#soap stopped by work and gave me a present but they said they Intended to get me kanji's jacket but it was Expensive

[baccan0pe]

.

[earlgreydream]

i hate you.

| 1940s!bucky x reader | fluff | smut |

requested. greaser!bucky au. enemies(?) to lovers. @fitzfiles​ and i are shamelessly indulgent

bucky made up his mind, he was going to win you over. 

Bucky Barnes was the asshole across the street with the stupid loud motorcycle and white tees and leather jackets. You hated him. 

“Hey, doll.” 

You heard it every day when you came walking home from school, books in hand. And every day, it irritated you. You would scowl at Bucky, and he would flash his stupid smirk and wink at you. 

You’d see him shirtless at night, smoking out on his porch. Once, he caught you staring out the window, and he’d teased you about it the next day on your way off to school. 

“Checking me out last night, doll?”

“Don’t call me that. It’s Y/N. And no I wasn’t checking you out. I was watching you die slowly of lung cancer,” you snarked, making him throw his head back with laughter. 

“If smoking doesn’t kill you, I will,” you muttered before going inside of your house.

“JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES!” You screamed, throwing your front door open. You were wrapped in a blanket over your thin pajamas, and you were infuriated.

“What?” He called with a stupid amused look on his face.

“It’s five in the fucking morning! Stop revving the engine on your motorcycle! You’re waking up the whole neighbourhood!” 

“You’re the one screaming.”

“I hate you,” you seethed. 

Without breaking eye contact, he revved the engine again. You were so irritated you could cry, and you resolved yourself to go back inside, refusing to let Bucky get the satisfaction of seeing your reaction to his antagonizing. 

This had gone on for months. You were able to ignore him most of the time, but he was persistent. Your friends joked that he was in love with you, but you couldn’t imagine it. Bucky was delighted to get you worked up, and he was proud of himself for it.

“You’ve all lost your bloody minds,” you assured your friends, dragging them inside as Bucky whistled at you from across the street.

“He’s just my annoying neighbor.”

Bucky seemed to be always washing his yellow car in his driveway. You’d come home and see him shirtless, in low-rise jeans that showed off v-lines, bent over the hood of his soapy car. If it wasn’t the car, it was his motorcycle. He always winked at you or blew you a kiss, making you shake your head or roll your eyes.

 You hated to see him washing his car, because it made it that much more difficult to deny how incredibly gorgeous he was. 

Bucky delighted in getting you worked up. He loved to see your cheeks flush pink and the way your nose scrunched up at his banter. He had a crush on you, ever since he moved in, and he always loved your attention, even if he got it by antagonizing you.

Bucky did intend to get in your good favor, but you had made up your mind that you didn’t like him. Bucky was determined, and loved a challenge.

Bucky decided his opportunity to win you over was when it was pouring down rain. The morning had started out sunny when you’d walked to school, but the weather had turned rapidly mid-morning. 

He got in his yellow car, and drove to the college in town, parking outside and going into the lobby with an umbrella. He leaned against a railing, waiting for you to get out of your class, to give you a lift and keep you from getting soaked and ruining your books.

As soon as it started to rain, you’d fretted about getting home. You didn’t have any friends that drove, and you had been debating whether to wait out the rain or just brave it and get wet.

You definitely didn’t expect to see your neighbour leaning against the railing in the front lobby. 

“Hey, doll.” He grinned, standing when you approached him. He had ignored the stares of the other girls, everything else disappearing when he saw you. 

“Bucky, what are you doing here?” you sighed, blushing at the stares you got, everyone hearing his term of endearment for you. 

“I brought my car, I didn’t want you to ruin your books and get wet by walking home in the rain,” he answered honestly, surprising you.

“You drove here to pick me up?”

Bucky nodded, and you fought off a small smile. You didn’t like him, and you were annoyed, but the gesture was thoughtful, and much appreciated. You rationalized the soft feelings by claiming it was basic decency, and it was necessary that you had to take him up on his offer.

“Okay.” 

You took his arm and he opened his umbrella, keeping you dry as he helped you into the passenger seat of his yellow car. You set your books on the dash, leaning back against the leather seat. As he drove, the radio played smooth jazz, surprising you a bit, as Bucky didn’t seem like the jazz type.

“Bucky, you’ve missed the turn.” You said, and he only smiled, biting the inside of his cheek. Your heart rate increased as he drove into the city and you whipped your head to look at him.

