff choked back a hysterical laugh, but even panicked amusement took a backseat when ski mask demanded, “Okay, both of you need to strip.”

Jeff only stared in mute horror, barely comprehending as a duffle bag was suddenly thrust at them.

“Change into these,” Ski Mask ordered, “Don’t get any funny ideas.”

There was a pun there, Stretch would have been able to think of one. Would have if he wasn’t lying slumped across the seat. His sockets were still open, but his eye lights were dim and unseeing, the lights were on and no one was home, not quite a pun but it’d have to do.

“Please, don’t hurt him,” Jeff said. He tried not to look at the guy with the gun as he carefully opened the duffle and pulled out the clothes inside, choosing his words with the same care. “He’s…he’s fragile, just a punch and you could kill him. Please.”

“Then don’t make us do anything that’ll get him hurt.”

Good advice from a shitty source.

Jeff scrambled into the oversized t-shirt and sweatpants in the bag, then helped the other…what, kidnapper? Asshole was the strongest contender in his head and that was what Jeff went with. Helped Asshole #2 get Stretch change into his. The guy was brusque but not ungentle, at least, and the second they were finished, the van pulled up next to a dumpster. A fourth asshole sitting in the front seat hopped out, tossing all their clothes plus the bag into it. Four against two, not including guns, not the best odds. Like Jeff would have been much help even if it were mano a mano. He sure as hell wasn’t a fighter past panicked desperation and he wasn’t about to hinge Stretch’s life on that.

“Now, sit back and relax,” said Asshole With A Gun. “You two behave and no one gets hurt, okay?”

Jeff knew a lie when he heard one. He nodded anyway and huddled into the seat, one arm looped around Stretch to offer what feeble protection he could. His skull resting in Jeff’s lap was a familiar weight from movie nights and Netflix marathons. His unconsciousness was not, but he was alive, they both were. It was a place to start.

Jeff kept silent, petting the smooth curve of Stretch’s skull as he watched the streetlights flash by and waited to see what came next.

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #original undertale characters #by any other name

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sunnydaleherald · 3 years

Text

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Tuesday, May 4

Buffy: Spike? Spike: Yeah. Listen, uh, did you hear a noise? Buffy: What the hell are you doing in my house? Spike: Right then, caught me. Your basement's full of junk. And me being in need of, uh, junk... Buffy: You were stealing? Spike: Well, yeah. Can't exactly work the counter at Burger Barn, can I? Buffy: Wait, are those pictures of me?

~~Buffy Season 5 Episode #87: "Listening To Fear"~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Avenging against Joss Whedon (Cordelia, Tara, T) by Aragorn_II_Elessar

flowers for a ghost (Buffy/Spike, T) by trevino

[Chaptered Fiction]

When one door closes , another opens Ch. 1-2/? (Buffy/Tara, unrated) by Stranger_In_Town

Nephilim Ch. 1/? (Buffy/Spike, M) by Aspasia96

Lil’ Ripper Makes a Friend, Chapter 30 (Buffy/Spike, E) by Soulburnt

His Legacy Ch. 40 (Xander, M, Batman xover) by cmdruhura

[Images, Audio & Video]

Manip:Tillow wallpaper () by HeckinYes

[Reviews & Recaps]

20 Year Rewatch - s04e02 "Ground State", s04e03 "The House Always Wins" by Ohigetjokes

PODCAST: Season 2 Episode 1: When she was bad by From Our Hellmouths to Your Hellears

[Fandom Discussions]

What are your favorite Happy Spike moments? by highonbandcandy and gothic-buffy

Tbh I feel really alone in being pretty disappointed with S7 Spuffy. by demandingbillydolls

people seem to rarely acknowledge that the show uses buffy/angel to say negative things by impalementation and rhymeswithlungs

Discussion of 1.18 "Five By Five" by Stake fodder

Minor details in the sets of Buffy & Angel by sunestellar

Sunnydale Found 2nd Most Dangerous Fictional City to Live In - Discussion of "A Study of Fictional Towns" by Buffy Summers

Spike's Soul: Character necessity or Writer necessity by Multiple Authors

The Tree Scene in AYW by HardlyThere

Dialogue from ‘Reptile Boy’ Query by ciggies87

I wonder what all the logistics were with so many people in the house? by LightBlueSky55

Buffy’s shared and prophetic dreams with certain characters by clover_frank_gold

Fear Itself by Aprilfoolskid1989

Funniest Xander Moment by Aprilfoolskid1989

What Buffy cameos would you have liked to have seen in Angel Season 5? by burnt_peanuts2021

Pitch the show in one, ridiculous sentence (AtS) by umadeabear

Pitch the show in one, ridiculous sentence (BtVS) by umadeabear

Did Glory have a true form like Illyria? by Carrierunnaway

Which Faith story line do you prefer? by jdpm1991

Are the visions the fate of Cordelia? by Carrierunnaway

If you haven't watched Angel, you haven't seen the, "real" Cordelia by precita

"I'd tear it in half and stick it in bed with me" by intenseskill

Question about the early episodes of S7 by stumcd1

‘Help’ 7x04 Foreshadowing by RhysandWolf

(Spoilers) One plothole I'm still confused by by DrPepper450

Buffy, Kendra, Faith & The Slayer Lineage by m8walsh

Surprisingly Dark: When Buffy says "the hardest thing in this world is to live in it" by ThisEntrepreneur32

Angel missed his calling. by alderotic

Season 4, Episode 10/11 by Noobie_NoobAlot

So what is everyone’s position on Wesley keeping Justine as a slave? by LightBlueSky55

Gender and Opinion of Riley by ThisEntrepreneur32

Angels soul removal Season 4 Episode 10/11 by Noobie_NoobAlot

[Articles, Interviews, and Other News]

PUBLICATION: A Study of Fictional Towns by MrQ

PUBLICATION: 10 Strangest Romances In Buffy Comics by Screen Rant

PUBLICATION: Boom Studios Cited In #DisneyMustPay Legal Fight, Over Buffy Comics by Bleeding Cool News

PUBLICATION: Buffy Fans, Rejoice: The Vol. 4 Legacy Collection Is Here by That Hashtag Show

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#btvs #ats #buffy the vampire slayer #angel the series #fan fiction #fan art #meta

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quickspinner · 4 years

Text

Second Chance - Ch 4 Pay the Piper

Luka groaned into his pillow as his alarm rang shrilly. He’d rather sleep for a few more hours, but he knew he had to get up. He hadn’t meant to stay up half the night working on a new song, just like he hadn’t meant to ditch his dream girl for it practically mid-makeout, but he had and now he had to get his ass out of bed and deal with the consequences.

He managed to lever himself up enough to look at his phone and found that not only had he overslept, Lucille had texted and she was on her way over to talk to him. Which meant he really needed to get out of bed, like, now. He buried his face back into the pillow.

There was a knock on his bedroom door. “Luka?” Marinette called uncertainly. “I know you didn’t want me to wake you, but that’s the third time your alarm has gone off. Are you okay?”

He smiled, and rolled over. “‘M fine,” he called roughly, and cleared his throat. “Just lazy. I’m getting up now. Lucille’s coming over, by the way.”

“Oh, sorry, I’ll move my things.”

“No, it’s good, we’ll use the studio for whatever she wants to talk about. Just let her in if she gets here before I’m out, please.”

“Okay, sure.” He heard her footsteps recede, and reluctantly dragged himself out of bed and into the bathroom.

Luka showered and dressed as quickly as he could, though his brain was still moving at half speed at best. He really needed coffee. He frowned as he opened the door of his bedroom. He recognized Lucille’s voice and brisk tone, but something bothered him about it. He walked out towards the living room, catching the tail end of his assistant’s cold, calculated speech.

“Mr. Couffaine is very busy, and I’m sure you both had a delightful time, but it’s time to go. I can call a cab to take you anywhere you need to be.”

Luka suddenly realized exactly what conclusion she’d jumped to and what she’d thought she needed to do about it. As much as the words Juleka was right pained him, he maybe should have told Lucille about Marinette before now.

“But I—” Marinette began in a small voice, and Luka snapped out of his morning stupor as if he’d been doused in cold water.

“Lucille.” Luka’s voice was steel and both women cringed. Any other time he would have winced at the echoes in the small space from his too-loud reprimand, but at the moment he was pissed. Controlling his temper as best he could, he crossed the living room and took his assistant by the arm.

“Please excuse us for a moment, Marinette,” he said, propelling Lucille back to the entryway. Marinette might still hear them, but at least he wouldn’t be tearing into his assistant in front of her.

He kept his voice low but hard as he spoke to her. “Lucille, you’re a fantastic assistant and I appreciate everything you do. I don’t want to lose you but if you ever speak to a guest in my house like that again I will fire you on the spot, are we clear?”

“Y-y-yes sir,” she said breathlessly, eyes widening. “I’m sorry, I thought she was just—“

Luka cut her off. “Even if she was ‘just’ I wouldn’t tolerate it. Understand? I know other clients expected you to handle things for them but as my representative I expect you to treat everyone you meet with a minimum level of respect, especially when you are in my house.”

“Of course, sir, you’re absolutely right,” Lucille whispered, looking at the floor. Luka put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently.

“Okay. Now stop calling me sir, it gives me hives. I’m sorry I didn’t think to tell you about Marinette, I’m not exactly at my best this morning. She’s been my friend for years and she needed a quiet place to work on a project, so I offered to let her work here this week whenever she needed to. Now go on in my studio, Lu, I’ll be with you in a few minutes and we can go over whatever you needed to talk about.”

Lucille nodded and fled back across the living room and through the double doors, closing them behind her. Luka sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, turning back to where Marinette still sat rigid on his couch. He went to her and took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. “I’m really sorry about that. Lucille’s worked with a couple other artists before me and she’s—“ He cleared his throat. “Well, let’s just say some of her previous clients bought in a little too hard to the rock star stereotype, and getting rid of one night stands was part of her job. I’m not what she’s used to, I don’t really have people over, and I guess when she found you here so early she jumped to conclusions. I’ve had all our dates blocked off my calendar as private so she didn’t realize I was seeing somebody. You, I mean, I’m just seeing you.”

Marinette relaxed slightly, and Luka tilted his head at her. “You didn’t—did you really think I would—“

“No!” Marinette flapped her hands wildly. “I mean—yes? Sort of? I mean I didn’t figure you were bringing random people home every night but you’re talented and famous and hot, and well, I thought...things happen?”

Luka took a deep breath and let it out slowly, not sure how he felt about that. “I mean, I’ve had a few relationships, but honestly, sex is too much work to bother with if it’s not with someone I care about. I just don’t care for one-night stands, and if I did I certainly wouldn’t delegate my assistant to kick them out afterwards.” His brow creased. “Honestly, I think I’m kind of offended that you think I would. It’s just not my style and I guess I assumed you would know that.”

Marinette winced. “Of course I do. I’m sorry, I just—she caught me off guard and I—I’m really sorry, I’m stupid, of course you wouldn’t.”

Luka sighed through his nose. “Lucille should be composed by now, I better go see what she wanted to talk about. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Marinette smiled at him. “I just wasn’t expecting that and she didn’t give me a chance to explain.”

“It’s my fault, I’ve kind of been keeping you to myself. Juleka told me I needed to tell her but I just...I don’t know, I wasn’t ready to share it with anyone yet. I’ll introduce you once she’s had a chance to calm down, she’s really got a good heart. I’m sure she’ll warm up to you when she’s done being embarrassed about the mistake.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll check in with you again before I leave for the day, okay?”

Marinette nodded, and smiled at him, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “I made coffee if you want some. You look like you were up late.”

“You’re a goddess,” he sighed, leaning forward to rest his head on her shoulder for a moment. “Thanks for understanding, Marinette. About this morning, and last night.” He kissed her lightly and went to find the coffee.

He handed a cup to Lucille as he kicked the study doors shut behind him. “Sorry it’s a mess, I know we usually talk in the living room but Marinette has all her stuff in there and I don’t want to make her move. Have a seat.” He cleared off a stool in the small room for Lucille, but she didn’t sit down.

“I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions,” she said softly, looking into her coffee cup. “I should’ve known better, but...” She took a deep breath, and then continued quickly, “I wanted to talk to you today because you just seem awfully distracted lately. It’s not like you to be so spacey, and you’ve been cancelling things a lot, and now you’re suddenly bringing girls home and that’s not like you at all—“

“A girl. One.” Luka corrected, looking at her over the rim of his coffee cup.

“It doesn’t matter,” Lucille waved him off. “I’m just saying, I’ve been worried. If you’re feeling overworked I can start spacing things out more. It won’t do any good to anyone if you burn out, and I’ve seen artists do some pretty crazy things when the strain starts to get to them. I don’t want that to be you.”

Luka smiled. “Thanks for worrying about me. I’m fine, Lu, really. Never been better, really, creatively or personally, but I would like to make some changes so I can have a little more time for a personal life if you catch my drift.” The look she gave him clearly said that she didn’t. “I’m—” He coughed and set his coffee down, suddenly inexplicably embarrassed. “Marinette and I, like I said, we’ve been friends for years, and since we’ve reconnected—well, we’re seeing each other and it’s only been a few weeks, but it could get serious pretty quickly. I’d like to have a little more time to spend with her before we go back on tour,” he finished, hating that he blushed like a schoolboy as he said it. He was a grown man, he ought to be able to admit he liked a girl without looking like a tomato.

“Oh.” Lucille frowned, and her stance shifted from the stiff posture she’d held since he came into something more like her normal air of slightly exasperated competence. “I wish you’d told me, Luka, it may be the off season but the press will catch on sooner rather than later and I need to be prepared. You should have told me you had a girlfriend right away. We need to agree on a response to any press questions, and we probably should get a security detail set up for her too.”

Luka frowned. “Do you think that’s necessary?”

“In my experience it is. One night stands and groupies are one thing but a steady girlfriend is a threat to the more extreme fans. And you’ve seen how little respect the press has for personal boundaries.”

Luka groaned and put his face in his hands. “I didn’t even think about that,” he muttered.

“Which is why you need to tell me these things,” Lucille said briskly, and despite her annoyance Luka’s shoulders relaxed, because just like that, they were back to normal. “It’s my job to think about it for you.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Sorry, Lu. Sorry for blowing up at you too. You’re right, I should have told you about Marinette earlier. I guess I was just…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lucille rolled her eyes. “Artists. You’re disgusting when you fall in love. I can’t believe you’ve been blowing off your responsibilities to chase a girl.” Luka winced, but Lucille just grinned wickedly. “Thank God, I thought something was really wrong. You’re sensitive and the lifestyle will eat you alive if you let it.” Her expression softened slightly. “So please keep me informed. It’s my job to help you.”

Luka smiled, then sighed and hung his head. “Okay, I get it. Thanks for worrying about me, Lu. I’ll introduce you properly, and we can talk about some of these things if Marinette has time. But first, tell me what you think about this.” He reached out for the notebook he’d left on top of the amp and handed it to her. He picked up his guitar, playing the melody he’d worked out last night.

“This is new?” Lucille said, adjusting her glasses as she examined his scribbled notes.

“Been working on it all night.” He played it again, this time singing the chorus from his notes along with it. Luka peeked up at Lucille and smiled. He’d worked with her long enough to recognize the repressed excitement in her face. “It’s not finished, obviously,” he added, “I’ve only got lyrics for the chorus and I haven’t even had time to run it by Rose yet. What do you think?”

“I think this isn’t quite enough to earn you forgiveness for ditching work to cozy up with your secret girlfriend,” Lucille said crisply, and then smiled. “But if you keep working on it, it could be.”

Luka chuckled. “I hope Marinette thinks so too,” he murmured, playing the melody again.

***

“It was nice to meet you, Marinette, I’m sorry again for jumping to conclusions.” Lucille shook Marinette’s hand and then turned towards Luka. “We’ll discuss your schedule after your recording time today,” she told him firmly. “I’ll go get the car. If you’re not in the lobby in five minutes, I’ll make you regret it.”

“Thanks Lucille, I’ll see you in a few,” Luka chuckled. He closed the door behind her and turned to Marinette.

“Which one of you is the boss again?” Marinette giggled.

“Oh I’m the boss,” he grinned. “But Lucille’s the one in charge. Well, I guess I have to go. I hope I didn’t interrupt too much of your work time this morning.”

“I made enough progress yesterday that it’s okay, but I do need to get back to work myself,” Marinette said, tugging on the lapel of his jacket. “So you better make good use of those five minutes.”

Luka leaned in and kissed her, caressing her cheek with his thumb. “Will you stay for dinner tonight too? We can order in so you don’t have to spend time cooking.”

“I’m spending dinner groveling for your sisters’ forgiveness,” Marinette wrinkled her nose at him playfully. “You’ll be all alone with your music tonight. I wouldn’t want to distract you.”

“You’re not a distraction, you’re an inspiration.” He kissed her again, and this time she returned it, leaning in and slipping her arms around his neck. “I won’t see you until tomorrow, then? You can always come by after dinner, you know I’ll be up.”

“Maybe, but I’m neither a rock star nor a vampire, so I’ll need to be getting back and getting some sleep.” Marinette sighed. “So kiss me like you mean it, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Like I mean it, huh?” Luka checked his phone. “Three minutes left,” he observed, winding his arms around her waist as he leaned in. “I can work with that.”

Two and a half minutes later he pulled back, smiling at the dazed expression she turned up at him. He kissed her cheek, made sure she was steady on her weak knees, and hightailed it to the elevator, grinning like a loon.

He smiled again when he got home that night, even though Marinette wasn’t there. Her things were all over the place in the living room and kitchen.

***

The first thing he did in the morning was brush his teeth. The second thing he did was to find Marinette, already working, chattering on the phone as she tapped a pencil on one of her sketchbooks. Luka leaned over the back of the couch and nuzzled her cheek, chuckling when she jumped and tried to shoo him away. He waited there until Marinette was off the phone, let her turn around and scold him, and then leaned in to kiss her over the back of the sofa.

“Jerk,” she muttered, before getting up on her knees to face him and slide her arms around his neck.

“I waited until you were off the phone,” he protested, sliding his hands up her back. “How’d it go with Jules last night?”

“It was tense at first,” she admitted. “We talked it out, aired a lot of really, really old feelings. We both made some apologies and...I think we’re good now.”

“Good,” Luka sighed, slumping a little in relief. “Is she okay with us now?”

“Mmm...I wouldn’t go so far as to say we have her blessing, exactly,” Marinette sighed. “Honestly I think she thinks I still don’t deserve a second chance with you. But I think she’s willing to wait and see what happens as long as you’re happy.”

“I can live with that,” Luka smiled, squeezing her. “Thanks for talking to her, Marinette.” He tried to kiss her, but she put her hand over his mouth.

“Oh no,” she told him. “Shave first. I have a strict no-stubble policy. I don’t enjoy kissing sandpaper.”

“Fair,” he chuckled against her hand. “It’s my day to go get yelled at by my trainer, so I’ll deal with all that when I get back. Then I can kiss you?”

“Luka,” she groaned, burying her face in his neck, “I’m working.”

“You can still work after I kiss you.”

“Do you know how long it took me to get back to work after you left yesterday?” Marinette demanded, and there was nothing remotely like regret or apology in Luka’s grin. Marinette narrowed her eyes and got nose to nose with him. “Don’t get smug with me, Couffaine, we both know I can make things very hard for you and that might make your gym trip a little awkward.”

Luka laughed and dropped his face into her shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you making jokes like that.”

“Who’s joking?”

“Do you just want me for my body, Marinette?”

All the teasing went out of her expression and he had to swallow hard at the look in her eyes. “No,” she said softly, “I don’t just want you for your body, Luka.”

There was that feeling again, like a suddenly missing stair in the middle of a staircase he’d walked down a hundred times. Luka leaned his forehead against hers, bringing his hand up to cup her cheek. For a moment they just stood silent, breathing each other’s air. He kept expecting reality to set in, for something to tip him off that this fantasy world he was living in had to give way at some point. He kept expecting to feel the shock of the ground and instead he just kept falling.

The phone in his pocket shrilled, and Luka sighed, pulling away. “That’s my ‘quit staring into your coffee and move’ alarm, so I really need to go. I’ll be home afterward, Lucille blocked out my afternoon to work on new music, so I’ll see you when I get back.” He smiled, rubbing his thumb along her cheek. “I promise I’ll let you work, though.”

Marinette smiled and leaned precariously over the back of the couch to kiss his nose. “Bye Luka.” Then she turned around and flopped back down on the couch with a sigh.

It was a great week. Marinette brought color and clutter and brightness back into his life, and it felt like home. At the same time, she was organized and considerate, careful not to let her chaos overflow into his working space. He felt her presence down to his bones; Marinette brought a creative energy he hadn’t felt since he and Juleka had moved off of their mother’s boat. Anarka wasn’t always the easiest person to live with, but she was an artist in her own way, and always had a frenetic creative drive that Luka hadn’t realized he’d been missing. Even away from home, he found himself jotting down song notes in the margins of his meeting agendas, and he took to carrying his guitar wherever he went, and every little gap in his schedule saw him sitting in some quiet corner, trying different chord progressions and muttering to himself.

Seeing that he was caught up in a creative surge, Lucille worked some of her special kind of magic, swapping out some of his less urgent business meetings to work more composition time into his schedule. For him, that meant more time when he could just be at home and work while Marinette worked, testing out his melodies and watching through the open door of his studio as Marinette rehearsed her presentation or spun around the room with fabric samples to see how they moved, sometimes humming along with the melodies he kept playing over and over.

