#one day I’ll be better at drawing people in a recognizable way

[friedrich-2]

Tf when your abusive father is dead

(It’s supposed to be young Fritz)

[syaolaurant]

Hello hello, I love your work and was wondering if you'd be open to making a little breakdown of your art style?

It's really interesting to me and I love taking bits of different artists art style elements and incorporating them into my doodles to get better

Totally okay if you don't want to! 💜💜💜

Take care and have an amazing life 🤗💜☺️

Hello!! Thanks for asking 🤗 I'm not making a little breakdown of my art style I already WROTE A WHOLE ESSAY ABOUT IT!!

Sorry I exaggerated it a bit🥲🥲...

I was very happy to receive this ask, but at the same time I felt worried. Honestly, I didn’t know how to give you a relevant answer because  I don’t even think I have a consistent art style 🥲. Except for my usual chibi style which I feel most comfortable with, I feel my style constantly changes. So after going back to review my old paintings, I think my style is a combination of children's book illustrations and Japanese anime style. Many times I have received comments about my paintings looking like they are from children's books, and I agree haha, maybe because I mostly draw small characters in big settings and I usually use bright colors. 

My favorite artists:

My drawing style is mostly influenced by my all time favorite artists Heikala and Koyamori, I stumbled across their Insta accounts during my 1st year in college (that was 10 years ago) and from then my drawing style gradually took shape. I also admire Paulina Cassidy, mostly because I like her whimsical nature sprites theme. Recently I’ve been investing in Stephanie Law’s artwork, her coloring technique is so god-like that I hope one day I can reach that level…

Ideas and Inspirations:

Japanese anime/manga culture has had a great impact on my childhood. It was a dream come true for me to be able to pursue my college study in Japan. I think this journey greatly affected my current style. I draw lots of things from small doodles to funny comics. I'd describe my drawings as “silly and cute” since I love to make people laugh and I also live for the fluffs (Sometimes I drew angst too but it still turned out cute haha..). Aside from that,  I prefer making “storytelling” illustrations with colorful backgrounds. My favorite things to draw are tiny characters in big scenery, I like to create peaceful static moments that when looking at them help warm my heart and calm my mind. 

When making game fanarts, I usually take screenshots as references for background and imagine how the character will act in that setting. I just do what I feel comfortable and use my own judgment for composition … which… sometimes results in weird perspectives (and you know what I’ve just discovered the rule of third recently 😅…). 

Characters:

When it comes to drawing characters, I honestly don't know how to explain my style. I think chibi is my most recognizable style, apart from that I usually draw characters in semi-chibi (is it the right way to call it??) or simple anime style. I don’t usually draw characters with dynamic poses or movements ( that’s why I still suck at anatomy and expression 😩😩). I think I’m shifting from anime to a more cartoon style since I kinda have same face problem and  I’m trying to practice face shapes.

I think my character drawing style is most influenced by Akihiko Yoshida (who is behind many FF/Nier/ bravely default concepts), as I always draw my characters with chubby round faces and dreamy eyes. I made an example of how I usually draw my characters below.

Technique: 

Watercolor technique is quite complex so I’ll explain how I always do my paintings in another sharing post. I’ve posted part 1 of my sharing here. Generally, I love using bright, saturated tones and black ink brush pen or color brush to paint line work. 

. I hope I could answer your question. I’m definitely no expert, all the things about art I've learn was self-taught but I'm happy to help anyway I can. 💕💕

And you 🫵🫵 yes you dear sweet anon! I wish you a happy life too!!!! 💕💕

[denimbex1986]

'Picture the scene, if you will: It’s sometime in the Before Time, in the blissful ignorance of the late 2010s, and I tell you about two new summer movies that are about to premiere. One is a superhero flick featuring the long-awaited return of an iconic actor in the role that made his career. The other is a prestige, 3-hour-long biopic that consists almost entirely of a bunch of guys sitting in rooms talking. Which one would you expect to flop, and which one would you bet on to bring in almost a billion dollars worldwide? Yes, that’s purely rhetorical.

It’s a funny thing to think about, though, because earlier this year I was excited about two summer releases that fit those exact descriptions. But it seems that in our topsy-turvy, post-pandemic world, the box office really has been turned upside down because Oppenheimer became a worldwide sensation just about a month after The Flash crashed and burned. (Yes, this is me admitting I was excited for The Flash. Just roll with it.) What the heck happened?

As a movie lover generally and a champion of the theatrical experience more specifically, I will admit to being particularly anxious about the fate of the cinema as an institution after the pandemic. We all spent the better part of two years cooped up in our apartments, avoiding any semblance of crowded public spaces, and learned to just stream the latest blockbusters from the comfort of our living rooms. It’s only logical that after getting so comfortable with couch viewing, it would take more than a little coaxing to get us all back in line for the popcorn. My fear is that, when push comes to shove, not enough of us will be lured back to keep the cinema as we know it alive. And there’s good reason for me to feel that way, as the aggregate box office numbers are still significantly below where they were in 2019.

Do the shocking financial performances of The Flash and Oppenheimer offer us some clues as to the secrets of the weird post-COVID box office? Maybe, but first and foremost they tell us a great deal about those two movies. Context is everything, after all. The Flash is a long-delayed movie starring an actor who is more famous for assaulting people than for their filmography, all set in a cinematic universe that was announced by the studio (itself suffering the growing pains of a recent merger) to be defunct about 6 months before the film’s release. Oppenheimer, on the other hand, is the passion project of one of the most recognizable big-movie directors of our time—himself a significant box office draw—starring a murderer’s row of A-list actors that benefitted from a viral social media association with Barbie, the summer’s biggest movie in the lead up to its release. So yeah, there’s that.

But I do think these two movies tell us a little more than that. They are the perfect illustration of the truth of the current box office, which is that people won’t just go to the movies reflexively anymore. Gone are the days of paying to see absolute schlock because you’re at least out of the house. Indoor activities simply aren’t anyone’s first idea of a good time these days. (As a side note, I’ll point out that there’s evidence, at least in places like my home base of Richmond, that people are turning to outdoor entertainment like minor league baseball instead.) If people are going to leave the cushy, inviting embrace of their couches, you’re going to have to show them something new and enticing.

And as The Flash can attest, we’ve all seen plenty of superhero movies already. But it’s been a while since we all had a chance to see something directed by Christopher Nolan (Tenet doesn’t count because, you know, COVID), and even longer since we’ve seen anything with Josh Hartnett in it. That probably has something to do with why Oppenheimer is likely to outgross four of the last six MCU releases by the end of its run...

I do strongly believe that the movie theater business will have to adapt to our post-COVID environment, where people won’t show up to the cinema quite like they used to. That could be a good thing too, as lower attendance will likely force filmmakers to lower their budgets. I’d love nothing more than to see the demise of the bloated, behemothic, in favor of more mid-budget and independent films. You heard me right: Give me less Fast X. Bring on the Cocaine Bear.'

[kujakumai]

Happy Place

(AO3 Link)

"Aren't you Seto Kaiba?" asked the boy, no more than eight, with a gap between his front teeth and a KaibaLand t-shirt. "Why're you in line? Won't they just let you on the ride?"

"Cutting is against the rules." he said, as if that explained everything.

(Very short quick bit of fluff, 700 words. I have one weakness and it’s Seto Kaiba being nice to children.)

He was standing in line for the ride, on a bright, busy Saturday. He was wearing normal clothes, not an elaborate trench coat, maybe attempting for once to be lowkey. Sometimes you just wanted to visit your own theme park without drawing a crowd. Still, he'd been on TV too many times, leaving himself recognizable to the sharp-eyed observer. Mokuba standing next to him, signature bushy hair and all, removed any doubt.

"Are you Seto Kaiba?" asked the boy in line behind him, probably around eight years old, with a noticeable gap between his front teeth and a KaibaLand t-shirt.

"Yes." he answered, barely glancing down. Nothing in his face moved.

"Why're you in line, then? Won't they just let you on?"

"Cutting is against the rules." he said, as if that explained everything.

A young girl in front of him, with orange ribbons in her hair, let go of her moms hand to come see. "What's your favorite color?" she asked, eagerly.

"Purple."

"That's not true," said the first boy, an expert, his arms crossed. "It's blue, you're lying--"

"What's your favorite animal?" she asked.

"Tigers."

"That's not true either you big fat liar I know it's--"

"Oh! Oh!" said a third child, a boy in a baseball cap no more than five, crowding over. "I can make a really good tiger sound, d'you wanna hear?"

"Sure."

There was a minor commotion, people further down the line trying to see what was going on, parents chastising their kids and keeping them from running off. Security raised a few eyebrows, looked like they would intervene, and Mokuba silently waived them off with a smile and a gesture.

"RAAAAAAARGH!!!!!" The kid yelled, claws up.

"Impressive." Kaiba nodded curtly in approval.

A slightly older girl with pigtails and a tutu, holding some kind of sparkly plastic wand, shoved someone out of the way to get his attention. "You know Mr. Pegasus, right? Can you make him put a pink dragon card in the game?" She stomped her foot. "Because I really like dragons but my favorite color is pink and there's NO pink dragon in the game and it's not fair I want a pink one."

"Couldn't agree more. I will put my best people on it."

She put a hand on her hip. "My name is Chiyo, can you tell him it was from me? If you could name the dragon after me too, that would be really--"

The first girl, or maybe yet another one, jumped in, nearly hopping up and down. "I got this fuzzy new hairclip and it has dark magician girl on it can I put it on your hair?"

"I'll have to decline."

"How old are you?" asked a boy.

"Ten thousand." he deadpanned.

"You LIAR! He's probably only like twenty-five or something--"

"Mr. Kaiba d'you want to meet my brother?"

"If he's okay with it."

"Oh he's only two he doesn't understand anything, all he does it put stuff in his mouth, like yesterday when he chewed up my favorite doll's whole face and I was soooooo mad. Baby brothers are super annoying."

"Yeah, they can be." He got an elbow in the side from Mokuba, for that one.

They had reached the front of the line but no one around him was interested in the ride anymore. The attendant, a little confused, let the next handful of families go around them and get on.

He'd come to the amusement park that day specifically trying to avoid a crowd. Not all crowds were equal, though. Some crowds were decidedly better than others. Some you really didn't mind at all.

Seto Kaiba did not get to ride that particular coaster that day. He spent the next hour surrounded, hearing one kid rattle off interesting facts about beluga whales for some reason, another one asking intently why he puts belts on his shoes, a few questions about how to get better at duel monsters, at least one politely refused request to braid his hair, a rambling story about one child's possibly-fictional dog that didn't really go anywhere, and several questions about why he was so tall, all of which he listened to patiently, while wearing the tiniest smile.

[sivsii]

How did you go from drawing animals to drawing humans? How did you adapt? I'm having a hard time doing it...

Honestly I really struggled with it for a long time, too. I spent like 2 or 3 years trying to practice human anatomy and very occasionally doing the odd piece of fanart here and there, but it was hard for me to translate anything I was learning into casual art and gain actual mileage until I got into critical role and was motivated to be drawing every week. Being able to separate myself from that “practice practice practice” mindset and become less analytical while I drew meant that any practice/study I was doing was less “I’m practicing aimlessly with no clear end-result to motivate me” and more “I wanna draw a thing I like > I don’t know how to draw this particular thing > I’m going to problem-solve until I figure it out > I drew a thing I like!” and then repeat. Basically, practice as a problem-solving means to an enjoyable end, rather than the end itself. It’s still hard, and time-consuming and frustrating for a while, but in my experience it was a far more productive way of learning than trying to separate practicing and drawing into two different things.

That all said, tho:

Tracing is your best friend when you’re trying to draw something new. Find some reference photos, trace them in a way that breaks them down into simple shapes, and then reference those tracings and redraw the pose. This does two things: the tracing helps build muscle-memory and familiarize yourself with the body without having to do a ton of thinking - a pretty relaxing/mindless and quick exercise to do as warm-ups. And then referencing that tracing can (again) help build muscle-memory through repetition, but also gives you a more more simplified form to recreate without getting lost in details. I do this both as occasional practice sessions and when I want references for actual drawings I’m doing, which is actually pretty often still

As a slightly more intensive version of this exercise: you can also look at (artistic) references of musculature, and then look at reference photos to try and to identify where the most recognizable muscles are and how they work in action.

That all said, the human body is squishy as fuck. Like seriously, knowing skeletal/muscle landmarks is fine and all, but my art really improved once I started recognizing how mailable and inconsistent most forms are. To help with that, an exercise I like is to doodle lumpy shapes either as general warm-up, or when I’m tracing/referencing a photo like in the aforementioned exercises. It helps with line confidence and comfortability.

One of the things I struggled with was style consistency. Knowing that I had something established in one area of drawing but not in another really tripped me up, but the sooner I got out of my own head about trying to manufacture a style, the sooner I was productively learning. A style will develop naturally as a result of personal influence and developing your own shorthand, and will eventually merge with or existing styles.

Watch how other people do things. Borrow their stylistic quicks and shorthands and try them out for yourself. Tutorials and walk-throughs of people explaining their processes is something I like having on in the background, and it can be surprising what you absorb through them.

It might just be because I’m an absolute nerd, but I could pour over anatomy/art books all day, and I’m certain that they’ve positively influenced my art in the last few years even tho I never actually read through them. I’ll reblog with a list of recs, but books on either art anatomy or books of concept/development art are both super valuable to at least browse through.

I wish I was better at offering advice, but really all I can close out with is how important I think it is for you to find something you enjoy drawing. Practice sessions are good, but it’s really valuable to problem-solve as a means of learning, and not get caught in the mindset of “drawing and practicing are separate things, and I need to practice X amount of times before I can start drawing things I like” really just go for it and try to enjoy yourself. There are so many ways to practice, and no chronological way of going about it. It’s kinda just a process of bouncing around, finding what works and when, and learning as you go. It’s gonna be frustrating and hard at first, but you gotta push through and eventually you’ll see progress.

[thehaitanis]

𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔤𝔢𝔱 𝔧𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔰: 𝔰𝔞𝔫𝔷𝔲, 𝔯𝔞𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔪𝔞

❮★❯ summary: how will sanzu haruchiyo, haitani ran and hanma shuji act when they get jealous.

❮★❯ warnings: none, maybe bad writing.

❮★❯ disclaimer: english is not my first language, so forgive me for any mistakes.

sanzu is definitely one to get jealous and he is more than conscious about this. he knows himself and you enough to know that not everything you do is a reason to put him in a bad mood, but sometimes he just can’t help but feel like you’re doing all of that on purpose, is it really that bad that he wants to make sure you’re by his side every time you’re together? no, sanzu is just trying to protect you while he does his job assisting muto.

it doesn’t take him any more than just one second to make him feel like someone’s trying to take you away from him, like, he just needs you to look uncomfortable for him to act, leaving whatever he’s doing to appear by your side and, even if he’s not as tall or as strong as other toman’s members, his cold eyes and the fact that he has peculiar scars are everything he needs to scare the person away. he won’t even try to hide how jealous he is, he doesn’t care really, sanzu just wants them away from you so he could continue with what he was doing before someone decided to try their luck.

he tends to be mean to people he doesn’t like, so expect no less of him if he happens to open his mouth because what’s about to happen will leave with a pounding headache and the reminder to never have an argument with your boyfriend.

it’ll be pretty obvious just how jealous he is, you would know what he is feeling but not the reason behind it and it’s not like he will tell you, so you’ll have to investigate the possible causes for his sour mood. it’ll look like he is mad but, in reality, he’s just going through the very same scenario that made him feel like that, thinking of different ways he could’ve approached the situation to not make it that obvious.

sanzu will accept his jealousy only if you push him to. he’ll gladly die with his envious feelings before even coming close to accepting the fact that he doesn’t like to see you paying attention to anyone that’s not him, at least not the special attention you always give him. that is something he holds dear to his heart and would completely refuse to share.

he doesn't get jealous, not at all, he has never in his life felt jealous, not even when stupid guys try to get closer to you by faking some kind of accident, no, he never feels the need to beat their faces until they’re not recognizable anymore. that, obviously, is a lie because haitani ran is the ceo of reading to dirt anyone that thinks they can get close to you with those intentions without any consequences.

as confident as he is, it wouldn't take long before he begins to feel jealous. it would start as mere amusement, finding funny that someone had the guts to approach you when you’re clearly being surrounded by the haitani brothers and a bunch of other dangerous criminals that act under their command, but ran let’s them be, observing with interest as this stranger tries to get you to give your name and your phone number. then he’ll make a stupid joke in hopes of getting you in a better mood and there is where ran will draw the line. he knows you’re only laughing because you’re nice, but that doesn’t take away the fact that he feels the sudden urge to kill that idiot right there.

he’ll approach this person with confidence, a fake smile plastered on his face and an aura that can repel whoever is around. he’ll be “nice” every moment he gets to talk, making hurtful comments that will either make the stranger leave or make the situation extremely uncomfortable. whatever it is, you just need to be prepared for ran to be in his absolutely worst mood once he scares the person away.

although he won’t treat you any differently, you’ll know something it’s up with him the moment you’re alone. usually, ran is the one always doing the talking, speaking of everything that comes to his mind but now it’s you the one who’s doing all the talking

he won’t ever admit his jealousy mostly because he doesn’t want you to think lowly of him, trying to keep the oh so perfect image he worked so hard to keep, but he will definitely be way more affective with you for the rest of the day to compensate for his behaviour.

i think hanma is one of the characters that can get the most jealous in tr mostly because his personality is very volatile. as we have seen before, hanma only acts under his own interests so it wouldn’t be rare to see him getting mad when something doesn’t go the way he planned or when something takes his fun away from him.

even if he gets easily jealous, it would take a lot of time before he realizes what he’s feeling, mistaking it at first by simple annoyance when he sees you leaving to talk to someone else. just where are you going? weren’t you telling him about your day? his relaxed smile dropping the moment he sees you laugh with the one he was left for. it would take someone else to point out the fact that he might be jealous for him to realize that he actually is and, the moment he accepts it, it’s the moment all the fun you were having is gone because there’s no way you can ignore the tension in the air when suddenly you feel hanma’s arms circling your shoulders, his chin resting on top of your head while he gives an obviously fake smile to the person in front. it’ll be best if you just leave, pretending you both have something else to do in hopes hanma will let the problem go.

hanma is pretty much an asshole to everyone except you, so as you can imagine his behaviour towards the other person will be anything but kind. he’ll pretend as if nothing’s happening, including himself in the conversation you were having in hopes the person will get the point that he’s only faking his laugh. i feel like he’ll also be the type to put threats into his words in hopes to create a fight like the troublemaker he is.

i’ll be pretty obvious to you that he’s jealous, this guy won’t even try to hide it because, at the end of the day, it really makes him feel like you’re the only one that can get him that worked out without even being responsible for it.

hanma will one hundred percent admit his jealousy and he will do it in the most hypocritical way, finding it funny that even someone like him can get jealous. this will also show you just how much he cares about you, so please don’t go talking to other people if you were previously beside him.

❮★❯ requests are: closed!

[let-them-read-fics]

Empress of the Heart (Pt. 1)

Requested By Anon: "Reader is an actress, and she meets Jennie at an event. They have a one night stand afterward, and months later they meet again." (It was a long request so I had to sum it up lol)

Pairing: Jennie x Fem!Actress!Reader

Word Count: ~ 9,351 😳 (Both parts combined)

Warnings / Misc. -- Smut / Suggestive Themes, Angst, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hello again! Guys, I'm actually really proud of this one. It gets better as it goes on. I hope you enjoy it (you'd better, because I stayed up until 8am writing again 🥴😂). I had to split this story into two parts to appease the Tumblr overlords, just so we’re clear.

♡ Happy reading ♡

Part 2

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

"Who's that?" Rosé asks, leaning in closer to the maknae as she points to a slightly recognizable face in the crowd. 

"I dunno," Lisa shrugs, throwing a thumb over her shoulder, "ask Jisoo." The Australian does as she says, padding over to seek out an answer from their unnie. 

"Y/N L/N, I believe. Her company is supposed to make a big announcement later." Jisoo informs, adding a nod to the end of her statement for certainty. Jennie stands beside them all, taking in the crowd of staff and business people hailing from all of the most powerful entertainment companies in Korea. The big dogs have all gathered here tonight to drop some major announcements for their upcoming projects and set up arrangements for future endeavors. 

"What do you think it'll be?" Jennie asks, eyes still trained on you as you converse with a famous actress. Her breath catches in her throat when you throw your head back, eyes filling with tears of laughter at something the high class woman said. You're absolutely stunning. 

"It could be anything, honestly. Her company's full of talent in every category." 

"Yeah, their newest girl group broke a record for Youtube streams in the first hour after release. Still didn't beat ours, though," Lisa adds with a smug look, holding her head a little higher. She's only playing, of course -- she's one of the most humble people Jennie knows. 

"She's really pretty," Jennie breathes out, speaking the words that have been rolling around in her mind since she laid eyes on you. The other girls adamantly agree, nodding their heads with purpose. 