“Where are you taking me? I thought you were taking me home!”

“I am taking you home, eventually,” Bucky grinned, and you could’ve screamed.

“You can’t just abduct me! Where are we going?! I will throw myself from your moving car!” You snapped, panicking. 

“I’m not abducting you! I’m taking you to have some fun, because all you do is study and it’s made you wound tight!”

“You’re kidding me. I’ve got to write a paper!” You cried, and Bucky just laughed, shaking his head.

“Just relax, Y/N.” 

You gave him a scathing look, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“You’re insufferable.”

“Most say charming.”

You followed Bucky into a roller rink, rolling your eyes but secretly excited about rollerskating. You slipped your feet into white skates, thankful today you had chosen to wear pants. 

You stepped onto the rink with Bucky right behind you. It had been a while since you skated, and you were a bit unsteady on your feet. You pushed forward, putting your arms out for balance as you tried to get used to the feeling of the wheels under your feet.

“Careful!” Bucky exclaimed when you nearly fell, catching your waist to steady you. You gasped, your hands going to his arms for balance. A blush spread across your cheeks, butterflies erupting in your stomach at the gentle, caring way he touched you.

“Thanks,” you smiled, pushing off his arms and skating smoothly around. He fell in rhythm beside you, skating to the music. 

He tried to show off by skating backwards, but lost his balance and fell, making you shriek. You moved toward him quickly, and held out your hands to help him up.

“Are you alright?” You asked, and he nodded, biting back a smile.

“I’m fine, I’m okay.” 

You decided you’d had enough then, and the two of you resorted to eating pizza at a parlor down the street, Bucky insisting on you needing dinner before you went home. You shivered as you stepped into the air-conditioned restaurant, coming out of the warm summer evening. Bucky slipped his black leather jacket from his arms and put it on you when he noticed. You whispered a soft thank-you, pulling it tightly around your smaller body. It smelled faintly of smoke and castile soap, like him. 

Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off of the sight of you wearing his clothes, his heart stirring as you hugged it around you.  

“Feel better?” Bucky asked as you bit into a slice of pizza.

“I’m not going to let you take credit for loosening me up.” 

“Oh, I haven’t even tried to loosen you up yet.” He joked, making you choke on your water. You glared at him for the suggestive comment, and he smirked. 

You blushed at the insinuation, images of intimacy with Bucky flashing through your mind. He didn’t take his eyes off of you, and you shifted under his gaze.

“Smartass. You still abducted me.”

“And you’re enjoying it.”

You took another bite of your pizza, finally breaking the intense eye contact. 

Even though you had enjoyed the night with Bucky in the city, and you’d gone home full of butterflies, he had quickly managed to get back on your nerves. 

Bucky’s friends came over to party, and they were loud, obnoxious, and kept you (and half the neighbourhood) up with their partying the night before you had a presentation at college. You were infuriated when you complained to Bucky, and he told you that you should’ve just come to party with them, since you were up anyways. 

Then there was the fact that Bucky kept revving the engine of his damned motorcycle. You hated it, especially early in the morning when you were trying to peacefully trying to pour a cup of coffee. 

You couldn’t stand him, and he just made you mad. 

You hated his motorcycle, and you hated his arrogance. You hated how everyone dropped to their knees at his every whim. You hated when you’d see him painting his fence or working on his car outside, and he’d pull his shirt off when he saw you looking. You hated that Bucky smoked. 

Mostly, you hated how everything Bucky did gave you butterflies. 

Bucky adored the way your brow knit together when you glared at him. He adored the blush of your cheeks and the way you huffed in annoyance. He loved to see your eyes glitter with emotion whenever he got under your skin. He adored the way your eyes lingered on him whenever he was shirtless in the yard.

Bucky adored you.

The night was particularly warm. The summer heat had everyone on edge, and you and Bucky were no exception. The moon was the only light in the starless sky, a dark stillness settling over your neighbourhood. It was incredibly late, but you couldn’t sleep like everyone else. You had been enjoying the quiet loneliness of the night when Bucky had gone outside to the sidewalk. He was shirtless as he lit a cigarette, grinning at you. 

“Hey, doll.”

“Don’t call me that,” you huffed, feeling like a broken record.

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” he blew smoke into the air, and you stood up off your porch swing. You walked across your small lawn quickly, until you were standing in the street. 