To his utter relief, Juleka stopped needling him, other than occasionally teasing him for his distraction. Neither Marinette nor Juleka would give him the details of what they had talked about, and Rose had just shrugged and shaken her head when he asked her. Marinette told him not to worry his pretty head about it, and Juleka was a lot less polite than either. Luka pouted a bit, just for appearances, but as long as his girls were getting along again, he didn’t much care about the details. He did buy Rose’s favorite chocolates as an apology for having to put up with Juleka’s grouchiness the past few weeks.

When he showed Juleka what he’d been working on, she just smiled and gave him a few words of encouragement. “Your last passion project went platinum,” she told him, when he complained at the lack of feedback. “You don’t need me, just let it flow.”

It was true; for the first few years, he hadn’t had a lot of input on the songs he performed. The label brought him demos to pick and choose from, but it wasn’t until he had been producing hits on the regular that he was finally able to go to his producers with an album proposal and say, “This is what I want to do.” After that album, Regret Nothing, had been so successful (it had been voted best breakup album of the year by Teen Rock, which he’d found endlessly amusing since there was no actual breakup involved), he’d had a lot more creative control over the music he played. Anarka had, surprisingly enough, been his biggest collaborator on that album, and he’d spent several nights on the Liberty when it was in town, passing a guitar back and forth and talking through old feelings, both his and hers.

It was a bit of a cold shock to come home one night to find Marinette’s things cleaned up, and Marinette herself sitting on the couch with a small carton of ice cream, looking triumphant. Luka hung his keys on the rack and his coat in the closet and came to sit beside her.

“So, do I take it from the absence of paper all over my living room that some milestone has been reached?”

“Yes,” Marinette declared, offering him a spoonful of ice cream, which he accepted. “I’ve gotten the hard part done over the last few days, all the writing and outlining and instructions, so starting on Monday I’ll be working with the team at Gabriel to actually start producing the looks for the presentation show. I hereby return your apartment to you.” She held up his key. “No more tiptoeing around your own home.”

Luka took the key and set it on the end table a little reluctantly. “I really didn’t mind it.” He stole the spoon and took another bite of her ice cream.

“Mmm, I know, because you’re awesome that way,” she said comfortably, leaning her head on his shoulder before snatching the spoon back. “You’ve been a lifesaver this week, I can’t thank you enough.”

“No thanks needed. I was happy to help. It actually felt really good, having someone else around. You know, growing up on the boat, not even having my own room really, you’d think I’d be glad for the space, but most of the time it feels empty. I liked having you here.” He liked it a lot, actually. He kind of hated the idea of her being gone. He put his arm around her and tugged her closer against him.

“I did too,” she admitted. “And I’ll probably drive Alya crazy humming all these half-finished songs you’ve been playing all week. Did you decide what to call that piece from this morning? That riff was killer.”

“Lightning on the water,” he told her. “Rose and I did some brainstorming earlier, I think I can work with it.”

Marinette nodded thoughtfully. “That works, I can see it.” She giggled. “Was that a pun? Lightning? Brainstorming?”

Luka chuckled. “Unintentional, I promise.” He accepted another spoonful of ice cream, and asked, “So what happens now?”

“Now, I go to Gabriel on Monday and they’ll assign me a team and a workspace, and we make these happen.” She indicated her stack of sketches.

“So you’ll be busy for a while, huh?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, setting the ice cream on the coffee table and turning to face him. “Yeah, I will be. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it up to me.”

“Please don’t say that,” Marinette sighed, sitting back away from him and picking up the ice cream again.

“I’m sorry,” Luka frowned. He reached for her, catching her hand and tugging lightly. “Is this something we need to talk about?”

“Probably,” Marinette said morosely.

“I’m listening.”

Marinette took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “It’s...hard to explain. It’s not just one thing, but...I’m busy, Luka. I’m always going to be busy, it’s who I am.”

“Okay.”

“And the people that I dated before, they were busy too. And always there were sacrifices we had to make, things we had to cancel, just—other things we had to deal with. And one of us would always say ‘I’ll make it up to you’ and sometimes it happened and sometimes it didn’t, but...I just started to really hate it.” She looked up at Luka, face earnest. “Why do we have to keep this giant running ledger about who owes who? Things happen, things will always be happening, can’t we just...I don’t know, roll with it? I don’t want the stress of constantly figuring out just how big I screwed up and what would be an equivalent apology gesture, when really it wasn’t that I screwed up at all, life just happened like it always does.”

She dug viciously into the ice cream, glancing up at him as he thought through what she was saying.

"Okay,” he said finally. “I...think I get it, sort of.”

Marinette sighed. “I can give you an example, but it’s going to involve Adrien, because it was the most obvious with him.”

“That’s okay,” Luka shrugged. “Don’t feel like you’re not allowed to talk about that, Marinette.”

She nodded. “Adrien’s dad booked him for a fashion show on my birthday,” Marinette began. “And I know Adrien tried to get out of it, but it just wasn’t optional in his father’s eyes. And it was fine, I was a little sad, but it really wasn’t any big deal. I told him we could celebrate my birthday some other day, just the two of us.” She sighed. “He swore up and down he would make it up to me and he would give me the best late birthday dinner anybody every had. And then he went completely overboard. Everything his romantic little heart could think of. He must have spent a fortune.”

“And you hated it?”

“I didn’t hate it,” Marinette shrugged. “But I didn’t love it either. I didn’t enjoy it so much that I forgot that he wasn’t there on my actual birthday. So it...kind of seemed like a waste? And I felt horrible that he went to so much trouble and spent so much money and really all I could think was that I would much rather have had him singing happy birthday off key with my parents while they brought out a cake big enough for fifteen people in a room that only held six or seven. I mean, that’s the thing, right, we can’t ever get back those moments, and trying to make another moment twice as good to make up for it, it’s…”

“Exhausting?” Luka suggested.

“Yes!” Marinette cried. “I mean, if he had done all that stuff for any other reason than because he felt guilty for missing my birthday, I would have enjoyed it way more.”

“I get it,” Luka took the forgotten ice cream from her hand and set it back on the coffee table. “Come here.” Marinette looked at him, and then, a little reluctantly, slid over into his arms. “So if I’m hearing you right, what you really want me to say is, I accept that you’re going to be busy next week, and I can’t wait until we can be together again.”

She smiled at him. “And I accept that sometimes you have to work when the inspiration comes, and I’m okay with waiting until you can devote your full attention to me, even though I might be disappointed in the moment.”

“Got it,” Luka smiled, flipping a strand of her hair. “Glad we’re clear.”

Marinette giggled. “So if I kiss you now, are you going to jump up and run off on me again?” she teased.

“No promises,” he grinned. “You’re awfully inspiring.”

“I try.” She nuzzled his neck and kissed it with her cold mouth, making him shiver. “Wasn’t exactly the kind of inspiration I was going for though.”

He sighed. “You’re going to kill me, you know that right?”

Marinette frowned and sat back on the couch. “Too much? I’m just teasing, I don’t mean to pressure you.”

“I know. I can take it, as long as we’re clear that’s not where this is going tonight.” Luka smiled. “But that absolutely doesn’t mean I want you to leave. Come back over here and kiss me, Marinette.”

She slid back into his arms and Luka gathered her to him, and despite her teasing, when she kissed him it was soft and tender and unhurried. There was passion in it, the press of her soft body did things to his, the trail of her fingers over his skin and the feel of her silken steel muscles under his hands made his heart pound and his breath catch, but the feelings that threatened to overwhelm him weren’t coming from his body. Luka tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her closer, deeper, and let her push him down onto the cushions.

Marinette pulled back suddenly, and Luka blinked hazily up at her. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“You’re only using one hand.”

Luka bit his lip, feeling heat creep up his neck. “I’ve been playing a lot this week and my left hand is pretty roughed up from the guitar,” he admitted, flexing the fingers that rested on her jeans over her hip. “I mean, the calluses are always there, but—anyway, some girls don’t like it.”

“Well I do,” she whispered huskily, plucking his hand off her hip and placing it against her face. “Touch me, Luka.”

He did, stroking her cheek and down her jaw, and then down her neck to her collarbone. She arched into his touch and he pulled her back down into another kiss, both hands roaming over her face and neck and shoulders this time. She nearly purred when he ran his callused fingers along the back of her neck, surging against his mouth before breaking away. “Those girls are stupid,” she muttered, giving him no time reply before her mouth was against his again. “You make music with those hands. Idiots.”

Luka laughed into their kiss, and she giggled back at him. He cupped her face in both hands, and for a moment they just looked at each other.

In the back of his mind, he knew he had to hit the ground sometime. He couldn’t fall forever.

He could feel himself bracing for impact even as he kissed her again.

#quickspins #backlog #second chance #lukanette #i am lukanette trash i admit it #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #mlfics

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ahtohallan-calling · 4 years

Text

chapter 3 of true north is here!

[kristanna / t / the actual fic version of my single dad au at long last]

ch. 1 / 2

“Can we see the penguins?”

“That’s the only reason to go to the zoo, isn’t it?” Sven asks, leaning back to tickle his goddaughter’s ankle.

She squeals and kicks at his hand. “No! We go for ice cream!”

“We have ice cream at home,” Kristoff says, hiding a smile, because it’s his job to be the grouchy one so that Uncle Sven seems even cooler.

“But it’s my birthday,” she whines, and Kristoff glances up in the rearview mirror to see a pair of puppy dog eyes that match the set coming at him from the passenger seat.

“I’ll consider it,” he lies, knowing damn well he’ll be putting down ten bucks for two firecracker pops and a frozen lemonade and watch his melt while he keeps a napkin pressed to Alice’s chubby wrist before it drips onto her dress, and then inevitably more of it will end up on the ground than in her mouth.

He wonders if Bailey would say he’s spoiling her, that she doesn’t need a popsicle and special pancakes and her pink birthday cake.

But Bailey’s not here, and that’s why he’ll do it.

“Hey Al, do you see what I see?” Sven says with exaggerated enthusiasm, pointing to the green road sign that says “Zoo Next Exit”, and Alice scrunches up her face.

“A tree?” she asks, confused, and Kristoff can’t help but laugh.

---

“Nah, man, I’ve got it,” Kristoff says gruffly as Sven pulls out his wallet.

“Let it be my birthday present to Al,” Sven argues, even though he’s already putting it away again; it’s a familiar routine for both of them, helps both of them keep their pride intact even if it means they get weird looks from waiters sometimes when Sven’s excuses err on the ridiculous side.

“I’m sure you already got her something else,” Kristoff says, sliding his debit card across the counter, and by the other man’s grin he knows that’s a yes.

The teenage boy managing the cash register makes that face, the one with narrowed eyes that say don’t I know you from somewhere? Mercifully, Alice saves them by proclaiming very loudly, “It’s my birthday. I’m four.”

The teenager slides an “it’s my birthday!” sticker over the counter. “There you go, kiddo. Happy birthday. And, uh,” he adds, eyeing Sven a little shyly, “go Tigers.”

Sven grins and gives him a fist bump. “Thanks, man.”

They’re saved from getting asked for an autograph by a school bus of preschoolers rolling up. Kristoff pulls Alice out of the way and kneels down to put the sticker on her shirt, but she shrieks and pushes his hand away. “Not there, Daddy,” she whines.

“Okay, where?”

She points to the same spot he just went for, and he follows her orders. “Better?”

Alice nods and takes hold of his hand. “We can go now,” she says, imperious as a queen, and Sven doesn’t bother to hide his snort of laughter.

---

The arctic section, thankfully, is in the middle of the zoo, so in only a few minutes Alice has her nose pressed up against the glass as she watches them dive for their breakfast. Sven’s right beside her, ooh-ing and ahh-ing with all the kids even though he’s as tall as five of them stacked together.

Kristoff hangs back and takes a surreptitious picture on his phone; they’ve learned the hard way if they try and take pictures together, someone inevitably notices and gasps, “Sven Peters?” and asks for a picture of their own, and then they lose half an hour to football fans who don’t give a shit that they have a limited amount of time before Alice has an “I-need-a-nap” meltdown.

Eventually, the penguins disappear in the recesses of the enclosure, and Alice bounds back over to him, holding her arms up. He does her one better and sets her on his shoulders. “Where to now, Ally Pally?”

“Seals!” she proclaims, and off they go, just in time to see the show with the trainers and the red ball.

The birthday sticker nets Alice a chance to ask the trainer a question. “Do seals have mommies?” she asks, and though everyone else laughs at how cute it is, Kristoff feels queasy for a second, worried that she’s still not over last night’s meltdown.

They move pretty quick after that, knowing there’s only a finite amount of time before she starts asking for ice cream; Asian animals are next, first the elephants-- “stinky,” Alice says, wrinkling her nose as they watch one relieve itself, and then the tigers-- “take a picture of me with them quick, Bjorgman,” Sven insists, and somehow they manage to pull it off without anyone seeing, and then the pandas, which are Kristoff’s favorite because they know the secret to happiness is being left the hell alone to eat as much as you please.

The other bears are next, and Alice takes great delight in watching Sven look between Kristoff and the grizzly enclosure and ask if she sees a difference. “I’m telling you, Bjorgman,” he says, clicking his tongue and shaking his head sadly, “the beard’s gotta go, or they’re gonna put you behind glass, too.”

“Shut up,” he mumbles, earning a snort and an elbow to the ribs.

They’re only halfway through the monkey section when Alice starts whining about a popsicle. “We’re not coming back through here if we leave now, Al,” Kristoff warns her, but she’s unmoved.

She switches to holding Sven’s hand while Kristoff pays for the popsicles and finds a bench big enough for the three of them; Alice sits in the middle, red popsicle juice already dripping onto her t-shirt, and leans back with a happy sigh.

“Good birthday so far, Ally Pally?” Sven asks as he slurps at his own firecracker pop.

“Uh-huh,” she mumbles, trying and failing to catch a drip running down her arm.

Kristoff sets his frozen lemonade aside to swipe at it, cursing himself for leaving the wet wipes in the car. “Guess what? Uncle Sven’s going to Nana’s house for your party tonight.”

“Why?” Alice asks, frowning.

“Because he’s your family,” Kristoff says.

“Why won’t Mommy be there?”

Shit. He walked right into that one. “She’s busy,” Kristoff says, wondering if she actually is.

Some days, that line works. Today, it doesn’t. A moment later, the popsicle is on the sidewalk, Alice is screeching, and he and Sven come to the silent agreement that it’s time to go.

If he wasn’t so busy wrangling a sobbing four-year-old, Kristoff would have time to be amused that, just like when they played together in college, Sven’s the one clearing a path for him through the horde. He’s damn lucky to have a friend like that, and he knows it, but it still doesn’t sit right, sometimes, all the shit Sven does without asking for anything back. He won’t even take Kristoff buying the tickets and ice cream; there’s going to be a twenty shoved in the glove compartment or the fridge or one of Alice’s little plastic purses by the end of the day, and neither of them will say anything about it.

---

One mile in the car is enough to knock Alice out, and they’ve still got fourteen to go. Sven chuckles at the sight of her slumped over in the carseat. “Damn. Guess chasing the seals up and down the glass wore her out.”

“She didn’t sleep well last night,” Kristoff admits, and they’re both quiet for a minute; they’ve been best friends, tight as real brothers, for going on nine years now, but it’s still hard sometimes, talking about shit like this. It only ever happens in the car when they don’t really have to look at each other.

“Asking about the wicked witch of the west again?”

Petty as it is, the stupid nickname still gives Kristoff a twinge of satisfaction when he hears it. “Yeah. Apparently Lily’s mommy was at her birthday party, so now Al wants hers. As if she’s a fucking clown for hire or something.”

“What’d you tell her?”

“That Mommy’s busy. I’ve told her before that Mommy’s not coming back, but it doesn’t really get through to her. I don’t think she gets ‘never’ yet, you know?”

Sven mutters something under his breath that’s so vulgar Kristoff checks the rearview mirror to make sure Alice didn’t wake up to hear it. “Well, at least she’s got the world’s coolest uncle. And her dad’s alright, too, when he’s not being a grumpy bastard.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

That’s enough male bonding for one day. They’re quiet for another moment, and then Sven plugs the aux cable into his phone, and they listen to Journey at half volume the rest of the way back to the house, Sven headbanging and playing a wicked air guitar until Kristoff cracks a rare smile and plays the drums on the steering wheel at a red light.

---

Sven heads right to practice once they’re back at the house; he claps Kristoff on the shoulder and says “see you tonight” before loping off to his car and leaving him to carry Alice upstairs to her bed.

He’s got forty minutes of naptime left if he’s lucky. He sniffs at his shirt and cringes; between the meltdown last night and how tired he was afterward, a shower hasn’t happened yet. Neither has mopping the kitchen where it’s still sticky after an apple juice incident, nor washing his sheets; he hasn’t even finished double checking the books for the café like his mom asked.

But that shit’s a hell of a lot easier to do when Alice is awake than this is, so Kristoff hops in the shower without waiting for the water to warm and grabs his bottle of three-in-one soap. He hums a little to himself as he lathers his hair, one of the songs they jammed out to in the car, and lets the warm water do what it can to relieve the tension that’s always sitting in his shoulders even on the days when no one calls out at work and Alice doesn’t scream in the grocery store.

He winces at his reflection when he gets out of the shower. Sven had a point today about the beard; combined with his overgrown hair and the shadows under his eyes, he looks less like a twenty something ex-football player than a grizzled old mountain man. No fucking wonder people keep their distance from him.

He likes it that way, though, really; no probing questions in the checkout line, no well-meaning advice from strangers, nobody interrupting the routine they’ve got down.

But sometimes, he has to admit, it would be nice if—

“Daddy?” comes a sleepy, petulant voice from down the hall, and he’s been wasting time wanting things when he’s not even dressed yet.

—-

As usual, his mom’s gone all out for the party; Kristoff’s her only child, so she spoils Alice with the focus and enthusiasm of an entire competitive cheer squad. There’s a massive pink cake— way too much for the two of them, his parents, and Sven and his new girlfriend, who’s an unexpected but highly welcome addition to the crew, considering how quickly she and Alice bond over their love of Mulan and orange juice.

It’s not a break, exactly, to have this many adults around, but it’s breathing room, at least; Alice is in the living room on her grandfather’s lap performing all her favorite songs from Poppy’s Garden Tales while Sven’s girlfriend-- Marissa or Maisie or something-- claps along and Sven takes pictures of them both. Kristoff’s in the kitchen working on clearing the table and washing the dishes, enjoying the relative peace of the moment, until suddenly his mom appears at his elbow with a knowing glint in her eye.

“You’re not eating enough,” she says without preamble.

“What? I ate two plates of spaghetti.”

She jabs him in the side, and he yelps. “What else have you eaten today?”

“A pancake,” he says defensively. “And some frozen lemonade and a PB&J.”

He didn’t realize how little it was until he lists it all off. He used to eat four thousand calories a day, track all his macros weigh all his proteins; now he just eats whatever he’s making for Alice.

“Baby,” his mother says gently, “you gotta take care of yourself, too.”

He’s heard this lecture a thousand times over the last four years. “I know,” he mumbles; arguing only prolongs the inevitable.

“Maybe Sven can help you find a nice--”

“No, Ma,” he says, and it comes out harsher than he means it to. He pauses his scrubbing, remorseful, and she sets a hand on his forearm in silent understanding.

He leans down and kisses her cheek. “You and Al are the only girls I need,” he says, keeping his voice light, and she laughs.

The singing’s ended by now, and Alice is on her uncle’s lap reciting all the animals they saw that morning. “We’re gonna go back,” she announces. “You can come next time, Mary.”

Mary-- shit, how’d he forget an easy name like that? He really is getting old.

“What’d you wish for when you blew out the candles, Ally Pally?” she asks, and now Kristoff really likes her for catching on to that so quick.

“I want every day like this,” Alice announces decisively.

Sven chuckles at that. “If every day’s your birthday, then it’s not special anymore.”

“Nooo,” Alice giggles, “I wanna have fun with Daddy every day.”

Well, shit. He fucking wants that too, but how the hell do you tell a four year old it’s not that easy, that he only got today off with her because both his parents worked at the cafe today despite his dad’s knee replacement and his mom’s arthritis?

He’s glad Ma’s turned away from him when Alice says it so he doesn’t have to see the all-too familiar sympathy in her eyes. He gets that look from her and the rest of the world every damn day. He doesn’t want pity, doesn’t even want help. Him and Alice, they’re a team, and they don’t need anyone else.

“Baby,” his mom starts, and he knows it’s going to be something too compassionate to stomach right now, and so he walks into the living room, pretending not to hear.

#thank you gabi for the joke about kristoff and the bears #kristanna #my fics #coffee shop au #tn

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Heart Too Cold, but Friends of Gold - Ch.1

Know the Enemy

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 1700

Summary: Avenger!reader AU. Part 2 of Melting Hearts series. Part 1 HERE.

Your parents have been taken, parents who didn’t even know you were still alive and playing hero. And now it’s time to negotiate.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of kidnapping, death threat,... crying? Light angst.

Prologue | Story Masterlist

────── ·❆· ──────

Tony barely managed to plug in the phone to his magical tech when the annoying ringtone cut the air again.

You had been sitting on one of the stools in his lab, staring ahead blindly. Instead of a science lair, you saw your parents, family dinners and tiny cute birthday parties in a close circle of the few people who still cared. You saw your dad’s proud smile when you finished high school despite all the odds of your poor health and your mother’s tears on the same occasion, the small diner they took you to after, because you loved it there and you had preferred it to some fancy restaurant.