"Do you wanna go talk to her? YG would probably like that; maybe we can let Jisoo do a little schmoozing." Rosé smirks, playfully nudging the unnie. Jisoo rolls her eyes with an amused scoff, quickly swatting the blonde's hand away. 

"I don't know, she seems pretty busy." Her words are unsure, weary -- her normal confidence is wavering a bit, now replaced with some type of nervousness that she can't quite explain. This isn't like her; why is she so anxious?

"Come on, it'll be fun." Lisa decides for them, leading the way with Jennie's hand clutched in her own; the brunette would surely slip away otherwise. 

They approach you from an angle, caught right in your blind spot as you continue your small talk with a new business exec. The man sees the girls behind you, waiting for their turn, and after a few more moments he leaves you with an office number to reach him by.

"Good evening… Y/N, right?" Jisoo leads politely, smiling as you turn to face them. You look even more dazzling up close, and Jennie's posture stiffens. She's definitely seen you somewhere before.

"That's me," you say sweetly, greeting all of them and committing their names to memory. 

"Jennie," she introduces, stretching a hand out to you. Your eyes flutter down to it before you grasp it within your own, the simple action appearing unbelievably cute to her.

"How're you doing tonight? I hear you've got some big news for us." Lisa wiggles her eyebrows, voice bouncy with anticipation.

You giggle, and Jennie thinks it may just be the sweetest thing she's ever heard. "It's a little hectic, if I'm honest, but I'm enjoying myself. What about you guys? And you'll just have to wait and see what we have in store for you." You end the sentence with a wink that just happened to be directed at Jennie, despite Lisa being the one to ask the question. She tries to fight the blush that soon rises to her cheeks. 

"We're doing well, I'd say. It's actually kind of nice to get out of the dorm and meet some new people." Rosé says almost wistfully, her eyes sending a fleeting glance around the room at her statement. 

"I know how that can feel. When I was first starting out I didn't get many opportunities for roles. But then I met my manager at the café I picked up a second job at, and the rest is history." You smile softly at the memory, recalling the events of that fateful day. You can't imagine where you'd be right now if things had played out differently. 

"You're an actress?" Jisoo asks, sounding like she just put two-and-two together. You nod at her, noticing the way that Jennie looks at you in deep thought. You can practically see the wheels turning. 

"So that's where I recognize you from. You guest starred in that JTBC miniseries earlier this year, didn't you?" 

"Ding ding ding, we have a winner." You smile, bowing your head in praise. It warms your heart to see her face light up, knowing that she finally felt that rush of putting her finger on the elusive thoughts in her head. Pulling knowledge you previously believed forgotten from the foggy depths of your brain is a rewarding experience in itself, and you're pleased that she remembered you. 

"I'm glad I made an impression during my short time on screen," you quirk, leaning in closer to her. 

"With skills like yours? You're unmatched, Y/N." She flirts, finally finding her bearings again. Her confidence is returning now, slowly but surely, and she pats herself on the back for not hiding behind her hands when you send her a tempting smile. 

"Ah, you're too kind--" you begin, only to be cut off by a tap on your shoulder. It's one of your co-stars.

"Good evening, ladies," he bows, "I'm sorry to break this up, but Y/N is needed by management." 

Your shoulders sag at this, his words sinking in. You'd much rather spend the night tucked away with the girls, getting to know them better -- especially Jennie, who makes your heart speed up anytime she looks at you. 

"I hate to go," they nod in agreement, sad to have to part ways. They really enjoyed speaking with you, and they'd be lying if they said they wanted to stop anytime soon. 

"But maybe I'll catch you later?" The question sounds hopeful, albeit a bit unsure as you scrunch your face up. They affirm that they'd "like that very much," and your shoulders relax a bit. Maybe there's still some hope for you all. 

◇◇◇◇◇  2 Hours Later  ◇◇◇◇◇

"Exactly! She shouldn't have forgiven him after that," you rant to Jisoo, talking about some characters from your favorite kdrama. 

"Babo, I tell you." She says dramatically, rolling her eyes. The action garners a chuckle from you, and Jennie finds herself smiling as she follows along with the conversation. She must've made her staring too obvious, because a minute later your eyes meet hers from across the table. She blinks, surprise etched gracefully into her features, and she clears her throat. Both of you have been stealing glances at one another all night, and things have only ramped up since you snuck away from management to see them again. You assured them you wouldn't get in trouble, but that was honestly the last thing on your mind. 

From her seat across from you, Jennie can see the curve of your body, your silhouette highlighted by the lights that shine on the wall behind you. They're dimmed somewhat to give a comfortable, soft glow to the room, and they contrast with the perfect curve of your face. She lets her eyes trail lower, admiring the expanse of your chest and how your fingers rest against the table, mindlessly playing with the expensive tablecloth. 

What you do next makes her choke on the water she had so bravely dared to take a drink of. 

You lean forward slightly, just enough for her to see your cleavage, while still appearing inconspicuous and innocent. The smirk you try to suppress tells her you know exactly what you're doing, and her cheeks grow hot. 

"Excuse me," she mutters to the table, quickly standing and all but running outside for some fresh air. She wants -- needs -- to put some distance between the two of you if she plans to have any self control. 

Cool air immediately greets her as she steps outside, hearing the sleek automatic door slide shut behind her. She can breathe now, and begin to soothe her racing mind. Despite only knowing you for the better part of 4 hours, she's already attracted to you. Way more than she cares to admit, as she presses her thighs together to put out the fire you started within her. 

No more than 5 minutes later, the doors slide open once more. 

"Everything alright?" You ask, tone dripping with amusement as you take in her flustered state. It's obvious that she's okay, just simply turned on. 

"Never better," she mumbles, glancing up at you with a lopsided smile. 

"You know, you ran out pretty fast back there. You sure know how to worry a girl." You fake a pout at her. 

"Oh, you don't say?" She plays along, approaching you with what few shreds of confidence she has left. She tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, whispering into it, "Well, I'm all good." 

"Wanna see for yourself?" She continues, drawing back slightly to take your hands within her own and wrap them around her waist. She smiles as they roam over her body, making sure to be thorough as you "check her out." 

She groans when your hand grazes over a sweet spot on her thigh, causing you to pause and tut at her, "Tsk tsk, Jennie. It looks like I'll have to inspect this a little further." She gulps at your words, mind clouded once again by filthy thoughts of you. 

"Let's get out of here," she suggests, taking your hand to lead you away. You chuckle at her eagerness, only capable of nodding as she basically drags you to her car. 

◇◇◇◇◇

Despite feeling like two horny teenagers, you and Jennie actually opted to slow things down and get to know each other more. She's one of the most interesting people you've ever met, and you could listen to her talk for hours on end. The feeling is beyond mutual, and she doesn't mind that she has to wait a little longer to have you. The promise of what the night will hold for the two of you thrills her, and the anticipation only heightens her feelings.

Takeout containers lay abandoned in her car, long forgotten about as you sit next to each other on the hood. The chilly surface of the windshield presses against your back, making you all the more thankful for having had the foresight to wear a coat tonight. You make a mental note to thank your stylist for the suggestion. 

Stars are beginning to twinkle in the distance, slowly coming out of their peaceful slumber to greet the evening sky. They bring to mind all the nights you spent in your backyard as a child, laid out on a warm blanket as you gazed up into space. Back when only trivial issues existed in your world, leaving you with an unscarred heart and unadulterated outlook on life. Those times were simple, only complicated by whatever drama was going on at school or what new person your friends liked. Back then you had no idea of what the future held for you -- what you'd end up doing with your life. If you had a chance to talk to your younger self, you'd tell her to enjoy those days as much as possible; to not take them for granted for even a second. 

Everyday you're reminded that fame is truly a blessing and a curse -- you miss the days that you could roam the streets freely with whomever you wanted to, not having to worry about paparazzi or the media, but you're thankful for where you are now. You get to do what you love, everyday, and make money from it -- it's what everyone wishes for in life; and although you've worked your ass off to get here, you owe a lot of credit to the fans. 

"It's so beautiful up here," Jennie says, voice stuck between a whisper and sigh as she lays her head on your shoulder. 

"You see that building over there, with the orange lights and trees around it?" You ask, pointing in the direction of the building. Her eyes follow the invisible path your finger makes, and she spots it, nodding for you to continue. 

"My mom used to work there; it's a daycare. I always loved helping out. The kids were so adorable." A bittersweet smile plays on your lips as you look down at your lap, clearly reminiscing. Jennie notices, brushing a strand of hair out of your face as she says, "I bet you miss it." 

"I do," you sigh, clenching your jaw briefly, "those were the days. Seoul's home, but sometimes it feels so distant."

"I know how that feels." You don't miss the way her eyes cast down, a hint of sadness behind them, her fingers toying with yours on her thigh. Life in the spotlight isn't all it's cracked up to be, and neither of you are strangers to that all too familiar pang of longing. 

"I'm happy to be here with you tonight, though," you try to turn the conversation cheery again, and Jennie's thankful for that. "I haven't had this much fun in a long time." 

Your plan works, and soon she's pepping up. "Me neither. Being with you feels...different. In a good way." Your smile widens exponentially when she adds, "A very good way." 

"Don't get too cheesy on me, now," you roll your eyes teasingly, wrapping both of your arms around her and pulling her flush up against your body. She lays her head on your chest, reveling in the scent of your perfume and the warmth radiating from you. Her hand comes to rest against your ribs, lightly rubbing patterns against them as the two of you continue star gazing. She can feel your heartbeat pick up when she slides her hand downwards, playing with the hem of your shirt innocently. 

Does she have any idea what she's doing to you?

Yes, yes she does. After all, your body is basically selling you out at this point. 

"Y/N?" 

"Mmm?" You hum, eyes closed and head leaned back against the windshield. Her skin is soft against yours, and your shared warmth has put you at ease.

"Do you wanna go somewhere? I really don't want the night to be over yet." Your heart flutters at her words; the fact that a woman such as Jennie is so reluctant to leave you is baffling in itself. 

"I'd love that, Jennie. What did you have in mind?" 

For a moment, Jennie's mind takes it there. She allows herself to imagine what it would be like to feel your skin against hers, connection unrestricted by clothing; how your kisses would feel against her lips, her body; what beautiful sounds you would make as she pushed you closer and closer to the edge. She can't deny how attracted she is to you, nor does she want to; but she also doesn't want to ruin the innocent moments you're sharing. She doesn't want to taint them with the lustful ideas that flood her mind anytime you give her that look, or caress her thigh absentmindedly. 

"How does the park sound?" 

"With you? There's nowhere I'd rather be." 

Despite her efforts, Jennie blushes at your statement, feeling that embarrassing warmth creep up the back of her neck. You've made her blush more in the span of one night than she previously had in her entire life, and that boosts your confidence tenfold.

"Who's being cheesy now, huh?" She asks, pinching your side playfully as she sits up. Her legs swing around until she's fully facing you, sitting criss-cross as the two of you smile at one another. 

Neither of you move for a while, both content with just admiring each other's beauty. Her fingers lace with yours, and after a moment she brings your hand up to her lips to lay a kiss to it. The action -- more so, how soft her lips are against your skin -- catches you off guard, and your breathing hitches. All at once, you're acutely aware of how badly you want to kiss her. 

As if things couldn't get anymore tempting, her tongue darts out of her mouth to soothe her lips, making them glisten in the dying light of the evening. 

She sees your eyes dart down to them, and her body leans closer to you ever so slightly, seemingly having a mind of its own. You meet her gaze again, silently asking for permission as you glance back down at her lips. She responds by giving one single nod before leaning in close enough that your noses almost brush against each other. 

"You're stunning." The compliment sounds breathy as it slips out of your mouth, but you're beyond caring at this point. Your pride was thrown out the window the second Jennie showed interest in you. 

"Don't look at me like that," she says, gently biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from closing the distance. She wants you to be the one to do it.

"Like what?" 

"Like you're undressing me with your eyes." Her gaze casts down to your lips again, seemingly glued there as she watches them move when you speak your reply.

"You act like you weren't doing the same thing at the event." Her confidence falters momentarily, but she fights to hold her ground. "My colleagues even noticed it, babe -- you've gotta get better at hiding your attraction." You say with a chuckle, watching as Jennie's eyes grow wider. Had she really made it so obvious?

"We wouldn't be here right now if I was good at hiding it, so I think you owe me one." 

"Touché," you say, quirking an eyebrow in thought. She's right, as usual. "How can I ever make it up to you?" Your voice wiggles dramatically, face contorting in a mock apology. 

"I know a way," she says lowly, smiling as your hand finds its way to her knee a moment later. You hook your fingers in the crook of it, drawing a surprised gasp from her as she falls forward and into your arms. 

Here goes nothing. 

You raise your left hand to her cheek, brushing the back of your fingers against it gently as you build up the nerve to kiss her. Your other arm is wrapped securely around her waist in order to hold her steady above you. 

Her palms are pressed to the glass behind you, and her hair falls gracefully around you, creating a little curtain to shield you from the outside world. Finally gaining enough courage, you press your lips to hers in a soft kiss. It's slow and mild as you set a sensual rhythm, growing accustomed to the taste of each other. She sighs into your mouth as you reposition her so that she's straddling your lap. 

"Y/N, we're never gonna make it to the park if you keep kissing me like that." She warns, though her words hold no real threat at all. She wants this just as much as you do. 

You lay a trail of light kisses up her neck, all of them far too gentle for her liking right now. "Is this better, your highness?" You ask smugly, smiling against her throat as a frustrated sigh leaves her lips.

She places a hand on your chest to push you up against the glass, letting her fingers skim over your collarbone. Just as she's about to pounce, the sound of your phone ringing interrupts the moment. It vibrates in your pocket, right between Jennie's thighs, and you stifle a giggle at the reaction it would've drawn from her had you not quickly retrieved it. 

"Hello?" You ask, realizing you hadn't even bothered to check the caller ID. Jennie sits back on your legs, allowing her hands to rest on your hips and draw soothing circles.

"Y/N, I hate to tell you this on such short notice, but you have a new interview scheduled for tomorrow morning at 10AM. I'll send you all the details later." 

You sigh at your manager's words, running a hand over your face to relax yourself. The announcement party was supposed to signal the end of your busy week, but of course life just couldn't work in your favor for once. Now you'd be stuck in some random line of questioning, unable to give them any real answers for the sake of keeping spoilers from getting out. You can think of about a million things you'd rather be doing tomorrow morning, and one of them is sitting on your lap right now. 

"Yeah, okay. I'll talk to you later." You wait for him to say his goodbye before ending the call and turning back to Jennie with an apologetic look. 

"Sorry for ruining the moment." 

"You didn't ruin anything. But luckily for you…" she leans forward again, pressing a kiss to your lips that makes your heart stop for a second, "I can be very merciful." You nearly melt at her words, paired with how she whispers them in your ear. Her warm breath fans over your neck, rendering you speechless as you pull her back to your lips. 

This kiss is different -- full of passion and desire as you grow more used to each other. She raises up on her knees, towering over you as she stares down at you. You look so beautiful right now, your eyes appearing big as you look up into hers, waiting for her next move. She runs her hands through your hair before settling them on your cheeks, cupping the smooth skin and rubbing the pad of her thumb across it. You drag your nails up and down her exposed thighs, and you pat yourself on the back when you notice the trail of goosebumps they leave behind. 

"I actually do wanna go to the park with you, if that's alright. There's something I want to show you. I definitely want to continue this later, though." You say.

She nods at that, a smile making its way to her face that can't possibly be wiped away. As much as she wants to have you writhing underneath her, screaming her name, she can wait. She's content with making as many memories as possible with you tonight, and she's intrigued by the surprise you're hinting at.

A few gentle kisses later, you slide off the hood and help her down before going to open her car door for her. 

"Such a gentlewoman," she praises, pursing her lips at you. 

"Only for you," you wink, making her giggle. 

You quickly make your way to the driver's seat, set on getting to the park ASAP in order to spend as much time as you can with Jennie. After all, you can only stay up so late tonight if you want to be functioning for that interview tomorrow… and let's just say that you plan on being busy later. 

---------

"Voila!" You declare, motioning to some playground equipment in the kid's section of the sizable park. Of all the things she was guessing at, Jennie did not see this coming. 

"What, you came to show me monkey bars, Y/N? I've seen plenty of them--" She asks incredulously, looking around the area filled with miniature tables and chairs to go along with the equipment. 

"What? No, no. I used to play here when I was growing up, and my friend's and I had a secret hiding spot. We always stashed our favorite little knick knacks in it, and we promised we'd only show it to people we deemed worthy."

Jennie watches as your eyes light up at the recounting of such a dear memory, and she grins widely. You truly are a five year old at heart. 

"This is the first time I've been back here, since…" you trail off, realizing just how many years it's been. Being at such a different point in your life while standing in a place you frequented as a child is a weird juxtaposition that you weren't prepared for, but you push it from your mind.

"Anyway, I think you're pretty worthy." You joke, sizing her up. She laughs at that, and you revel in the pleasant sound. You know you probably won't see her again after tonight, so you're determined to ingrain the little things -- like her smile, her laugh -- into your brain. 

"Now, let's see… where did Ashley put it?" You whisper to yourself, scanning the length of the playground. Your eyes travel across the slides, over the swings, and around the monkey bars before you spot that little dip in the siding that you'd recognize anywhere. Jennie soon finds her hand slipping into yours as you lead her over to it, a childlike sense of giddiness on your face. She likes seeing you like this. 

"I hope it's still here," you say to no one, bending down to press your fingers against the old wood. It's far more worn down now, and you're worried that someone has already come by and cleaned out the hiding spot. Putting your doubts aside, you continue. 

"Okay, so don't laugh, but there's a special way you have to open it. Ashley showed it to me one day and it's the only way we could get it to budge after that."

She smiles her gummy smile at you, and you can't help but return the gesture and even steal a quick kiss. She's a bit taken aback when you ball your hand up, using the side of it to deliver a couple blows to the wood in two different spots. Next, you stand and line up your foot, remember exactly how your friend taught you, before executing a calculated kick to the other side. 

At first, Jennie wants to laugh at you; but upon closer inspection, she sees that in fact, a small opening is visible in the wood now. You smirk cockily, knowing full well that she hadn't expected that to work. 

"Told you so," you tease, now bending down again to work the panel free. You wiggle it back and forth repeatedly, being careful not to go too quickly and damage anything else, and eventually it pops out. She watches as you reach in and pull out a mini jewelry box -- the kind that can fit in your hand, mainly meant for rings or other small items. 

"We stole the box from our other friend, Janelle. Had to pay her our allowances for 2 months afterward. Can you believe that?" You ask, shaking your head with another smirk on your lips. Jennie laughs at you in full, loving how carefree you are right now. In a way, she's happy that your manager called earlier; otherwise the two of you most surely would be locked away in your bedroom right now. This experience is definitely one she'll cherish. 

"Unbelievable," she sighs, shaking her head and going along with it. 

You click the latch on the small box, it's material now weathered and rusty as it creaks when you open it. Jennie steps closer to you to examine its contents, and you fight to contain how hard your heart starts beating at the feeling of her hand on your lower back. 

"No way…" you utter, voice full of disbelief as your eyes land on one of your most prized possessions from childhood. 

"What?" Jennie asks, genuinely on the edge of her metaphorical seat. 

"This butterfly hair clip," you inform, slipping the small contraption between your fingers as you hold it up for her to see, "I won it at a fair with my mom and I always wondered where it went…" 

"It's beautiful, Y/N," she says, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the details etched into it. For something so small and seemingly unassuming, it's actually very unique. 

"I want you to have it." You say, taking a step away so you can look at her. She instantly goes to refuse, saying, "I can't! You just found it after all this time--"

"And I went all that time without it. If you take it, I'll know it's safe with you. And you can use it to remember me by." You say, your gaze softening as you watch her debate with herself. 

"Okay. But if you ever want it back, call me." 

"Roger that." You say dorkily, earning yourself a roll of those dark eyes you find yourself getting lost in. 

"And for the record, Y/N, I could never forget you. Pretty hair clip or not." Her confession makes you feel happy on a whole new level; knowing that you've left an impact on her is truly a wonderful thing. 

"So, what now?" She asks, breaking the happy lull your conversation found itself in. 

"We can walk around the park for a little while, or…" you start, waiting for Jennie to prod you further. Both of you know exactly what game you're playing, but it's still fun nonetheless. 

"Or?" She inquires, stepping closer as she wraps her arms around your shoulders. She nonchalantly gives you a once over, knowing what power her darkening gaze holds over you. 

"We can go back to my place. Maybe play a little footsie, who knows?" You say, shrugging your shoulders with a stupid grin. Even while seducing someone, you can't resist being a geek. 

"Footsie?" Jennie gasps, raising her eyebrows, "What kind of girl do you take me for? That only happens after at least 2 dates in." 

"Such a prude, Ms. Kim. How can I change your mind?" 