“You shouldn’t smoke, it will kill you,” you quipped, making him roll his eyes.

“Don’t stand in the street, a car can come and kill you.” Bucky said back, though there was a tone of seriousness to his voice.

“It’s the middle of the night, no one is going to-”

Bucky suddenly grabbed you and yanked you toward him, making you shriek. Less than half a second later, a car without its headlights on came flying down the street. 

Your eyes were wide with fright, unable to process that Bucky had just pulled you from in front of a car. His eyes blazed with emotion, and you tried to shove off of him. 

“You almost fucking died! I told you not to stand in the damned street!” Bucky snapped at you, raising his voice. 

“Don’t yell at me! I wouldn’t have been in the street if you weren’t such an asshole!” you shouted back, your eyes and throat burning, making your entire body tremble. 

“Why are you so fucking difficult?!” Bucky’s fear at seeing you almost get hit by a car in front of him fueled his emotion, and he didn’t mean to yell at you, but the feelings were boiling over. 

“Because you make me so mad, and because I love you, you idiot!” You screamed before you could stop yourself. When you said the words out loud, you realized you meant them, more than you meant any of the anger. 

There was a deafening silence, and it was too late to take it back.

“Bucky, I-” you stammered, but he cut you off by crashing his lips against yours, pulling you into him. 

Passion lit like a fire between you, and you reached up and held his face, kissing him back with force. You parted your lips and he slipped his tongue into your mouth, moving in sync with you, swallowing your small noises. He cradled your jaw as his mouth moved with yours, drawing you even closer.

The heat practically suffocated you, and you were completely lost in Bucky. He tasted like smoke and coffee, and his body was pressed against your own, overwhelming you with need. His hands slid down to squeeze your ass, and you rolled your hips against his as you moaned. 

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered when the two of you finally broke for air. He wasted no time before mouthing along your jaw, pressing kisses down the column of your throat. 

Your hands ran down his toned chest, before hooking your fingers in his belt loops and tugging his hips closer against yours, wanting to feel him hardening against you. The heat between your legs was spreading, and you were aching for him. 

Bucky groaned against your neck as you ground against him, and he backed you up against his car, needing to ground the two of you. He could hear your small, breathy pants by his ear and you were practically shaking with need. 

“Bucky, please touch me,” you begged, months of sexual frustration pouring out all at once. Who was he to deny you? He kissed you deeply, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing him against your front. 

Your breath hitched when he slipped his hand into your waistband, cupping your sex. You spread your legs a bit, and he slipped his fingers through your folds, tracing the shape of you. 

He hardened at the sound of your soft moans and the feeling of you twitching against his fingertips. Neither of you cared that you were outside, on display for anyone who woke up in the night. 

He found your clit, stroking it softly while you made out, swallowing all of your sexy noises. You were overwhelmed by what he could do with just his fingers, and you somehow needed him closer, even though your bodies were pressed against each other. Your body was buzzing with pleasure from his small touches alone, and you were having the same effect on him. 

“Fuck, Bucky,” you breathed, lightly biting down on his shoulder to silence yourself as he eased a finger inside of you. He pumped slowly, and you took him in easily with how turned on you were. 

“I know, doll, but I gotta warm you up first so I don’t hurt you.” He kissed your jaw, and a short laugh escaped you. 

“Cheeky,” you hummed, palming over his crotch, making him push two fingers into you all at once. The air caught in your throat, but you kept feeling him up as he curled his fingers forward into your g-spot. 

The way you were moaning his name was driving him wild, and he couldn’t draw out the foreplay anymore. You pulled your shirt over your head, thankful you had forgone a bra. Your shirt was discarded in the driveway, and Bucky tugged your bottoms down easily before lifting your nude body up onto the hood of his car. You leaned forward, undoing the button on his jeans and helping him out of them, your eyes widening when you saw how big he was. 

Bucky grinned at you, able to read your mind, your thoughts evident in your startled expression. His ego definitely didn’t need the boost, and you blushed when you realized he was grinning at your observation. 

Your tongue nervously darted out over your lips, and he couldn’t take it anymore. He lowered you to lay down on the cool metal, making you shudder when it came into contact with your hot skin. 

You exhaled softly as his hands skimmed down your body in an attempt to ease your nerves. He leaned down and kissed you gently, bending your legs up to your chest. 