A squeeze on your hand brought you back to the present and you blinked, looking up to Steve’s face. A shadow of concern was there, but he gave you an encouraging smile. You gulped, eyeing the phone as if it could explode.

“Gonna put in on speaker, sounds good?” Tony hummed, already accepting the call and truly setting it so all of you could hear the caller. Steve’s hand never left yours.

“He-hello?” you spoke up quietly, mentally cursing. Too low. Yet, the person on the other end of the line must have heard you, because he responded.

“Hello, my darling!”

Steve’s grip tightened as the man greeted you cheerfully and Tony quickly started typing sounlessly in order to trace the call. You closed your eyes, the picture of your parents, each tied to a chair and a tape covering their mouths, swimming behind your eyelids.

“What do you want?”

There was a short silence following your question.

“Straight to business, I like that,” the man commented, his voice, immediately burned into your brain like a brand, causing you to sober up. “I wanted you attention.”

“You have it.” You have no idea how much attention you have, you dickbag. Touch them and I swear I’ll rip you open with my teeth.

“Obviously, Snowflake.” You winced, just like Steve, who was trying to keep composed by your side. “I’d like a meeting.”

“Why? Why would you kidnap those people? What-“

“Told ya. Wanted your attention. Gotta admit, your backstory is less interesting then I thought, but the Michaels always had high expectations.”

There was a bitter note behind his words and your lips parted. What the fuck? Was he trying to lead you astray? Or did he really just introduce himself? Both men present with you seemed as surprised as you were – Tony’s eyebrows were up, while Steve’s face darkened. He didn’t like the man revealing himself so easily-- and honestly neither did you.

“Why do you want to meet?”

To kill me?

“Big fan of yours. But with how much fan mail you get, I figured I needed something… bigger.”

You gritted your teeth at the painful pang of anxiety attacking your stomach. Yeah, sure, kidnapping your parents was a bit bigger. How the hell had he figured it out? There was no chance this Michaels didn’t know who you were, no chance of your parents being abducted being a coincidence. Yet, you needed to be sure.

“And you thought kidnapping two innocent people would do?” you strained through your teeth.

Tony gave you a thumbs up and lighted up the big screen – he traced the call. Naturally, it was from Pennsylvania; right at the source.

“Worked, didn’t it? I’m sure your friends already traced the call to the right building, so now nothing stands in the way of our meeting-“ You shot Steve a panicked look – this guy knew very well what he was doing. He must have known how precise the program was, when using the military network combined with Tony’s. How could he know that? “-so why don’t you come tomorrow at 8 a.m.? I would set the meeting earlier, but I tend to be cranky before I have my coffee.”

Steve’s expression was one of furious, veins on his arms ascending as his free hand curled up into a fist. His other forearm was pale; you realized you had been subconsciously tightening your grip on his hand and what was worse, your powers started working on their own, cooling the limb down.

You immediately let go, shocked and horrified. After that, you didn’t think your horror could escalate, but obviously, you were wrong.

“Also, leave your group of merry men and deadly woman home. If you don’t come alone, I’ll know. And if I know, they die.”

Steve shook his head rapidly, his eyes hard and disapproving. Tony was trying to get your attention, waving his hands. ‘Prove of life,’ he mouthed.

You breathed in shakily, closing your eyes. You were out of options. You whole body, every single instinct was screaming at you to tell him to go screw himself, because it was an obvious trap, but you didn’t have a choice.

He had your parents. There was only thing you could do.

“8 a.m. it is. I’ll come. Alone,” you added firmly, ignoring Steve’s hand grabbing your arm and pulling lightly to make you face him.

You opened your eyes slowly, meeting his – they were speaking to you soundlessly, scolding your for even thinking about negotiating with the man and meeting him on your own. You allowed yourself to drown in the sea of outraged blue, surprisingly calming you despite the emotions promising a fight in it. You found yourself strangely relaxed, an insane reaction to this mess.

“But I’m gonna need a non-stop prove of these people being alive.”

Steve’s gaze softened with compassion and you pretended it didn’t do things to you. You fooled no one.

“Obviously. Accept the video feed,” Michaels ordered and Tony clicked on the icon, another big screen lighting up with a face of a man.

JARVIS automatically started the recognition program, while you instinctively started asserting the man. White male in his forties, a bit round face, dark stubble, piercing grey eyes. Two-inch scar above his left eyebrow. It was impossible to guess his built with his body out of the frame.

“And you know, you can cut the game of calling them ‘people’. I know who they are to you,” he exclaimed, one corner of his lips rising.

You swallowed loudly as he disappeared from the frame then, angling the phone and showing you old industrial metallic door. He nudged it with his foot and it opened easily.

You ceased to breathe, your heart stopping as well. Your palm fled to cover your mouth as tears gathered in your eyes.

Here they were; the scene in front of you resembled the photo you had received, so he must have taken it from the very same angle. There wasn’t any change really, but for that you were actually grateful. You parents were still alive and breathing, their scared eyes flashing to the camera for a second before they lowered their gazes to the floor again. Your mother’s shoulders shook, her sobs muffled by the tape over her mouth.

The table you set your fist onto covered in thick layer of ice. You quickly raised it again.

“See, Frostbite? Living and kicking. Let’s keep it this way. You’ll hear from me every half an hour so you know your precious p-“ you held your breath in anticipation. Had he told them? Was he about to tell them now? “-people are still breathing. Can’t wait to meet you, Snowflake.”

And then the line went dead.

You sobbed, folding like a house of cards under a slight breeze. Steve shifted in his position, wrapping his strong arms around you instead of the simple challenging grip on your arm, and you instantly reached for the comfort he was offering. He placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“Hey, we’ll handle this-“

“Alone,” you whimpered, your voice muffled by his t-shirt. You could feel him shaking his head.

“Not an option. We’ll figure something out. Tony? Who’s this guy?”

“Frederick Michaels. Former employee of… well, me. Stark Industries. MIT graduate, summa cum laude. Just your average IT guy here. Fired a year ago,” Tony informed him swiftly. He didn’t need an encouragement to elaborate. “For harassment. That poor woman had to take a half-year of therapy. Jeez, I wouldn’t be surprised if Pepper had been the one to pack his bag herself. She’s allergic to that stuff.”

You allowed yourself breathe in at the mention of Pepper Potts. That woman was a goddess among men, ultimately badass in a bit different way than Natasha. And you needed to be all kind of badass now. You retreated from Steve’s hug, rising from your stool. Yet, you didn’t quite leave Steve’s personal space, comforted by the heat he was radiating. You eyed Tony.

“Why would he target me?” Why would he target my parents?

“Given his history, I would say it’s your outfit, it’s very tight on the right places-“ Tony hummed, cut off by Steve’s murderous glare, “-but this seems much more complicated than that. Why don’t you chill while everyone else gets here? JARVIS?”

“Already sent an alert to Agents Romanov and Barton as well as Doctor Banner, sir.”

“That’s what I’m talking about, the team working like swish watch. He picked the wrong team to mess with. We’ll deal with that bastard in no time, no worries, Frosty.”

Despite yourself and the air so thick in the room you could cut it with a knife, you smiled.

“Also, get that ice from my table, Elsa. Your manners suck.”

You did as he asked, trying to ignore the anxiety at your powers going haywire – you had other things to worry about now. But you could feel Steve’s worried gaze at the back of your head as your hand hovered over the mess you had made.

He was shaken by that as much as you were, but you never got to talk about it, because Clint entered the laboratory with a yawn.

“What’s up, ki-“ The words died in his throat when he saw the frozen frame of two civilians tied to chairs. “Where’s the fight?” he asked instead and Tony sighed, zooming the map out, replacing the ugly picture.

When the red dot appeared in a town called Snow Shoe, you almost send an icicle through the hologram, really not appreciating the irony.

────── ·❆· ──────

Part 2

────── ·❆· ──────

Tags: @mermaidxatxheart, @murdermornings, @elisaa-shelby @ask-hellbent-tweek @cxptain, @kallafrench

#marvel #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #avenger reader #avengers #captain america #steve rogers #captain america imagine #captain america x reader #captain america x you #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #heart too cold but friends of gold #anika ann

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parachutingkitten · 4 years

Text

Dancing Without You - Ch 4: Ice Cream

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Whose ready for the title drop? I am! I absolutely had way too much fun writing a party with this select group of ninja for the second half of the chapter. It’s a bit of fun fluff before absolutely everything hits the fan next chapter.

Happy Reading!

“I’ll take a double scoop of the rocky road.” Cole pointed to the tub through the window as Madelyn began scooping.

“In a cone, or a cup?”

“Cup please,” He smiled.

“Anything else?” Madelyn asked, handing him his cup over the counter.

“I also need a double scoop of cotton candy in a cup as well please.”

I hit Cole on the shoulder as he chuckled. “I can pay for my own ice cream, you know!” I scolded.

“Chill Lia, I have a bunch of extra cash on my student account that I’ve got to spend by the end of the month,” He explained. “I accidentally added an extra 200 dollars to my account instead of 20 dollars, so... I’m definitely going to be hitting up the student shop later this week.”

I laughed as Madelyn handed me my cup and moved over to the cash register.

“That'll be $6.50, just go ahead and swipe your student id.” Madelyn instructed.

Cole did just that as the receipt started printing. “And that’s it! Thanks,” she smiled, handing it to him.

“Thanks Maddie!” I smiled as we walked out towards the field.

“You know her?” Cole asked.

“She works there every Wednesday and Friday. Don’t you recognize her?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “But I don’t know her name!”

“I don’t know. I think it’s rude not to make an effort,” I shrugged as we sat down on the grass. It was a beautiful sunny day outside for being the middle of fall. It was the perfect temperature outside with the sun peeking out just enough to warm the air. I knew perfect weather like this couldn’t last long though. “So, you ready for midterms?” I asked, eating my first spoonful of ice cream.

“Midterms,” Cole laughed nervously. “Yeah. I have no idea how ready I am, but it’s definitely not ready enough.”

“I’m excited! I mean, in just a few weeks we’ll get our rankings! Aren’t you excited to see where you fall?”

Cole rolled his eyes, looking down at his ice cream, mixing it around with his spoon. “I don’t know. It all seems a little superficial to me. I mean, how can you possibly distill all of someone’s talent down into one number? And then they’re going to take everyone’s number and rank us against each other? Doesn’t that just seem needlessly antagonistic?”

“I mean, most schools have grades. That’s how grading things works,” I shrugged, taking another bite.

“It just doesn’t seem right. Singing and dancing and all this stuff is all just so subjective. It shouldn’t have such a concrete ranking system attached to it.”

“Well… yeah. It’s blunt, but that’s kind of just how performance arts work. They’re competitive, and messy and… harsh.”

Cole seemed distant. He looked at me for a moment, pensive. “I don’t know. I guess it’s just not really for me.”

“What do you mean not really for you?” I pressed.

“It’s kind of hard to explain,” he sighed. “But it’s like… recently, I’ve been feeling more and more like instead of going to school here, I’m just being trapped here, you know?”

I studied him. He was being honest, but I didn’t exactly know what to make of it. “Well, I know classes can be tough, but everyone knows first year is the hardest. Things will ease up soon. I mean, you might feel like you want to leave, but it’s not like you’re actually considering it, right?”

He paused for a moment, looking out at the skyline. “...maybe. I mean, the more I stay here, the more I feel like I just don’t belong. Like I can’t fit into the mold that everyone wants from me.”

“Cole, you’re a great dancer! If you’re worried about living up to people’s expectations, don’t be-”

“It’s not that.” he shook his head. “I just don’t fit in the system. I can’t do this forever. I can’t live like this.”

I set my ice cream down on the grass, thinking for a moment. “Look, I know this kind of stuff is a lot of work. And I get that it comes easier to me than it does for a lot of people, but you shouldn’t throw away your chance just because it gets hard. I mean, why did you come here in the first place unless you really wanted something out of it, right?”

Cole’s head hung low as he picked at the grass.

“I… didn’t choose to come here.

My dad did.”

~*~*~*~

“Oh! We’re halfway there! Oh! Livin’ on a prayer!”

They both sounded absolutely terrible at this point in the song, but the energy in the room was undeniable. Lia had pulled out all her snacks, moved the furniture, dug up her mini disco ball, and had started blasting music. She and Jay and were currently caught in an intense impromptu Karaoke battle, Jay singing into the ice cream scooper while Lia had chosen the tv remote as her microphone of choice.

“Hold on! Hold on!” Jay screamed out, “Air guitar solo!”

“Shred it guys!” I called out, egging them on as they flailed around in the middle of the room.

“Put your heart into it, Jay!” Pixal mocked him. “She’s wiping the floor with you!”

Pix and I both laughed as the last set of choruses came around.

“You really weren’t kidding, she’s extremely high energy.” She looked over at me, smiling.

“Yeah, she was a good warm up for dealing with Jay,” I joked, both of us laughing again.

“Take my hand! We’ll make it, I swear!” They were singing into each other’s faces at this point, more screaming than singing. “Oh! Living on a prayer!”

Both of them pumped their fists in the air as the song faded out, Pix and I both cheering them as they bowed.

“It’s such a good song!” Jay raved.

“It’s such a good song!” Lia tossed the remote onto the couch in the corner, taking a few heavy breaths.

“Sorry about that Cole, I had a bit of a point to prove,” Jay boasted, walking over to the snack table. “Which flavor did you want?” He looked down at the various tubs of ice cream.

“You know what, I don’t even think I want ice cream anymore,” I shrugged.

“Well, I want some mint chip!” Lia called to him, running over. “I am overheating big time!” She smiled.

“I know, right?” Jay agreed, dishing some up for her, my eyes drifting.

“You rocked it up there.”

“I’ve done my fair share of lip sync battles, I know how to work a good song,” Jay smirked, handing her the bowl he had scooped.

My eyes had been drawn to the neat orange stone hung around Lia’s neck, shining in the dancing light of the disco ball. “Is that the necklace?” I asked.

“Oh! Yeah,” She lifted it off her neck. “I usually only wear it for good luck, like when I’m auditioning for stuff or what not, but I thought since you’re here it’d be appropriate.”

“I didn’t even think you’d have it still,” I chuckled.

“What’s this all about?” Pix asked.

“Oh nothing,” Lia shrugged. “Cole just got me this necklace at the end of first semester.”

Pixal leaned over, looking at it. “It’s a beautiful piece of sunstone,” she admired.

“It’s kind of a long story,” I waved it off, glancing back at Lia, now enjoying her ice cream.

“Hold on,” Jay interrupted, pointing at the other end of the room. “Is that a guitar? Do you play guitar?!”

“Yeah, I play guitar,” She smiled. “I know most of the basics. Guitar, Piano, Violin, I’m learning how to play the flute. I’ll have to play for you sometime, you know, when my voice isn’t so hacked up from song battling you,” She winked.

“As in like… play and sing?” Jay asked. “You sing too?! As in like, real, legit singing?”

Lia burst out laughing, leaning on my shoulder. “Cole, this idiot wants to know if a Marty Oppenheimer Alumni can sing! What do you think?!”

“Yes, she can sing,” I rolled my eyes at Jay.

“Does that mean you can sing too?” Jay nudged me.

“Oh, you’ve never heard him sing?” Lia smiled, turning to me, wide eyed.

“I can sing, but that doesn’t mean that I do. Not anymore anyways,” I stopped them.

The music began to switch as Lia took my hand. “That’s okay, Cole’s always been much more of a dancer.” She smirked. “Come on, this song is great for swing dance!”

“You know full well, I dropped out right before the swing dance unit,” I put my hands up in surrender.

“I don’t know, that sounds like quite a slim excuse to me,” Pixal teased.

“Oh, so you think you’re better than me?” I challenged her.

“I’m a droid, you don’t think I can’t follow rhythms and memorize a complex series of steps?”

Lia placed down her ice cream bowl and turned triumphantly towards Pixal. “Would you like to dance?”

“Of course!” Pixal smiled in my face as they moved back out towards the center of the room.

“Aw man! She slammed you!” Jay clung to my shoulder, jumping up and down.

They took the floor, moving in unison as the chorus kicked in.

I knew I was in for a ride as we

Swing to the sound

Our feet tap-tappin' and our heartbeats beatin'

“Dude, you’re not recovering from this,” Jay shook his head, watching as they spun around each other to the beat of the music.

“Yeah, Pix sure wasn’t bluffing.”

They had some great synergy too. So concentrated on the moves they were making, anticipating what the other would do next. It had been a while since I’d seen Lia dance. I had forgotten how happy it made her. It breathed life into her in a way nothing else ever quite did. Like dancing was the one thing keeping her alive, like doing anything else would just be unnatural. The way her stray hairs would fly away in the air as she spun, the way her nose would scrunch up when she smiled. Those moments when she felt so in the rhythm that she'd just close her eyes. It was all wrapping in this warm familiar comfort that I had lost to the back of my mind to years now.

Spin 'round and 'round

We got lost in the rhythm, the lights, and the crowd

“You’re so good!” Lia’s excitement caught me out of my daze. Her arms were wrapped around Pixal, who was a bit unsure of what to do.

“You’re quite talented yourself.”

“See, that’s how you dance!” She broke away from Pix, pointing at me. “You just forget how to move your feet after all these years, or what?”

“I’ve kinda been focused on other things,” I rolled my eyes.

“That’s so cool! How did you do that?” Jay marveled at them both. “It looked so choreographed and everything!”

“It just takes practice,” Lia hit him in the shoulder. “It’s really not that hard. It’s first year stuff.”

“I could teach you the basics if you wanted,” Pixal chimed in.

“Hell yes! Let’s do it!” Jay swung around me, back to the middle of the floor, Pixal following him. I leaned back on the snack table watching them. She took his hands, carefully guiding him through some basic motions, both of their eyes glued to their feet. I could feel a smile spread across my face watching Jay fumble at Pixal’s simple instructions.

“Pix is a great dancer! I was actually really surprised.” Lia sat next to me, a half empty glass of water in her hands.

“You know, if I’m being honest, it was kinda weird seeing you dance with someone else,” I chuckled.

“Yeah,” She sighed, hanging her head a bit. “I guess it would be.” Her fingers fiddled with the rim of the glass. I could tell something was off.

“What’s wrong with that?” I asked, trying to keep the tone light.

She looked up, her eyes distant. “Cole, I’ve been dancing without you for five years now.” She glanced over at me, gauging my reaction.

“Well…” I hesitated. “Yeah, that’s a good thing, right? I wasn’t supposed to be a dancer, staying would have just been a mistake. We both found our calling in life! That’s great!”

She looked at me with a blank stare. “...You don’t get it, do you?”

I looked at her a moment, trying to read what the answer was that she wanted. “Get… What? I mean, what happened, happened. Sure, it sucked to leave you behind, but no one got hurt. I’m back now, what’s the big problem?”

She looked at me for a moment, taking a deep breath. She placed her glass down on the table behind her, her eyes glazing over again as she looked at the floor.

She was thinking.

After a long moment, she closed her eyes, standing up.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed.” She started towards the back hall as I stood up, trailing her.

“Lia, is everything okay?”

“Cole, please, I can’t do this right now.” She sighed as she continued moving.

“Amelia, talk to me, please. What’s wrong?” I pleaded with her.

I was cut off as she reached her room, shutting the door on me, leaving me a little disoriented on the other side.

“Everything okay back here?” Jay asked, peaking back into the hall.

I turned to look at him, still wondering what exactly had just happened.

“I… don’t know.”

#ninjago #ninjago oc #ninjago cole #OC: Amelia #Dancing Without You #writing #birthday week

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cluttermind · 4 years

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Without A Parachute (3/?) - No Judgment

Summary: Emma worked tremendously hard to give herself a better chance. From group homes, to living in her car, to ivy league student, this English Major’s only solace was escaping her reality through books. One night, Emma comes home to find a small package with only her name on it written in beautiful calligraphy. The package contains a thick, brown leather journal. Emma soon learns that the fiction she writes in the journal eventually becomes reality. Will Emma learn to control this gift, or will she fall too fast into the temptation to change too much? With the help of her good friends August, Robin, and Elsa, and the mysterious, intriguing bartender of The Jolly Roger, Emma discovers just how easy it is to lose control, and how difficult it is to pick up the pieces.

Rating: M

Words: 10,482 total / 3,335 Ch 3

Read on ao3: Beginning | Current

Note: Thought it was time to finally post this here! Thanks for reading friends! I hope you like this one - I had a lot of fun (maybe too much fun) writing it. Here's a little fun fluff and sweetness and lots of pop culture references before things get ~interesting~ Next week will probably be a hiatus while I finish up some [online] finals but a LOT happens in ch 4 so I hope you stay with me. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Chapter 3

“No Judgment”

I can be your lover or your shoulder to cry on

You can be whoever you like

When you're with me, no judgement

You can get that from everyone else

You don't have to prove nothing

- Nial Horan, No Judgement

Emma worked at the bookstore all day on Friday. Being there always made her feel a little better. She was surrounded by books and all the things Belle brought back from her excursions. Bell had recently gotten a new shipment from an independent publisher she had recently found. Rose and Petal Books, while stocking many popular titles, had an extensive collection of lesser-known novels from independent publishers along with a plethora of local authors.

One book in particular caught her eye and there was only one copy sent in the box. The book was bound in a soft, brown leather with its title engraved and filled with gold foil on the cover in beautiful cursive. Into The Page . There was no barcode to scan for inventory.