She presses a finger to her cheek, pretending to think, before getting an idea. Her lips flirt with the shell of your ear as she whispers obscenities into it, turning you to mush with every new scenario she puts in your head. 

You stiffen as she kisses your jaw, the action catching you off guard as you continue reeling from her words. 

"I can do that, I think," you cough out, stumbling over the words a little bit. She laughs at the effect she has on you; seeing your confidence waver is a nice role reversal, and it's something she could definitely get used to. 

"Let's go." She commands, now taking your hand to pull you after her, just like you had done before.

◇◇◇◇◇

It's painful, how hard Jennie has to restrain herself from touching you as you fumble with your keys. She told herself she'd keep her hands to herself until you got inside, just in case any stray paparazzi managed to catch you two together. The last thing either of you need is some new scandal, especially with your careers in a vulnerable spot as they're really beginning to take off.

"If you don't get that door open within the next 10 seconds, then I'll just take you out here in the hallway." 

You audibly gulp at the image she just conjured up in your mind, and you speed up your movements. The prompting worked, evidently, because soon she's practically shoving you through the doorway.

"Finally," she breathes against your lips, pressing you up against the door once you've locked it back. 

"I've been waiting to do this since we met earlier." She indulges you in that little secret, smiling at the way you whimper when she pulls your leg up to wrap around her hips. 

"I'm all yours," you say, making Jennie's heart flutter at the sentiment. For the night, you're hers and she's yours. "...now kiss me," you command, growing more impatient with each feather-light kiss she presses to your jaw. 

"So bossy," she toys, making you roll your eyes. 

"You have no idea, babe." 

She bites her lip as your husky voice makes its way to her ears, thick with the desire she's been steadily building within you all night. You tug her forward, your fingers bunching up the material of her shirt with little care as her lips meet yours. 

Her tongue swipes across your bottom lip, asking for a permission that you granted the second she touched you. You pull her chin down slightly, allowing the kiss to deepen as you tangle your other hand in her hair. 

After an especially bruising bite to her lip -- one that thrills her to her core -- she pulls away, breathlessly asking, "How're you so good at this?" 

You cackle against her, taken aback by how genuine the question sounded. "Practice for the kdramas, of course." 

"I haven't had to do this," you slide a hand between your bodies, smirking at the gasp that sounds off deep in her throat as you make contact with her, "yet though. That might be a little extreme for the screen." 

"You think?" She scoffs softly, bringing her hands up to gather your hair to one side. She presses gentle kisses to your neck, prepping the surface for the dark marks she'll most certainly be leaving there later. 

"Ready?" You ask, making sure she wants to go through with this.

"You have no idea, babe." She copies your statement from earlier, garnering another smile from you. She swears she can never get enough of that sweet look on your face.

"Follow me," you say, giving her another peck to last until you reach the bedroom.

◇◇◇◇◇  The Morning After ◇◇◇◇◇

Warm, glittering rays of sunlight sneak past the curtains of your apartment window, shining gently through the light material. A dream-like haze befalls the room, serving as a wonderful greeting once you peek your eyes open. The only thing capable of rivaling such a wonderful sight is the woman beside you, her soft breaths keeping your shoulder warm. 

As you turn your head to look at her, careful not to wake her, your heart flips. Having her here next to you is the only reason you even believe last night happened; it was magical -- the stuff of fantasy. The two of you did everything: acted on every desire, every impulse -- you truly made the most of the night, determined to make it unforgettable. 

A few blissful minutes later, she stirs beside you. "Good morning, Y/N." Her eyes remain closed, still safe from the bright light of the morning as she smirks at the memories replaying in her mind. 

You lay a small kiss to her lips, simply missing how they feel against your own. "Morning, beautiful." 

A content sigh slips past her lips as she presses them against your neck, cuddling further into you. "Last night was fun." 

You decide to tease her. "Eh, I've had better." 

If there's one thing that Jennie knows, it's that she's good in bed -- great, even -- and you definitely seemed to be enjoying yourself last night, just as much as she was. Still though, a bit of insecurity runs through her as she raises up on her elbow to look at you through her lashes. 

"Really?" She stills her fingers on your arm, stopping them from continuing the trail that they had been blazing just seconds ago. Her eyebrows furrow subtly, the action almost unnoticed by you. 

Deciding the joke isn't worth it, you cup her cheek and raise her head so she can meet your eyes. 

"No, I'm kidding. Last night was… something else." You chuckle, smiling as your eyes move around the room in an attempt to find the right word for it. When none come to mind -- no words capable of conveying how great it was -- you look back to her.

She has a knowing grin on her face, "I couldn't agree more." 

Sneaking a glance at the clock propped up on your bedside table, you get an idea. "You know, Jennie…" you start, purring her name out as you had last night, garnering that achingly familiar groan from her, "...we still have a few hours before either of our schedules start." Your suggestion hangs in the air as you roll her over onto her back, hovering over her and brushing your noses together. 

"Hmm, you don't say? Well you're in luck; I still have some things I wanna try out." She plays back, leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of your lips as her hands wander over your body.

Your eyes widen in shock, "What the hell could you POSSIBLY be thinking of?? We tried just about everything." She laughs at your reaction and pulls you down closer to her body to whisper in your ear. Jennie can feel you tremble with every new image she puts in your head, just like she had in the park, her lips dragging you further under as she sneaks little kisses to your skin here and there. 

"Let me get this gay straight: you want me to do that on the balcony? What if my neighbors see?" 

"They won't, we're on one of the top floors. And even if they do… would that really be so bad?" She lets the question hang in the air; she'd be lying if she said the idea of getting caught doesn't thrill her. Thinking of your lips on her neck as she rocks against you, pinned to the railing while out in the open for the world to see, sends a rush of warmth through her. 

"I wish you weren't so good at convincing me to do things. You're dangerous, Jennie Kim." You warn, pointing a disapproving finger at her. Your eyes nearly pop out when she kisses it, taking the digit in between her lips while looking up at you innocently. This woman will be the death of you. 

◇◇ Back At The Blackpink Dorm ◇◇

"Yah, I know! The new update looks so weird--" 

"There she is," Lisa says, motioning to the doorway, interrupting Jisoo and Rosé’s conversation about whatever new video game the unnie had downloaded.

Jennie leans on the heavy door as she locks it behind her, lazily spinning around on her heel with her lips drawn back in a huge gummy smile. 

"Somebody's happy…" Jisoo teases, shooting her a smirk. She's still riding the high you put her on, and it's no wonder her members are noticing. It's not like she's exactly trying to hide it, either. 

"How was your night? Have fun with Y/N?" The maknae wiggles her eyebrows while propping herself up on her elbows to see Jennie's reaction.

"LISA! She wasn't supposed to know!" Rosé shouts, letting out a disappointed huff. The younger girl only shrugs, a stupid smirk on her lips. Some people just wanna watch the world burn. 

The brunette's daze is momentarily broken at this, and she asks what they're talking about. 

Jisoo lets out a hesitant breath before explaining, "We saw you two leave together, but we agreed to not bring it up until you did." She shoots some daggers at Lisa before continuing, "Somebody can't seem to keep her mouth shut, though." 

Jennie only chuckles now, not really caring if they knew or not. Her night was too wonderful to keep to herself; she would've ended up telling them anyway. 

"Gather round, girls; I'll fill you in." 

◇◇◇◇◇ Months Later  ◇◇◇◇◇

"Why exactly do we have to go to this premiere again?" Jennie grumbles, looking out the window of their limousine. She'd much rather be back at the dorm, snuggled into her cozy heap of pillows and blankets with Netflix playing on her tv. 

"Some of our colleagues are starring as background characters, so YG wants us to attend and show our support." Jisoo informs, always seeming to have more knowledge than all of the other girls combined. Jennie nods; the reasoning is sound, but she'd still prefer to be home. Mingling with business people for god knows how long doesn't seem all that enticing to her. 

"What's the movie?" Lisa asks, throwing the question behind her to the other girls as she searches the cubby for some complimentary snacks. 

"Empress of the Heart," Rosé answers, finally knowing something that Jisoo doesn't. 

"Let's watch the trailer for it. If we have to sit through it then we might as well see what we're getting ourselves into." Lisa suggests, her fingers busy opening the bag of chips she chose from the assortment. 

"Yeah, okay." Jennie says, her statement followed by words of agreement from the other girls. Rosé takes her phone out to search the title, pepping up when she spots it. She whispers something to Jisoo and Lisa, Jennie paying no mind as she watches the buildings pass by. Her favorite thing to fidget with is secure in her grip, occupying her mind. It's familiar design feels good in her hands -- like it's right where it belongs. (Yes, this is what you think it is).

The other girls put their acting skills to use as they hit play, keeping straight faces when your voice comes through the phone speakers. Jennie's head snaps over to them, recognizing the sound in an instant. "Y-Y/N's starring in it?" She asks, voice coming out as a stutter. The thought of seeing you again thrills her, but she doesn't know if she can do that without falling even deeper. Your night together left her with lasting feelings, none of which she was prepared for in the slightest, and she knows they'll be reignited the moment she lays eyes on you. 

"Mhm." They nod sympathetically, all knowing how much she's thought about you the last few months. 

Their driver knocks on the partition, requesting to open it. They give him the all clear, and soon he's rolling it down to inform them, "We're here, ladies." 

"I'll be okay," Jennie tells them, attempting to stop their worries from growing anymore than they already have. She plays the statement back in her head, whispering it to herself as she exits the limo; tonight could only go one of two ways, and it depends entirely on you.

☆☆ Part 2 Linked Up Top ☆☆

[morganayenneferburnham]

Have I Known You 20 Seconds or 20 Years? – Nikolai Lantsov Series

Chapter 1: Devils Roll the Dice, Angel Roll their Eyes

Chapter 2: You Did a Number on Me

Chapter 3: You Could Call Me Babe for the Weekend

A very short summary: Y/N has been working with the crows for a few years. Her life feels complete until she meets the insufferable Nikolai Lantsov. She finds herself forced to work with the King of Ravka on one of Kaz Brekker’s crazy schemes.

Word count: 2k

A/N: Finally starting to get somewhere!! I just started writing chapter 4, so it might take a bit longer before I upload again. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter in the meanwhile.

Thank you for reading! Just send me an ask if you want to be added to my taglist :) 

Chapter 3: You Could Call Me Babe for the Weekend

The next morning went by in a blur. They had moved everything to Wylan’s house on Geldstraat. Kaz was right. It would’ve been too suspicious if they had left for the party from the barrel. Questions about the job were being thrown from one person to the next. Various answers about cues and schedules flying in every direction.

“Wait, what time are we supposed to get to the party again?”

“Quarter after 6 bells, Jesper!” Yelled Wylan running by with an armful of party clothes.

“Nikolai and I are getting there at 6 bells. That way it won’t look like we know each other.” Y/N had been heading off in the opposing direction.

“Wylan! You forgot your jacket in the music room” Kaz’s raspy voice was easily recognizable above the others.

“I’ll go ahead and scout for the best location for you to hide to summon the storm. I’ll come get you at a quarter to 8 bells.”

Nikolai had to admire the crows’ ability to understand each other and get the job done in such chaos. They were running back and forth in every direction trying to get everything ready. Even Zoya seemed at ease discussing the plan with Inej. He needed this job to succeed. He needed to guarantee his country’s future. Once he was done dealing with this newest threat from Fjerda…? He’d like to work with the crows again. He felt much freer. Maybe it could become a side hustle for him and Zoya. It would give them a nice break from ruling a country.

He felt a soft hand rest on his arm. “Hey, we should probably go get ready for the party. We’ll meet here at 5 bells? That way we can go over last-minute details and head over.” She was smiling up at him. Her smile was soft as if she could tell he was anxious. He let his eyes trail over her tailored face and couldn’t help but miss her true features once more.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then, my darling.” He pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles and watched her disappear up the vast staircase.

---

Nikolai made his way to the room Wylan had so graciously offered him that morning. It was not his room at the Grand Palace, but it was much nicer than the one he’d had at the slat. He took his time putting on the rich merch’s clothes Kaz had picked out for him. He was still in awe of the work Y/N had done on him. The young king found himself unavoidably staring at himself in the mirror mounted to his wall. He finished buttoning up his shirt and folded his suit jacket on his arm. It was almost 5 bells. He knew he should make his way back to the mansion’s parlor.

Nikolai had barely sat in one of the large armchairs when an appreciative whistle sounded on his left. He followed Jesper’s gaze to the stairs. Y/N’s dress accentuated her new body in all the right places. Nikolai couldn’t help but think it would’ve suited her even better before the tailoring.

“No one warned me I’d have to fight off every man who lays eyes on my wife.” He complained.

He watched as Inej and Zoya approached Y/N. The women shared a few whispered comments before they lead Y/N to him. He could’ve sworn he saw the girl’s cheeks turn red. He had to put up a lot more effort than he was used to in schooling his own features. The way the dress moved along to the sway of her hips, with every step she took, made his brain go blank. He imagined the way it would’ve been even more sensual with her natural curves. Maybe he could convince her to wear the gown again once she’d tailored them both back to normal. His mind was racing with images of her, twirling in his arms, wearing that damned dress.

“Anything you want to go over before we get going?” She was looking at him expectantly, her eyes bright, her tailored lips stretched in a small smile.

His mouth felt dry. All eyes were on him. He had to fight to kick start his brain again. “Nope, I think we’re ready.” He offered her a hand, his natural charm coming back to him. “Shall we, my darling wife?”

She took his hand and they headed for the door leading to the elegant boathouse. “No mourners” she called over her shoulder.

A unified “No funerals” rang out behind them. Nikolai made a mental note to ask them what the saying meant, at some point, when he wasn’t so distracted by the beautiful Grisha on his arm.

---

They’d taken a small, polished boat to make their way to councilman Van Verent’s house. It had only taken a few minutes for them to reach the sophisticated boathouse on the councilman’s property. A Stadwatch officer had taken their invitation before guiding them to the stylishly decorated mansion. Flowers from every guest’s country were arranged in beautiful crystal vases matching the colourful silk ribbons adorning the banister. As they entered the main hall, they were stunned by the sheer number of guests already in attendance. The main floor was filled with dignitaries from Kerch, Novyi Zem, Shu Han, Fjerda, and the Wandering Isle. Nikolai noticed the absence of anyone representing his country. Good, he thought, it’ll make the job easier.

To his dismay, Y/N was already catching the eye of a few men standing off to the sides of the room. He wrapped his arm tightly around her waist, pulling her closer, sending the interested parties a nasty look. He felt her breath hitch but didn’t release his hold on her body. She was his wife. Anyone who wanted to get to her would have to go through him. Nikolai was surprised by the jealousy he felt. He was usually in control of his feelings, always choosing to be pragmatic rather than emotional. He knew they had to put on a convincing act. He still wasn’t supposed to be this possessive of a girl he’d only met a few days ago, right? All the Saints and their mothers, Zoya will murder me if she finds out about this.

Y/N had maneuvered them towards a group of Zemeni dignitaries, quickly engaging in easy conversation with one of the wives. Nikolai used the opportunity to present their made-up business proposal to a few interested parties, promising to send them more information as soon as they went back home to the Wandering Isle.

They navigated group after group of foreign and domestic dignitaries for about an hour. He had to admit Kaz had done a wonderful job when creating their false identities, but he was tired of the constant mindless chattering. How lucky, he thought, the dance floor seems very appealing right about now.

He leaned in close, letting his lips brush against Y/N’s ear, interrupting her conversation. “You are doing a fantastic job, my love.” He felt her shiver against him. “I’m sure we’ll have plenty of business partners once you’re done here. Now, however, I would very much like to dance with my beautiful wife.” She looked at him, surprise evident in her deep brown eyes. Nikolai smirked; he could get used to this. He offered her a hand before guiding her swiftly to the dance floor.

He felt men staring, once again, at ‘his wife’ as they graciously made their way to the middle of the floor. The small orchestra started playing a beautiful soft song, perfect for a romantic moment between lovers. Nikolai rested his right hand on the small of Y/N’s back, pulling her close, keeping her hand tightly in his own. He felt her free hand gently come to rest on his shoulder. His heart beating more quickly than he would’ve liked. Why am I so nervous? She was gazing up at him, a gentle smile gracing her lips. He swallowed hard. Nikolai had never felt more grateful for the dance lessons he’d taken as a child. He’d only done it to please his mother. He had to admit he was glad they were paying off now. To anyone watching them, they simply looked like newlyweds, madly in love, eager to share a dance.

They turned elegantly, in time with the slow music, their bodies completely in sync. Their breathing even, their steps well-balanced. The deep green skirts of her dress following every graceful movement they made. She followed his lead perfectly as if they’d been partners for years. She seemed to trust him completely, showing him how safe she felt in his arms. Time slowed for a moment. Nikolai found himself forgetting all about the job, about the plans they had to steal, even about his country. He wanted to stay in this moment, holding the talented Grisha against him, forever.

The sound of applause brought him out of his reverie. He took in their surroundings. Y/N looked as surprised as he felt. Her eyes wide, cheeks flushed. He had no idea how long they had been dancing, how many songs had been played. It dawned on him that they were the cause of the applause. People had stopped dancing and talking to watch the young couple, completely lost in each other, moving elegantly across the floor. He saw Jesper and Wylan, wide grins plastered on their faces, in the far corner of the room. They looked way too pleased. Saints, I hope they won’t tell Brekker about this.

He bowed, Y/N following his lead once again, before walking off the dance floor, towards the grand staircase. They had to stop drawing so much attention to themselves. He wished he could have a moment to talk to Y/N, alone, away from the prying eyes of the crowd. She was playing her role to perfection, all smiles, as couples complimented them on their dancing for the next few minutes.

The ornate wall-mounted clock chimed. Zoya, Wylan, and Jesper would create the distraction in 15 minutes. Wylan subtly nodded to him, indicating he had already placed the small incendiary charge in the dining room. He had developed this newest marvel by studying and modifying one of David Kostyk’s discoveries. It seemed the boy truly was a genius. Jesper would detonate the charge at 8 bells, the sound of his shot covered by the storm Zoya would summon. The fire would require all-hands-on-deck to be put out, leaving the office unguarded. If everything went according to Kaz’s plan, it would give him and Y/N about 30 minutes to pick the lock of Van Verent’s office, crack the safe and make their way back to the party with the blueprints safely tucked in the sheath hidden beneath Y/N’s dress.

They came to a halt in the shadow of the staircase, ready to spring to action at their cue. Nikolai made sure to pull Y/N close, slipping an arm around her waist.

“I didn’t know you were such a good dancer, my love.” He murmured. Better keep up the act. She makes it easy, though. I don’t even have to lie.

She laughed softly and turned in his arms, snaking her own arm around his neck, pressing her lips quickly against his cheek. “Thank you, darling. I am full of hidden talents, you know...” the raise of her eyebrow and her tone so suggestive Nikolai had to fight to keep a straight face. She’s only doing her job. She’s supposed to be my wife. It’s only normal that a young wife should flirt with her delightfully handsome husband. He was trying to convince himself but the playful look in her eyes told him otherwise. She spun around once more, keeping his hand on her waist, leaving him to observe the guests enjoying the party.

The clock chimed once more. 8 bells. Thunder boomed outside, rain battering the windows. A high-pitched scream sounded to his right, coming from the dining room. Other screams quickly followed. Guests ran past them, fleeing the room. Guards came rushing down the stairs, towards the fire. It was complete chaos. Nikolai found himself impressed, once again, by how brilliant the crows were. Maybe I could convince Kaz to help me plan my next military campaign? Or get Wylan to come work with David. I should at least sail with the Wraith and her crew.

Y/N’s fingers closed around his wrist. “That’s our cue.” She said with a sly grin on her lips.

---

Taglist: @power-of-words23

[five-rivers]

Danger First

Chapter 10

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@pocketramblr :)

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One day - and not even a whole day, because of travel time and Inko wanted Izuku home for dinner- simply wasn't enough time to master a quirk. Although he could turn Float on and off, now. So, they made plans to come back next week, and the next, up until the sports festival. Which. Wow. Really was only two weeks away.

Izuku had never realized how close to the beginning of the school year it was.

He was going to die.

"You're not going to die," said Mr. Yagi. "I'm not going to say the sports festival isn't important, because it is, it's one of the best ways to make professional connections for students, but not doing well isn't the end of the world, especially not in your first year. No one expects you to be perfectly polished."

"But," said Izuku, "I'm supposed to be the next you! I've got to stand out, right?"

Mr. Yagi looked very guilty. "I... may have given you that impression when we were first training, yes. But, since then, with all my research into the past holders... few of them were popular, flashy heroes. If you want to walk the same path as me, that's great. But you don't have to. Even I didn't really start that chapter of my life until after college."

Izuku looked down at his hands, letting silence fill the space between them as he contemplated Mr. Yagi's words. "This isn't about me manifesting One for All differently, is it?"

"What? No, no of course not, my boy. I mean, it certainly helped me come to this conclusion, I wouldn't have done so much research without it! But I certainly hope I would have come to the same conclusion eventually, even so."