“I’m going to make you feel so good, doll,” Bucky promised, and he meant it. You nodded, your head falling back as he slowly rocked into you. 

Your vision focused in on the moon hanging above you in the sky, and you didn’t care about being outside, even as the warm breeze ruffled your hair. 

“Bucky... fuck,” you whined, arching your back, pushing yourself further onto him. Your knees went over his shoulders, his hands coming to rest on either side of your head as he rocked his hips against yours. 

The slow, deep rhythm had you struggling to breathe, pleasure rolling through your body in thick waves. Bucky was overwhelmed by the feeling of your velvety walls squeezing around him, tight as he fucked into you all the way. 

“That’s my girl,” Bucky praised you as you pushed down to meet his powerful thrusts. 

Your eyes rolled back at the praise, and you felt pressure building low in your belly as he repeatedly hit the spots inside of you that had you seeing stars. You were moaning his name and writhing below him, the sight making him nearly explode.

“Y/N,” Bucky gasped out, fucking into you roughly, one of his hands rubbing your clit to help you along before he couldn’t fight off his own orgasm any longer. 

With the added stimulation, the pressure snapped inside of you, making you squeeze around him and come with a scream, not caring if you stirred the neighbours. 

Let them see Bucky taking you on the hood of his car. 

Your name fell from Bucky’s lips like worship, the feeling of your orgasm washing over you and forcing you to contract around him pushed him over the edge. He came inside of you, painting you with his release and prolonging your own pleasure.

You looked down at him once the buzzing pleasure started to subside, a sleepy smile on your face. He grinned at you, pulling you up into a sweet kiss. 

“Still hate me, doll?”

[existslikepristin]

Please, No Virginity Puns

The most recent thing I posted before tumblr. It was on Choerry's birthday, and I am proud of that.