“That’s odd.” Emma commented to herself, turning the thick book over in her hands. She opened it up to skim the pages and noticed that it was a journal filled with handwritten content. Something about the book felt faintly familiar. While the title was beautiful, there wasn’t anything remarkable about it. She figured it might have been someone’s manuscript that was sent to the publisher that got mixed in by accident.

“Hey Belle,” she called to her boss who was at the register, reading.

“Find something interesting?” Belle asked as she walked over to where Emma was in the back room.

“I think they accidentally sent us someone’s manuscript?” Emma handed her the journal.

“Hm. That is interesting.” Belle gently flipped through the book. “I’ll call the publisher tomorrow. It’s getting late, why don’t you head home for the night.”

Emma looked at the clock. It was 8:00, only an hour till closing anyway. “Sure. I’ll see you next week?” Belle nodded and gave Emma a quick hug. Before leaving, she hung up her apron and turned her phone back on. Emma usually turns her phone off during work and uses the time as an escape from everything. There were a few texts coming into her group chat about the meeting Elsa and Robin were at. Essentially the meeting was going to run long, lots of signs needed to be made before Sunday’s protest about something or other. Emma wasn’t really up-to-date on this particular one. August offered to come help because he was bored.

There was a text from her roommate Sarah to her and Claire that came in half an hour ago.

Sarah to group: Hey, Josh is coming over to cook me dinner and you know ;) can y’all stay out till like midnight? Maybe 1 if things go really well ;) Don’t want any distractions tonight ladies

Claire to group: Yeah I’m staying with Danielle tonight - we’re hitting up the Alpha Delta Pi party tonight

Emma sighed. Her friends were busy and she wasn't in the mood to spend hours making posters and signs after working all day. But the library would be open for a while longer. She could use the computers and scroll through Reddit for a few hours.

Emma to group: Sure thing. Have fun :)

Then she remembered someone she could waste some time with. She walked towards The Jolly Roger and opened the door. It was starting to get crowded but it wasn’t too hectic yet. Emma made her way to the bar and noticed Ruby there along with a man she hadn’t met yet.

“Hey Ruby,” Emma said, smiling. She and Ruby had gotten to know each other since they had first met at the pub. Ruby was a junior majoring in art. She also hated Macroeconomics, the class they were in together, but it was filling a graduation requirement. They studied together a few times and always ended up begging Killian for free food. Emma always ended up paying though, sneaking the money under the plate before she left.

“Hey! Looks like you’re in better spirits today. You okay?” Ruby responded, referencing the previous night that Emma would very much like to forget.

“Nothing that sleep couldn’t fix,” she lied. While the initial shock of yesterday was gone, the pain, the anger, the self-doubt still lingered.

“If you’re looking for the Captain he’s upstairs.”

“What?” Blush rose to Emma’s face.

“Killian. He’s upstairs. Took the night off. Just take the stairs behind the bar, walk two floors up and you’ll be at his door. I’m sure he won’t mind!” Ruby explained.

“Oh. Thanks.” Emma headed up the stairs, and hesitated at the door. Through it she could hear the sound of a guitar strumming. Maybe he didn’t want company. Maybe he’d rather be alone. Maybe he didn’t want to see her . She could just go back and sit at the bar and talk to Ruby for a while. They weren’t super close but she could find things for them to talk about. It was also getting busy downstairs though. Pull it together Emma. She knocked on the door.

The sound of the guitar stopped and seconds later Killian opened the door. He was surprised and happy to see her. “Hello, Swan. What brings you here? A little early for a booty call no?” Killian grinned, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Oh it’s never too early,” Emma played along staring right at Killian who was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed at his chest. “My roommate sexiled me and I needed somewhere to crash for a while.”

Killian stepped aside to let her in. He was wearing just a plain black v-neck t-shirt and grey joggers. It was odd seeing him out of his work attire - a black button down with two buttons undone at the top and dark, a black vest, and slim-fitted jeans. He watched her as she walked in and closed the door, distracted by her being.

“Sexiled?” Killian teased. “Well if you insist, love. Can’t leave a beautiful woman unsatisfied now, could we?” Emma slapped his arm.

“You know what it means. Sarah kicked me out so she could fuck her boyfriend without interruption. Honestly the warning was appreciated because even my ear buds can’t tune her out.” Emma explained. She took her jacket off and draped it over a stool at Killian’s kitchen Island. His apartment was beautiful. It was an open concept with a gorgeous kitchen, a beautiful island, a ridiculously comfortable sectional, with an oversized chase at one end and a large TV mounted to the wall. Speakers were all over. The doors to his bedroom with glass french doors, making the one-bedroom apartment look bigger than it is. “Sorry for not texting before, I thought you’d be working and was coming to sit at the bar for a while. Ruby told me you were up here.”

“No worries, love. I quite enjoy the company,” Killian said, moving to flop down on the chaise part of the couch. “And it’s clear that you find me so irresistible that you just had to see me tonight instead of one of your other friends.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Oh I can resist you just fine. Everyone else was busy.”

“Ouch!” Killian feigned pain, his hand going to his heart. “So I was your second choice.”

“4th actually.” Emma teased.

“Keep telling yourself that.” He winked and patted the spot next to him. “How about a movie? Anything in particular you’re interested in watching?”

Emma kicked her boots off and flopped down next to him. They were so close their arms and legs were touching. He nudged her foot playfully and he turned on the TV and opened Netflix. She shrugged against him. “Whatever you’re watching is fine. I don’t want to disrupt your evening.”

“You’re not disrupting anything, love.” Killian responded, handing her the remote. “Snacks?” He got up, taking the warmth of his body with him and Emma suddenly missed the closeness.

“When have I ever turned down food?” Killian laughed. She adored the sound of his laugh. It always made her smile. Emma scrolled through Killian’s watch list on Netflix. Ozark, The Witcher, The West Wing, Grey’s Anatomy . The last one made Emma giggle under her breath. So Mr. Bartender is a Grey’s fan. She made a mental note to tease him about that later. Not like she was the one to speak though. Ever since August let her use his Netflix account she’s been on that binge as well. Killian tossed a bag of popcorn in the microwave. “How was your day?” Emma asked, genuinely caring about the answer.

Killian groaned. “Infuriating. It was a lot of inventory and ordering and arguing to get things here on time. I prefer working the bar to that any day. How was yours?”

“Eh, it was fine. I spent all day working down at The Rose and Petal.”

“The bookstore?”

“Yup.”

“Aye, my grandad loved it there. Belle still owns it?”

“She does. Your grandfather lives here? What’s his name? Maybe I’ve seen him.”

Killian leaned back against the island, gripping it a little tighter as his eyes moved from Emma to the floor. “Nah, love. He used to live here. He passed away 2 years ago, just after I opened the pub.”

Emma’s face softened. “Killian, I’m so sorry.”

He looked up at Emma. “He was a professor at Cornell. In the English department actually.” He tilted his head and smiled a bit. “You remind me a bit of him.”

Emma smiled back. “How so?”

“He loved academia and his research and teaching. He always had a book in his hand. Sometimes he’d lose all track of the world around him when he was working or reading. He was a fountain of useless knowledge. He knew little about music but always asked me what I was listening to, only took his coffee black except for at the pub, and asked me how my day was every time I saw him and always cared about what the answer was.” Killian reminisced. He had spent nearly every summer growing up in Ithaca with his grandma and granddad. Killian still couldn’t believe that he’s gone. “He always made me smile and loved telling me about what he was reading. He was my best friend.”

“He sounds wonderful.” Emma noted, blush creeping to her cheeks feeling both sad for Killian’s loss and flattered at the sentiment that she reminded me of someone he clearly loved so deeply. When Emma wasn’t physically at The Jolly Roger or with her friends or at work, she was usually texting Killian. They talked about nonsense most of the time but there was something comforting seeing his name pop up on her phone after long days. In retrospect, she wasn’t surprised that it was him she made her way to last night when life had shaken her to her core. Emma knew he’d be the one to help her hold the broken pieces together. If she was being honest with herself, it still felt as if those pieces were scattered on the floor. And from the look in his eyes, she could tell he had some pieces there as well.

“Aye. Wonderful.” Killian said. Although it was unclear who exactly he was talking about as he looked at her. Just then the microwave went off, breaking his trance. He opened the hot bag and poured the popcorn into a bowl. “So what’re we watching?” He asked, reaching to grab and open a bottle of wine.

“Well I saw this really fascinating documentary on sharks the other day that I wanted to show you.” Emma explained.

“Sharks, huh? What about them?” KIllian asked, intrigued.

Emma brightened, and animatedly explained the general plot. “So there’s this group of sharks that are living in the water around New York City. And there’s this big storm that’s coming, but no one is listening to the people telling them about the storm so of course no one prepares for the storm. So two tornadoes form over the water picking up all the sharks -”

“Emma.” Killian interrupts her, turning to look at her. “That’s the plot of Sharknado.”

“Sharknado 2: The Second One actually.” She corrects him.

“We are not watching Sharknado 2.” Killian says, chuckling. He hands her a glass of white wine which she accepts as he takes his place on the couch next to her.

“Sharknado 1?”

“Swan.”

“You mean to tell me you have no desire to watch Ian Ziering fight some flying CGI sharks?” She joked. She was clearly teasing him, enjoying the way he laughed at her ridiculous suggestions. Truth be told she’s seen all the movies multiple times. Who doesn’t love a flying CGI shark and an awful romance plot? Emma and her friends had multiple drunk movie nights last semester to watch them all. They provided a good laugh.

Killian laughed. “Aye, how about a real movie?”

“A REAL movie?” Emma feigned offense. “Clearly you have no respect for low-budget disaster films.” She grabbed a handful of popcorn, popping some into her mouth.

Killian nudged her playfully. “I think the low budget disaster movies have no respect for the viewers.”

“That’s the point! But fine.” Emma paused, thinking of a movie. “How about Sharknado 3: Oh Hell No?”

“Again with the flying sharks! You know that you have not listed a single shark documentary yet, love.” Killian jokes, taking a sip of wine.

“What about The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society?” Emma said, taking some popcorn. “It’s one of my favorites. Also Sharknado 4: The 4th Awakens, Sharknado 5: Global Swarming, and The Last Sharknado: It’s About Time are just not as good as the first three so I’m out of flying shark suggestions.” Killian stared at her, jaw nearly hitting the floor at the absurdity of the existence of 6 Sharknado movies and the fact that Emma has clearly seen them all. But her actual suggestion was sincere. It was an intriguing story of love and war and literature that Emma had seen at least 10 times. It reminded her of the power that books had.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Killian said eventually, choosing to let the Sharknado movies go. He searched for the film on Netflix and hit play when he found it.

About 20 minutes and a glass of wine later, Emma had snuggled closer to Killian. Partially for warmth, partially because her body reacted instinctively to his being so close. Killian, feeling that Emma was cold against him, reached behind them to grab a blanket, tossing it over them and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She leaned in closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder.

Her favorite film about writers and readers and the power of literature and love pulled all of the pain of the events of yesterday back to the surface. The weight of her professor’s words were sitting on her chest like a boulder and she couldn’t bear that weight alone anymore Eventually, Emma spoke softly. “I didn’t tell you the whole story last night.” The words spilled effortlessly out of her mouth. There was something about Killian that made her feel safe.

Killians eyes stayed on the movie as he rubbed his thumb reassuringly over her shoulder. “Aye, I figured.” He wasn’t about to push her to tell him. He wanted to let her know that he saw her and that she could some to him on her own terms.

“Professor Gold told me I shouldn’t be a writer. That I don’t have what it takes and that I should consider another career.” This caught Killian’s attention. He shifted so he was looking right at her.

“What?!” Killian’s accent was thick with concern.

“He was apparently doing me a favor.” Her eyes were wet. Control was slipping from her grasp. She desperately needed to let go. Emma had tried so desperately to tell herself that none of her professor’s words mattered, to pretend like they didn’t affect her. Truth be told, she barely slept last night, constantly being woken up by recurring thoughts that he was right, that she wasn’t good enough, that she was a fraud.

“What kind of person thinks that’s a bloody favor?” Killian interrupted the tightening spiral of her thoughts.

Emma paused, letting the spiral start to slowly unwind. “What if he’s right?” She whispered. The question she’d been asking herself she had finally said out loud. A single tear escaped from her eye that Killian was quick to wipe away.

“He’s wrong. And you’re too stubborn to let him be right.”

“I just - I don’t know if I can do this.” Emma fell apart. She had held everything together until this moment. She didn’t know if she had what it took to survive Cornell. She didn’t have the support system most people had and she certainly didn’t have the resources others did growing up. Her average grades weren’t helping her imposter syndrome. What if she was here by mistake? What if she would never be good enough? What if she didn’t deserve to be here? Tears escaped her eyes faster than Killian could wipe them away.

Killian pulled her close, rubbing her back. “Shhh, love. Shhh. Yes you can.” He kissed the top of her head. Why? He had absolutely no idea. He hoped it would comfort her. “You made it this far. You got here. You got to this point. Fuck what Gold says. Fuck what anyone says.” Emma let herself relax into his arms locked tightly around her as she choked on sobs, tears falling to his shirt.

Then Killian remembered what his brother used to say to him when he was struggling. “You get to make your own choices. Make them based on what makes you happy.” He gently brushed her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Does writing make you happy?”

Emma looked up at him. “It’s the only thing that makes me happy.”

“Oi, now I’m slightly offended!” He joked, smiling at her.

Emma tried to fight the smile pulling at her lips. “Your ego is ridiculous.”

“But I got you to smile, no?”

“You always do.” Emma wasn’t joking anymore. The way he looked at her made her heart skip beats and the way he cared for her scared the hell out of her. Something about Killian drew her to him and she didn’t doubt he felt the same. He ensured she was fed during late night studying and provided distractions when she needed a break. It was Killian she found herself going to when she needed to scream to someone.

They returned their attention to the film. While Killian had no idea what was going on, Emma was mesmerized, whispering some of her favorite lines under her breath along with the movie. Killian spent more time watching her than the move, enamored by the way she memorized her favorite parts, the way her brow furrowed when characters she didn’t like appeared, the way she gently hit his chest to shush him every time he attempted to ask what was happening or who a particular character was.

Eventually the movie ended. Emma reluctantly sat up, sighing as she removed herself from Killian’s arms and the warmth of his body.

“Thank you for letting me interrupt your evening. It was nice to be in a bubble for a bit and feel something other then . . . I don’t even know.” Emma said quietly. Killian turned to look at her.

“Then stay in the bubble for a while longer, love.” He held his arm out to her and she settled against him. Emma rested her head on Killian’s chest, draping her arm around his waist. His fingers traced lazy circles on her back. He wanted to be her escape, her bubble where things were good and where she could cry if she needed to. And she had the urge to be his.

For a while they laid like that - content in each other’s arms, clueless to the world around them, shutting out all the pain they both felt. In time they fell asleep for the most restful night either of them had in a long time.

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zukos-tsungi-horn · 5 years

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Souvenirs We Never Lose Ch. 2

Chapter 2: become our history (1 | 2 | to be continued) (Read on AO3 | FFN)

Summary: The past is never far. Zuko remembers what Katara said about the spirit water. Now there’s a second scar to heal, and Katara’s feelings are more complicated—but if he wants to erase the past, she’s willing to give it a try. She owes him that much, and more. Zutara. Rated T to be safe, probably G though.

Notes: Thanks again to Lexosaurus for beta reading!! And thanks to everyone who left comments/reviews on the first chapter, it means a ton! I’m super happy with how this chapter turned out, so I hope you enjoy! (Also please please let the read more link work this time tumblr hhhh)

XXX

~Reruns all become our history~

It wasn’t a vacation. It had never been a vacation, as much as it felt like one when she didn’t have to cook or wash clothes. She still had plenty to keep her busy. The days passed in a blur of economic discussions, combat training with old acquaintances—still mostly boys, but she was excited to find three girls had been admitted since she’d last visited—and healing practice with Yugoda.

Even though concern for Aang and Toph tickled the back of her mind, it was nice to have this time on her own. Training just for herself and not for the fate of the world was more of a relief than she’d expected.

Of course, Zuko’s request regarding his scars shrouded the otherwise peaceful atmosphere. He hadn’t asked her again since they’d gotten here—he trusted that she would let him know once she had the spirit water—but she felt like she could see the unspoken question every time their eyes met across the council hall.

That was almost the only time she saw him. At this rate, she’d have to get the water on her own, and then wait until the return trip to see if she could actually heal him. Which would work just as well… but felt oddly disappointing.

What had she expected? That she would get to spend this not-vacation just hanging out with him, like old times?

She should’ve known it would be like this. He was the Fire Lord now. She was… well, on a technicality she was an ambassador from the Southern Water Tribe, but her presence was hardly necessary for the trade negotiations. Zuko made sure she was admitted to the most important meetings anyway. Having travelled the world—even if it was usually from atop Appa rather than by ship—meant she was at least a little bit useful in helping map trade routes.

As much as she appreciated and enjoyed being included, today’s particular meetings had been nothing short of monotonous, and the lunch break couldn’t have come soon enough. Katara picked up a plate of food from the table at the back of the large dining hall and scanned the room for Zuko. He was easy to spot at a round table in the corner. As usual, the seats surrounding him were empty. Outside of the official meetings, no one seemed to know what to do with him, so they left him alone. She couldn’t tell if that was because he was so young to be a leader, or just their wariness of the Fire Lord title.

She took a seat beside him, suppressing a laugh as he tried to peel a frost melon with his bare hands. His fingernails barely made a dent in the fist-sized fruit’s tough white rind.

Finally, taking pity on him, she asked, “You need some help there?”

“What’s wrong with this thing?” He said, finally giving up and dropping the fruit on the smooth ice table. The dull thud startled the delegates seated at the nearest table, though they quickly went back to their own conversation.

“Nothing’s wrong with it. Here.” She held out her open palm, and he handed over the frost melon. “You just have to know the trick.”

Her fingers found the near-invisible crack in its stony rind. With one quick smack against the table, the melon split in half.

“Huh.” He blinked at the now-exposed blue flesh of the fruit. “So the trick’s just to hit it really hard?”

“Not exactly.” She held out the two halves. “They grow underwater. The rind hardens and cracks when it dries.”

“So the trick is just to hit it really hard on the cracks.”

“Pretty much. It’s a good way to let out some frustration if you need to.”

“Believe it or not, that hasn’t been a problem lately.” He cracked a smile and took back the melon.

She could verify that statement first hand. Even though the Water Tribe council mostly ignored Zuko outside of the trade talks, they took him seriously during them. And he responded in kind, speaking confidently with his hands folded tightly behind his back while he discussed coal, oil, and fish prices. Only during these breaks did she sometimes catch him cradling his fist over his middle.

“You’re getting the hang of this whole Fire Lord thing, huh?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know if I’d say that. I’ve just been doing what I always do. Working hard, screwing up a lot, and learning from my mistakes. And trust me, there’s been a lot of those. Those first few months…”

He ran his free hand through his hair—or tried to. Apparently he forgot it was in its topknot, and his fingers caught in the tight style. A few strands came loose as he tried to untangle them.

She chuckled and reached up to push them back in place as best she could. As cute as she found his hair like that, he wouldn’t want to look disheveled when the meeting reconvened.

He froze, the unscarred half of his face going red. Oh. She drew back her hand and made a show of picking at her food while he finished fixing his hair. Then she remembered what had prompted him to muss it in the first place.

“Hey, you’ve made it this far and no one’s tried to kill you. I’d call that a success.”

He grimaced.

She put down her chopsticks and gaped at him.

“Wait—have people tried to kill you?”

“Shh.” He scooted closer, gesturing for her to keep her voice down. “I’m fine. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” She lowered her voice to a near-whisper, her hands clenching into fists. “Zuko. I know you’re used to almost dying, but you shouldn’t have to be! That’s not—”

He cupped a hand over her fist. “Look, I know, okay? That’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to freak out.”

“Being concerned that my friend could’ve been assassinated is not the same as freaking out.” If he got hurt and she couldn’t heal him because she wasn’t there, if she’d brought him back from the brink of death just to lose him mere months later—

She forced herself to take a deep breath. He was here. He was alive. And he was staring at her, his eyes trying to convey comfort to her when he was the one who could’ve died.

“There have been fewer attempts than Uncle expected,” he said, as if that were actually good news.

“You expected people to try to kill you?”

He shrugged. “It tends to happen around successions. Especially messy ones like this. But most people, even in the Fire Nation, are just glad the war is over. Really. Everything’s fine.”

He made it sound like assassination attempts were an ordinary part of life, not even worth mentioning. Maybe that was true for Fire Nation royalty. She couldn’t imagine anyone ever trying to assassinate Ozai, though.

She almost snorted at that. Assassinating Ozai had been the focus of their lives for the past year before the comet. Shorter than that for Zuko, but he’d still been a major part of the plot too. Maybe for him, being on this end of assassination attempts was better.

Then she was sad all over again, because no one should consider being targeted by assassins an improvement.

“Okay,” she finally said. “I trust you. Just… you can tell me about stuff like that, alright? I can’t promise I won’t ‘freak out,’ but I’d feel better knowing than not.”

She would really feel better if she could be there to take out any would-be assassins herself. At least she was here now. Not that she expected any assassins here. The negotiations were going well, and hired killers were taboo in Water Tribe culture. Besides, if Zuko was worried about that, he’d have guards around rather than sitting by himself.

Not that he had the best sense of self-preservation on a regular day.

“Fair enough.” He nodded a little sheepishly. Like he’d only now realized what a big deal it was to almost get killed.

Again.

“Good.” She nodded back, deciding to let it go. There wasn’t anything she could do about it now.