"Okay..." said Izuku, still dubious.

"I mean it," protested Mr. Yagi. "Most of my work is essentially underground, you know. There's a reason the battle trial was what it was."

"H-huh? You? Underground? But you're so recognizable!"

"Am I? I firmly believe in bringing all my resources to bear in the fight against evil! Ha ha!"

His laugh devolved into a cough, and he fumbled for a handkerchief. But he recovered quickly enough.

"I guess that makes sense," said Izuku, cautiously, once he thought Mr. Yagi wasn't going to start coughing again.

"You didn't think I stayed number one by popularity alone, did you?"

"I- the formulas the Hero Commission uses to determine rankings are secret, and it only includes spotlight heroes, so when I extrapolated the hero billboard rankings, yes, I assigned a high weight to popularity. There were always some discrepancies between my predictions and the end results, but I figured I missed some events, or the commission assigned them different values…"

"That's quite impressive, my boy. But, though popularity is a factor, the HPSC does take unpublicized fights and rescues into account. Assuming you report them…"

That was the second time Mr. Yagi had mentioned not telling the commission something.

"Do you, um, do you do that a lot? Not tell the commission things, I mean."

"Eh? No, no, I try to stay up on my paperwork. I get a lot of help from Naomasa, though. Some heroes, especially independent ones, without an agency, do have trouble keeping up, sometimes."

"It's just… the other day you said something about not telling the commission about All for One."

"Ah," said Mr. Yagi. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "You're quite right. How should I put this… The HPSC knows All for One exists, and I have made them generally aware of his modern exploits. I haven't told them about his ability to give quirks, though they may know through other avenues, there are certain battles I've had with him that I haven't told them about, and they do not know about One for All."

“Why not?”

“Villains aren’t the only ones who seek power,” said Mr. Yagi. “The HPSC provides a vital service, and I think what one does matters more than why one does it, but… it is my observation that many of the people there are more concerned with personal power than doing the right thing. And positions of power and authority tend to draw in those who would abuse those things."

"Even heroics?"

"Especially heroics. The HPSC Ethics Review Board is supposed to stop that, but no system is perfect." He shook himself. "But look at me! I was trying to give you a pep talk, not saddle you with doubts about the government!"

Izuku laughed, nervously. "I mean, you've definitely distracted me from the sports festival…"

“Yes. The sports festival. Don’t worry about making a big spotlight combat debut. If you want to focus on rescue, or investigation, or the underground, I’ll support you all the way.” He paused. “You do need combat, though, because, because of-”

“All for One?”

“Yes, exactly. All for One.”

.

“Way to kill the mood, guys,” said Banjo.

“I think the mood was thoroughly dead already,” said Yoichi.

“Unlike your brother,” said En. “Ninth’s father.”

“Come on, it was just a little omission of information. It wasn’t even a lie!”

“It was definitely a lie. You’re so lucky that my relief about you not being a pedophile eclipsed my righteous fury regarding your mendacity.”

“You know, the fact that you’re delivering that completely deadpan gives me doubts about the fury part.”

“I’m mad at you.”

“You love me.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t be mad at you.”

“Hey, hey, wait a minute,” said Nana, making a ‘T’ shape with her hands. “Time out. Ninth’s father is All for One.”

“Yes,” said Yoichi, hanging his head, “I thought that had been established.”

“So, are we… What Toshinori is saying is completely valid, by the way… but, are we expecting this kid to fight his father? Is that a thing we’re doing?”

“Uh,” said Yoichi, “in our defense, we did think he was dead.”

“Maybe Eighth will get ‘im before Ninth has to deal with it,” suggested Banjo. “He’s got to have a better chance of that, now what with Fa Jin and all.” He paused. “But, you know what would give Ninth an even better chance, if he does have to fight his deadbeat dad-”

“He’s not a deadbeat,” interrupted Hikage.

“What?”

“Calling him a deadbeat would imply that he is neither supporting the Midoriyas financially nor regularly in contact with them. He is on both counts.”

“What?” squealed Bango.

“Did you miss his phone call with his father immediately following his return home after the USJ attack?”

“Oh,” said Yoichi, “no, I was very aware of my brother’s evil, evil voice. It’s just that these guys were too focused on scolding me to listen to anything I had to say. I still can’t believe he sent someone like that to attack his own son’s class.”

“Didn’t he, like, kill you?” asked En.

“No, my death was largely unrelated. You’ve got to remember, I was a chronically ill fugitive from the law with no money. Who told you that he killed me?”

Everyone looked at their immediate predecessor. Yoichi tracked the path back to Third, who had gone very stiff.

“What the heck, Third? You were there when I died. Why would you tell Hikage that?”

Third did not answer.

“Actually, what did he tell you, Hikage?

“Oh, it was very moving and heroic. It happened while you were saving a busload of metahuman orphans. You sacrificed yourself to let them get away from All for One. I even cried a little.”

“Is it weird that I’m now disappointed in myself for not dying like that?”

“Very,” said Nana.

“What were we talking about before this?” asked En.

“I have no idea,” said Banjo.

.

Izuku delayed going to class, nervous about everyone's reactions to his quirk. It wasn't that he thought they'd reject him, but more that he had no answers for the inevitable questions.

But he also didn't want to be late.

"Todoroki was so cool!" Hagakure exclaimed as he opened the classroom door. "He was all like, blam, bam, swish! And- and he checked whether or not I was there first, before attacking, which was super cool of him."

Todoroki's expression was halfway between 'statue' and 'help, I've been hit by a truck.' "Cool?"

"Very cool."

"You've grown since the first day, kero."

"Ah! Midoriya!"

All heads turned towards him. In the next second, he was hugged by several people, which was more friendly skin contact than he'd had since… ever, probably.

"Eep," he said.

"We were so worried about you," said Uraraka. "We made a group chat, after, but since you were unconscious…"

"Hm," said Monoma, "your quirk still is definitely a stockpile…"

"Monoma!" shouted Iida. "Did you join this hug just to copy quirks?"

"And what of it?"

"But speaking of quirks," said Jiro, "you can fly now? We kind of went along with it at the time, but that's kind of different from a sensory quirk."

"I know," said Izuku, "and I have no explanation."

"Maybe your quirk stockpiles danger," said Monoma, contemplatively. He rubbed his chin with one finger. "That could be why you can sense danger- you're stockpiling it. Then, when the danger gets over a certain threshold, you can release it as flight… why are you all looking at me like that?"

"Oh, nothing," drawled Kaminari. "Just that you're more thoughtful than you look, pretty boy."

"I don't want to hear that from you."

"Th-thank you, Monoma! I'll have to mention it when I go to quirk counseling next."

Which may or may not be this afternoon, depending on how Mr. Aizawa felt and- His head snapped to the door. "Mr. Aizawa's coming!"

They all rushed to their seats. The door creaked open.

"Oh my gosh, he's a mummy."

.

"Iida?"

"What is it, Midoriya?"

They were having a bit of a break during English while Present Mic cycled them through for short sessions with Hound Dog.

"I didn't have a chance to ask you earlier, but how's your brother?"

“He’s alright! It’s the first really major injury of his career, so he’s going to take it easy for the rest of the month, to make sure his engines heal properly. He’d prefer not to of course, but, ah, there is a silver lining.”

“That’s good,” said Izuku, encouragingly.

“I really shouldn’t be happy about it,” said Iida, rubbing the back of his neck, “but he’ll be able to come see me during the sports festival, and he probably would have been too busy if he were active.”

“I think it’s okay to be happy about good things, even if they happen because of bad things,” said Izuku. “It isn’t like we can go back and make the bad things not happen, after all…”

“That’s very true, Midoriya! What a mature way of thinking about things.”

Izuku didn’t know about that, but he was willing to take the compliment.

.

“Midoriya,” said Shouta, who was absolutely and unquestionably recovered enough to teach. Even if he had zoned out in the corner of the room in his sleeping bag all morning rather than trekking back to the teacher’s lounge… or teaching any of his other classes… shut up. “What are you doing at the window?”

“O-oh. Mr. Aizawa. I didn’t know you were awake?”

It was, maybe, a little unfair to single Midoriya out like that, since the entire class was standing by the window, and the way Uraraka, Sero, and Midoriya were closest to it, with Monoma a close fourth, was concerning, but Midoriya was the first one Shouta saw, and the one most likely to to cave and tell him what was going on.

“Midoriya.”

“R-right. Well, going out the door seems a little unpleasant today, so we thought we’d switch it up?”

What did that even mean?

“We were going to bring you with us, of course,” continued Midoriya.

What did that even mean?

“Out the window.”

“Um. Yes.”

“What kind of unpleasant are we talking about?”

“Battle trial unpleasant?”

Shouta groaned and hauled himself up, walking over to the door. He looked out the window and made note of all the students from other classes standing out there, circling like sharks. Great. Maybe they needed to have an assembly about respecting boundaries or whatever, especially if the people whose boundaries were being crossed were potentially traumatized.

Something to bring up at the next staff meeting he attended. Which… would probably not be soon.

Anyway.

He opened the door.

(“A mummy,” whispered someone.)

(First his kids, then these kids… he wasn’t that wrapped up.)

(Was he?)

“What are you all doing here?” he asked, voice rasping rather more than he wanted it to.

The students didn’t seem inclined to answer. Someone did mutter something about the sports festival, but it was far from the complete answer that Aizawa wanted.

“Right. Whatever. Scoping out the competition is one thing, but you are aware that class 1-A is recovering from a traumatic experience. And you’re blocking traffic. Clear off.”

The crowd slowly dispersed. Shouta sighed. He knew this would only be the first of many such incidents. He made a note to talk to Nemuri about whether or not she’d be willing to donate some of her class time to talk about public relations.

.

“You know,” said Nemuri, “if you actually rested, Recovery Girl would be able to heal you.”

“I know nothing of the sort,” said Shouta, glaring at his desk in the staff room. “I’m forgetting something.”

All Might walked in. “Er, young Aizawa,” he said. He paused for a painfully long, awkward moment. “Are you still meeting with young Midoriya today?”

“Crap.”

.

Did Izuku expect Mr. Aizawa to come to their meeting? No. The man had casts on all of his limbs. But, he hadn’t cancelled it either. So, better safe than sorry, right?

But it had been a while, now. Izuku could probably safely assume he wasn't coming after a half hour. He got up, packed his bags, and reached out for the door handle-

Only to freeze as Mr. Aizawa yanked it open and pulled Mr. Yagi into the classroom after him.

Izuku scurried back to his seat.

"Nothing physical today," croaked Mr. Aizawa. "We're going to figure out your quirk."

“O-okay,” said Izuku.

Aizawa collapsed into the seat behind the teacher's desk. “To be short, this quirk, One for All or whatever, is complete nonsense.”

“Uh,” said Mr. Yagi. “Sorry?”

“Sorry,” whispered Izuku.

“You should be. Not you, Midoriya. You’re fine.”

“Okay?”

“Right. So. You’ve got two quirks right now. Danger Sense and Float. Unless something else showed up over the weekend?”

“No, it’s, um, it is just those two right now.”

“And you’ll most likely get Smokescreen, Blackwhip, and that strength enhancement eventually. Plus two mystery quirks.”

“That is what I’ve been able to find out,” said Mr. Yagi.

“So, we have to figure out some way to get all those under a coherent umbrella that can account for the mystery quirks, and before the sports festival, so the evil immortal supervillain doesn’t notice that you have quirks just like a bunch of people he had personal beef with.”

Mr. Yagi cursed in English. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Yeah, I wonder what else you haven’t thought about. Maybe this year I can get Nezu to take my suggestion about doing hero names before the sports festival seriously. You know we’ve had people stalk students before because for some godforsaken reason we use their real names? I need a drink.”

“Ah, water?”

“No.”

“Young Aizawa, you’re a teacher…”

“A career choice I question daily. Midoriya, do you have any thoughts about how to make your quirk make sense in a way that won’t get you killed or abducted by the HPSC?”

“I- Does that happen?” despite his conversation with Mr. Yagi over the weekend, he still had generally positive thoughts about the hero commission.

“I have no idea. Wouldn’t put it past them.”

“Well, um, I was talking to Monoma earlier, and he said something about stockpiling danger, and how it might let out the stockpile as the energy necessary to levitate- which, really, would be a fascinating quirk if it did work that way- but I thought it might also work for Smokescreen and the strength enhancement? I mean, general responses to danger are fight, flight, or hide, so the strength enhancement is fight, Float is flight, and Smokescreen would be hide…”

“That might work. What about Blackwhip.”

“Yeah, that one has kind of stumped me.”

“Blackwhip sure is a problem,” agreed Mr. Aizawa.

.

The ghosts started laughing. “You’re a problem, Banjo,” chortled Nana.

“Come on, guys, that isn’t funny!”

"It is! It's hilarious!"

"They were just talking about All for One tracking the kid down and killing him!"

The mood sobered quickly.

"Considering that he is Ninth's father," said Hikage, "I suspect it's far too late for that."

"Yeah," said Yoichi. "But, just to be safe, and in case there are other weirdos out there, new rule: no giving him new quirks in public. Not that we can do anything about when he eventually manifests the stockpile…"

"What if he's going to die?" asked Hikage, raising his hand.

"He already got your quirk, why do you care?"

"We'd like to hear it," said Banjo, somewhat forcefully.

"Well, if he looks like he's going to die, do whatever you can to stop that from happening, I guess. But chucking a quirk he doesn't know how to use isn't always going to be the beat answer."

"Wait," said Nana. "Hold up a second. A few days ago we were talking about the potential for multiple quirk brain damage, weren't we?"

"Oh, good catch," said Yoichi. "I guess I forgot to mention it, which means Nana is the only one I'd trust babysitting my nephew in the event a quirk rewound him to elementary school age-"

"That is a suspiciously specific scenario," said En.

"-and all the rest of you are fired. You didn't even question giving him more quirks? Really?"

Hikage raised his hand. "I assumed you had discovered that Ninth had a constitution capable of handling multiple quirks, similar to yourself and your brother."

"That is true. Okay, Hikage would be another exception, but he's disqualified from babysitting for other reasons."

"That's fair."

.

"So we need something that can do all that, and has tentacles," said Izuku, squeezing his bottom lip in thought.

"Yeah," said Mr. Aizawa. "Honestly, even really dumb ideas would be welcome right now."

"Why are you looking at me?" asked Mr. Yagi.

"You know why."

There was only one creature Izuku could think of that could do all the things Izuku one day might be able to while maintaining room for the two mystery quirks. "Cthulhu."

Mr. Yagi looked mildly scandalized at the suggestion.

"Nah, it'd have to be something like eldritch. Cthulhu's trademarked in Japan, and that can give you aboveground types trouble."

"What is it a trademark for?" asked Mr. Yagi.

"Ask Midnight. I don't want to talk about it."

"Ah," said Mr. Yagi.

"The problem with that is that you currently have no justification to call it that. Now if you already had Smokescreen…"

The adults looked at him.

"... I don't think it's going to just show up like that," said Izuku.

.

"Why not?" asked Banjo, staring at En. "They practically asked you for it."

"Well, first off, I live for drama, so jot that down."

"Huh? What about me?" asked Yoichi.

"Nothing, it was just an idiom. Second…"

.

"...Right," said Aizawa. “For now, then, we’ll have to give it a temporary name, because it’s starting to get to the point in time where it’ll actually be illegal for you to not register it.” He shuffled his casts. “Yagi, start filling out those forms with what he can do currently. Midoriya, make sure you check him when he’s done. For now, we’ve got to come up with a name.”

“Um,” said Izuku. “Float’s the only one that’s really visible, so I could just call it Float?”

“Vetoed. You aren’t picking a name that the immortal supervillain knows.”

“He did seem to only refer to people by quirks unless he really hated them,” said Mr. Yagi. “Except his brother, who he always called ‘my foolish brother.’”

“Focus on the paperwork.”

“And he called himself by his quirk name as well,” mused Izuku. “Do you think it was a side effect? Quirks have document impact on people’s personalities-”

“Focus.”

“R-right. Um. Feather Fall? No, that’s part of a game. Flight Reflex?”

“Good enough for now,” said Aizawa. “Flight Reflex it is.”

[rebrandedbard]

@greyduckgreygoose Tumblr ate your ask when I tried posting it two minutes ago. You requested prompts 5 or 6, which I choose to read as 5 and 6. Stay tuned for prompt 6 in the future. If you like this, perhaps I’ll make it more Valdo. Whump or healing—you pull the trigger, goosey. Or perhaps I’ll use prompt 6 for some Filavandrel fun. Let me know.

5. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

tw: alcohol, depression

WC: 1600 even. Whoo! Even hundredth place! Two goose eggs!

A Good Man

Geralt meets Valdo Marx while taking a contract on a ferry, protecting its passengers from an unknown threat on the water. Valdo himself is an unknown threat, until the two of them get to talking, and Geralt learns a quiet truth.

Geraskier. One-sided Valdo/Jaskier

-

Valdo Marx, troubadour of Cidaris, was the last person Geralt expected to meet on the ferry from Brugge. Per Jaskier’s rambling, he’d assumed the bard stayed put, living it up in Oxenfurt or Cidaris—Geralt was never quite sure if Cidaris were his home or simply a place he’d chosen for his adopted title. He’d wondered if Jaskier were a ‘Bard of Thereabouts,’ but he was never curious enough to ask where-abouts. They both travelled so much, Jaskier could be from anywhere. Something told him that Jaskier would choose Lyria if asked; the name was lyrical.

But Geralt supposed bards were of a travelling nature after all. Besides, the ferry down the Yda was the fasted way to travel inland from Brugge to Craag An, and just beyond was the Adalatte. A straight shot through Kerack would have Marx home in Cidaris in no time at all, and people with coin to spare liked to hurry to and fro in laid-back comfort. It was a paradox Geralt often found amusing.

He paid no fare for his ride, having been hired on for protection. It would seem that, of late, people were disappearing from the ferry before reaching their final destination, reaching a much more final destination than anticipated. Drowners, probably. Sirens were less likely, but not entirely out of the realm of possibility. The channels were connected to the ocean; something could have come washing downriver. It wasn’t altogether unheard of to find displaced sirens after the summer rainstorms. If asked which he’d be more likely to meet, Geralt would have chosen sirens before Valdo Marx.

Geralt recognized him as a bard from the off: it was impossible to mistaken anything so brightly decorated. True, the man did not carry his lute about his person as Jaskier would, but he wore the uniform of satin, the season’s colors all in coordination and too impractical for the weather. It was a mark of their trade, their plumage like birds of paradise and that theatrical air.

Well, the atmosphere around Marx was less the foppish theatrics Geralt had come to expect. He did not saunter across the deck wooing a crowd, nor reciting poetry. He did not do much of anything to draw attention to himself. In fact, he was quite unlike anything that made up Geralt’s image of bards, drawing back against the bulwark, completely silent. Like a fool, Geralt presumed they would go all the way to Craag An without confrontation, but it would be a snowy day in the desert before bards acted predictably.

It was late afternoon the second day on board when he approached, the sun falling low, bringing on the evening. Geralt was keeping watch at the stern: if anything was about it would be disturbed, knocked back as the ship made headway, clawing its way onto the deck from the rear. Geralt kept to the lower main deck, closest to the water. If anything came crawling up from below, he would be in position to dispatch it. The passengers aboard had likely been warned beforehand, or else they’d heard the rumors, as they stayed on the upper deck and bow. With the lower deck abandoned, he easily read Valdo’s approach from a distance.

“White Wolf?” he asked, leaning casually a few feet away from Geralt. The question was monotone, almost disinterested, but he would not have come if there had been no reason.

There was nothing else to do and, truth be told, Geralt was bored. So he turned to Valdo and nodded. “Geralt,” he replied. He’d never quite grow used to the fanciful title, but it brought him good business. It made him recognizable, and therefore comfortable, in so much as anyone could be comfortable around a witcher. Reputations had influence.

“Valdo Marx. I’m sure you heard of me.”

Geralt hummed. There was something in his manner of speech. It was not an obnoxious flaunt of his fame: there was something resigned in it. Bitter, perhaps. It was the same tone Lambert used to say, “There was a wraith in Gulet. I’m sure you’ve already heard.” It had taken a witcher down from the school of the viper. The tone implied notoriety.

For a while, they did not speak. The only sound came from the water below lapping against the side of the ship. Geralt waited, glancing at the troubadour once more before he turned his attention back to the water. He supposed that had been it, a simple acknowledgement. People were often curious, coming to him only to confirm his identity as Jaskier’s witcher. It was a title he’d grown comfortable with more quickly than the White Wolf. It was truer, and he smiled to himself when he thought of such instances in private.

“You’re a right lucky fuck,” Valdo muttered.

Geralt looked up again from the water. He turned to examine Valdo silently, wondering what, exactly, Valdo thought he had going for him to mark him as lucky.