Tags: TheLounge, Loona, Choerry, male reader insert, it's her birthday!, 100% butt stuff, I ate a thesaurus

~~~~~

It didn’t matter what you had to say anymore. Choerry was already on top of you, nude and keeping you muted with her tongue. How did you get there?

Well, moments prior, you were sitting next to Choerry at your small dinner table. She’s always insisted on sitting as close to you as possible in order to enable near-constant snuggling. It’s gotten a little annoying here and there, but you can’t help but concede to her innocent demands whenever she smiles.

Of course, and not that you’ve ever complained about this, that’s not to say that her demands aren’t always entirely innocent. Most of the time they are, but not always.

That day, for example, you woke her up with breakfast in bed. It wasn’t tradition, but you were just getting her back for the last time she did it for you. And what better day to present her, prone, with a pancake, pulverized potato, and porridge parfait platter… with toppings… than her birthday?!

It can be hard to tell if Choerry is acting or not at times, but you’d like to think that her cartoonish level of enthusiasm for the treat was entirely real. She carried that sunshine throughout the rest of your day, skipping through the park, greeting everybody on the way to, inside, and on the way out of The Lounge, at the surprise party that you helped all of her members get her with, and when she dragged you to her room.

Not a drop of alcohol had touched her lips that night, so it was all the more surprising when she shoved you onto her bed and stated matter-of-factly-but-also-vaguely that she wanted you to put a thing in her butt. Her words came out of her mouth like shimmery soap bubbles.

You had to pause for a moment to process her words. You were certainly up for some sexy times with Choerry. You had anticipated it was going to happen when she put your hand down her pants near the end of the birthday party with no attempt at subtlety. But her exact word choices had you rubbing your temples out of exasperation, even as she stripped herself down to her ridiculously cherry red lingerie.

Your chance to admire that rare view was lost to history, however. She removed the lingerie from her body while she claimed your lips. Your disappointment at not getting the opportunity to remove it yourself quickly faded when she popped back up though.

Her breasts were as perky as her attitude, and also your dick. She was quick to notice the latter and made quick work of your clothes too. She sighed satisfactorily at the sight of your sword and stooped to supply it with a suck and some slickening slobber, so you suspected the sex was starting summarily; more swiftly than standard, it seemed.

Concerned for her well being, you made sure to ask if she had lube available. Again, you weren’t going to complain about her gusto, but she lacked the anal experience that some of your mutual friends had, at least you assumed. Sure enough, there was a bottle mere feet from her reach in her drawer. She grabbed it and jumped back on top of you, pouring it generously over her ass crack and your cock with surprising accuracy for someone so engaged with a hot and heavy kiss.

You were sure you had something to say on the matter. Perhaps some additional words of caution, maybe some other words of encouragement. It didn’t matter what you had to say anymore. Choerry was already on top of you, nude and keeping you muted with her tongue. How did you-- come back around to the exact same thought that the story began with?

“It’s okay, right?”

You attempted to blink away your stupefaction. “O-okay?”

“Mhm! For me to… you know!” She leaned in and whispered directly into your ear, “Put your penis in my butt.”

Ah, yes. The demand that you had nearly forgotten in her flurry of kisses, now slightly reworded to include your dick in the equation. “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Just checking!”

“We’ve… done this before.”

“I know!” Choerry swooped back in to continue kissing you, implying that she had no intention of expounding further. Her fingers wrapped around your cock, massaging the whole length to ensure that the lube had maximum coverage.

Your breath caught as you felt her readjusting you, tapping you around between her legs as she tried to match you up with her intended target purely via exploration. Your cock was ground between her ass cheeks, the tip slid over her clit, and dipped briefly into her pussy. A groan was the only complaint you could give to only being given a half second of her fantastic heat.

You didn’t have to wait long to get it back. Her ass opened up to the pressure she applied against it with your dick, but exceptionally slowly. Choerry released a series of little exclamations into your mouth as she pushed. She tossed the lube bottle to the side and snatched your hand, curling her fingers into your palm.

Finally, the last pop came, and was followed by a short slide. With no more manual guidance necessary, she grabbed your other hand as well, which promptly slipped out of her grip considering the amount of lube present.

Choerry released you from your kissy bliss to look at her slippery hand, a mixture of anger and amusement on her face. She tried a couple more times to hold your hand with it, but you liked this look. You easily slithered your hand out from under hers every time she slapped down. It was like watching a cat trying to catch a laser pointer.

It was just another reminder that no matter how deep inside Choerry you may physically be, she’ll never stop bringing a goofy-ass smile to your face.

Finally, you relented and entwined your fingers with hers, locking your knuckles together so you wouldn’t fall apart. She glared down into your eyes, but a grin still crept through. “Thank you,” she said, lips tight and nose scrunched up.

With you fully in her grasp, Choerry straightened herself up, allowing you the opportunity to look up and down her sublime figure. Though her movement caused her to cause you to penetrate her a bit further which caused her to flinch slightly, she kept herself aloft on her knees to not go too far all at once. She closed her eyes and took a series of deep breaths there, as calmly as if she was meditating.

As much as you wanted to go ham on her ham, you didn’t want to hurt her, so you contented yourself with watching her chest rise and fall. “Happy birthday…” you whispered.

“You’ve already told me that today,” Choerry intoned, eyes still closed like she was drifting off into her own little world.

You laughed. “I was saying it to myself! Have you seen you?”