After a moment of awkward silence, he experimentally bit into blue flesh of the frost melon and made a face.

“Not a fan, huh?” She smiled and took back the other half of his melon.

“It’s not bad,” he insisted, though his furrowed brow said otherwise. “I just didn’t know fruit could be salty.”

He stared down at the melon like it had presented him a particularly difficult math problem. She couldn’t help but laugh a little; it was just too cute.

“What?” He looked up in confusion. A thin trail of salty juice dripped down his lip to his chin.

She felt her face flush and shook her head, biting into her half of the fruit to stop herself from grinning any wider.

“I just missed this, that’s all,” she replied. That was a safe enough thing to say—definitely better than voicing her sudden impulse to wipe the juice from his lip.

“Really?” He looked up at her with his head tilted.

“Of course I did, Zuko. You’re my friend. We’ve all missed you.”

It was true. Even if it wasn’t what she really wished she could say.

“Oh.” His fingernails picked at the frost melon, meticulously separating the blue flesh from the rind. In a low voice, he added, “Right. I’ve missed everyone too.”

Was he… lonely? Katara hadn’t been able to stay in the Fire Nation capital after his lightning wound no longer needed regular healing sessions. There was so much Aang still had to do around the world to establish peace, and he needed her. Going with him had been the logical choice. Still, they tried to visit Zuko from time to time, even if that was less often than she would’ve liked. But even without her and her friends, Zuko had his Uncle.

And Mai, she reminded herself while stabbing a piece of fish a little too forcefully with her chopsticks. She had to be imagining the emotion in Zuko’s voice.

“You have?” She asked anyway.

“Like you said. You’re my friend. Er, all of you are. My friends.” He coughed. “I never had to worry about where I stood with you.”

He pointedly avoided her eyes as his hands continued to shred the pulpy flesh of his melon. Something in his statement felt personal, like an inside joke she’d wasn’t privy to. Only with much less humor.

“Is that something you worry about now?” She asked softly. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who only mentioned the positive in her letters.

“Too often,” he sighed.

He didn’t seem to notice the frost melon juice staining his hand as he pressed it against his torso—over his lightning scar. Blue juice bled onto the silky red fabric, turning it a muddy purple.

“Oh,” he said when it registered, his face turning pink. “I’ve got to stop doing that…”

“What, the Fire Lord ruins good clothes often?” She waved her hand in front of him, and the juice bent out of his robes.

He blinked before smiling in relief. “Thanks. Wouldn’t want to embarrass my babysitters.”

He nodded at the adjacent table, where his advisors and other Fire Nation officials were sitting and looking even more confused about the fruit than Zuko had. One even tried to split open a melon with a fingertip of fire.

“They look pretty occupied.”

His habit of putting his hand over his lighting scar had reminded her of the real reason she was here. As much as she wanted to ask about what was bothering him, they only had so much time together—and she still needed to make good on her promise.

“So... you think you’ll be able to sneak away from them?”

He looked up in surprise.

“Not right now, of course,” she backpedalled quickly. “After I talk to Yugoda. I’ve been training in healing with her in the evenings. I’ll find a way to ask her soon. About… you know.”

She didn’t think anyone else knew about his plan, and though the other Fire Nation officials did look occupied, she didn’t feel right talking about it out loud here. Everyone would know soon enough, though. He couldn’t exactly hide having a giant scar removed from his face. She wondered if he really planned on just showing up to the meetings one morning without it. Knowing him, he probably would.

“Oh. Yeah, I’ll figure out something.” He nodded, picking at his fruit again. It was practically a pile of pulp by now.

“You don’t have to, you know. I can get the water and wait until the trip back. If you’re busy, or—”

“Katara.” He looked straight into her eyes. “I won’t be busy.”

She ignored the tingle running down her spine and nodded slowly.

“If you’re sure, then.”

She hoped he didn’t notice how her own hands trembled as she finished off her half of the melon.

XXX

Black was the wrong color, he thought as he climbed out his second-story window that night. He’d known that, of course, but he was despairingly out of options for inconspicuous attire. Habit was only reason he’d brought his dark clothing at all. And of the other eleven outfits Uncle had forced him to pack, there was no option that would help him blend into the ice and snow.

Of course, Uncle hadn’t known that he intended to sneak down to Katara’s room in the middle of their diplomatic trip. He didn’t even want to be sneaking. He wasn’t sneaking. He just… found his black stealth suit more warm and comfortable than the billowing Fire Lord robes.

Besides, who wanted to climb down the side of a slick building in a cape? It just wasn’t practical.

He shouldn’t have worried though; all of his advisors (babysitters) were long since asleep in the adjoining palace guest rooms. The early northern nightfall had taken its toll on the firebenders. Even the non-benders who didn’t have the instinctive need to rise and fall with the sun were still used to sleeping when it was dark outside.

Of course, Zuko had long since learned how to push through into the moon’s domain.

As he snuck—no, he wasn’t… okay, maybe he was sneaking, just a little—he hoped that Katara wouldn’t mind the late visit. She’d usually stayed up late when they travelled together. Plus she’d wanted to know if he could manage to get away from everyone. This was the easiest way to find out.

Don’t play dumb. That’s a stupid excuse and you know it. His real reason—the question he wanted to ask her—hung heavy in the back of his mind.

Still, even that didn’t warrant the dark clothes, or sneaking out in the middle of the night. It felt right, though. For the first time in months, his breathing seemed to come easier. His inner fire invigorated him as it fought back the harsh cold. The only thing that would make him feel more alive would be the comfortable weight of his daos across his back, or maybe his old Blue Spirit mask over his face.

Agni, Katara had been right—he was feeling nostalgic.

For what? The times when I was on the run? When everyone wanted to kill me? When we still had to worry about defeating my father and Azula?

He was Fire Lord now. The political unrest in the wake of his coronation had settled down, and a whole month had passed without an attempt on his life. Reparations without and rebuilding within the Fire Nation were both going as well as could be expected. The world was at peace. Agni, he even had a girlfriend.

Who would probably have some sharp words to say if she knew he was sneaking towards Katara’s room right now.

His face heated as he realized how it would look. He had nothing to be ashamed of, though; he just needed Katara’s advice.

He pushed thoughts of Mai aside, pulled his dark wrap higher over his face, and crept onward across the courtyard.

The moon shone down brightly, gleaming off the polished ice and leaving precious few shadows to hide in. He didn’t have far to go, though. Katara’s guest house—the traditional Southern Water Tribe Ambassador’s quarters—was just below the courtyard.

He slid down the icy cliff and landed silently on the terrace level below. There wasn’t any reason to avoid the stairs, but if he was going to be sneaking around anyway, he might as well do a thorough job of it.

From there it didn’t take long to reach the small igloo-like structure Katara was staying in. In fact it didn’t take long enough. Doubt itched at him, nudging his hand back towards his sunburst scar. Did he really want to hear the answer to his question? It shouldn’t affect his decision one way or another. The scars were interfering with both his royal and personal life. Everything would be easier with them gone.

Then again, he wasn’t one to do something only because it was easy.

That thought gave him the courage to take a deep breath and knock on Katara’s door.

A second passed. Then a few more. Maybe she was asleep; he hadn’t knocked loudly, just in case. Maybe that was for the best. He’d never actually sought her out at night before. Their only late conversations had been when they both ended up in the kitchen, unable to sleep. Those times had become increasingly frequent over their stay on Ember Island, and even when she’d stayed in the palace to heal him, but that was months ago, and that didn’t mean she would welcome—

The door opened.

Katara blinked blearily a few times before her eyes snapped to his. She wore a long, thick nightgown, and her hair was down, poofing out around her face in rumpled curls. He hadn’t seen it like that since they’d traveled together, on the rare occasions she rolled out of bed late and waved off his offer of morning tea. She was as beautiful now as she’d been then.

And now he knew that she wasn’t dating Aang…

Stop it! That doesn’t mean she likes you!

Even if she did, there was no way she would stay with him, and—that was all completely missing the point, because he was trying to work things out with Mai. She’d gone to prison for him, and forgiven him, and most importantly, she was still there. He couldn’t handle being Fire Lord with no one his age around. He needed her.

And he’d promised not to break up with her.

Agni, he’d made a stupid choice in coming at night. He imagined the moon laughing at his pathetic, traitorous emotions.

“Zuko? What are you...” Katara scanned him head to toe, her eyebrows raising. “Black doesn’t really blend in here, you know.”

He hoped the moon wasn’t bright enough to illuminate the his flushed face. It seemed to glow a little brighter at that thought.

“...I didn’t pack any white,” he mumbled, dodging her gaze. “And I, uh, sorry it’s late, I should’ve asked—”

She grinned and pulled him inside. Woven tapestries adorned the walls, and a pattern of waves in the floor-length rug divided the small kitchen from the bed space. A few polished ice windows let in the gibbous moon’s light. The fire pit in the corner and sconces set into the icy walls were unlit, but somehow the hut was still warm. He hadn’t realized how much energy it had taken to hold his core temperature until he didn’t have to anymore.

“It’s fine. I wasn’t asleep anyway,” she said, though her unmade bed and disheveled hair said otherwise. Her fingers reached up to tame the wayward curls. “I’m sorry, though. I don’t have the spirit water yet. I was going to ask Yugoda tonight, but the healing class went late...”

“Huh? Oh! I—I didn’t think you would. I mean, I didn’t expect you to yet, I... that’s not why I’m here.” He ran a hand through his hair, mostly to stop it from reaching for hers. Agni, trying to talk to her this late was stupid for more reasons than one. But he was running out of time. She might not have the spirit water now, but she would soon. And then she’d expect him to make his decision—or rather, to go through with the decision he’d already made. The decision he’d been so sure was right, was necessary, until…

Until he’d realized just how complicated his feelings still were.

“You’re not?” She asked in confusion. “Then why… um…”

“I just wanted to talk to you.” That probably wasn’t a good enough reason to invade someone’s house in the middle of the night. It was the truth, though—he’d never been able to lie to her. Now he just needed to ask his question before any worse truths came out.

“You snuck out of the palace at night… just to talk to me?” Her lips curved towards a grin.

He felt his face flush again and winced. So much for not revealing anything else.

“Well not just to talk to you, I mean, you wanted to know if I could sneak out. So. I can.”

Did that sound better or worse? She frowned as her fingers caught in her hair, but he couldn’t tell if it was because of what he said or just from the tangle.

“Oh. That’s good, then.” Her hands dropped back to her sides. “Um. It’s kind of dark in here, do you mind…”

He lit the lamps in the wall sconces before she could finish. Warm light swept over them, seeming to wash the stiffness out of Katara’s posture.

“Thanks.” She smiled, and he hid a sigh of relief. She hadn’t told him he was being stupid, or to go back to the palace before someone noticed he was gone. She was letting him stay. He’d get to ask her.

His stomach clenched at that realization, and his hand instinctively found his scar again.

“Are you… does it hurt?” Katara asked softly. Her hand twitched towards him.

“Does it hurt?”

He flinched away at the memory of Mai’s words. The spark that had brought him to this decision.

“I’m sorry.” Her arm quickly curled back to her chest, as if his response had burned her.

“No, it’s—it doesn’t hurt.” His hand stayed pressed against it anyway.

“Not anymore. She did a fantastic job.”

“Are you sure? I could… I mean, I don’t have the spirit water, but I know Aang’s lightning wound still acts up sometimes, and regular healing can help the pain.”

The offer was tempting, but for all the wrong reasons. He could only imagine what Mai would think if she could see him now, considering taking off his shirt in a different girl’s room.

He shook his head quickly. “I’m fine. Really.”

“Okay,” she said in a tone that suggested she didn’t buy it. He was telling the truth though—the kind of hurt he clung to couldn’t be healed with waterbending.

A rebellious part of him thought it might still be healed with her hands.

“At least have some tea.” She was already moving to the small fire pit in the corner of the room.

“Alright.” He smiled a little and followed her, crouching down to light the fire before she could ask.

“You’re going to spoil me, doing that.” She chuckled as she bent the water from her waterskin into the kettle.

“What do you mean? You asked me to light the torches. Besides, I used to start the cookfire all the time.”

“I know. It took me almost a month to get used to doing it myself again.” She set the kettle on the grate above the flames.

He suppressed the fire from a bright yellow blaze to a gentle orange, the way Uncle had taught him so the water wouldn’t heat too quickly and spoil the tea’s flavor.

He shrugged. “Sounds like I should make up for lost time, then.”

“I guess it is kind of cool to have the Fire Lord performing menial labor for me.”

The return to her humor was a relief. Teasing was easier to handle than sympathy.

He flexed his fingers over the fire and deadpanned, “We’ll see if my delicate royal hands will be able to handle it.”

“Well, don’t overexert yourself.”

They fell into comfortable conversation while the water heated, and for at least those few moments, it really was like old times. The tension bled out of him, evaporated in the smell of charcoal, the warmth of the crackling flames, the cadence of Katara’s laugh. He knew he still needed to ask his question, but a selfish part of him wanted to just enjoy the peaceful moment. To enjoy being with her.

He was enjoying this. That was dangerous. Disasters usually followed moments like these.

“Zuko?” Her hand on his shoulder snapped him from those thoughts. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said reflexively. He wasn’t ready for her sympathy, wasn’t ready to see her sad because of him again. So even though he should’ve used it as a chance to ask his question, a different one came out. “How are your combat lessons going?”

“They’re going fine, I guess. It’s nice to have other waterbenders to train against, but I’ve mastered the Northern Style of waterbending already.” She shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal that she was a Master at age fifteen. It seemed he was destined to always be surrounded by prodigies.

“I’ve actually been working on developing some new techniques.” She scooted closer to the flames. And to him, technically, but he assumed that was just a side-effect. “You know that move you always use when you get knocked down? Where you do the spinny thing with your legs?”

She twirled a finger in the air, and he rolled his eyes. Spinny thing. Well, it wasn’t as bad as being teased for the Dancing Dragon, he guessed.

“Of course I do. I invented that move.” Rolling across the ground, transferring the momentum of a fall to his windmilling legs, releasing a whirlwind of fire to cover him as he regained his stance—the exact way he used it varied depending on the circumstance, but the maneuver had been one of his favorites ever since he’d used an early version of it against Zhao.

“Really?” She blinked. “Actually, that explains a lot. I always thought it looked different from other firebending moves. That’s why I tried to adapt it to waterbending.”

“You’re kidding.” He gave her a disbelieving look. “You haven’t seen me use it in ages.”

“Yeah, well, I— it might not be the same move, exactly. It was more like, you know, an inspiration.”

“Sounds more like stealing to me.” He smirked. Inspiration, stealing—either way, she’d thought about him. That felt like some kind of victory. If one in a game he shouldn’t be playing.

“Oh yeah, like how you stole my water whips?” She raised her eyebrows. “Or the wave form?”

“That’s different. Those moves already existed; I created this firebending technique on my own.”

It had taken a lot of practice—and even more falls—to make it work. Maybe she was right about it being more suited for waterbending; that could explain why perfecting it had been so difficult. The effort had been worth it, though. The move had been one of the few advantages he’d had against the more traditional firebending style, which didn’t provide any way to recover after being knocked down.

“Hmm. Did you name it then?”

He snorted. “No.”

The thought hadn’t even occurred to him. Should it have? No, that was something he could imagine his father doing. He would’ve come up with a ridiculous name like “Ozai’s Phoenix” or something.

“That’s too bad. I’ve been calling it the Spinny Fire Fall Kick in my head, but that doesn’t have a great ring to it.” She rubbed her chin before giving him a sly look. “Then again, if you haven’t named your move yet, then I could name it first.”

He choked a little. “We are not calling it the… what did you say?”

“Spinny Fire Fall Kick.” She grinned. “Though I guess mine would be the Spinny Water Fall Kick. Actually, Waterfall Kick isn’t such a bad idea...”

“And here I thought only Sokka came up with the terrible names.” He groaned and leaned back on his hands. Still, he couldn’t completely hide the smile on his lips.

“I’ve had to pick up the slack since he’s been gone. Besides, I’d like to see you come up with something better.”

“I will. As soon as I see you pull that move off.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Her smug look sent static up his spine. But before he could reply, the kettle started screeching.

Katara jumped to take it off the fire and then muttered at it under her breath. “I should’ve taken it off sooner. I can cool it with my bending, but boiled water still never tastes as good.”

“It’s not your fault, I should’ve been keeping an eye on the fire.” He held the teapot while she poured in the hot water. “Either way, I probably won’t notice.”

After searching for a moment, she found a pouch of lavender petals near her bed and returned to crumble them into the pot. “Didn’t you work in a tea shop, though? And your tea was always pretty good.”

It was? Uncle said he’d improved after their time in Ba Sing Se, but Zuko had thought he was just trying to spare his feelings after he’d struggled for so long. He smiled a little at the compliment.

“Uncle taught me how to make tea properly, but I still can’t taste a difference. It’s all hot leaf juice, more or less.”

“Hang on. You make the best tea and you can’t even tell?”

“So my tea’s the best now?” His smile widened. Katara didn’t pass out compliments easily—at least, she never had to him.

“Oh, don’t go getting a big head about it.” She rolled her eyes. Firelight flickered over her face, giving her cheeks the impression of a blush. “You’re probably out of practice by now, anyway.”

“You’d be surprised.”

He might not appreciate the taste of tea, but brewing it was soothing, in a strange way. Maybe it was just another of his nostalgic hobbies—if one with less potentially-dangerous consequences than running around on rooftops. The warm herbal scents always brought him welcome comfort when Uncle had to travel on political business. Brewing tea also doubled as a firebending control and meditation exercise, which helped during the moments when he wanted to light his paperwork on fire and chuck it out a window.

Of course, the calming effect hadn’t helped him during the one disastrous time he’d tried to show off his tea-making skills to Mai.

“You don’t have to pretend to be a peasant anymore, Zuko. Just let the servants do it. That’s their job.”

“It’s not like that, Mai. I want to do it. Uncle taught me how when we were in Ba Sing Se—”

“Pretending to be peasants.”

“Those peasants are good people! They’re proud and strong, and they deserve our respect.”

“Are you serious? This isn’t a public address, Zuko. You don’t have to pretend you care about them.”

“I’m not—ugh, forget it!”

He didn’t realize his hand had found his scar—again—until Katara passed him a steaming teacup. If she noticed his action, she didn’t point it out.

The warm vapor curling from the cup loosened the tightness in his throat. What had they been talking about? Oh, right. Tea.

“Your tea’s good too,” he said belatedly.

She snorted and shook her head before pouring her own cup. “You just said all tea tastes like hot leaf juice.”

“Yeah— err…” He covered his stammering with a sip and nearly choked when it burned his tongue. “It’s—uh, good leaf juice.”

“Sure, whatever you say.” She smiled and chilled her tea with a breath.

“Um… do you mind doing mine too?” He asked, holding out his cup with a sheepish smile.

“You mean the firebender doesn’t want it scalding hot?”

“This firebender’s had enough burns, thanks.” He meant it to be a joke, but his voice came out too somber.

Her eyes flickered to his left eye, then his middle. He fought the urge to protect that spot—it wasn’t like she could see the scar through his black clothes, and even if she could, she’d seen it plenty of times before while healing him.

“Of course.” She exhaled over his cup, accidentally covering his knuckles in frost as well. He shivered before taking a sip.

Too cold. At least that was a problem he could fix. Katara’s downcast silence, on the other hand, might not be.

Nice going. Zuko wanted to groan. For these last few moments, he’d felt… right. For once. Like he belonged here, sitting on her floor, talking about nothing and drinking tea. For those moments, he didn’t have to be the Fire Lord. He didn’t have to be the perfect boyfriend. He didn’t have to be anything—except himself.

But he’d known it wouldn’t last. Things that made him happy generally didn’t.

Well, at least he didn’t have anything to lose by asking his question now.

He cleared his throat. “Katara?”

“Yeah?” She asked quickly, meeting his eyes over her teacup.

Don’t look at me like that. It’s not fair. The reflection of flames danced in her blue irises. It would be difficult to toe the line between telling her enough to help him with his question, and not telling her so much that she uncovered his real motivation for asking.

“Do you think I’m doing the right thing?” He hoped his desperation didn’t show through his voice. “Getting rid of my scars, I mean.”

There. It was out. Maybe it was a stupid question—it felt stupid, now that he said it out loud—but he needed to know. He certainly had enough reasons to want them gone, but part of him—the same part that liked sneaking out in black clothes and brewing his own tea—felt an attachment to the blemishes on his skin. It was too complicated to sort out in his head, but talking it out with her might help him decide. She’d helped him gain the courage to apologize to Uncle. He believed she’d have similar wisdom again.

His heart pounded in his chest as he waited for her reply.

“...Do you not want to get rid of them?”

“I do. I did. I don’t know.” He covered his middle with one hand, the other gripping his teacup so tightly it could crack. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Well, if you want to get it off your mind, I’m here,” she prodded gently.

“Are you sure? It’s complicated. It might take a while.”

“Of course I’m sure, Zuko. That’s why I offered.” Her tone was light, but her smile sincere.

He inhaled shakily. He didn’t know what he’d expected. Katara wasn’t the type to tell him to shut up, but he still wasn’t used to anyone besides Uncle caring about what he had to say. Unless what he said was a Fire Lord order, of course, but that didn’t count.

“Right.” He took a sip of tea to collect himself. “I told you how I got the scar on my face. I used to think it marked me—but you know that.”