Valdo stared back at him, looking tired and severe. “Maybe I would have had better luck if I didn’t talk so much,” he continued. “If I didn’t sing … ”

“Bards are supposed to sing,” Geralt replied. He now wished Valdo would go back to the upper deck. Nothing aggravated him quite like people who refused to get to the point. He scented an undercurrent of hostility in the air. That, and an abundance of vodka.

Valdo produced a flask from his jerkin and gave it a swig. “Never was trying to be a bard,” he muttered. He took another sip, let it sit, then concealed the flask once more. It occurred to Geralt that the man’s leaning was not entirely owed to false causality.

Geralt knew not what to say. So he simply said, “Hm.” He heard the knuckles crack in Valdo’s tightening fist.

“Melitele’s tits. Years of poetry and songs, and you come along with your … ‘hm,’” Valdo mocked, “and that’s it. Not even a melodic hm. Just … hm.” He raked his fingers through his hair, hissing through his teeth in frustration. He was muttering something under his breath, but it was incoherent, even to a witcher’s ears. When Valdo looked up again, his eyes were red. Neither that, nor the sour note in the air were owed to the alcohol, Geralt surmised.

“He won’t love you,” Valdo said. “He can’t. He doesn’t hold on to things that way. You’re just—” he flapped a hand, searching for the word “—a fascination. You’re something shiny and new. He’ll forget about you the moment he leaves your bed.”

“Who?”

“Who the fuck do you think, witcher. Don’t mock me,” Valdo snapped, voice cracking. If he didn’t look so pathetic, if his words did not carry such weight, Geralt might have chuckled to hear Jaskier’s infamous rival croak unprofessionally. It was not flattering of bards. But there was nothing funny in what he said, nor in how he said it.

“Wait a minute,” Geralt said. He had said less than ten words to the man, none of them mocking in the slightest, and he meant to say as much.

But Valdo held up a hand to silence him. The broken man slipped down to the deck, curling against his knees, head bowed. When he spoke, he mumbled against his knees, fingers tangling in his hair. “I went to Oxenfurt for him. I chased after him for so long, watching him fall in and out of stranger’s beds for less than a wink. But all he wanted me for … he only met me on the stage. Irked if I played below standard, livid if I won. Try what you will, there’s no pleasing Jaskier.”

Geralt thought he understood him then. “Are you jealous?” he asked.

Valdo lifted his head enough to meet his eye. His cheeks were wet, shining in the fading light. “Are you Jaskier’s witcher?”

“Yes,” Geralt replied.

“Then you have your answer.”

Geralt paused a moment. He approached Valdo slowly and lowered himself to his side. They sat together in silence, hidden in the shadow of the bulwark as the sun set behind. Valdo produced the flask again, offering Geralt a sip without a word exchanged. Geralt took the flask.

“Have you kissed him?” Valdo whispered.

“No.”

“Don’t. If he never kisses you, he might not leave.”

Geralt watched as Valdo finished the last of the vodka. “Did you?” he asked.

Valdo stared across the empty deck. “No,” he replied. “But I don’t count. He sings songs about you. I only exist to him three days a year at the bardic competition.”

“He talks about you,” Geralt offered. It was a poor comfort when one knew how Jaskier talked.

Valdo sighed and tucked away the empty flask. He stood on unsteady legs, turning back toward the stairs to the upper deck. “I know. I have a rough idea what sort of man you must think I am from his gossip.”

“I don’t hold with gossip.”

“No,” Valdo chuckled. “Your kind wouldn’t.” It wasn’t an insult, but empathy. There was an understanding between them on that mark. “I wanted to find out for myself what kind of a man you were to entice him so. I hate to think I see it.”

“What do you think you see?”

“A man. One whose best friend’s first wish would be to strike death upon his rival, and knowing him, would allow that rival to approach him without preconceptions. Who would share a flask with a sobbing drunkard and listen earnestly. A good man, in short. So ... hatefully good.”

-

Send me drabble prompts!

[dearkusuo]

Unchanging

Synopsis: He was content with the simplicities life had to offer, while you sought out the world.

Pairing: Saiki Kusuo x artist!reader

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst

Word Count: 3.6k

You first heard of him back in your second year of high school. There was nothing about Saiki Kusuo that stood out to you, but your good friend, Yumehara Chiyo, thought otherwise.

“Don’t you think Saiki looks like a prince? He’s so dreamy that I can’t keep my eyes off of him. He’s so cool and mysterious,” your friend blabbered. If by cool and mysterious, she meant cold and aloof, then you completely agreed. 

Even the popular pretty girl, Teruhashi Kokomi, seemed enraptured by him, despite Saiki’s unwillingness to shower her any attention like every guy in school. She never told you about her crush on him, but it was obvious through her body language alone that she was smitten by the pink-haired boy.

You didn’t understand their fleeting infatuation for someone they hardly knew - never experienced the feeling of falling hard for someone from the depths of your soul that they were the only person you could think about. And you were perfectly content with that. You had bigger dreams to achieve than a small high school romance that wasn’t guaranteed to last long anyway.

The Okinawa school trip was an outing that all the second years in PK Academy were looking forward to, you included. Although you had a feeling that your friends, Chiyo and Kokomi, had different intentions for tagging along. 

They must have been so elated that the three of you ended up in the same group with the boy they liked.

You carried on disregarding Kokomi and Chiyo’s painfully obvious antics to spend time with their beloved prince charming until later that evening when you decided to take a walk outside the hotel alone. You convinced yourself that a late-night stroll would be an enjoyable pastime, but really, you wanted to get away from the love-struck fantasies of your two friends who were oblivious of the fact that they were both pursuing the same boy.

You don’t know how long you’ve been wandering around, but by the time you returned, the hotel had disappeared from your sight. Two recognizable figures stood by a large hole torn on the ground. A battered ship had risen from the gap where the building used to be.

Toritsuka Reita from Class 2-2 stood next to your pink-haired group member while Saiki had a hand directed at the ship, indicating that he was the one causing it to float midair. Your jaw dropped in disbelief at the sight before you.

Saiki turned his head in your direction as if he knew you were there all along. He kept his usual blank composure, although you could recognize the wary look in his eyes as he stared at you. Toritsuka panicked upon the realization that you were there to witness the whole scene.

You didn’t know how you should've reacted when the two boys told you of their psychic powers. 

“I won’t tell a soul,” you promised.

‘I know,’ Saiki’s voice echoed into your mind.

The rest of the trip went by smoothly after that incident. Kokomi subsequently spoke out about the crush she had on Saiki, and Chiyo announced that she had fallen for Kaidou Shun. 

You shook your head in wonder at the orange-haired girl. It was astonishing how quickly she was able to abandon her feelings for one boy and move on to someone else so quickly.

You realized that love was brief and ever-changing like the ticking seconds on a clock. There was no point in wasting time on such a fickle emotion when the only thing you would devote yourself to were your ambitions for the future. 

Nevertheless, a subconscious bond had been formed between you and Saiki after you learned his secret. 

You shared a glance with the psychic from afar as Kokomi relayed to you the dream she had of the boy she liked.

He was kinder and a lot less indifferent than you originally thought. Saiki wouldn’t admit it, but you would notice the subtle acts he performed to help out a troubled stranger and the small deeds he initiated to prevent harm from coming across the people around him.

 You finally acknowledged Saiki as a friend after he deliberately shared his umbrella with you during a particularly rainy day.

‘Good grief. I was feeling generous today, so this is nothing. Just make sure to come to school prepared next time,’ he had told you after you first rejected his help in worry of troubling him.

You found out much later that he could have stopped the rain with his abilities.

The empty café was tranquil save for the scratching of your pencil as you scribbled on your sketchbook. Saiki sat across from you, paying you no attention just as you did to him. His usual stoic expression was abandoned as he blissfully devoured his coffee jelly.

“I have a dream. After high school, I’ll travel around the world for a bit. I’ll join a bunch of art competitions and win a bunch of awards. Then eventually, I’ll go to an art school in New York so I can major in Illustration. And maybe I might even make a best-seller manga one day,” you mused.

‘Isn’t it a little too early for us to think about the future?’ Saiki retorted.

“Maybe. But I’ve had this dream for as long as I can remember.”

Art class was the subject you looked forward to the most in school. Not only because you excelled in many art mediums, but also because you took pride in the techniques you honed over the years of endless practice.

For the day’s lesson, you were to pair up with one person in the class and draw each other’s portraits. You casually looked around the room in search of anyone available.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Kokomi rushing up to Saiki with an excited smile as she called out, “Saiki, do you want to-” a majority of the boys in class crowded around her before she could say her piece. Saiki walked up to you instead, asking if you wanted to pair up with him. 

You glanced briefly at Kokomi, feeling a tad bit guilty for stealing her choice of partner while she was being surrounded by her group of fans hoping that she would choose one of them. But you couldn’t bring yourself to reject the pink-haired boy’s request.

Taking a seat from across each other, you adjusted your easel so you could get a better view of Saiki’s face. Despite the red tint dusting your cheeks from the intimacy of his peering gaze, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him. You perceived for the first time that Saiki was actually quite good looking.

You looked down at your page so you could sketch his appearance: the antennae on his head, his green glasses, soft pink hair, slender neck, smooth lips, chiselled face, sharp eyes. You looked up to take a quick peek at him again. 

 The constant blinking on his impassive face made your eyes widen in amusement and you frantically placed a hand over your mouth to prevent a snort from escaping.

‘Why are you laughing?’

“Because you’re blinking so much that it looks ridiculous,” you explained with a chuckle.

‘I have to keep on blinking so my x-ray vision resets. I’m trying to get a look at your face.’

You let out another coy giggle despite the heat rushing to the tips of your ears. He looked down at his paper to continue his piece with a warm smile barely present on his face.

You concentrated on your own illustration, marking down his affectionate expression before Saiki could return to his blank face, and showing it off as soon as you finished.

‘Not bad. Now take a look at mine.’

He flipped his paper over, exhibiting an intricate and beautiful portrait. The focused expression he depicted on your face while you drew him looked so alluring. You almost didn’t recognize it as your own, even though it was practically a mirror image.

"This looks way too realistic for someone who's trying not to stand out."

'It should be fine if it's you.'

You didn't understand what he meant, but his words caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

‘I need your help,’ A familiar voice spoke in your mind.

You jumped in surprise at the unexpected appearance of the pink-haired boy you had grown fond of. Your sketchbook flew out of your lap, falling right at your feet.

“How did you know I was here?” You asked with a huff.

‘In case you forgot, I can hear your thoughts. I know that sometimes you like to come here to the school rooftop during lunch.’

“Oh,” you uttered. “Well, since you came all this way to see me, what can I do for you?” You raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

'I need you to help me reject Teruhashi.'

You pursed your lips in uncertainty.

"Kokomi is my friend, and as her friend, you can't expect me to hurt her feelings."

'As my friend, you can't expect me to lead her on when I don't ever intend on returning her feelings. She'll get hurt either way. All I'm asking is for you to help me avoid her so she'll get over me.’

You knew he was right, but you were still unsure of meddling in a situation you weren't a part of, especially when it involved the feelings of your close friend. You looked out the window in contemplation.

“Why are you asking me? Mikoto would be a better choice.”

‘I trust you more, so it has to be you.’

You ignored the churning in your stomach as you casually threw your hands up, giving in to his request.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

‘Thank you.’

Saiki bent down on one knee, reaching out to grab your fallen sketchbook. 

“I can pick that up myself, you know, or you if you wanted to help me that badly, you could’ve done that levitation thing you always do.”

‘I know.’

He held the book out, watching you through his glasses while he knelt by your feet. A saying Chiyo once told you a long time ago reverberated at the back of your mind: “Don’t you think Saiki looks like a prince?”

You gripped the sketchbook in his hand. Saiki’s gaze burned on your orbs as your image reflected off his green lenses. Neither one of you let go, even when your fingertips brushed against one another.

“What colour are your eyes?” You wondered.

‘Violet.’

“Major in Economics at Sayftee University and major in Literature at both Komman University and Ahvraj University,” you read out Saiki's school survey. “These are all surprisingly in character for you, but do you really have no dreams beyond living an ordinary life?”

‘I’m too busy thinking of ways to stop the volcano eruption to worry about my future.’

“You have a point there. Any luck with that?” you inquired.

Saiki shook his head.

“I guess that means we’ll be second years again.”

You didn’t keep track of how long time had been looping, and you found that you didn’t really care since you were already accustomed to the familiarity of your seemingly endless high school life. You were happy, even if it meant that the dreams you’ve been chasing for so long were slipping farther away from your grasp with every day that passed.

‘No, it’s about time I put an end to this.’

Saiki’s determined expression was embedded in your mind.

Your screams of disbelief were muffled by the pillow you held against your face. 

You had vowed to yourself since you were young that you wouldn’t grow attached to anyone. After all these years, you had to go back on your word just when you were about to leave.

Now was not the time. Not here. Not with him.

Kokomi and Chiyo took it upon themselves to pay you a visit after you skipped school for five days without notice. The dark circles under your eyes and your sunken face visibly worried them.

“I’m in love with Saiki,” you murmured, gazing sullenly at your blue-haired friend. “I’m sorry.”

Kokomi’s face fell, but she showed no signs of surprise.

“I already knew that. It was obvious with the way you always look at him,” she lamented. Kokomi cupped your balled fists in her hands and looked at you wistfully. “He rejected me a few days ago, so you don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings. I think you two would look good together.”

You felt tears threatening to spill over your eyes. Whether it was from relief that Kokomi accepted you so easily or pain from your unfortunate situation, you didn’t know.

“I’m leaving Japan after we graduate,” you disclosed.

A dejected silence fell upon you three until Chiyo spoke up, “For how long?”

“An indefinite amount of time.”

“Are you ever coming back?”

“I don’t know.”

Their glum faces only worsened your mood.

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

You tensed at the accusing tone directed at you. Saiki’s piercing gaze was pointed at your shrinking figure.

No matter how much time had passed since the loss of his abilities, you doubted that you would ever get used to the sound of his voice resonating out loud, or the enchanting shade of his eyes, even if they looked dangerously menacing at the moment.

“I wasn’t avoiding you. I was just busy studying for exams and doing other stuff,” you explained weakly.

Saiki’s deadpan expression indicated that he didn’t believe your lie.

After a few minutes of squirming underneath his scrutinizing gaze, you gave in and told him your worries, “I’m leaving the country soon. I think we should stop talking to each other so that it won’t be so hard for us to say goodbye.”

You pushed past him. You didn’t know where your feet planned on dragging you, but you figured anywhere was fine so long as you could get away from him.

The familiar warmth of Saiki’s hand wrapped around your own, stopping you from taking another step away. You didn’t dare turn around as you felt your heart thumping wildly.

“I won’t ever ask this of anyone else, so I’m begging you not to push me away,” he pleaded. He placed your hand over his chest, giving away the heavy pulsing of his heartbeat.

You could never say no to him.

Memories of the last few years ran through your mind as you smiled at the nostalgia. You took one final glance at your high school building before turning your back on it, striding towards the exit. 

You stopped at the sight of a familiar figure standing under the shade of a cherry blossom tree. Saiki must have known that you were staying much later after the graduation ceremony, all thanks to his restored powers.

‘Good grief. Were you really planning on leaving without saying goodbye?’ His voice resounded in your head.

You didn’t respond as you watched the wind blow through his hair, the sun illuminating the affectionate smile on his face, the violet obscured by his green glasses, and the petals dancing around the two of you as they fell to the ground. The timing was right. The mood was right. Everything was right.

He rubbed the back of your hand while you reached out to intertwine your fingers with his. The warmth that radiated off his skin felt like home.

He knew, and you knew that he did. After all, you could never hide your secrets from a psychic, no matter how hard you tried. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him how you felt.

“Goodbye,” you pulled away from Saiki.

What was the point of confessing your feelings to someone you would never see again?

Paris, France was one of your destinations out of many. Most people romanticized the capital as the City of Love, but the only reason you were even there in the first place was to visit the Louvre, the world’s largest art museum. 

Influenced by the art and the romantic ambience, you sketched out the scenery around you, deliberating how you could embody the city on paper. If you were to draw a picture of love, what would you envision? 

Maybe, it would look like pink locks tousled by the spring breeze, or the reflection of your eyes searching for violet orbs through tinted green glass. It might have been the lingering warmth on the fingertips of someone who trusted you enough to share their deepest secret, or the gentle smile that was reserved only for you during the most intimate of moments.

Your love was constant and unchanging. You realized that now. No matter how much time had passed or how many countries you visited, you always found yourself thinking about home.

Ever since you were a young student in junior high, you had hated the thought of giving up on your dreams to pursue a flighty, insignificant relationship. Six years ago, you threw away your chance at love to focus on your aspirations. There was no point in thinking back on what might have been. You shouldn’t have.

 You made a name for yourself through the many art competitions you joined, winning a few awards here and there. A while back, you finished your Bachelor's Degree in Illustration at a famous art school in New York. Things were coming together quite nicely.

Your high school days almost seemed like a lifetime ago. The memories that used to be the center of your universe, the laughter you shared with your friends, and a not so ordinary boy with psychic powers were at the back of your mind. Everyday life without the only person you've ever loved became the norm for you.

You recently got a job offer from a famous publishing company in Japan after you posted a short comic that blew up in popularity. The editor in chief sealed the deal with you after you sent him a promising draft for a manga you had planned out. 

It had been years since you’ve been to the country, but your return and the nostalgic surroundings brought back old recollections that made you feel like you were a teenager again.

The chief took it upon himself to give you a tour around the company, showing you the work environment and the employees. He guided you through the different floor levels, offices and workrooms, and acquainted you with the higher-ups. But he had yet to introduce the editor you would be working with.

"There he is."

The chief led you towards the figure of a man who had his back turned to you. The pink tuft of hair on his head and the silly-looking antennae shaped into joysticks poking out of his scalp were noticeably familiar. But you couldn’t believe it.

He turned around, green-tinted eyes boring into yours with the same neutral expression you used to see every day. Even when you had anticipated who it was, you couldn’t help the breathless gasp that escaped your lips.

"This is Saiki Kusuo. He will be the editor in charge of overseeing your work,” the chief introduced to you.

You took the hand Saiki held out for you, shaking it courteously. His blank expression didn’t fade, but his eyes softened under your gaze. The warmth on his grip was just as comforting as you remembered, like the welcoming embrace for a loved one returning home. 

Neither one of you let go.

"Well, since it's already after work hours, you guys should grab dinner and get to know each other. You'll be working closely for a while, after all," the chief suggested before leaving you and Saiki alone.

A hushed silence washed over both of you as the world disappeared before your sight. The image of a cherry blossom tree on a sunny spring day was evoked in your mind.

He sat next to you in a secluded booth of the café you used to frequent, away from prying eyes. 

"What happened to majoring in Economics and Literature?" you asked.

Your body was angled in his direction while you engaged him in conversation. Despite the many years apart, you and Saiki had fallen back to the easygoing relationship you once shared.

'I finally had time to think about my future, and I realized that this is what I wanted.'

“You wanted to be a manga editor like your dad?” you prompted.

‘Not quite.’

Saiki was composed as usual as he turned to face you.

'I have a dream. After you accomplished your goals, we would find each other again and spend the rest of our lives together. And maybe we might even make a best-seller manga one day,’ he mused.

Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest. The words you couldn’t bring yourself to say on the day of your graduation poured out unthinkingly from your throat.

“I love you.”

He placed a hand on the back of your neck, closing the distance between you.

‘I know.’

Your lips crashed into his, moulding perfectly as they moved against one another. You gripped his shoulders, pulling him in as he snuck an arm around your waist. Your eyelids fluttered shut, relishing in the sweet sensation of his taste.

You only pulled away minutes after to catch your breath. His forehead leaned against yours, the tip of your noses barely skimming each other. The look of adoration in his eyes revealed that he felt the same way.

No matter how long he waited, your love for each other was unchanging.

[shtern-and-art]

"Skeppy will probably cry" "Bad will probably cry". Bish, screw, that I am crying!!!

This whole thing was bloody gorgeous and I wasn't expecting that ending. I had no clue what ending to expect but that was definitely better than any I could have hoped for. Forest spirit to soulmate your honour!

I was terrified that you were gonna leave it at the point where he loses the spirit and becomes mortal again. If you had I would be actively sobbing!!!! And oh my god, the art!!! I still can't get over how wonderful your style is.

Imma ask fun things because if I don't I'll sit in a puddle of emotion all night:

What's the first tech thing Bad will buy and how annoying will he be about it? Poor Skeppy trying to answer 101 questions about something he doesn't really use XD.

Is no one concerned that the odd couple from a town they never name has a pet wolf??

Do they immediately go over to a different town or do they wander for a while. Find hidden creeks and befriend bears?

Does Bad still have a connection to nature and animals, like are creatures naturally more trusting of him?

Do they ever visit the og town again?

Does Skeppy still cause absolute chaos in other towns or has he learnt his lesson and only causes minor trouble now?

Does Bad ever try and study again? If he did what would he study and would Skeppy try to study as well?