Another gulp of tea. She knew all this. He was just going to bore her, going over it again. He should have gotten over it by now. After four years, he was still just weak, pathetic—

Her hand was covering his over the teacup. It wasn’t until then that he realized he was shaking. A few drops of tea had fallen on his dark pants. He hadn’t felt it.

“It’s okay,” she whispered.

“It’s not okay.” His voice came out too harsh, but her hand just tightened over his. “I’ve chosen my own destiny. My father’s in prison, and Azula’s getting help for her… condition. I’m not in their shadow anymore. I can fix the terrible things we’ve done. But this scar…” He shook his head. “People look at it, and they don’t see what it means to me. All they see is a weak, disfigured boy trying to fix a weak disfigured nation.”

“Zuko, no one—”

“You haven’t seen it! It’s even worse here, everyone stares! I can tell they’re thinking it. How am I supposed to represent my country when people take one look at me and think I’m—I’m disgusting?”

His voice cracked on that last word. His eyes squeezed shut. It wasn’t so bad, usually. People in the palace knew better than to stare. But foreign nobles and ambassadors, his own citizens, and the Water Tribe—they didn’t. Wide eyes and barely-veiled gasps often were their first reactions.

Deep down he wondered if that was why the Tribe didn’t speak to him much outside of the trade negotiations.

“Zuko.” Katara squeezed his arm.

His trembling hand splashed more tea into his lap, but he barely noticed. Her stare pinned him as easily as her ice needles could have.

“You are not weak. You’re not disgusting, either, I can’t believe you would—” She shook her head, and her gaze softened. “My point is… you don’t deserve that. Scar or no scar, you’re…”

His heart sank as she trailed off. If even Katara, the one person who could both scare him senseless and tell him exactly what he needed to hear, couldn’t think of something positive to say about him, then he was even worse off than he’d thought.

But it didn’t matter. He was here for advice, not sympathy. He was just about to shrug it off when her voice came warm and clear.

“...you’re the strongest person I know.”

He blinked. Had he heard that right? No. Aang had defeated his father; that by definition made him the strongest person she knew. Besides herself.

“You don’t have to try to make me feel better, Katara. I just—”

“What, you really think I’d lie to make you feel better? Can’t you just trust me and take the compliment for once?”

This time he wasn’t sure the fire in her eyes was just a reflection. He wasn’t sure whether to feel afraid or touched.

“Sorry. I’m not used to it, I guess… but thanks.” He swallowed another gulp of tea, then busied himself refilling his cup. Hopefully that would keep her from seeing the redness in his face.

“No, wait, I’m sorry.”

He looked up at the sound of her sigh. Her eyes remained downcast, staring at her frosted tea.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I do want you to feel better, but I… this must be bothering you more than I know. I can’t fix that with words, and it just makes me…” She trailed off as ice began to crystalize through her cup again. “It’s no excuse, though.”

“No, I get it.” He lit a fire in his palm and held it near her tea until the ice thawed. “Sorry I yelled, too.”

She didn’t deserve that. She didn’t have to listen to him at all, but here she was, letting him ramble about his problems when she could be sleeping. She was a better friend than he deserved.

“I know there’s nothing you can say, and I don’t expect you to. My scar will always make me look different. People don’t like you when you’re different.”

She frowned down into her still-full cup. “...I can understand that. That doesn’t make them right, though.”

Maybe it didn’t, but it didn’t change the fact that it hurt.

“There’s other reasons I should get rid of it, too. My sight and hearing aren’t as good on my left side. Every once in a while the skin still itches, especially when I’m in dry places.”

“Even after all this time?” She looked up, her brows turned upward.

“I didn’t have a waterbending healer like you to fix it. There’s only so much regular medicine could do.” He shrugged. “Anyway. I’ve got a lot of reasons to want it gone.”

“But… you have some reasons for wanting to keep it too?” She picked up on what he left unsaid.

“...Yeah. I do.” He brushed his fingers over his older scar. The rough skin felt right to his touch by now. He wasn’t sure what his face would feel like without it.

Actually, he feared that he did.

“I don’t want to look like…” He grimaced. “You know. You mistook his baby picture for me. That’s not the only time we looked similar.”

Katara blinked before catching on. “You mean… oh.”

“Yeah,” he said before she could study him. Look for any traces of Ozai in his face.

Logically, he knew that she’d never seen Ozai in person. She wouldn’t be able to tell one way or another. Somehow, that was comforting.

“That’s not the only reason. The other reason, though… it might sound kind of stupid.” His thumb traced the etchings on his teacup. “I got this scar right before I was banished. Looking back, that was the best thing that ever happened to me. I feel like if I erase this scar, it’s like saying I regret everything that happened since then. Like I’d just be going back to the person I was before.”

He took a long drink. The tea was already cold again, but he didn’t bother warming it.

“Zuko… I don’t think that’s stupid at all. It’s… kind of sweet, actually.”

He choked on his tea. When he looked up, Katara was smiling softly again.

“Sweet?”

“You know what I mean.” She drained her cup in one gulp and refilled it by bending a stream out of the teapot. “It reminds you of who you are. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Something in his stomach unclenched at that. It didn’t really help, though—she’d validated both his reasons for wanting to keep and to get rid of the facial scar.

“How can you say that? I brought you all the way here to get rid of my scars, and now I’m telling you I might have wasted your time.”

“No, you haven’t. I’m still glad I came, whether you want me to heal you or not. Like I said before, I needed the vacation, remember?”

“It’s not a vacation. Technically.”

She shrugged. “We’re staying up late and I’m not doing anyone’s laundry. Feels like a vacation to me.”

“It is getting late, isn’t it…” He frowned at the moon through the window. It had been too easy to ignore how limited their time was.

“Hey. Don’t change the subject.” She nudged him gently. “You were on a roll there.”

His lips twitched into a faint smile. Of course she wouldn’t let him off the hook that easily.

“You changed it first, talking about vacations. But anyway. I still don’t know what I’m going to do.” He sighed over his tea, which had the welcome side effect of reheating it. “I don’t want you to ask for the water for nothing.”

“Even if you don’t want me to use it, it wouldn’t hurt to have some in case of an emergency. You never know, traveling with Aang. He might, I don’t know, fall off a hopping llama or something.”

It was a joke, he knew; she could heal simple injuries like that. But neither of them wanted to imagine their friend suffering another wound that would need spirit water.

He nodded. “You still didn’t answer my first question, though. Do you think I should get rid of my scars, or keep them?”

Despite everything, he managed to keep his voice even. He was pushing his luck by asking a second time. But what she thought about this was important to him—more important than it had any right to be. If she told him to keep his scars, he knew he would.

And maybe, deep down, that was what he hoped.

Katara swirled her tea in her cup, but didn’t answer. What was she thinking? She hated them too, didn’t she; she was just thinking of a polite way to tell him—

“You remember when you helped me find Yon Rha, right?”

The sudden transition caught him off guard.

“Of course I do.”

As if he could ever forget. Her silhouette against the sunrise after a sleepless night, her raw power turning the body’s blood against it, her anger freezing rain to daggers. Exhaustion, pain, fear, relief. It had been the first time he felt like he truly saw her.

Ever since, he hadn’t been able to look away.

“You didn’t tell me what to do when I faced him,” she continued, oblivious to the warmth and guilt circling each other in his stomach. “I had to make that choice myself. I think this is your Yon Rha, Zuko. Whatever you choose to do will be right. But it’s your choice. I’ll be with you, no matter what you decide.”

He stared at her in stunned silence. He swore she’d hear his heart beating out of his chest. How did she know exactly what to say? She must have secretly talked to Uncle. But even Uncle didn’t know about his plan to erase his scars.

“Ride or die, huh?” He grinned a little, remembering the jokes Sokka had made about them after that trip, and then again before they left to face Azula. They’d brushed Sokka off with some huffing, and—in Katara’s case—waterbending.

She gave him a pointed look, and her eyes flickered towards his middle. “Just ride. No dying this time.”

“No dying,” he said with his hand pressed against that scar. He wondered if her answer would’ve changed if he explained his reasons for erasing and keeping that scar, rather than the one on his face. Her half-parted lips made him wonder if she wanted to ask. But she just drained her teacup and refilled it with her bending.

He could see inside the teapot; it was down to the dregs now. He didn’t really want them, and he didn’t need to buy any more time. He’d asked his question.

He dumped what he could into his cup anyway.

“Thank you, Katara.”

“It’s no problem. I trust you, remember?”

With that smile, she could’ve bent him as if he were water.

He buried his face in the rest of his strong tea, wishing he shared her confidence in him. This was a decision he only got to make once. His usual habit of bungling things the first time wouldn’t work here.

“So… do you still want me to get the spirit water?” She asked. The real question.

“You said it yourself. It won’t hurt to have it.” He swallowed the last of his tea. He’d warmed it too much; it scalded his throat on the way down.

He told himself that that was the only part of him that hurt.

“Right.” She nodded. “Tomorrow I’ll make sure to talk to Yugoda. Or today, I guess. I’ve kept you up late enough.”

“Last I checked, you weren’t the one who showed up at my house in the middle of the night.”

She laughed. “Fine. You’ve kept me up late enough.”

“Sorry.” He started clearing up what he could of the tea set, but she quickly washed it with a dancing stream of water and bent the dirty remnants into a basin.

“Don’t worry about it. I rise with the moon anyway, remember?”

He rolled his eyes but smiled. “Trust me, I remember.”

He’d never imagined they’d be able to joke about that comment, only a little over a year later. He’d never imagined he’d look at her and not see just a dangerous waterbender, but a… a good friend.

Someone who instead of fighting, he had almost died for.

His lightning scar seemed to itch, as it always did when he thought of that Agni Kai. Of all the stupid reasons to want to keep his scar, that was the stupidest.

Erasing the scar wouldn’t erase the memories. It wouldn’t change the past. She would always be a part of him, no matter what. He was beginning to wonder if even spirit water could fix that.

Or if he wanted it to.

But he had to hope it could, didn’t he? Like water through his fingers, Katara would leave again. He couldn’t keep clinging to the past.

“Zuko, wait.” Katara’s voice shook him from his thoughts. “I’m not letting you go back in that.”

She was already across the room, where he’d remained standing in front of the fire. The flames extinguished with a sharp flick of his wrist. He left the sconces lit, though, not wanting to plunge the room into complete darkness.

She pulled a nearly folded parka from the trunk at the foot of her bed. After holding it up and inspecting its length, she tossed it to him.

“You’ll be less noticeable this way. Everyone wears parkas at the North Pole. No one will think it’s weird if you pull the hood up over your face.”

He nodded. It was smart, definitely smarter than his pure black ensemble.

“You won’t need it?”

“I have a spare. Besides, I wouldn’t want you freezing out there.”

“Firebenders don’t freeze.” He shrugged on the parka anyway. It was a little small, but it felt softer than it looked; thick white fur lined the inside. Some of Katara’s clean scent still clung to it. He restrained himself from taking a deep breath.

So much for letting go.

“Look at that. Practically Water Tribe.” She crossed her arms and smiled as she looked him over.

He ducked his head in embarrassment, feeling a little like a turtleduck with how the fluffy collar covered his face up to his ears.

“It’s better than Earth Kingdom colors.” He tugged on the too-short sleeves. “Thanks.”

“You can thank me by not getting caught sneaking back to your room.” She gently shoved him towards the door. He chuckled as she herded him out, barely managing to get out a “goodnight.”

He took one deep breath and let it out, letting the freezing air clear his head again. He was right back where he’d started, still just as confused about what to do. Yet somehow, everything felt different.

This choice was his. He could determine his own destiny.

Maybe firebenders didn’t freeze, but as he made his way back, he still felt warmer with her parka enveloping him.

#zutara #tali writes #zuko #katara #atla #avatar the last airbender #fic tag #fic rec #souvenirs we never lose

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lunawings · 5 years

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King of Prism SSS episode 4 commentary (Kakeru)

Ahhhh.... finally seeing this episode again after a long time was really good. You may think I’m just being over-dramatic, but I honestly think I felt normal again for the first time since seeing SSS Part 4 while I was watching the stream with you guys. Like halfway through I was like WOAH IM SMILING... ahah....... ha......... Part 4 messed me up even more than I thought holy s--

Thanks for always coming to the streams! And thank you Kakeru, for reminding me about love.....

*deep breath* Now, let’s get to it...

So like I mentioned last time, we’re now on what I know as the “Part 2″ episodes.

My experience seeing Part 2 in the theater was like night and day compared to seeing Part 1. For Part 1 I got to go to the midnight showing, and it was super emotional and exciting seeing it with an entire theater-worth of people also seeing it for the first time.

But for Part 2 I had to work until 1am and thus couldn’t make the midnight showing. Instead I slept for about 2-3 hours, went all the way to Nagoya, saw this at 8am, went all the way home, and went back to bed before waking up again to go to work at 4pm wondering if it was all a weird dream. So needless to say I was super out of it. I got about two minutes into Kakeru’s episode when I was like... wha... huh..... wait wha....... and comical sweat-beads started rolling down my forehead when I realized I had NO idea what was going on. I felt like the entire theater was just as out of it as I was since they were really quiet. Probably because most of them went to the midnight showing and got just about as much sleep as I did....

The whole what is going onnnnnnnn feeling never quite left me. Especially with this episode in particular. But.

My favorite feature of Kakeru has always been his eyes....

So seeing him go through 8 stages of acceptance in this opening always gives me chills....

OH MY FUCKING G..............

So in the past I have railed on Crunchyroll for their wonky wording, but this is the first outright mistranslation I think. (Unless “solid style” wasn’t on purpose, but that one was so ridiculous I kinda feel like it may have been....)

If you have seen Pride the Hero, you’ll know Kakeru doesn’t leak the Prism System to his friends. He leaks it to the Itsutomo Group.

To be fair Sadana doesn’t say Itsutomo Group here. Just Itsutomo. But still, what did the translator think the “Itsu” part meant? They leave so many things as-is, but this... THIS they decide to attempt to translate into something.

Okay. OKAY...................................

I really, really like Kakeru’s dad. But not for anything he does in the movies/anime. He’s a super boring pushover here. But if you take Young of Prism and layer it on top of all that..... he’s fucking great.

I was so out of it when I first saw this the entire natural gas plot went over my head. I was just like “Episode 5: Kakeru goes to Madagascar. Does a prism show. Then he comes back for some reason. The end?????”

I also missed the earlier reference as well. To think when Kakeru looks at the newspaper in episode 1 and is like “Natural gas is expensive!!” that was foreshadowing ahah.

So this is the most controversial part of the episode I think. Globalization/colonization/industrialism has done damage lot of nations which were just fine beforehand, and I think paving over all of Africa’s natural habitats would likely cause.... various problems.

Do I really have any right to be commentating on this? No. But I don’t think King of Prism does either. I just don’t think it’s really the time/place for it.

But all-in-all I suppose Merina’s opinion isn’t too unusual for someone who works for Juuouin Group. I just wish they made it more clearer that his opinion and not the general opinion of Madagascar.

But then again what do I know. I really don’t even want to be talking about this!! It was just such a weird choice to take this episode to Madagascar at all.

This brought me so much joy. Please go read Young of Prism if you haven’t yet.

NNghkdhgkdhg baby Kakeru................. face......... uuuUUUgfh and his cute little voice...........

I also often wonder what Kakeru was doing in Kodama’s office in the first place. He’s not actually his uncle I believe.

My headcanon is that his mother dropped him off there one day when she was busy with something and needed someone to watch him quickly, then Kodama-san’s office just gradually became Kakeru’s daycare.

In cheering people will point up one concert light shaking with increasing intensity. Usually orange because nobody knows what other color to use.

.......GGDGDGDGdksl;fl;sgs.......... AHHHHHHHHHH.....HHH........hhhhhhhhh.. K.....

Crunchyroll agrees with me that Kakeru’s father is “Momojiro”. I know that’s the most likely reading, I’m just really bothered and concerned that there is just no furigana for it anywhere.

And behold, my favorite Kakeru face of all time.

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh poor baby you were so pure back then

And behold my second favorite Kakeru face of all time aahaha

Okay now is as good a time as ever to bring it up, but.

I’m a bit disappointed that young Kakeru doesn’t wear glasses.

Because most kids get glasses before middle school if they are going to get them, don’t they? It makes me worry Kakeru’s glasses are just an image thing.

I mean he’s certainly frikkin adorable without them, but I dunno.... It made me weirdly happy to learn that Hiro wears contacts in episode 1.

I just want visually impaired comrades in my anime I guess!!!

Or maybe he just went without for longer than he should have by memorizing the eye test by listening to the kid in front of him like I did.

Kakeru can you see I’m worried about you.

Okay I’ll move on......

So someone pointed this out in the stream, but he doesn’t really say “mood” here. He says “kao iro” which would translate more into like... health? I don’t know. I honestly have no idea what he was getting at and it’s always puzzled me.

Oh the controversy.....

Okay so, that whole non-issue aside. About the rest of this scene.

I am not particularly offended by it for two reasons.

First...

Kakeru’s grandfather is giving him important life advice while his face is IN A BOOB

YOU CANT TAKE THIS SHIT SERIOUSLY COME ON

King of Prism has a tenancy to pair serious moments with ridiculous visuals that nearly ruin them on purpose and it’s a whole other level of humor ahah. There is an even better example of this in the next episode.......

Secondly...

KEI-CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN

In the theater people hold up two light blue lights as soon as she rises up and then go nuts. It’s the best.

While most of the other characters were inspired by watching male prism stars like Hijiri or Rei, Kakeru watched mostly the girls and I get a kick out of that. We have already known he’s their fan for a while due to his Blowin’ in the Mind ringtone and side materials saying he has their magazines in his room, etc.

“What” - cheering audience

So if you look up “kakeru” in a Japanese-English dictionary, you’ll know it has.... a lot of meanings. And since they always write the boys’ names in katakana (to make it ambiguous I guess) you can never know for sure.

Here we confirmed for the first time it is intended to be 翔 = to fly/soar

This is a theme throughout SSS. How much Shin changed things for everyone............(I’ll come back to this)............

LOVE

So I guess when Kakeru got back from Madagascar Leo was like “So what do you want for your Prism One outfit?” and he was like “Make me a flamingo” and Leo was like “......You got it.”

Or maybe Leo was already like half done with Kakeru’s outfit and then he just burst in the door like “LEO I NEED TO BE A FLAMINGO--”

I only have one bad thing to say about Kakeru’s prism show and it has nothing to do with Kakeru’s prism show. I noticed that his legwork is really similar to Taiga’s, which was when I realized for the first time that it’s the same person doing all the motion capture. So that kind of brought me back to reality a little bit. But oh well. That person is really fucking talented.

They have been talking about Kakeru doing a prism jump where he’s naked with a pile of money for YEARS. HE DID IT. I’ve seen it in manga, I’ve seen it on Prism Rush... BUT THIS

Also how similar this is to the Prism Rush version amazes me...

CYALUME CH--

.....So I guess the translators haven’t watched PriPara either huh.

Wait is this even supposed to be for “Cyalume Change” because the subtitle is at such weird timing.

Also I felt bad afterwards about putting “CYALUME CHANGE” as one of my shitty out of context spoilers ahah. I hope I didn’t ruin it for anyone. At least I didn’t say what episode it was. My hope is that anyone who read it has been waiting to be blindsided by CYALUME CHANGE and it came at the best possible moment.

The first couple times I saw this episode I really wondered how cheering would go since so much of this episode is just business mumbo jumbo and if a lot of people would even show up for Part 2 cheering at all.

But then after about a week in I found myself waiting in the lobby before a sold out cheering show and saw a girl whip out a giant pink feathery fan.

Then the girl next to her was like hold my beer and took out a giant (fake) money fan.

Never underestimate Kakeru fangirls is a lesson I have learned over and over and over again.

A lot of people will also have three or four pink concert lights in one hand and an orange one or a color changing one in the other for this part ahah.

PAINT IT ORANGE PAINT IT ORANGE

(The lyrics to this song are nonsense. But it’s Kakeru, you can’t expect anything less.)

Prism shows with jungle animals are always a good time. (I can’t help but think of Shi Yoon.)

And there you have it, Kakeru saved the entire country of Madagascar.... with his prism show........ let’s not..... let’s not think too hard about this........

I suppose there are multiple ways this could be true so I shouldn’t be thinking too hard about this either. But.

The debut of the Leo pigtails.

Well actually I think he had them earlier in the episode too, but this was the first time I noticed.

Nothing warms my heart more than the few times Taiga throws Kakeru a bone by showing him the tiniest bit of affection. Even if it’s tsundere. Look at him. He’s just so happy. Aw Kakeru. Good for you.

I think this moment was kinda ruined by the new ending music though. In the theater it’s more quiet.

So I have always kinda felt like the Part 2 episodes are a bit weak compared with Part 1 and Part 3, but that’s probably a bit unfair considering how I experienced them. All of them grew on me more with time. It was also kind of hard coming down off of Taiga’s episode. After Taiga’s was so high tension I kinda expected the same for Kakeru too, but they went in a totally different direction. It was nothing like I thought it would be.

Before it aired I wondered if it would be about Kakeru trying to decide if spending his life in the Juuouin Group was right for him or not. And he did question it at one point when he was younger, but unless I misinterpreted it this episode was more about him loosing what he had and trying to get it back? He had doubts in his mind at one time about whether love exists, but he already came to believe it does before the events of this episode. So I guess Kakeru really has no doubt in his mind about what he wants for his future. You know, I think I like that better. I worry about him burning out with all the stuff he does, but it really does seem to be his true calling.