Does Skeppy steal? I dunno, he just give off the vibe of a naughty lil trickster who'll pocket something if the owner refuses to sell it him.

Immediately after leaving the forest what the first 'argument' they have (not including the car one)?

Would they ever ride horse? If yes, how terrified would Skeppy be?

Skeppy falls outta tree. I don't know why but my mind keeps telling me that this man has great balance until he climbs trees. They are his mortal enemy and Bad finds this both hilarious and terrifying because he is going to hurt himself.

I had waaaaay more questions than I intended to have. My bad '^_^ but this story was way too much fun to read and you are entirely to blame for making it so engaging!

Make sure to take care of yourself and do stretches after and during drawing. You don't wanna hurt yourself <3

AaaaI’m so glad you liked it! :D And, dang, man, I cried while writing that part too :D

And I promised a nice ending for the main story, I did, and this one also makes the most sense narratively! For the story I wanted to tell, at least. Bad can’t really become human again, he’s changed to much. He can only move on, and do something with what he is, and has. And he did! :D That’s really nice and inspiring, this story will always have a place in my heart, heheh <3

Being a guardian spirit connected to a person and all, Bad may be not as strong as before, but he can’t die unless Skeppy dies first. And Skeppy can do that, but he’s pretty sturdy, and his lifespan operates on a whole other scale than human ones. And Bad knowing Skeppy’s real name balances it all out, makes them equal in the power and influence they have over each other.

So hellyeah, soulmates for the win :DDD

I’ll answer all questions under the cut, and this close up from one of the pages!

1) What's the first tech thing Bad will buy and how annoying will he be about it?

Probably a pager! Because it’s a more feasible thing to get than a wholeass computer Bad actually wanted :D An it means Skeppy will have to get one too, and that Bad will be having the time of his life texting him and everyone he can get a number from, even if they’re still in the room with him.

Poor Skeppy indeed, he can learn to appreciate the pagers, and later phones, too, and computers, but he really has 0 idea on how it all works and why Bad is so fascinated by it all.

2) Rat and regular people

Oh, she can shapeshift, just like Bad! If they’re out with people around, she takes form of a puppy, and Bad can pass her off as a weird mix breed rescue doggo.

3) Do they immediately go over to a different town or do they wander for a while?

Oh, since they have no end destination in mind, they can ride around for a bit, go visit some cool places and roadside attractions. Sadly, Skeppy is probably not spiritually or morally ready to full on befriend wild bears yet, and they do need money for gas and snacks. So, at some point they will have to stop somewhere and find work – at least for a bit, to save up. Life’s gonna be a bit complicated with all that, until Skeppy figures out his treasure-finding abilities :DD

4) Bad and nature and animals

He is definitely still in tune with all wildlife! Even more – Bad could become a proper guardian spirit for Skeppy in part because, in a way, Skeppy himself is part of the nature.

So yeah, Bad can understand animals (and plants) and communicate with them; they’re just more free to not take his shit, and Bad’s emotions do not “possess” them unless he makes an effort to do so.

He doesn’t like doing it, tho.

5) Do they ever visit the og town again?

Hm, I think they will completely forget about it for a while, until, like, 30+ years later they will be going somewhere, and find themselves around those parts. And they try to not appear too often in the areas they’ve spent a lot of time in already (they can be pretty recognizable, and also barely show signs of aging). But it’s been a long time, and the town’s really different now… So they make a stop, and spend a day there. They walk the unfamiliar streets between the new buildings, check out the popular hiking trail, the advertisements for hot springs and winter activities. The old cinema is still there, and is hosting an all-night marathon of classic horror movies of the last century.

Bad and Skeppy leave the town after sunset – the day was nice, but they have nothing more to do there. They ride through the forest on a well paved road, with radio playing something barely above the whisper. And in the dark of hot summer night, Bad can see the white stag running between the trees alongside their car. Shadows dance over the shimmering light of it’s fur.

Somewhere after the towns border, the stag disappears back in the forest. But the air in the car stays light and fresh, saving the smell of old pines and dry leaves all though the night.

6) Skeppy and chaos

Well, after the whole mess in the main story, Skeppy definitely learned some lessons, especially about not being a dick :D

But the thing is – he can’t really help the fact that things tend to stir up around him a lot. He naturally brings in chaos into everything, because he is, in part, a personification, or an outlet for it in the world. And so, to feel, well and good, and himself Skeppy gotta do stuff that disrupts balance, and creates some mayhem. And in gave him a lot of trouble in early life, but in the course of the main story he learned that he can chose were he lets that chaos to take hold, learned what can come of that chaos, apart from utter misery.

Like, where it can help dismantle something destructive, and where – bring in the more positive change, that was already brewing, possible, but is stagnant for some reason.

Soooo, I can’t say Skeppy causes only minor chaos in his life, but he sure learns even more about not being a dick :DDDD

7) The studying

I think Bad will want to get a higher education at some point, because he wanted to, and because it’s already new millennia and all that. Bet he’ll go for something very technical and/or literature. Maybe he’ll start by piking up some classes in small time colleges, when they stop in one place for a while, and later get into an online program, because why not.

Skeppy is not a college guy at all. He’ll listen to Bad talk about it, read textbooks if he wants to, can research stuff, buuut going to classes and doing homework is definitely not his thing.

8) Stealing

Well, you’re right, Skeppy can and will steal stuff out of spite! And will be scolded by Bad for it, and will not feel (that) sorry about it. But real stealer between them will be Bad himself :D

It’s just… he has the corvid tendencies, and a hoard (a box) of sentimental mementos from different people and events, and the thrill of stealing something small and harmless is very exciting. Bad is very proud of his little collection. Skeppy finds it very adorable, a bit hypocritical, and kinda creepy. Like, that pretty box he gifted Bad at some point is now full of stuff like:

- pressed flower from the clearing they had a picnic at on their anniversary

- the button the waitress lost that one day the storm caused a black out in the whole town

- some small animal bones

- couple pretty rocks Bad stole from Skeppy’s pockets

- penny that was once glued to the ground

- a handful of teeth people (and not people) lost in fights with Bad

- pen from some fancy hotel

- rainbow dash keychain that belonged to a child

- the list goes on

9) Argument

Oh, that same day they’ll fight over whether they should stay at the really crappy and suspicious looking motel, or go sleep in a perfectly fine forest near the road. Ironically, Bad wanted to try out the motel (because, yay, first time spending the night back in civilization), and Skeppy was the one insisting on sleeping in nature (because the motel looks like it could give you 10 diseases if you even stand near it, and sleeping in the forest is kind of nice, and means they can cuddle).

10) Horses

The guys will probably ride them at some point. Well, Bad will ride, and Skeppy will sit on his horse and hope it knows what to do and where to go, because trying to make this giant thing do something seems dangerous. If they’ll have to actually go somewhere fast, Skeppy will not survive that day, his butt (and legs) will be dead for days to come.

And riding with Bad on one horse may sound romantic and nice, but all romance dies when the gallop starts.

F.

11) Skeppy and climbing

Skeppy is more down to earth kind of guy, more of a “rocks and caves” kind of creature, real-life lizard person or something. Up on the trees and in the air – not really his element, yeah. But it doesn’t mean that Skeppy will accept this fact easy. The embarrassment of never managing to safely make it down a tree is too strong, he just has to do it all over again, and again. And again. Because, clearly, he was distracted this time. And the time before that Bad was teasing him, and it “disrupted his flow”. And, really, maybe these trees here just do not like Skeppy much, and make him slip a lot. Yeah.

So, more often than not, if Skeppy climbs a tree, he will not stop climbing it until he falls, or the tree ends. Bad had to take him off high branches couple times, forcefully, because, of course, Skeppy was sitting there for 2 hours just to properly enjoy the sunset. He can climb down at any point, he just Choses not to. The view is amazing. The bark is literally part of his skin now, not because he holds on tight, no, he’s just Than Much one with the nature )<

---

Don’t apologize for the questions! It’s always so fun to answer them, and it makes me think more about stuff I may have skipped, or didn’t think about before. It’s really nice :3c

Again, thank you for the ask, and for being here for this story! <3

(And I’ll try setting timers for rest breaks while I draw, mb that will help)

---

In The Dark - masterpost

[aikrus]

What It Means To Be Dead (Tokoyami x Reader)

Fandom: Bnha Warnings: Mentions of Dying, depression, bullying, abuse, and strong language Words: 2k259 Requested By: Anon <3 Request:  Hi I love your writing! Can I request one where Tokoyami )or anyone you'd like really,) finds a collection of old-ish diaries and letters while cleaning? The person's handwriting is very distinct and pretty (Think 1700's love letter find) but they never mention their name. As they read more of it they find newer entries where Aizawa is mentioned so they ask him about it only to find out the person who wrote them died almost 100 years ago and 'haunts' the school. (Sorry for long request) A/N: I deviated a little from the request, but I hope you like it!

            The night had already came and claimed the land of UA for itself. Shadows overtook the courtyards, and darkness fell across the classrooms, but not everyone had retreated to the safety of their comforters which shielded them from the secrets which the black abyss held so dear. 

After a draining day of learning and training, Tokoyami wanted nothing more than to go to sleep- sadly, it was his turn to clean the classroom. It was annoying and boring and he’d give anything to be able to go to sleep, but fair is fair and he wasn’t the tyrannical type.

And so, he washed the windows and wiped down the desks. He swept the floors and organized the textbooks, and he turned to put the broom back into the small closet in the corner of the classroom. With a heavy sigh, Fumikage realized he should probably tidy up the dirty, dust-filled, death trap that was called a broom closet. 

Narrowing his eyes at the cobwebs, he started to knock them down with the end of the broomstick (Seriously praying to whatever god there is that no spider fell onto his feathers). The room was in worse condition on closer inspection, it looked like not a soul had thought to clean it since the school was built. 

After taking the time to sweep the floors, wipe down the door and the counters, and organize the books, Tokoyami was beyond tired and ready to fall asleep in the still-somehow-dirty closet. No matter how many times he swung at the cobwebs, how many times he picked up the coats and books and papers on the floor, despite the effort he put into tidying up the smallish space, it still seemed to have a weird layer of age coating itself entirely.

The closet felt preserved in time, like the oldness it felt was not just in the items littered about, but in the very walls itself. The things it’s seen, the memories it held, something about the space simply felt... wrong. 

He turned to a corner he hadn’t worked on, inwardly groaning at the amount of work he still had to do despite the time of night. With a huff, he began to organize the textbooks and pages of work sprawled around the space. 

His hands fell upon and old leather book- very different in both appearance and age when compared to the marble notebooks that surrounded it. Leaning over, he saw ten to fifteen more of there journal like collections shoved deep into the corner of the room. 

Tentatively, he peeled open the first book. Looking at the pages, it looked to be the diary of a girl- the beautiful handwriting looked like it belonged to someone who saw the beauty that exists within the written language, someone who stops to smell the flowers, a person who looks at sunsets and bakes goods to say they love you. 

The ink that bled onto the early pages spoke of a student, a girl who wanted to be so much more, someone who wanted to save the world. He became enthralled by the speech patterns, the phrases and swirls of the letters drew him closer, enchanting his eyes to never leave the pages.

------ 

Soon the pages became all he could think about, even after he had to abandon the closet to race to bed. During class all he could think of was the feeling of the crisp paper under his touch. The voices of his friends seemed ugly, seemed to be missing the douse of honesty and beauty he had been exposed to, even when he was practicing all he could focus on was the experiences of the girl who wrote down all her inner thoughts. 

It was like she haunted him, appearing everywhere he went. Like she poisoned him, infecting his thoughts and feelings. She became everything to him so soon, every word had him on edge, every sentence a beautiful stream of imagery that he would give nothing but to experiencing along side her, what he wouldn’t give to see the world through her eyes of love.

As the day ended, he had quiet easily convinced Sero that he should take over his night of cleaning. Sure the actual work was quiet annoying, but he would be rewarded with her sweet words, he had left the book in the corner in his rush to get back to his dorm; he regretted his oversight the moment he laid down.

“Tokoyami, wasn’t your cleaning duty last night?” Aizawa asked, his eyes lazy looking up from the papers he was grading to make contact with Fumikage’s red ones. 

“Yes sir, it was. I volunteered to take over tonight as well,” 

“Mhm, and is there a reason for this?” He raised his eyebrow, dragging his briefcase off the table with him. 

“Cleaning helps me think,” this wasn’t a total lie, reading the journal will calm his raging thoughts of the mystery girl. 

“Just don’t make a habit of it,” his teacher echoed, not having enough energy to further investigate a seemingly innocent interaction.

Tokoyami was much faster with cleaning that day, and he was even faster to sprint inside the broom closet. He grabbed the leather books and raced back to his room, already feeling the warmth her voice provided. 

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

The passages started off innocent enough, complaints about school, fantasizing about a better life, just a teen writing down their emotions. It then morphed into the beauty in everything, words that didn’t release Fumikage’s eyes until they were tearing up from dryness. 

Then, things took a darker turn. Dark thoughts disguised in poems, things others have said to her, representation of her pain in drawings scattered throughout the book. The beautiful world- though still majestic in its own way- turned dark and twisted.

It was painful to read, and yet he couldn’t look away. It was like the book became a part of him- no. It was like he became a part of the book, nothing more than the cracked parchment and spilled ink. It was dehumanizing, but he wouldn’t change his position for anything in the world.

His bed was taken over by the old pages, dating back over two hundred years ago. The writer was in the post-quirk awakening. The world had just discovered the glowing child right before she was born. She was one of the first quirk holders in the world- one of the first one hundred Japanese citizens to have a quirk.

The journals started when she was ten- though that book was the fifth one he read. After that discovery, he categorized them in chronological order to read along with the flow of time. She wrote of the manifestation of her quirk- her parents had been struck with terror when their daughter walked through the wall of their living room to get into her bedroom. 

That was the first moment she realized how different she is. Her life never seemed to go back to the way it was before, not even after the initial shock of what she could do faded from her parents; because, there would always be a new shock, a new ability, and no one was prepared to help her.

He realized, reading more about how the quirkless treated her, that her life would have been much different is she had lived in his time. Hearing the slurs and bullying they  put her through, he wishes she could see how much the world has changed- would she be happy or sad that her bully's became the minority and were mocked in their normal-ness or if she would be ashamed of the people like her.

He was very satisfied that the people who made her life so awful were getting a taste of their own medicine, but he did wonder if that made him a bad person. Tokoyami figures that it really didn’t matter, she was gone so her opinion would never be known. 

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

“Death didn’t feel like I thought it would. Surprisingly, it was reminiscent of when I use my quirk to posses things or people. My body was there, on the floor, but I was floating above it. Much like I am when I leave my body before finding my target. The cold was instantly recognizable- like an abyss with no end.

The only difference I’ve noticed so far is the lack of body to return to, though I can enter it, it acts as an object. While I cannot move it, I can see out of it. It’s therapeutic in a way. Really, this must have been the best case scenario- I could see how everyone reacts, see who really cares about me.

It was hard at first, seeing all theses people, who I believed were simply pretending to care, braking down behind closed doors. It was only my sister- whom held no quirk- that cared. She did everything she could to make my funeral how I wanted it, and she preserved my bedroom the way I liked it. That was a nice gesture, it truly was. 

Now my life has come to an end- my body buried under ground, never to be seen again- I can’t help but wonder what comes next. How long will I be held in this mortal world? Will others be like me, or will I be forced to live alone in the agonizing realization that comes with immortality? I guess I’ll simply have to wait and see,”

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

He had fallen asleep after reading the last passage in the ninth book- where she described how she stayed a student at UA even after death. The names she referenced had been lost in time- Pro-heroes that have long been dead and are now another name on the Hero Memorial wall. 

She had possessed her home room teacher and walked to the headmaster- there she said what had happened. Her headmaster agreed to keep her on as a student, but only under the condition that she wouldn’t unnecessarily possess an unknowing student. It was fair- annoying but fair. They gave her her old desk and she worked along side everyone. When he woke up, the book had moved on its own. 

There was a page opened- an elegant scipt sprawllled at the top but had been smuged since it was written- the only elligable part following what could be assumed to be a name: Phatom-- The Ghost Hero. The script was familiar, but it wasn’t the handwriting the rest of the journal was written in. Beneath it was a drawing of a girl- a girl more beautiful than anyone Fumikage had ever seen. It was a realistic depiction and it looked modern- it was only with that realization which led Tokoyomi to realize this journal wasn’t one he had seen before. Flipping through it, he hadn’t even noticed its sudden appearance. It was the newest one of them all- spanning for the last decade.  He leaned back in his bed and began,

So I guess it’s been a while huh? Here are some general updates: Shouta from class 2-A is an idiot but I guess he’s kinda cute. We picked out hero names today, I wanted to just keep my name but he dubbed me Phantom.. I called him Eraserhead in return. I hope it sticks. 

I’ve graduated from UA more than six times now- but I kinda like it. I do some professional hero work- especially info recall- but I’m worried about how the public will react to a ghost. It would definitely fuck with some peoples religious views. 

It’s better this way. I’ve also decided to distance myself from Shinso- she and I got along great, but her twin brother has been acting weirdly around me for a while. His quirk is amazing, but I’ve seen plenty of unstable students pass through these halls and I know enough to keep my distance. Shouta doesn’t seem to agree- neither does Hizashi. I guess only time will tell.

As for manifesting my physical form- it’s a lot harder than I had hoped. I can become visual for three active minutes or ten minutes with no moving. I’m still not touchable, but I hope that will change with time. That’s all for now- I’ll try to check in soon.

He shook his head- surely those names must be common, but she was in UA and only so many coincidences can happen at one time. He wonders how she was now. Mostly, he wonders if she’s still at UA. They hadn’t announced her as a student, so was she a pro hero now? 

Was it weird to still be in the body of a sixteen year old? There were so many issues with immortality- he wondered how she coped with it. These questions abused him throughout the morning. He thought of how lonely she must be, how it must be so awful to be all by herself.

He wondered why he cared so much- why had he developed such a strong scene of attachement to this girl? The fuzzy feeling in his chest when he saw the drawing of the girl had taken up his entire mind- he needed to know more.

As soon as he entered his familiar class room he marched straight up to his teachers desk with passion in his eyes- “Professor, can we talk after class? I have some questions I’d like to ask you,”

Aizawa glarred at the corner of the room, an annoyed frown tugging at his lips. This was gonna be a long day.

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

A/N 

Sorry for dropping off the planet everyone! This has been in the drafts for a  long time and finally gets to see the light of day. I’ve had some mental health issues (not related to this story don’t worry) and am working on myself. I fully intend to finish the Christmas countdown I committed to and this account is still active, but this will remain on the back burner until I am well on my way to recovery. Requests will remain open for the time being and I will continue to make progress. Thank you for the lovely anon’s in my inbox with constant support and requests, I appreciate all of you. Thank you all and I hope you enjoyed this work <3

[glitterrosesnz]

decided that enough was enough, Venti couldn’t just keep showing up in my fics as a Chaotic Caretaker. so. Venti fans, come get yall’s juice-

---

Venti sat at the bar, his head resting on the countertop, seemingly asleep.

For anyone else, this wouldn't really be considered out of the ordinary. Sure, the bard was rather good at holding his liquor, but everyone has their limits, so the other patrons mainly chalked this behavior up to Venti having had one too many.

Diluc, on the other hand, with his inside knowledge of Venti being a god, and the fact that, thus far, the bard had only ordered one glass of wine, found this behavior very out of character.

"...Are you okay?" Diluc asked, quietly, so as to not draw the attention of anyone else. When Venti didn't immediately respond, he picked up the bard's half-drunk glass of wine and lightly nudged him with the bottom of it. Venti finally opened one eye to look at him.

"....'M fine." He mumbled, "Just.... used a bit too much energy today."

"If that's the case, you should go home and rest, rather than continue to sulk around in here." Diluc said, crossing his arms.

"I went to Windrise earlier and rested for a bit." Venti said, sitting up and subtly rubbing his nose with the back of his hand.

"That's not what I- wait. Do you even have a house?" Diluc asked. Venti gave a tired laugh in response.

"Why do you ask? Are you offering for me to live with you?" He asked, a smirk on his face. Diluc sighed.

"I'll take that as a no, you don't have a house then." He said, "And absolutely not. If you think even for a minute I'd let you freeload at Dawn Winery, then you must be well past drunk."

"Can't let people say I didn't try." Venti said, coughing a little before sighing, rubbing his nose again as he sniffled. Diluc narrowed his eyes, looking the bard up and down again, taking in his... unusually messy and unkempt appearance, suspicious. 

"...Are you sure you're okay?" He asked, and Venti gave that tired laugh again-

And then suddenly the bard paused, stiffening as he quickly pressed the back of his hand against his nose. Diluc raised an eyebrow in silent question, but Venti was no longer paying attention to him.

The bard abruptly stood up, muttering a quiet curse and stumbling a little. Quickly, ignoring Diluc's protests, he rushed around the counter, ducking down behind the bar to sit on the floor.