I find it rather sad that the Edel Rose boys never found out Kakeru’s backstory though. Instead he shares it with Merina. He couldn’t even tell them he was leaving. But then again, Minato quickly interpreted that it was probably too difficult for him, I’m sure he was right. The other boys seemed to understand and support him regardless. Kakeruuuuuuuuu...............

In side materials it’s kinda of hinted at here and there that Kakeru really wants to be more like Minato. He wants to be someone strong who supports everyone. He also really seems to not want to show any weakness to anyone, especially his friends....? (As I’m typing this I’m thinking back to the White Day event on Prism Rush when he was trying so hard to organize everything while also trying his hardest to hide that he was falling apart......) I guess he picked this up in the business world as well. Because of this I still feel there is a lot to Kakeru we still don’t know.

Well. Since I remembered this time and I liked this one: The special video for this episode that they show in the theaters has a voice over describing Kakeru’s intense schedule on a normal day.

But apparently on weekends he does no work at all. He gets caught up on manga and then plays with his friends. They showed a lot of stills of him hanging out with the Edel Rose boys, but my favorite and the one I remember the most was him playing arcade games with Shin (on a mysteriously PriPara-looking cabinet.... I think it was a fighting game though?)

Also Kakeru has a secret trunk in his room which must never be opened.

#king of prism #king of prism sss #king of prism shiny seven stars #kinpri #kakeru juuouin

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missjanjie · 5 years

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Branjie Fic - Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer (2/?)

Title: Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer Summary: Brooke Lynn is a graduate student anxiously embracing her new position as her favorite dance professors’ new TA. Vanessa is a sophomore dance major who just might make her way into being more than the teacher(assistant)’s pet. (lesbian/university AU) Word Count: ~2.4k (this chapter)/~5k (total) Relationship: Branjie (Vanessa ‘Vanjie’ Mateo/Brooke Lynn Hytes) Rating: T Note(s): rating is subject to change, this is based on the story so far

Read on AO3 | Ch. 1

While it is called the ‘fall semester’, classes always start during the summer, often at the end of August. This gave way for heatwaves hitting in the middle of the week, especially in densely-packed places like New York City. No one talks about this time of year in the city that never sleeps – it is devoid of the awe and whimsy that so often surrounded it in media. Artists don’t wax poetic about days like this, where the air is thick and hazy and smells of sweat and melting garbage. Where, despite it being the lunch rush, the streets were scare, and everyone is hiding in the comfort of air conditioning or high-powered fans.

Cut to the graduate student residence hall – more specifically, Brooke’s apartment. There, she and Nina sat on the floor in sports bras and shorts, drinking glass after glass of ice water and being eternally grateful that the a/c had been fixed just before the start of the semester. Nina looked on as Brooke stared catatonically at the ceiling and nudged her leg with her foot to get her attention. “I don’t think I’ve ever had to say this to anyone but myself, but I think you’re being overdramatic,” she told her.

“I’m not!” Brooke sighed in exasperation. “It’s only day two of the school year and I’ve already kissed a student. I couldn’t manage a full twenty-four hours on campus without jeopardizing everything,” she groaned, now laying on the floor. “It wasn’t even a cute cheek kiss, I almost slipped her tongue, Nina!”

Nina didn’t mean to laugh, trying to cover her mouth when she snorted. “What exactly do you think is going to happen? That she’s gonna tell Katya? That Katya’s gonna fire you?” she didn’t let her answer before she continued, “I don’t think you’re actually afraid of getting in trouble. I think you’re afraid of catching feelings for this girl.”

“Thanks for the insight, Dr. Phil,” Brooke huffed and pushed herself back into a sitting position. “Look, just because she’s beautiful, funny, and kissing her made me feel like glitter was exploding inside of me, doesn’t mean I’m about to fall for her.”

Nina stared at her blankly, hardly able to believe the level of denial she was stuck in. “Do you hear yourself? Because you sound ridiculous.” She swung her legs over to the side so she could shift and look at her. “You know it isn’t the end of the world to have a crush on someone, right? It’s a thing that happens to most of us humans every now and then.”

Brooke groaned and buried her head in her hands. “But why did it have to hit me now?” she couldn’t help but wonder, if it was in another time and place, would she be this stressed over the encounter? She supposed it was possible that she would try to find another excuse, or maybe she’d be in Vanessa’s bed instead.

“Because sometimes life is an asshole that takes its joy in screwing with you, and you just have to tough it out. That’s how I got into comedy,” doing improv and stand-up had become Nina’s way of coping, and Brooke’s way of coping was…not.

And she couldn’t counter her point either, leaving her pouting and looking at the floor. “So, what am I supposed to do in class tomorrow?”

Nina shrugged. “Just try not to make a big deal of things, it’ll just be business as usual. I’m sure she’s just as nervous and confused as you are.”

“She wants me,” Vanessa said to her friends. They were all sat in the dining hall during lunch, the group having just listened with interest as she recounted the events of the day before.

“You sound real confident about someone that deadass ran away from you,” A’keria retorted, pointing her fork at her as she spoke.

Vanessa shook her head, swallowing the food in her mouth before speaking. “Nah it wasn’t a ‘running away’ moment. She just got cold feet, I ain’t taking it personally,” she sat upright with a smug grin, proving a sincerity in her belief.

“So, what are you gonna do next? Like in class?” she furrowed her brows.

That was when she realized she hadn’t actually planned ahead, which was never her strength in the first place. While it was often a hindrance academically, she usually enjoyed the spontaneity that came with potential budding romances. But with Brooke? She might have to take another approach. “Gotta play the long game, babe.”

“The long game?” Blair chimed in. While she had a girlfriend, she was endlessly interested in her and A’keria’s dating lives – especially comparing and contrasting the two. They were both extroverts that thrived at a good party or club and were openly flirtatious with whoever caught their eye. The difference, perhaps, was the number of girls that caught their respective eyes – A’keria didn’t like leaving any outing empty-handed, while Vanessa had the tendency to pick and choose, even when drunk beyond belief.

Vanessa clicked her tongue and smirked. “She ain’t just gonna get with me overnight – you gotta finesse that shit when you’re aiming for, you know, a lady of Brooke Lynn’s caliber.”

“As opposed to us hoes?” A’keria arched her brow.

“Exactly, bitch!” Vanessa laughed.

“I think it’s sweet,” Blair hummed. “You’re changing your major to Brooke!” she said to a pair of blank stares. “Fun Home? Seriously? God, I waste my best musical theatre material on you guys,” she huffed.

Even though Vanessa didn’t understand the joke, she understood what Blair was getting at. Out of curiosity, she looked up the song she’d referenced, listening to it on her walk to class. “Oh, I get it now. That was clever,” she said to herself before she sat down in the lecture hall.

The class was about half full when she arrived, students filing in for the next five minutes or so. At one point, a girl took the seat next to her. She sat poised and upright – Vanessa wondered if she was a dancer too. “Nice bling you got there,” she told her, gesturing to the large earrings that stood out against her shaved head.

“Thanks,” she replied, casually looking her over. “I’m Yvie.”

“Vanjie.”

She quirked her brow. “Is that your given name?”

“No, it’s Vanessa. But that’s what I go by,” she replied, rifling through her bag and humming quietly to herself as she took what she needed out.

Yvie nodded in understanding, looking forward and scribbling aimlessly along the margins of her notebook paper. “So, what’s your major?”

“Brooke.”

“What?”

Vanessa’s eyes widened and she shrunk down, momentarily considering walking right out of the class and calling it a day. “Dance! I-I meant to say dance,” she sputtered out. Oh, she was going to get Blair later. It was her damn fault bringing up that musical.

“I’m not even gonna ask, girl,” Yvie shook her head. It was more out of sympathy, seeing how embarrassed she was, than an actual lack of interest. Frankly, she was much more tempted to press for more information, but then the professor called attention to the front of the class, and the various conversations died down, much to Vanessa’s relief.

Wednesday morning, on its own, seemed to promise a better day. The heatwave had passed, and the city was bustling with its usual energy. Even in the dance studio, Katya was the first one to arrive, which gave Brooke – who came in next – one less thing to worry about. She decided not to tell her about the kiss, lest she be subjected to an ‘I told you so’, making her hope all the more that the class would go by without incident.

Brooke scanned the room as each student entered, trying to make it seem like she was paying every one of them the same amount of attention. But then Vanessa walked in and suddenly no one else existed. This time she had on shorts and a tank top, and her hair was tied into a neat bun, and Brooke was able to study her for a good couple moments before their eyes met.

“Morning, Brooke,” Vanessa still seemed happy to see her, but her tone was calmer, more controlled. It was the same tone she had when she comforted her in Starbucks, and it brought on the same sense of ease it had then.

It baffled her, when she thought about it. Brooke’s emotions were so easily swayed – Vanessa could get her riled up and calmed down within the same conversation. That sort of thing might bother others, but it had something of an addictive quality to it. She wanted to get to know her more, to get another hit of her energy. “Good to see you, Vanjie,” she replied. And she meant it, truly.

After Brooke took attendance, Katya stood at the front of the class to begin the lecture. “Today we’re going to work on having to work with a partner. I know you guys touched on some dances last year, so we’re going to build off of that. I’m just going to go down the line and pair everyone up,” she paired up everyone as she walked across the studio, until she got down to the last three girls. “Looks like we’ve got an odd number today.”

One girl shrugged. “It’s fine, we can work in a gr—”

“No, no that just work,” she looked at the three girls, making it seem like she was really thinking about it. “You two pair up. Vanjie, you can work with Brooke,” she announced, actively refusing to acknowledge the way Brooke was staring her down.

The devil works hard, but Katya works harder, Brooke thought as she got up and went to sit by her new dance partner. She tuned out while Katya explained what dance steps they’d be doing – she had gone through all of this before and knew it by heart – especially considering how many times she had gone over the lesson plans. Instead, she took that time to remind herself to stay calm, that the only reaction she should have is no reaction at all.

“You ever tango before?” Brooke asked as she, Vanessa, and everyone else got to their feet.

“You heard her, we did this last year,” Vanessa shrugged as a simple tango tune filled the room from the speaker Katya hooked up to her laptop.

And each set of partners assumed the starting position – one hand on the other’s shoulder and the others clasped together out to the side. Some students were counting the steps out loud, while others were doing turns and back cortes.

Unsurprisingly, Vanessa was on the more advanced end of the spectrum, demonstrated both by her skill and her desire to take control. “Why can’t you let me lead?” she huffed.

“Grow six inches and we’ll talk,” Brooke retorted, dipping her in time with the music, earning her a scowl from the shorter girl, but she only found it as cute as her smile. Almost as if to further flaunt her size advantage, she moved her arm around Vanessa’s waist, lifting her up for a twirl.

But Vanessa was quick on her feet. She landed and wrapped a leg around her waist, and Brooke put a hand on her thigh and pulled her close. Another dip, and back up. As the music died down, they came to a stop, breathing heavily, close enough for their breath to hit each other’s faces.

“Now that’s a tango, ladies!” Katya had apparently been going from pair to pair, coaching and critiquing, not that this pair would’ve noticed. “I call it The Tango: Branjie!” she said with jazz hands for flourish. “Get it? Because, you know, you—and she—" she looked around at the stone-faced class. “Damn, tough crowd. Class dismissed,” she shrugged and walked to turn off her laptop.

“For the record,” Brooke said as she set Vanessa down and took a few cautious steps back, “as the student, I think you should get the credit. It’s called The Tango: Vanjie now,” she turned to gather her things, but Vanessa didn’t budge.

“I like the ring that has to it, but I ain’t leaving til we talk about that kiss,” she stood firmly, hands on her hips and head held high, only to cock a bit to the side as her pursed lips twitched to a smirk. “Or til I get another one.”

So that was how it was going to be. Brooke was impressed by Vanessa’s boldness, and perhaps a bit aroused. She gently placed her fingers under her chin, tilting her head up and pressing a kiss to her lips. “Goodbye, Vanjie,” she whispered sweetly, tapping her cheek lightly before sending her on her way. It was when she stood back up and turned to pick her bag up that she let out a frustrated groan. “Fuck, you’re still here.”

Katya was bouncing on the balls of her feet with a cheshire grin. “This is the best moment of my fucking career, bitch,” she ran over to Brooke and grabbed her hands, jumping up and down. “You guys are gonna have such crazy sex!”

Brooke’s eyes widened and she clapped her hand over Katya’s mouth. “Not if you keep running your fucking mouth!” she hissed in a stage whisper. She waited a beat, then let her hand drop to the side. “I swear, if you breathe a word—”

“Would you turn the paranoia down for like, five minutes to realize no one’s out to get you for whatever happens between you and Vanjie?” Katya gripped on to Brooke’s shoulders. “I think you need to go home, have a drink and a smoke, and go rub one out. You’ve got plenty of new material, now,” she bumped her elbow into her side.

Brooke exhaled and shook her head. “I’m gonna kill you,” she muttered before stepping out of the studio. She had only taken a couple steps towards the exit when she paused and turned around. Of course.

“So,” Vanessa pushed herself off the wall and took a half-step towards Brooke. “You off to follow Professor Katya’s advice?” she asked with the same type of grin the aforementioned woman had.

“No,” Brooke scoffed and tossed her hair off her shoulder. She waited until she saw something of a disappointed look on her face before adding “I’ve been trying to quit smoking,” she bit her lip and winked before turning on her heel and walking out of the building.

Vanessa was left stunned, but well-affected, nonetheless. “Just keep playing the long game, Vanjie. She’ll come around.”

#branjie #branjie fic #branjie fanfic #branjie fanfiction #rpdr rpf

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emhpathy · 6 years

Text

Begin Again Ch.2 (m)

Jaehyun x Reader smut, angst, fluff

word count: 2,542

warning: swearing

After you texted Jaehyun, you made something to eat, took a relaxing shower and went straight to bed, cuddling your dog until you fell asleep. The next morning you woke up an hour before your usual time and couldn't fall asleep again.

You unlock your phone and see a new message from Jaehyun

[New message from Jaehyun]: “Yeah, it's fine by me too. Sorry I didn't text you back last night, I was exhausted and fell asleep as soon as I got home,” you are typing a reply when you get a new notification

[New message from Jaehyun]: “Are you up yet? We could meet to grab a coffee and talk a little, maybe?” You weren't expecting that so soon but get excited anyways, “I know we barely talked but I'm kind of old fashioned and I like to talk in person lol.” Cute.

[New message to Jaehyun]: “Hi! I'm up and don't worry about last night, it happens to me all the time lol Coffee sounds great! Just send me the address and I'll see you in a bit?”

He texts you the adress, turns out that the coffee shop was near the bakery where you worked, which was great and could save you some time.

You take a quick shower and put on your clothes. A jeans overall, a plain black t-shirt and your snickers. You have never been a fan of heavy make up, you hated wasting more time than necessary in the morning and definetely did not like the sensation of having tons of different products on your face, so you just apply a thin layer of mascara and head out to the coffee shop. On your way there you remember to text Luna

[New message to Luna]: “wake upppppppppp. i'm omw to grab a coffee with Jaehyun. maybe i'm expecting too much but whatever. he seems nice and made the first move (:” you hit send and giggle to yourself. You know Luna will be pissed because Jungwoo haven't took the first step yet, neither did she. They both liked each other but were too shy to admit it.

You get at your destination first, finding a couple sitting at the corner of the small store and two people waiting in line. Since it was too early in the morning and the coffee shop was still empty, you pick a table and decide to sit close to the door. You don't know Jaehyun’s preferences and don’t want to seem rude drinking and eating before him, so you choose to wait. You take your phone out of your purse and see that you have 4 new messages from Luna and 1 from Jaehyun. You read his first.

[New message from Jaehyun]: “Hey, I'm sorry I'm late, I'm on my way. One of my roommates was not feeling well and I had to help him”

[New message to Jaehyun]: “No problem. I walked here and the place is near home, so don't worry, you're not late. And hey, there's only me and a couple sitting here, so it shouldn't be hard to find me lol,” you text him and open Luna's chat

[New message from Luna]: “wHAT”

[New message from Luna]: “i’m kinda jealous tho”

[New message from Luna]: “anyway GOOD LUCK ALEJDKSLSLDJ”

[New message from Luna]: “Jaehyun looks >>>really<<< good and he is very sweet,” you both overreacted a little bit at times, so you choose to believe Jaehyun was just a normal guy and Luna was being, well, Luna, “he has this cute bread face and the cutest dimp–“

“Y/N?”

You slowly look up and your eyes widen in shock

What the fuck.

You see the personification of an angel in front of you. Jaehyun is beautiful. He is wearing a striped purple flannel and black jeans. His chestnut hair is styled down and makes him look like a teenager. Your eyes grow big at his striking features and how his tongue pokes out to wet his lower lip.

You must've spent a lot of time looking at him, cause you hear him calling your name again

“Y/N, are you okay?” The owner of the deep voice asks, making you snap out of your trance

“Y-yes! Hi! Sit down!” you gesture to him, a little embarrassed

“I’m sorry I'm late, I had to make sure my roommate was alright before leaving” he apologizes and you just nod, not completely out of your astonishment

“S-sure, don't worry about it, I've been here for a couple of minutes, so you're fine! But is your roommate okay?”

“Yeah, he is, thanks for asking. He got wasted last night and wasn't feeling well,” he half smiles and a fucking dimple appears on his cheek. “But tell me about you, we literally know nothing about each other other than our names.”

“Yeah, you're right! Well, I work at a – wait, we haven't ordered yet,” you realize and ask him what he wants

“A medium iced Americano, please” he smiles briefly and you walk to the cashier ordering an Americano for him, a capuccino for yourself, and two chocolate cookies. You wait for your name to be called and text Luna in the mean time

[New message to Luna]: “YOU COW, WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME THAT JAEHYUN IS A GOD? HOW DARE YOU?” You text her and remember you didn’t finish reading her last message. She actually mentioned his dimples and how sweet he was, but she also said that he doesn't open up easily, which intrigued you. You were about to ask her why when the barista calls your name. You lock your phone and put it into your pocket. You thank the guy and go back to your table.

Jaehyun is messing with his phone and you put his coffee and the cookies in front of him

“Thank you, Y/N, I should pay you back,” he takes his wallet out of his pocket

“No! It's on me, don't worry,” you tell him, he nods and thanks you

Jaehyun told you he is an elementary teacher, which surprised you, but he explained that he has a niece that he adores, and she made him want to work with kids. Also, he said that he's turning 25 in a few days but wasn’t going to celebrate it because he isn’t a party person anymore. He also mentioned his roommates, Johnny and Jungwoo. They've met at college and have been living together since then. Other than that he didn't mention much about his personal life. You didn't want to pressure him, this was your first proper conversation, he didn't have to tell you everything about him.

“So, now tell me about you,” Jaehyun says and drink his coffee

“Well, my name is Y/N Y/L/N, I'm 22 years old, I work at a bakert. By the way, you should stop by some day, it's just a few blocks from here,” you suggest

“Sure, that sounds cool! How long do you work there?” he asks and you start to feel melancholic

“Well, I have always loved cakes, that shouldn't be a surprise cause who doesn't?!” you joke and laugh, Jaehyun laughs too and nods, agreeing with you, “so when I was younger, my grandpa taught me my first recipe,” you start talking and glance at Jaehyun. He looks adorable. His bangs are spread all over his forehead, his hair look really soft.

You've noticed that everytime he was focused paying attention, his mouth stayed slightly opened and he nodded unknowingly. He was attentive, you liked that about him.

“So thanks to him I started taking baking classes. After a year I decided that I wanted to work work with it and tried to find a job related to it. It wasn't easy, I was young, inexperienced and honestly didn't have anything to offer, but I wanted to learn. So one day I met June.” Jaehyun notices that you started bitting your bottom lip and avoiding eye contact

The thing about being an elementary teacher is that they deal with different kids everyday, so they are aware of the fact that every kid reacts to a situation differently. Some of Jaehyun students had the habit of fidgeting with their legs when they were nervous, others, with their hands. One of the girls had the habit of curling the strands of her hair when she was overthinking. One of the guys couldn't look at Jaehyun's face when he was lying. Jaehyun payed attention to all of that and he noticed when you started to get uncomfortable talking about June.

“Y/N, you don't have to talk about–” he starts talking but you interrupt, “No, don't worry, I wanna talk. It's just, I haven't talked about this in a while but it's okay” you tell him.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am,” you assure him. “I lost my grandma when I was a baby, so I don't have memories of her other than pictures and some stories that my granpa told me, so June was kind of my grandma figure” you gaze at Jaehyun and feel that he's actually listening to you, not just hearing, “she was my first boss, she had taught me everything I know now.” You remember how difficult it was to convince June that you were willing to learn what she had to teach you. At first, you helped her with anything she needed in exchange of her teaching you about baking and confections. After a year and a couple months, and a lot of pleads, June had let you put your first cake at the bakery's display. You still remember how you felt when she told you that you had sold your first cake

“June told me her secrets, how to treat the customers properly and she gave me a lot of advices that I will carry with me forever,” Jaehyun was smiling sweetly at you. “She treated me like her granddaughter. But she nagged a lot at me too,” you two laugh and you carry on, “but everything I know now is thanks to her.”

“What happened to her?” Jaehyun questions

“She passed away a couple of years ago.” You see Jaehyun's eyes widen

“Oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked,” he apologizes

“It's okay,” you smile, “It was a difficult time but she always said that I should be a strong woman and learn how to deal with shit life throws at me, losing a loved one being one of them” you lock eyes with Jaehyun and he nods

“But anyway. June didn't have any inheritor, so she left the bakery to me,” Jaehyun seems surprised, and to be honest, so did you when you found out that you were the owner of the place that you loved so much

“Really?!”