"What are you doing?" Diluc asked, and quickly got his answer as Venti's breath audibly hitched, his head tilting back-

"Heh- H'NGKt-shiew! HihH- H'NTCH-iew!" Venti stifled the two sneezes into his hands, the force of them making his body curl up tighter-

And a pair of feathered wings unfurled from his back, flaring out.

Thankfully, the wings didn't go high enough to be seen over the countertop. However, they did end up knocking over various bottles and glasses, sending the crashing to the floor, leaving shards of glass and puddles of spilled wine on the floor, and drawing the attention of quite a few of the patrons in the bar. Diluc quietly waved their attention away.

"I do hope you plan on cleaning this....." He started, only to trail off as he watched how the god tiredly shuddered as he drew his wings back into himself, and let them fade away. The whole process looked.... draining, to say the least. Diluc offered his hand as he helped Venti stand back up. Even through his glove, he could feel the heat coming off of Venti, and now Diluc was officially worried.

"I apologize for the mess I've made..." Venti said, staring down at the glass and wine on the floor. "Get me a mop, I'll help clean it up."

Diluc found he didn't really care about the mess on the floor.

"You're sick." He said, and Venti didn't even try to deny it.

"...Yes, I suppose I am coming down with something or other." The bard said, still not making eye contact with Diluc. "I'm sorry for being such a bother."

"Oh, stop with the rhyming." Diluc said, and he tightened his hold on Venti's hand, stepping out from behind the bar, dragging the bard along behind him. "I'm taking you to Jean."

There was, surprisingly, no resistance to this notion. As Diluc walked out into the cool night air of Mondstadt, he could feel Venti shiver beside him, but he chose not to comment on it, continuing to walk in the direction of the Knights of Favoinus headquarters. He didn't really like going in there, but for tonight it was necessary.

They'd just about made it halfway there when Venti suddenly stopped, tugging on Diluc's hand, attempting to free himself. Diluc looked at him questioningly, only to see a, now recognizable, look of mild panic on the bard's face, his free hand once again pressed against his nose.

"Really? Again?" Diluc asked, and Venti nodded frantically, not responding verbally, probably holding his breath in an attempt to keep himself from sneezing. Diluc looked around, there weren't many people out and about at this hour, but there were some people standing around, and so he quickly dragged Venti into the first alleyway he saw. He let go of the bard's hand just in time, as Venti was snapped forwards by a sneeze, his wings appearing and flaring out (causing Diluc to jump away to avoid being hit) as the god fell into a small fit of sneezes.

"Hih- H'ISHH-iew! H'Tt-shiew! Heh...hIH- H'ETSh-iew!"

"Bless you." Diluc said, as Venti sniffled miserably, wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve.

"You can't bless me, I'm a god, I'm already blessed." Venti said, laughing a little, which only caused him to start coughing. Diluc rolled his eyes as he gently patted the space in between Venti's wings in the hopes of it helping a little.

"You done?" Diluc asked, once Venti had stopped coughing. "Okay. Lets hurry up and get you to Jean."

"Wait." Venti said, his voice cracking a little from how hoarse it'd become. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Wait. We...kinda have a problem."

"What's wrong?"

"I...don't have enough energy to hide my wings." Venti said, quietly. "I've been doing this all day and I-"

"You don't need to explain it." Diluc said, sighing as he shrugged off his coat, before placing it over Venti's shoulders, effectively hiding the snow white wings from sight. "There. That should do until we get to Jean."

Venti reached up to pull the coat tighter around himself, looking almost swamped in it, considering how much shorter than Diluc he was. He clearly appreciated the warmth it brought to him though.

-

"Diluc, Venti!" Jean exclaimed, standing up from her desk as the two of them finally entered her office. "What are the both of you doing here so late at night?"

"Our little bard here need a..... secretive but warm place to stay the night." Diluc said, closing the door to the office behind him as he walked in.

"Why? What's wrong?" Jean asked, and almost as if on cue-

"Hih'NGKT-shiew!" Venti stifled a sneeze, his wings flaring out, knocking Diluc's coat off of him. Jean startled a little, but quickly recovered.

"Oh." She said, "I see."

"....'M sorry to bother you." Venti said, sniffling, gratefully accepting the tissues Jean proceeded to hand him in response. "I'd usually just stay in Windrise, but Mr. Diluc here decided I'd be better off with you."

"And you will be better off." Diluc said, "Seriously. You'll get better faster if you stay someplace warm."

"The tavern is warm." Venti protested, for the first time that night. "You could've just let me stay in the tavern."

"Absolutely not. Even sick, you probably would've drunken over half of my supplies." Diluc said, "Speaking of which. I still have a mess to clean up, so Jean, I trust I can leave the rest of this to you?"

"Of course." Jean confirmed, "I only had just a bit of paperwork left to do anyways, I've got time. You can go now."

Diluc gave her a nod, and turned to leave, picking up his coat from where it had fallen to the floor as he did so. He paused before opening the door, thinking for a moment, before laying his coat down on a nearby chair, in case Venti needed to use it again, before finally leaving the room. Once he'd left, Jean pulled off one of her gloves, placing the back of her hand against Venti's cheek before he could pull away.

"Hmm. You've got a fever." She said, "I've got some medicine in my desk but.... does medicine even work on you?"

"...It's only healing magic that doesn't work." Venti muttered, "Medicine is fine."

Jean quickly got the medicine out of her desk, setting up the right dosage, before handing it over to Venti. He took it quickly, grimacing in response to the flavor. Jean lightly put her hands on Venti's shoulders, just barely brushing up against his wings as she gently guided him out of the room, Venti picking up Diluc's coat and holding it tight against his chest as they left. Jean led him up the stairs towards one of the makeshift bedrooms, specifically made for people who had to spend the night at the headquarters. Luckily, Jean seemed to be the only one working late tonight, as they encountered no other guards as they walked through the halls.

"J-Jean...." Venti started, breath suddenly hitching, his wings tensing- "You....you might wanna duck...hIH- H'ESHH-iew!"

Jean took his advice, letting go of his shoulders and ducking down just in time to avoid receiving a wing to the face.

"Snf....Sorry..." Venti muttered, tired, as Jean stood back up, leading him the rest of the way to the bedroom.

"It's not your fault." She said, kindly. "You can't exactly control it."

Venti didn't respond, too tired to speak again after the amount of elemental energy he'd used up during the day. He slowly climbed into the bed, curling up around Diluc's coat, holding it like one would hold a stuffed animal or a baby blanket. Jean gave a soft laugh as she pulled the covers over top of him.

"Am I to presume Sir Diluc won't be getting that coat back anytime soon?" She asked, a note of light humor in her voice. The response she received was a light hum, which she took for a yes. She supposed she'd have to find some means of getting Diluc another, identical, coat then...

Jean turned to leave the room.

"Shout if you need something, okay?" She said, received another hum in response, and then quietly shut the door, leaving the god to sleep in peace.

[ruthiswriting]

heart line

mp100 | serirei, reigen arataka, serizawa katsuya, kageyama ‘mob’ shigeo, AU, 6k | on ao3

It doesn’t really matter, he reminds himself. He’s making a change, just like all of Reigen’s clients. What’s on his hands isn’t set in stone. He just has to make sure Reigen doesn’t see it— even if it might feel nice to have that steady attention, Reigen’s hands that are so much nicer than Serizawa’s folding around his. 

(or: Reigen starts offering palm readings as a service, leading to Serizawa having to confront his feelings for his boss.)

this is pretty fluffy, only real tw is some self deprecating depression thoughts from seri.

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One day, when he comes into work, Serizawa sees Reigen industriously spreading a new poster on the wall, next to the monthly specials.

“Oi, Serizawa,” Reigen says, head half turning, first in acknowledgment, then in focused interest. “Come help me finish putting up this poster— I can’t get the last corner. Or well, I could,” he allows, stepping away from the wall as Serizawa approaches, “but I don’t want to get the step ladder out of the storage closet, it’s always such a damn pain to dig it out. You had really good timing, you know…”

Serizawa comes in at the same time every day, so he hardly thinks it counts as good timing, but he doesn’t say anything. Reigen passes over a thumbtack that he’s been holding between his teeth— a terrible habit, one that always makes Serizawa’s stomach start doing awful twists when he sees him doing it— and Serizawa takes it, stepping to the wall.

The poster’s half up already, it’s really just this one corner that’s a bit awkward to get to behind one of Reigen’s potted plants. He smooths the corner out, hesitant, and carefully pushes the tack in.

“A little up,” Reigen directs from behind him, and even though Serizawa can’t see him he can feel the way Reigen’s head tilts to look under Serizawa’s stretched arm. “It needs to be straightened out— ah, the other side’s falling out, can you get that too? Serizawa! The bookshelf, watch it.”

After a few more tweaks, Serizawa finally manages to pin it to the wall in a way that satisfies Reigen. Serizawa runs two fingers over the slightly wrinkled corner— he can’t remember if it was already slightly bent, and he swallows nervously. But if Reigen notices, he doesn’t say anything, humming appreciatively. “Right. This’ll be good, people will walk in and see it with the monthly specials.” He stops, hands drumming on his hips. “Unless it should go on the far wall, while they’re sitting during the consultation? It works well as an add on, so maybe if they see it there it’ll drive more sales…”

Serizawa’s slowly processing the actual contents of the poster as Reigen hems and haws to himself. The center of the poster’s occupied with a giant stock photo hand, with arrows helpfully pointing to different creases and hills in the flat palm. A nauseating array of colors pinwheel around it, making it difficult to look away from once your gaze has drifted to it. PALM READINGS, the banner across the top screams out. LEARN ABOUT YOUR LIFE, LOVE, AND FORTUNE. Then, explosions of price points decorate the bottom.

Belatedly, he realizes he saw Reigen working on the poster yesterday during a slow hour in the office— slowly dragging together clip art in a way that he found appealing. Serizawa had avoided asking questions, since Reigen would then want his opinion on the poster, and Serizawa didn’t have the slightest clue about anything to do with design. Now, he could actually understand the poster for what it was.

“No, better to leave it here,” Reigen decides, bringing Serizawa out of his reverie. “Now, I’ve just got to add it to the website.” He sighs, scratching his cheek. “Damn builder’s always so tedious to fiddle with.”

“I didn’t know you could read palms, Reigen-san,” Serizawa says, still staring at the poster.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I read a couple articles about it over the weekend,” Reigen says, starting back to his desk. Then he half turns back, adding, “when you get to my level, it’s easy to pick up this kind of stuff, you know— it’s good to buff out your skills, too. Sort of…” He spins a hand in the air as he thinks. “Expanding your resume.”

Serizawa nods. This makes sense to him. To Serizawa, Reigen’s never had much of a recognizable aura— or really, he thinks privately, any recognizable ability at all. But he has a very long list of clients, successful exorcisms, and the attention of the most powerful psychic that Serizawa knows, besides maybe the president. Not to mention the entirety of CLAW’s former 7th Division’s admiration and respect. All of those people can’t be wrong, Serizawa reasons, so it must just be something that he’s missing. Serizawa misses a lot of things. And as Reigen’s repeatedly told him, his powers are just more spiritual, so him picking up a new ability with some light reading seems perfectly reasonable. “One of my classmates talk about learning coding a lot, since that’s good to have on a resume,” he says. “So it’s kind of like that, maybe.”

“Well,” Reigen pulls a face as he drops into his desk chair. “That’s a different kind of resume.” He swivels to his computer. “While I’m updating the website, Serizawa, can you look at the client list for the day?”

Serizawa hastens to look at the digital calendar that Reigen’s set up on his phone. “There’s a consultation in the morning, at ten,” he says. “Two massages in the afternoon… An exorcism at four.” Serizawa will be gone by then. Kageyama will be assisting with that exorcism— Reigen’s marked that on the calendar too, although Serizawa’s not sure Mob’s once looked at the calendar Reigen constantly refers to.

Reigen’s practically rattling the keyboard with the force of his typing. “Plenty of down time today, then,” he said. “I’ll be able to get this set up no problem.”

“Reigen-san,” Serizawa begins, awkward. “Should I…” Reigen’s stopped his punitive typing to stare at him, which always makes Serizawa’s words begin to stutter. He clears his throat and tries again. “To better assist the clients. Should I learn about palmistry, too?”

He doesn’t know why he asks. Most of the questions he asks feel pointless as soon as he says them, and this one’s ridiculousness is heightened by the way Reigen frowns. “If you want to,” he says, tone implying he’s not sure why Serizawa would. “I was planning on handling it, since it’s mostly interfacing with the clients, and you’re still getting comfortable there, but I wouldn’t stop you.”

Serizawa can’t stop the way his shoulders sink, and hurriedly, Reigen adds, “you’re doing fine, Serizawa— I’m glad you’ve got the initiative to ask about it. But I know you’re busy with your studies, so I didn’t want to take up your time unnecessarily. You’re already a great asset to the business.”

Again, Serizawa wants to protest, to say that really he should be doing so much more for Reigen than brewing tea and exorcising stray ghosts. But he shouldn’t argue with his boss, so he just nods, swallowing all of his words.

It only takes a few days for someone to take Reigen up on new special— a jittery looking college student with spectacles twice the size of her eyes. She comes about a necklace that she inherited from her recently deceased grandmother. Serizawa can’t see anything on it, and Reigen smoothly steps in to handle it. As he shreds rock salt over it and kept up a stream of gentle questions about her grandmother, the girl’s eyes roams over the wall, and she asks about the palm reading. Within seconds, Reigen has the lights dimmed, incense candles in Serizawa’s hands that are apparently his responsibility to light.

Reigen sits on the edge of his seat, face serious as he looks down into her upturned palm. She watches him with wide eyes. “It’s not so much that your palms determine your fate,” he explains to her, voice taking on a knowing, mystic quality. “It’s more that they’re a microcosm of reality… The big’s encapsulated in the small.” He draws one of his fingers along a crease in her fingers, barely a ghosting pressure.

As Serizawa struggles with the candles, the match in his hand finally catches, and the light blooms across her face. The beginning of a blush is striping across her nose.

“This is your head line,” Reigen says. Then his finger moves across another web. “Your heart line. Your fate line. And your life line.” For this last designation, his finger curves across the base of her thumb and comes to rest against her wrist.

“The life line,” she says, eyes wide. “I heard once that if you have a short life line, that means that you’ll die young.”

Discreetly, Serizawa peeks at his own palm, but he can’t track what any of the mess of creases are supposed to be when transposed onto his own hand. “Not necessarily,” Reigen says, shaking his head. “Your life line has more to do with your vitality. If it’s short or shallow, that’s not necessarily bad, but it might mean you need to make a change.” Reigen’s mouth draws into a frown. “…Have you been feeling disconnected from the people around you?”

“That’s exactly it,” she says, voice a relieved rush. “It’s been so hard, ever my grandmother died…”

The conversation streams on past Serizawa. He watches as Reigen gives her advice, her hand still resting comfortably between Reigen’s long fingers.

The palm readings only happen occasionally, but Reigen seems satisfied enough with their performance— like he said, it’s a nice add on. But on days when someone asks for one, they cling to Serizawa’s mind the entire train ride to his night classes.

Regardless of Serizawa’s perception of Reigen’s aura, he proves himself as a natural when he sits down with a client for a palm reading. No matter what he says, they always gasp in shock at how accurately Reigen’s pinned down their life with just a few sentences. Then, he’s immediately pinwheeling into advice on how best to fix their relationships, their jobs, their life.

He doesn’t like it. The idea that, just by looking at his hands, someone can accurately judge everything inside of him. Reigen never says anything bad about the clients, of course, but he’s sure that he has to see it. All of Serizawa’s mistakes are surely reflected in the creases of his hand— and he’s made a lot of mistakes.

Serizawa spends a lot of time staring at his hands on the train. They’re square in shape, with short, blocked off fingers, and a tangled mess of lines and mounds— what Reigen calls the bumps of flesh on the client’s hands. He doesn’t know what any of it means. He doesn’t think it could be anything good.

It doesn’t really matter, he reminds himself. He’s making a change, just like all of Reigen’s clients. What’s on his hands isn’t set in stone. He just has to make sure Reigen doesn’t see it— even if it might feel nice to have that steady attention, Reigen’s hands that are so much nicer than Serizawa’s folding around his.

The train rumbles under his feet, and hurriedly Serizawa tucks his free hand under his armpit. Like if it hand is out of his sight, the obsessive thought might be too. It doesn’t stop his eyes from ghosting over everyone else’s hands, that all surely say much better things about them than Serizawa’s.

He’s not doing a good job of not thinking about the hands.

Mainly, he keeps thinking about Reigen’s, which doesn’t bode well for Serizawa’s attempts at professionalism.

Serizawa realized fairly early on that his feelings for Reigen exceeded the typical respect one should have for an employer. It even went past the gratitude that one should have for someone who saved Serizawa’s life— because genuinely, Serizawa thinks that Reigen saved his life by giving him this job, when Serizawa didn’t even have a high school education or any practical experience beyond being a reformed terrorist. Even if Serizawa’s managed to stop referring to every manual of business practice as inarguable law, enough of them reiterated the extreme inappropriateness of workplace relationships that Serizawa figured it was a rule he should stick with. Their cautions at power imbalances, lack of professionalism, and the inevitability of messy breakups bang around in Serizawa’s mind every time he looks at Reigen.

Of course, it’s not like Reigen would want anything to do with Serizawa even without these restrictions. Reigen’s a good, helpful person, and he saw that Serizawa was in a bad spot, and wanted to do something about it. That was all. So, it’s up to Serizawa to draw a professional boundary. If he maintains a distance, that’s better for both of them— Reigen won’t have to deal with Serizawa’s messy, inappropriate feelings, and Serizawa won’t get hurt.

But the palm readings make that so much harder than necessary.

Reigen has nice hands, and he takes full advantage of them in every moment. They accent every word that Reigen ever speaks, making his case for him before he’s even begun a sentence. And when Reigen’s hands are making an energetic arc across the room, Serizawa keeps finding his mind going back to the dim office— the candles flickering in the dark, the sweet heady scent of incense. Reigen’s hands comfortably enveloping his hands.

Not his hands, really. It’s only Serizawa’s hands in his flushed, distracted imagination. He wishes, very desperately, that Reigen wasn’t so dedicated to the atmosphere of his services, but if he’s being honest with himself, Serizawa probably would have the same problem if Reigen conducted palmistry under the boring office lights.

It’s just Serizawa’s embarrassing personal problem. It’s something he has to deal with on his own. Another misguided crush on his employer— except he’s so sure that Reigen would let him down gently it burns.

It’s a slow day in the office when Reigen says, tone casual, “Serizawa, let me read your palm.”

Serizawa’s pen jags across the paper. He’s doing homework, which he always feels guilty for, even though Reigen’s repeatedly told him it’s fine, even offering to help him with any assignments he’s having trouble with. Now, he’s punished for slacking on the job by way of an unfortunate ink splatter obscuring a section of his notes. Serizawa feels a static charge draw up around his ears, and he takes a deep breath as he settles the pen against the page. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Serizawa says.

“Why not?” Reigen’s half out of his chair before he’s distracted by a loose set of papers about to escape his desk. He pins them down with a half full mug of tea, then continues his circuit around the desk. “We don’t have a client until later this afternoon, and it’ll be fun— enlightening, even. It’s a good team building exercise.”

He’s pretty sure Reigen just wants to put off the paperwork that he’s been complaining about the whole morning. It’s given him too much time to let his eyes drift across the room and watch Serizawa, probably monitoring any possible mistakes in his work. The palmistry poster’s right behind Serizawa’s head at his desk, so maybe that’s what made him think of it. Regardless, Serizawa does not want Reigen to be enlightened by anything about Serizawa. He clenches his hands into fists and sticks them under the desk, like maybe Reigen will forget about it if he can’t see them.

All the excuses collecting in his brain don’t make it to his mouth in time, and Reigen’s leaning against Serizawa’s desk. “Come on, Serizawa,” he entreats him, voice wheedling. “Don’t you ever unwind? It’s not bad to have a little fun when it’s slow.”

Serizawa can’t think of something less fun than his crush learning all of his secret and not-so-secret inadequacies while holding his hand. Plus, he’s sure that there’s something better both of them could be doing— that’s another thing the self help books harp on, that you can always find something to do to improve your workplace. But he’s not good at telling Reigen no. And so, in a matter of seconds, Reigen’s setting up the office as Serizawa watches, arms locked at his side.

“You don’t have to waste the incense candles,” Serizawa mumbles as Reigen energetically lights a match.

“It’s not a waste,” Reigen says firmly. “Anyway, I do my best readings when there’s a proper atmosphere.”

Since there’s no way to get out of this, besides maybe running straight out of the office and never coming back, Serizawa sits down at the table where Reigen always ushers their clients and waits. Reigen draws the blinds shut and then sits across from him, wiggling forward in his chair.

Reigen’s thighs sandwich the low table between them, pressing close enough for their knees to touch. Even though he’d dreaded the low lighting before, Serizawa’s abruptly grateful for the fact that Reigen can’t see the way his face heats in the dark.