“Yes, really. I don't like to say that I'm the owner of the place because June started everything, she started from the bottom, so I really don't feel like I own it. Legally, yes, but it's only because of her,” you explain to him. “I only told you this because you are cute and a good listener,” you flirt a little and you could see his dimples showing on his cheeks

“I’m glad you feel comfortable enough around me to tell me about it”, he says and smiles, allowing you to see for the first time the crinkles on his face. They make him seem adorable

“I think my story took longer than I expected,” you joke, “but I should go. I need to open the bakery and I don't want you to get late either” he agrees and you two get out of your seats, heading to the door.

“I'm glad we talked today, Y/N” Jaehyun starts talking, “I didn't want you to feel forced to talk to me only because your friend wanted you to,” he seems genuine, “but I'm happy you texted back and we had this, mmm, kind of date?!” his ears turn red, and you find that extremely lovable, but agrees nevertheless

“I didn't want you to feel forced either. To be honest I wasn't expecting us to meet so soon but I'm happy we did, and I hope we can keep talking?” you enquire. “Sure, that sounds good” he agrees and tells you he would text you later. You wave him goodbye and head to your work.

Jaehyun was easy to talk to. You noticed that he was kind of shy, and more of a listener than a talker, but he was willing to have a conversation with you and you felt lucky for that. It was a good way to start your day.

You walk a few blocks until the bakery and see that Mark is already at the door waiting for you

“Hi fat head,” you greet him and he pouts while you unlock the door

“Hey, my head is not that big, ok?” He whines

You roll your eyes and smile to your friend, “Sure, baby,” you both enter the bakery and Mark goes straight to the cash register.

You hired him after he mentioned how hard it was to find a job. You have always found Mark smart and fully capable and you trusted him, so you offered him a part-time job as a cashier, since he had to go to college and take care of his younger brother sometimes.

It was good to have him working with you. You never said it out loud, but you felt happy whenever Mark was around. After Luna tried setting you both up, you two decided to stay friends. He still flirted with you sometimes, but in a friendly way. He had made clear that he adored you and loved being your friend, and said that maybe you didn't feel attracted to him because you were meant to be just friends. You agreed with him.

You go to the kitchen and start reading your orders for the day.

After hours, you take a moment to rest. You have always loved baking, it put you in a good mood. There was moments in your life were you randomly went to the kitchen, to divert your mind out of a concern and relieve stress. You love what you do.

You look for your phone and notice that you have a new message from Jaehyun

[New message from Jaehyun]: “Thank you for today, I had a pleasant time. I hope we can get to know more about each other,” you crack a smile and start typing a message to him when Mark comes rushing through the kitchen’s door

“Y/N... there's a, mm... customer, demanding to talk to you,” he sounds anxious and you wonder if there's something wrong with one of your cakes

“Did something happen?”

“N-no, he just, wants to talk” You barely had any problems with your orders. Every time a mistake happened it was due to the lack of explanation from the customer, not yours.

“Why are you so agitated?” You said, heading towards the front of the store, with Mark following your steps, “If you did something wrong tell me now and we can fix it”,

“No, I didn't do anything, I promise, it's your–“ Mark was interrupted by a voice, a voice that you have never forgotten

“Y/N!”

No. No. No.

Note: hi! I hope this isn't too boring, i wanted you guys to know more about y/n and a little about Jaehyun lol hope you like it, thank you for reading and feel free to send asks!

happyjaehyunday <3

#nct scenario #nct fluff #nct angst #nct smut #nct scenarios #jaehyun scenario #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun smut #jaehyun angst #begin again #happyjaehyunday

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ichigopanhpff · 5 years

Text

BNHA Fic: Blink! Ch. 2

Read Ch. 1

I swear, we’ll get to the good stuff soon.

Knock-knock.

Quickly gathering the paperwork back into the folder, Ren shoved everything back into the drawer. Taking quick calming breaths, she peeked opened the door to see most of the eager faces of 1-A.

“Ah! Senpai!” Aishido excitedly greeted. “We’re having a “king of rooms” competition right now and we wanted to include you in on it!” “That’s nice but my room’s a bit of a mess–” “Too late!”

A few of the students pushed their way through and stumbled in, wedging Ren between the door and the wall. Ah, the power of youth, she fleetingly thought as her back and ribcage reeled in pain.

“Ohhh! It’s so grown up!” Uraraka praised with her hands clasped, looking around in amazement. Ren’s wooden bed frame doubled as storage space and was lower than the usual frame. To the left sat a low desk and a wooden stacking shelves with her personal effects and drawers. “And simple!” “Everything’s so tastefully done!” Sero analyzed the simple star patterned charcoal gray drape curtain Ren put up and the scattered posters on her walls. A twine was hung on the far wall with clothesline clips holding photos. “Minimalist and stylish.” “As expected of a senpai,” Iida nodded with confidence. “We should learn from this.” “It’s modern Japanese...” Todoroki uttered out, impressed with the design. “Maybe I should’ve done my room like this.”

“You’re all really at your own pace, aren’tcha,” their R.A. blurted out from being pinned behind the door, promptly sliding down onto the floor and rubbing her back.

The class panicked and helped her out. She sighed and dusted herself off while everyone profusely apologized.

“It’s fine but just don’t get carried away, okay?” she dismissively stated, rubbing the back of her head. She didn’t have the heart to trample on the little fun they got to have. “Anyway, this is my room. Welcome.”

“T-Takahiro-senpai!” a young boy’s voice trembled out. Everyone in the room turned to look at a freckled boy with disheveled dark green hair looking at a photo frame found on one of the cubby shelves. “You know Melissa Shield?!”

“Whoa whoa! Who’s Melissa?!” Sero asked and suddenly threw Izuku in a headlock. “Midoriya, you sly dog! Havin’ a foreigner girlfriend over summer vacay!”

Oh, so that’s Midoriya... I think Melissa said he preferred to be called ‘Deku.’ He’s... smaller than I thought, Ren thought to herself as he was bombarded with questions by his classmates. The boy suddenly got flustered and embarrassed; his face blushing two shades of red. She couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Oh, Melissa-san. From I-Island,” Uraraka suddenly remembered. “She was super nice. She showed us around I-Expo after everything happened.” “And knew so much about everything there,” Jiro chimed in. “Melissa’s my childhood friend, Midoriya-kun,” Ren answered with a wide smile after the commotion died down. “From when I was living in California.” “Whoa, senpai! You lived in America?!” Hagakure enquired with excitement. “That’s so amazing!” “Well, I was born there. I’m a hafu*.” “It’s amazing how well you speak Japanese though,” Yaoyoruzu remarked.

“I’ve been here since I was 8 at an international school before I got into U.A.” ”How did you get into U.A.? Through recommendations?” Kaminari casually asked. “I remember Aizawa-sensei saying you were strong.” ”I took the exam to get in. And please don’t pay any mind as to what Aizawa’s saying: I’m really not that strong.” ”That’s totally somethin’ someone really strong would say though,” Kirishima commented and rubbed his chin. “Being humble about it is so manly!” “So how was it going to school overseas?” a boy with glasses asked while moving his arms like a robot. “Are the education systems as good as ours?” “I don’t remember much of it, to be honest...” Ren trailed off, her eyes downcasted at her feet. “But I do remember the school being big.” “As expected of America...” Iida gushed. “So if you and Melissa-san were childhood friends...” Izuku muttered and jumped up nervously. “D-Does that mean you know All-Might too?!” “We’re loosely acquainted, yes. I’m not as close with him as Mels and her dad are.” “Ah, is that so.”

The boy breathed a sigh for some reason.

“Deku’s a huge All-Might fan,” Uraraka whispered close to Ren. “His room’s fully decorated with his face.” “Oh, a fanboy.” “Uraraka-san! Please don’t say anymore!” the boy exclaimed in a state, blushing furiously. “It’s fine. Your room is supposed to show your personality and interests, after all,” the R.A. calmly said with a small smile. “Oh interesting. I never thought of our rooms that way,” Ashino said. “Anyway we should get moving,” Iida interrupted. “I’m sure Takahiro-senpai is tired after today and we should wrap up this contest soon.” “’Kay, class rep!” the rest of the students responded. “Sorry for the intrusion.”

As the commotion died down, Ren was able to shower and relax after a long day. As she walked to the elevator, muffled talking could be heard coming from outside. She slid her veranda window halfway open and peered through from the side to see 7 students standing by the lamp post by the entrance.

“–I hardened my heart and spoke so harshly...”

That quivering voice. Sounds like Asui.

She felt bad eavesdropping, but continued to in order to get a general idea of the dynamic of 1-A. After all, she’s coming into this dorm a stranger when they’ve had close to half a year to bond.

“The whole “King of All Rooms” thing happened because we all understood how Deku and the others must be feeling...” Ochaco’s voice said.

Ah so that’s it… They must be talking about Kamino.

Ren now understood why Aizawa didn’t expel anyone here.

They’re all special in their own way and have forged an ironclad bond with one another. It’s not something a villain or a saboteur can easily wheedle in and destroy. Her shoulders immediately jumped hearing Kirishima apologizing at the top of his lungs. All she could do was close her eyes with a lopsided grin and sighed through her nose.

They may be young, but their hearts and minds are in the right place. The makings of a great hero are there.

At that moment, Ren had a fleeting thought as to the other reason why Aizawa put her here, but it was of no importance for now.

–

Everyone’s alarms in 1-A went off close to the same time. Ren sluggishly reached around for hers with her eyes still closed, her hand hitting air and the night stand with a muffled thud. Groaning aloud, she let out a long sigh before propping her elbows up on her bed with her eyes halfway open. Finally shutting up the source of her annoyance, her heavy head flopped back down onto her soft pillow and groaned into it.

She forced herself to roll out of bed 5 minutes later and let out a long stretch of her upper body. Sighing again, she gingerly stood up and pulled back her curtains to let the sun greet her. Slumberously blinking, she scratched the back of her head and went to grab her items to wash up downstairs. She saw Ashino and Yaoyorozu walk past when she opened her door.

“Good morning, Ren-senpai!” the two girls greeted. “… Mornin’.” Ren muttered out and stifled a small yawn. “So who won last night? The King of Rooms?” “Oh, Sato did!” Ashino happily replied. “His chiffon cake was sooooo tasty!” “Aw I missed cake? Boo.”

She pressed the button to call for the elevator. “You should join us next time, senpai,” Yaoyorozu said with an inviting smile. “It’d be a lot of fun.” “I’d like that. Thanks.” “Senpai...” Ashino paused for a second looking at Ren, stifling a giggle. “… You have some gnarly bed head.” “Ah, yeah. It’ll sort itself out.”

The doors to the elevator dinged open while the three girls idly chatted on the way to the female communal bathroom. Everyone went about their business and grabbed breakfast after changing into their uniforms. Even though their living arrangements have changed, the day-to-day routine in school remained the same.

While the first years were working on their signature moves, the second years were refining theirs alongside battle strategies. Ren’s gym curriculum today was to fight close-range fighters with her quirk; there were only 4 in her class who fell within that range, one of which was her friend Tomoe.

“Alright, Ren-Ren,” Tomoe growled out and prepared herself to transform parts of herself into a porcupine. “Time to get stabby stabbed.” “Really?” she deadpanned and placed her hand on her hip. “That’s your one-liner?” “Please move your body, not your mouth,” their teacher, Snipe, scolded from the sidelines with his arms crossed.

Tomoe took the initiative on the attack by charging at Ren. As her friend got closer, she timed the impact and immediately disappeared.

“Ah this crap again...” the porcupine groaned out and immediately turned, swinging her claw to intercept Ren’s roundhouse kick. “Your moves are getting tiresome!”

Tomoe turned it up a level and decided to try out her new move: Claw Flurry. Going at max speed, she concentrated all of her energy and dove at her with barraging fast swipe attacks. Unable to escape the warpath, Ren pressed a button on one of her cuffs. Within seconds, a pair of clubs phased into her hands. Preparing for impact, she held her arms out in X-formation in hopes of slowing Tomoe down. The clash exploded in a barrage of needles and sparks.

“You’re gonna haveta do more than that!” her friend roared out as she pushed her friend across the ground. All Ren did was smirk and saw glimmer of a reflection. Next thing Tomoe knew, her friend disappeared again and she had a one-way ticket to the far wall.

The pink haired girl reappeared not too far behind, wearing a triumphant smirk.

“You were saying?” All her spiky rodent friend could muster up was a shaky right arm flipping her off.

The rest of the day went by in a flash and classes were over already. “Dude, you gotta do better with your moves. They’re too predictable,” Tomoe complained while rotating her right shoulder. Her face had a small bandage affixed on her left cheek from the collision. “I pretty much knew when you were gonna kick me.” “I can’t help it. It’s muscle memory at this point,” Ren groaned out. “I’m really trying.” “Well try harder or I’m gonna ask for a new sparring partner.” “How about sparring with the underclassmen?” Seri suggested. “I mean, they dunno your quirk and I’m sure you’ll be able to learn a thing or two.” “One of them already wants to 1v1 me.” “Is it the scowling spiky blond one?” Seri and Tomoe asked simultaneously. “I–What the?! How?!” Ren sputtered out. “We developed a psychic quirk,” Seri drawled out, pointing to her temple like some mental person with the tip her of tongue hanging off to the side of her mouth. All Ren did was playfully shove her aside.

After messing around a bit longer, she left her friends to head back to 1-A. As the dorm came into view, something that sounds like crackling lighting could be heard to the far right of the building. Curiosity peaked, Ren decided to check it out and saw a boy with wild viridian green hair glowing and practicing his kicks.

“No, it’s still off...” he muttered to himself, looking through his notes in a notebook he laid on the grass. “Midoriya-kun?”

His shoulders jumped slightly and turned around to meet her curious hazel green eyes.

“Ah, Takahiro-senpai!” he greeted with a lopsided smile. “Good evening.” “What’re you doin’ out here?”

Ren walked closer to Midoriya and sat down beside him, setting her bag down.

“Ah, I was just working on something related to my fighting style,” he shyly explained. “I asked Iida for some advice since he primarily uses his legs to attack due to his quirk.”

As he continued on, she studied the young boy’s features. Whenever he talked about something he’s passionate about, he really lights up more. Noticing her eyes on him, he suddenly got bashful again.

“S-sorry,” he looked down and rubbed the back of his head shyly. “I have a tendency to ramble when I get excited about something.” She softly shook her head. “It’s fine. It’s refreshing,” she replied with a small smile. “But if you really want to sharpen your Shoot Style, you should watch some videos on taekwondo.” “Tae...kwondo?” “It’s a Korean martial art consisting of only kicks,” she explained. “From what I could see before, you’re getting the speed. It’s your form that’s sloppy with too many openings. If your opponent is someone with a quick eye, they’d see through it immediately and your attack would quickly be nullified. This is also something you can look over with Iida, too.”

Midoriya could be seen madly scribbling her advice into the notebook, muttering intensely to himself. She couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it.” Ren stood back up and dusted the grass off of her skirt before picking up her bag. “Don’t stay out here too late, Midoriya-kun.” “You can call me ‘Deku’, Takahiro-senpai.” “And you can call me ‘Ren’, Deku-kun.”

Making her way back to the main entrance, random chatter could be heard from the common room. And for some reason, Uraraka is floating on the ceiling, blushing madly and covering her face. She removed her outside shoes and placed them into her designated locker before swapping to her slippers.

“Uraraka-chan,” Ren called out from below. “You okay up there?” “She’s just in denial she’s in looooveeee,” Aishino’s voice teased, followed by laughter from the rest of the girls. “Miiiinnnaaa!” she squealed out. “It’s not like thaattttt!”

She decided to sit with the girls a bit before settling upstairs for homework. “Ren-senpai!” Hagakure called. “Have you ever been in love?” “Me? Hmm…” she thought about it for a moment. “Would you even call it love?” “Ehhh??? So you have?!?!” Ashino excitedly clamored and climbed on the table. “Who is it? Who? Who? Who?” “No one you guys know.” “Whaattt? Booo~ Then have you had a boyfriend?” Jiro asked. “I did in junior high.” “Now this is regular high school girl talk!” Ashino shouted and air punched from all the excitement. “It wasn’t anything special. We only dated for a few months before we broke up,” Ren disregarded the event and rested her chin on her hand. “Our personalities and interests were just too different. Come to think of it, I gave him my first kiss.”

By this time, Uraraka landed back on the couch and all the girls were in squeal mode.

“So? How was the kiss?” Hagakure squeaked out the question, practically hopping out of her seat for the answer. “… Forgettable. And awkward.” She rubbed the back of her neck uncomfortably. “Sorry to disappoint.” “Uwah, it was that bad?” Jiro groaned out. “It’s not that he was bad. He just… didn’t leave an impression.” “Well then, I hope your next boyfriend will leave a bigger impression then, ribbit,” Asui encouraged with her wide trademark smile. “That’s not gonna be anytime soon,” Ren chuckled and cocked her head at the brown haired girl with a curious smirk. “Buuuut, we can do something ‘bout you.”

She leaned into the brunette’s ear and whispered, “You like Deku-kun, don’tcha? I saw you staring at him when I was outside.”

Her face suddenly burned and turned as red as a cherry tomato. Were she a cartoon right now, she’d have steam coming out of her ears.

“Noooo~ Senpai, not you toooooo!” she shouted as she ran toward the elevator. – The daily grind went on between practicing and studying. Next thing they knew, it was already the night before the provisional license exams.

“Uwah, I just can’t calm down...” Kirishima blurted out, holding his pounding chest and paced. “Can’t sleep either.” “I know right?” Kaminari agreed and crossed his arms. His right leg couldn’t stop shaking. “All we can expect are people with stronger quirks there.” “It’d be nice to have the upper hand so we can get a leg up on our opponents...” Tokoyami thought aloud. “I know I’ll be fine,” Bakugou blurted out. “I’m gonna murder ‘em all.” “If only there was a way we could get some sorta hint to...” Sero trailed off as his eyes wandered to a certain figure walking past them and into the kitchen, suddenly having an idea. “S-senpai! Ren-senpai!”

The girl slowly turned to the common room where the boys were hanging out.

“Hm? What’s up?” “You have your hero license right?” the black haired boy asked. “I do… Why?” “Well, we were wondering… if there was anything you can tell us about how the exams tomorrow so that we’re better prepared for it?”

Ren put a thoughtful finger to her lips, scanning her memories.

“I can’t say anything useful. They change it up every year depending on the examiner...” “Oh is that so...” the boys dejectedly claimed and sighed heavily. “So what did you have to do for yours when you took it, senpai?” Kirishima enquired. “We had to evacuate citizens from an office building that had a bomb threat called in,” Ren remembered. “We then had to find the bomb and deactivate it in a group of four within 30 minutes.”

A dark look suddenly emerged on her face, as if something was in front of her she wanted to kill immediately.

“S-s-senpai?” Kaminari squeaked out, feeling the intimidating aura seeping out of her. “It was a test from hell… Never in my life had I have to dye my hands with so much liquid crimson…” “The darkness she’s exuding...” Tokoyami commented with a slight quiver in his voice. “It’s so dense.” “Did you kill someone?!” Sero exclaimed. “No. The red dye from clipping one of the wires got on my hero costume…” The fingers on her left hand twitched. “It took three days to get the stain out.”

At that moment, the boys thought the same thing: Her aura felt like Bakugou’s whenever he was ready to murder something.

“But that’s all in the past.”

She changed back so fast!, they all thought.

“And you guys’ll be fine; you’re strong,” Ren encouraged. “Out of everyone in this school excluding some 3rd years, you have the most first-hand battle experiences. As long as you use that knowledge to your advantage, you can turn the tides easily.” “Any advice on how to do that?” Kaminari asked with a look of anxiousness.

The upperclassman stayed quiet for a second, trying to search for the best answer to quell his shaky heart.

“Remember the pain you experienced at your lowest point and carve that into your resolve.”

Those words left a strong impact on the boys and all they could respond with was silence. Suddenly remembering the recent events of Bakugou’s kidnapping and what went down at Kamino, the group already knew what they needed to do.

“I-I’m gonna go sleep now,” Kirishima announced. “’Night all.” “Same,” the others blurted out in scatters.

One by one, they filed out of the common room. Except for one person.

“Aizawa-sensei told you everything, didn’t he?” Bakugou enquired. “Not everything,” she calmly responded. “There were a lot of pieces I had to put together.” “So you know our lowest point...” he began. “What was yours?” “Sorry?” “I don’t like repeating myself,” Bakugou growled out with annoyance. “It’s not an answer you’re expecting.” “Try me.”

Ren stared deep into his crimson eyes with her hazel green ones; they were flickering with dark impulses.

“I’ll tell you if you pass the exam tomorrow,” she proposed. “Haah? Is that a challenge?” he cocked his head up. “Maybe.” “That’s not good enough,” the blond boy lulled his head back, staring. “If I win, you have to tell me that and everythin’ ‘bout your quirk.” “… Fine.”

Bakugou scoffed and slowly got off of the couch. Making his way to the elevator, he said within an earshot, “I knew you were the teasing type.” “And what’s that supposed to mean?” she asked with a curiously arched eyebrow, stopping him in his steps. “Whatever you want it to mean, senpai.” As he walked away, Ren suddenly remembered one thing: the U.A. hazing tradition at the exam. … I’m sure Aizawa will fill them in, she thought.

–

A/N: *Hafu: someone who’s born with one Japanese and non-Japanese parent.

Read Ch. 3

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