And then, Reigen’s hands are taking his.

His hands are cool, maybe even a little clammy. They rest calmly against Serizawa’s over-hot skin, and Serizawa’s sure Reigen can feel the way that his pulse is rampaging in his wrist. Even before the palm reading’s begun, Serizawa’s hands apparently have the ability to betray him. He tries to swallow his nerves, again, force it all down. He can control himself, even if he’s feeling scared and lovesick. He’s not the person that he used to be.

Serizawa’s reminding himself of all of this, when Reigen says, very seriously, voice a low murmur, “you’ve got nice hands, you know.”

“What?” Serizawa blurts. “No, I don’t.” And then he flinches, immediately berating himself for contradicting Reigen.

Reigen’s eyebrows rise up, vanishing under his bangs. “Sure you do,” he says, insistent. And then, he turns Serizawa’s palm flat, running one electric finger around the circumference. “Square palm— short fingers. You’ve got earth hands. Means you’re reliable, Serizawa.”

Even though his brain is buzzing with this much prolonged contact— Serizawa’s not exactly had a lot of people spend extended time touching his hands, much less Reigen touching his hands— this sentence manages to drag him a little closer to reality again. Reigen just meant that comment in the context of palmistry, of course. He’s probably said similar things to his clients, even if Serizawa can’t exactly remember him saying them in this moment. He breathes.

After waiting long enough to realize that Serizawa’s not going to say anything in response, Reigen returns to tracing the lines of his hands. “Look here,” he murmurs, moving one finger down the center of his palm. “You’ve got a pretty pronounced fate line.”

And Serizawa knows, immediately, that that can’t be right. He’s heard enough of Reigen’s explanations to his clients to have learned that a deep fate line means you have control over your life— that outside actors don’t control your fate. Serizawa can’t think of something less likely to be applied to him. He feels his face sink, watching Reigen’s hand move, back and forth, over his own.

Reigen’s lying to him. He probably doesn’t mean it in a bad way. He probably wants to boost Serizawa’s abysmal self image, because Reigen’s good hearted like that. But it stings that he’d tell Serizawa falsehoods just to make him feel better, against something that demonstrably isn’t true. It calls into question every other good thing Reigen’s said about him.

“Aren’t you going to ask what that means?” Reigen’s eyes move up to look at Serizawa, burning holes in him.

Serizawa sucks in a breath that ghosts over his teeth. “Reigen-san…” He swallows, throat clicking. Every noise he makes suddenly feels so loud and over important when they sitting this close, without even the hum of fluorescent lights to drown it out. “I don’t really know if that makes sense, from what I’ve heard you say to the clients.”

Reigen’s eyebrows work together. “Your fate line can change over the course of your life, you know,” he says slowly. “Just like how you can change. It’s just a reflection of you.”

Serizawa lets his hand drop— it’s only Reigen’s interlaced fingers against the back of his hand that keeps his hand from knocking against the table. “I don’t know,” he mumbles. “I don’t know, if I’ve changed enough to justify that.”

“You’ve made a lot of changes,” Reigen says, still insistently not letting go of his hand. His fingers interlace into a cradle, and Serizawa can feel the press of Reigen’s index finger on one knuckle. “You’re taking classes. You chose to leave a harmful situation, when it would’ve been easier to stay. You’re working here. Serizawa, you’re the one that’s taking charge of your life now.”

But even that’s a falsehood. Serizawa knows, deep in his bones, that he never would have left CLAW on his own. He never would have been able to see past the circumference of his umbrella and his own starry infatuation. The only reason he was able to leave at all was because of Kageyama, forcing him out of the fantasy he was living in, and Reigen, offering him a lifeline when Serizawa was sitting in the absolute rubble of his fake life.

“Serizawa.” Reigen’s voice is suddenly sharp. “Are you really going to doubt an expert spiritualist such as myself?”

“N— no, I didn’t mean—“

“Then accept it. You’re the only one in charge of your life. Let’s look at something else more interesting,” Reigen says, immediately shifting gears and ending the conversational thread. “Your heart line, it looks like it’s pretty—“

And this is something that Serizawa absolutely cannot handle. He yanks his hand out of Reigen’s before he can stop himself. “Reigen-san,” he said, voice climbing an octave. “I don’t know if that’s— appropriate.”

“Eh?” Reigen’s blinking at him.

“I mean,” he pulls his arms back, keeping whatever incriminating information is inscribed on his hands safely hidden. “Isn’t it bad to discuss… Relationships, in the workplace?”

Reigen tilts his head like Serizawa’s said something foreign. “It’s perfectly normal,” he says. “I help Mob with his relationships all the time.”

That’s obviously completely different, Serizawa wants to say, but the words won’t come. Suddenly, he’s seized with the idea— Reigen already knows exactly what he’s thinking and feeling. There’s probably a specific triangle of flesh on Serizawa’s hand that communicates, this person is in love with their superior, and Reigen’s seen it and knows. Serizawa feels the redness climbing all over his face. He can’t stop himself from looking down, palm turning up as he tries to find whatever betrayed him.

And immediately, Reigen’s grabbed his hand again. Serizawa feels his brain misfiring as Reigen yanks it closer. “Look,” Reigen says, eager. “Yours begins below your index finger, from the edge of your palm.” He indicates it, and Serizawa desperately wishes his heart would stop jackhammering in response. His pulse is loud enough to hurt his head, so surely Reigen can feel it pounding in his grip. “Means you’ve got a giving heart, Serizawa. It’s pretty short, so you’re introverted… But deep, so relationships are definitely important to you.”

“Aren’t they important to everyone?” Serizawa asks, floundering for any type of purchase in this conversation.

“Not necessarily,” Reigen says. “I mean, think about it— you’ve definitely met people who’ve put more work into relationships than others, haven’t you? But you value the people around you, so your hands reflect that. Maybe even…” His hand traces a crease, and he wiggles an eyebrow at Serizawa. “Value of a specific person? Someone you have in mind?”

Bone deep shame makes itself known from within Serizawa’s marrow. His fingers automatically curl inward, in an attempt to hide, and suddenly, without realizing, he’s holding the tips of Reigen’s fingers under his.

He expects Reigen to pull back, automatic, but Reigen doesn’t move at all. All Reigen does is go still, not meeting Serizawa’s eyes all of the sudden. His nose dips forward to look down at their hands, hovering above the table. It’s like he’s shy. Reigen is never shy.

“It’s a good thing, you know,” he says. “You’d be a good partner.”

He’s staring down at their hands, resting against the table, still not moving to pull his fingers away, or even to spread open Serizawa’s hand to continue his relentless assault of kind words. It’s like he’s perfectly content to rest there, long fingers trapped in Serizawa’s grip, which is probably too tight and not at all pleasant. Serizawa keeps waiting and waiting for Reigen to pull away, but he doesn’t.

Then, suddenly, the door to the office buzzes, signifying a walk in client. Reigen pinwheels away so dramatically he almost falls off his chair. A little pop of psychic energy spreads out from Serizawa’s feet, lifting everything in the office just an inch off the ground before it drops again. Serizawa stands, frantic, looking for something to do as Reigen hurriedly draws open the blinds.

It’s too late, though. The unexpected customer’s standing in the entrance, staring at both of them. “Um,” he begins, phone held lamely up. “I saw the sign outside, and I was wondering if I could ask about getting some spirit tags…”

Reigen recovers admirably, immediately pivoting into welcoming the customer and acting like it’s perfectly normal for both of them to sit around in the dark with only candles to see by. Serizawa guesses it’s not totally unreasonable— it is a psychic business, after all. You’d only know it was strange if you were a regular customer, and this man isn’t.

The only thing that betrays it as odd is the red blush that’s spread all over Reigen’s face, even staining his ears. It couldn’t be because of Serizawa, of course— it’s just that a customer caught him off guard. It has to be that.

Serizawa stares at the back of Reigen’s flushed neck, and wonders.

The rest of the day is tense.

It’s not exactly like Serizawa and Reigen sit side by side all day, but Reigen normally will get up and come see what Serizawa’s doing. He’ll hang over him as he supervises his work, or offer suggestions on whatever homework assignment he’s working on. In general, Reigen seems to dislike sitting still for long hours. He tends to pace about as he verbally puzzles through work problems to Serizawa, or Mob, or, probably, to an empty room. But after the palm reading, Reigen stays firmly confined to his desk, not saying anything at all as he still fidgets. Even when a client comes for an exorcism and he has to get up, Reigen maintains an exaggeratedly respectful distance between him and Serizawa.

The palm reading plays on repeat in Serizawa’s head, offering new mistakes for Serizawa to fixate on each time. The more they sit in silence, the more Serizawa’s completely sure that Reigen knows exactly how he feels. Why else would he suddenly become so shy? He wishes, fervently, that he’d just managed to keep it to act normally. Maybe if he hadn’t made such a fuss about the whole thing he wouldn’t have made Reigen uncomfortable. Now it’s even more obvious to Reigen where his feelings lie. It must disgust him, to have to deal with Serizawa’s sad, misaimed emotions— pathetically clinging to any basic kindness shown to him.

The whole afternoon, Reigen’s ears stay red as he works at his computer, only stealing glances at Serizawa when he thinks Serizawa can’t see.

He has to say something. He has to to apologize to Reigen for making everything so awkward. Maybe if he promises that he can control his feelings, that it won’t get in the way, things could go back to normal. Serizawa wishes the earth would swallow him whole. But it won’t— not without Serizawa splitting the earth open himself, at least. But if Serizawa wants to have any chance of reintegrating into normal society he has to deal with his feelings in an adult way.

Of course, Reigen beats him to bringing it up, as Serizawa’s dragging up the nerve to say something at the end of the day. He’s just stood, closing his laptop as he says, “Serizawa,” and pauses immediately, scratching the back of his neck. “You know, when you mentioned inappropriate workplace relationships—“

“I promise it won’t get in the way of anything,” Serizawa says in an explosive rush. “Please don’t fire me.”

Reigen stares at him, one hand still resting on the back of his neck. This is a look that Serizawa’s unfortunately gotten to know quite well. It’s the look that Reigen gives him when he’s said something unexpected. Serizawa’s begun to mentally mark it as a sign as conversational failure. “Pardon?”

Serizawa was really desperately hoping that Reigen wouldn’t make him actually say it, but that was looking less and less likely. “When you read my palm,” he stammers out, clutching onto the edge of his desk for dear life. “I know maybe not everything you saw was— appropriate, or maybe it showed something it shouldn’t, but I promise I won’t let it get in the way of working here. I can maintain professional boundaries, and… And…”

His voice trails as he dares to look back into Reigen’s face. It’s completely red again, naked surprise totally dominating his features. His hand’s gripping the back of his chair, like it’s stuck there. Reigen very rarely holds still, but in this moment, he’s completely frozen in place. By shock.

Abruptly, Serizawa realizes he was wrong. Reigen hadn’t seen his feelings in the surface of his fingers. But if he didn’t know about it before, he definitely, definitely knows about it now.

For a split second, Serizawa’s certain the office will collapse around them— his powers going rampant one last time to spare him this complete embarrassment. But all that happens is the furniture trembles, once. Serizawa supposes, under the part of his brain that’s screaming for death, that it shows he’s made good progress on controlling his powers.

He stands robotically. “I should go,” he says.

“No— no,” Reigen suddenly blurts, and he unsticks himself from behind the desk, racing across the office after Serizawa. “Serizawa, wait—”

Serizawa trips over his chair in his rush to leave, which gives Reigen the time to grab his arm before he reaches the door. It would be very easy to pull free and continue his frantic path onto the street and into the horizon, but the feeling of Reigen’s fingers digging into the side of his arm totally arrests Serizawa. He freezes, staring down into Reigen’s still beet-red face.

Reigen’s face is twitching in some kind of worrisome motion— he really looks like he’s about to have some kind of seizure, especially when his complexion is still so totally red. But finally, he manages to speak. “Our heart lines might not be so different, you know,” he says, voice wobbling just a little from— nerves? That can’t be right. Unless Reigen’s so totally disgusted by him that he’s nervous to be around him, now. But he’s holding on so tightly. Like he doesn’t want Serizawa to go.

Serizawa’s eyes slide away, not wanting to look at Reigen dead on, but then Reigen tugs his arm, insistent, trying to get his attention again. “Obviously, the qualities that we have, and the ways that we love— hypothetically— are very different,” Reigen says, voice gaining volume. “But, maybe similar things are revealed if you look closely. Just… A little closer.”

And then he doesn’t say anything, staring wide eyed at Serizawa. He’s clearly waiting for something, as Serizawa’s brain shudders to put the pieces together past every instinct that’s screaming at him to escape. Serizawa can’t conceive of a person being more different from him than Reigen. Any kind of similarity seems like too much to imagine. A similarity of the heart line? Maybe, Reigen has some of the good qualities he’s superimposed onto Serizawa, and that’s what he means. Or maybe— maybe—

Before he can stop himself, Serizawa’s hand slides up to grab the one that Reigen’s got on his arms. This time Reigen’s hand is damp with sweat. So is Serizawa’s, and he can’t imagine that it’s a pleasant experience for Reigen. Still, Reigen spreads his fingers, interlacing Serizawa’s fingers with his as they fall to the side.

“Just a little closer,” Reigen says again, voice almost a whisper as he steps into Serizawa’s personal space. The gap between their bodies narrows, and then vanishes, Reigen’s torso pressing against Serizawa’s.

It seems, impossibly, to be what Reigen wants. So before he can stop himself, Serizawa dips his head and kisses Reigen.

Reigen’s body leans up and into Serizawa, his free hand reaching up to touch his face. Underneath the fireworks happening behind Serizawa’s eyelids, there’s a moment of terror at Reigen touching his face— like he’ll find some patchy place where Serizawa missed shaving, or the pockmarked memory of an acne scar, and abruptly snap out of whatever insanity’s fallen over him. But Reigen touches his cheek gently, so, so, gently, and the fingers encircling Serizawa’s only tighten.

He’s sure, from any objective standpoint, it’s not a very good kiss— Serizawa’s never kissed anyone before, so his skills are probably awful. But it also means it’s the best he’s ever had. He never wants to come up for air.

Eventually, though, their faces break apart. Reigen’s face is still twitching a little, but now it’s up into an almost manic smile. Serizawa’s starting to wonder if the blush across Reigen’s face will ever subside. “This is,” Reigen begins, and then stops.

Reigen’s words rarely stop, and the silence stretches on for a few uninterrupted seconds until Serizawa realizes that genuinely, Reigen’s lost for words. A laugh threatens to break loose from Serizawa’s chest, but he doesn’t want it to seem like he’s laughing at Reigen. He only wants to express that whatever Reigen’s feeling, Serizawa understands. Completely and totally. It’s something he feels confident of when typically, Serizawa feels confident of nothing. So he just smiles, hoping that maybe, Reigen will understand too.

“I should have gotten into palmistry earlier,” Reigen says finally, and at that Serizawa can’t suppress his laugh. “Clearly I should screw around reading articles on the weekend more.”

“This wasn’t the reason you learned about palmistry,” Serizawa says, laugh still making his voice shake.

“Hell no,” Reigen snorts. “I just wanted to find another way to make a quick buck.” Then, immediately, he adds, “and also help our clients find out important truths about themselves, and the universe, of course—”

“While making a quick buck,” Serizawa says. It feels too joking, too disrespectful, but then, Serizawa’s just kissed Reigen. Reigen’s kissed him back. Worrying about professionalism seems suddenly pointless.

Reigen raises an eyebrow at him. “Sassy. Just don’t say that to the clients, Serizawa.”

His hand’s still clinging to Serizawa, gently swinging between them. Impulsively, Serizawa brings the hand up to his mouth, kissing the knuckles. Reigen’s breath pulls in, and Serizawa feels his face heat. He suddenly realizes that really, he has no idea what Reigen expects from this. They could be on completely different pages, Serizawa could be moving too fast, he could be doing everything all wrong.

But Reigen’s smiling at him. It’s a smile that he hasn’t seen before— totally unlike the dazzling grins that he gives his clients, and everyone he’s trying to convince to believe him. It feels different. The other smiles, Serizawa realizes, are something that Reigen puts on, in the same way that he puts on his tie in the morning. This one is real. This one is for Serizawa.

There’s a part of his stomach that’s still telling him this whole thing is a bad idea. Every chapter on workplace relationships he’s taken careful notes on is flashing on the back of his eyelids when he blinks. But, more and more, Serizawa’s realized that Spirits and Such is far from a typical office environment. Serizawa’s not a typical employee, and Reigen— wonderful, strange, perfect, Reigen— is not a typical boss.

When they walk out of the office, Reigen’s still holding his hand. Serizawa hopes, impossibly, that he never stops.

[write-like-you-mean-it]

Pretty Little Psycho (Shalnark x Reader)

Happy (extremely late) Valentine’s Day! Hope you enjoy this Shalnark fic. I’ve been trying more second person. Please like and reblog if you did enjoy it.. Submitted by: @pastelbear12

“Phantom Troupe, huh,” said your best friend as the two of you were stopped at an intersection between your destination and her house. You’d left earlier than intended because of the recent uproar of crime in York New. 

You turn to look at the same poster as your friend: a hung up, crude drawing of about 5 members of the so-called troupe. Most of the people seemed to fix a certain stereotype of villain; however, none were easily recognizable in your life. 

“Should we be worried?” you question as the greenlight illuminated the darkened street. You and your friend walked across the striped pathway as you were close to your destination. 

“Nah,” your friend said while trying to pull down her dress. “Do you think these people would show up at a club?” She moves to adjust the bust by pulling it up. You laugh to yourself knowing there was not enough fabric to pull both ways. “You need to be on the lookout for someone to replace your ex. Have fun. Live a little.”

Her mentioning your ex left a sour taste of bile in the back of your throat. He was a vile display of a person who refuses to grow up and choose between you and a girl from his work. “Why even mention him?” you say with a bit of the same vitriol you felt towards him. 

Your friend ruffles your hair. “Sorry honey. I still want you to have a good night in spite of him.” You throw your friend a look of annoyance before hearing the nearing pounding of club music rattling the ground. 

“Sounds like a fun party,” you say. Excitement rings in your ears as you get closer. A few more people were dressed in the same style of outfit as you two. You and your friend get in line behind a group of young adult girls that must be celebrating a bachelorette party. It must be the sash with “bride” written on front and how intoxicated they already were which gave it away. 

A group of three guys got in behind you and your friend. She hummed a little warning while poking you in the side. One of them caught your attention. He was a bubbly, fun, and exergetic type who was too busy looking at his phone to notice anything around him. 

You knew that your friend was elbowing you about the guy next to him. A tall chiseled man who looked like he could have walked in from the gym with how muscular he was. Her favorite type of man. 

One look from your friend and you knew that her brazen, already partly tispy attitude was going to get you in trouble. She turned to look at the group minding their own business and said “My, my, what might bring you guys out to this bar tonight?

The taller of the three looks both of us up and down before responding, “None of your business doll.”

You sigh while placing your head in the palm of your head. You knew that his words would only egg your friend on. “Then why don’t I make it my business.” She steps closer to the man and looks him up and down the same way he did to her only moments before. “How about I’ll buy you a drink if you tell me why you’re here, love?”

You shake your head before looking up to see the same blonde watching you. You mutter a “sorry about her. She’s a little tipsy.”

His smile brightened as he placed his phone in his pocket. “Not a problem. Phinks can handle himself. He’s not as friendly as your friend wants him to be.” The blonde steps a little closer to you. His position leaves little room between you and the wall. Your foot scraping against the cold, hard surface. “Now you’re more interesting than she. Why are you here?”

Air escaped from your lungs as your heart sped up to match the quickness of the music. “Oh. I’m here to forget.”

The smile on his face became brighter. “To forget huh?”

You nod. The line before you moved which you took as the opportunity to follow. “My ex broke up with me. I’m trying to forget him.”

The whole group shifted closer to the door with you taking the lead. The blonde still dangerously trapping you in between himself and now the crowd of people. “You know the best way to forget someone. Is to find someone new.”

“Do you want that to be you?”

“I haven’t even introduced myself.” His words were drenched in a sickly sweet tone. “I’m Shalnark. And you might be?”

You give him your name even though every nerve in your body is screaming not to. He hummed a song note while repeating your name. “Sounds beautiful.” His face was dangerously close to your own. The same excitement from before pulses in the back of your throat.

“So what brought you here?” You ask. 

“My boss told me to come here. Although, I wasn’t expecting to find someone like you.”

“What does that mean?”

His lip curled into a devilishly exciting smile. “How about I buy you a drink? But not from this place. There’s a much better place up the road. You may want to bring your friend too.” The glimmer in his eyes made you know that something else was happening that you didn’t know or want to know about. 

“You know that you’re looking a little crazy right now.”

“That’s the point honey.” he gripped your wrist while dragging you under the rope sectioning off who wants to be in the club and not. “Trust me. You’re in for a wild night.”

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