She smiled again, and said three words in a voice that made it seem like she was speaking to an audience on the edge of their seats, “Okay, I’m ready.”

Her fingers constricted around yours, so you questioned if she was, in fact, ready. But you wouldn’t be the one to stop her.

Choerry’s tight tush trucked its way toward the top of your tower twice to tighten her take on the task at the time, before torturously trending testicle-ward. She temporized without taking your entire tool.

So hypnotized were you with her graceful movement that you didn’t even notice the frustrated moan coming up your throat until it was too late.

Her eyes popped open. “I’m sorry!” She sounded like she meant it, too. “This is… tough.”

“Take your time,” you said, straining your voice for comic effect.

“Could have used that four paragraphs ago,” she said, continuing her extremely slow descent down your shaft.

The odd statement distracted you just long enough for Choerry to finish her drop. No longer did space separate your pelvises. You grew concerned again when she winced and bit her lip from the inside.

“Choerry, we really can do something else. Don’t hurt yourself please.”

She gave you an exaggerated, indignant gander. “Rhetorical question: Who gets to choose the cake on her birthday?”

You held in your “cake” joke.

“It’s me,” Choerry’s voice was far too chipper to make this talking-to sound as stern as you were sure she wanted it to come across as. “As birthday lady, I get to pick the cake, and I get to feed it to you if I want to.”

You held in your “cake feeding” joke.

“And tonight, the cake I pick is my bum.”

You opened your mouth to comment on her most excellent selection of the word “bum” in the midst of a scenario where your cock is fully inside of said bum, but you instead gasped a sharp breath.

Choerry ground forward, pulling your dick with her and anointing the lowermost part of your stomach with the juices being lightly sprinkled from her clit.

“Besiiides,” she continued, re-angling her hands to she could tickle the backs of yours, “We have all the lube! Even some that’s got a certain special flavor to it!”

“Just some?”

“Yeah, ooh,” she crooned, apparently quite enjoying the grind back down your pelvis, “I didn’t get it all at once. Now guess the flavor!”

You waited for her grinding to pause again to be able to think straight, “Does it start with a ‘C?’”

Her smile grew. “Yes!”

“Is it a fruit?”

“Yes!”

“Is it… cherry?”

“Failure!”

“Wha--”

“It’s coconut!”

If you weren’t so established in your hand holding with Choerry, you’d have palmed your face. Thankfully, thoughts of how she could have possibly expected you to guess that were pushed to the back of your mind as she resumed her removal of your breath with a series of fanciful body rolls.

Finally fucking her fanny felt fictional. For while not the first foray there, far-fetched was the philosophy that it was fielded often, the front being the favored fornication fissure for the foreseeable future. Unless, of course, you could make this an especially special session.

But woe was unto you. Choerry had the upper hand(s) figuratively as well as literally. But, perhaps, you thought, this was exactly what she wanted and you could wait your damn turn to take control.

And you liked letting her anally probe herself this way, so, you know, what were you to do but enjoy the ride?

Over the course of her self-imposed ravaging, Choerry’s meditative breaths became ragged. Her eyelids fluttered at regular intervals. Through it all, she held her phantasmagorical demeanor. A couple of times she reached for the lube bottle and shotgunned it somewhat inaccurately between her legs, but it did the job. You were happy to see that she was still considering her own comfort.

In fact, to your surprise, her mouth opened wide in a silent shout. Her core trembled anticipatorily. Her hands held yours with a colossally increased lewdness. And those two mystical words trickled from her tongue with a high-pitched susurration, “I’m… cumming…”

Choerry’s grinding came to a grinding halt. Her body jerked and she fell onto you. Your cock sprang free of her ass in, and as a result of, the same motion.

You untangled one of your hands to stroke her back in the most adoring fashion you could muster. After chewing on a thesaurus for the prior hour, you were sure neither of you really needed any more words.

She stayed there for a spell, and you were happy to let her. It was so late it was nearly no longer her birthday, but her birthday it still was. She deserved the rest, along with the rest of your undivided attention.

Her whole movement consisted of her back going up and down as her lungs attempted to revive her fighting spirit, and her thumb lovingly shifting over the divinatory lines on your palm. You wished she would do something about her hair plastered on your chin, but ninety-nine percent of paradise is paradise enough.

You were disappointed when Choerry rose once more, slimily straddling your stomach. She detached her hands from yours to give the hair on either side of her face a good backward flick over her shoulders, and she sighed with contentment.

It was a shock to hear her speak again after such a prolonged reticence, but her unerringly cheerful voice was entirely welcome nonetheless.

“More please.”

You couldn’t then, and you still can’t help but concede to her innocent demands. Her smile just touched the corner of her lips. Sure, some of her demands aren’t so innocent, but… How did you get here again?

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

I’m guessing all Vmins were right Sweet night is about the past. I guess it’s why Tae give it for the movie instead of for his mixtape. I’m guessing JM gave him the ok to do so and why he’s been silent about it cause it’s over between them. TK are making it too obvious. jk treating JM like they aren’t friends suddenly. jk in purple/green all the time. v not shutting up about jk suddenly. JM is not handling it well. I guess it’s why v said he likes JM the most (guess as friend) cause he feels bad

Admin 1: “Sure, go and release a song easily identified as being about us and your hope of me giving you a second chance with a hopeful ending seeing as we aren’t together anymore, sounds like a nice idea to me. Go, Taehyungie, do it. Then also let me hold your hand on national TV and show it to the cameras happily, smile sweetly at you while we stand next to the president, talk about our song and memories and how much they mean to me, perform this song that's essentially a love letter to our bond in a live-streamed concert for almost 800k people, and when you tell me you like me the most, I’ll say I like you a lot as well. Because we’re over and not even friends anymore.” Sounds like some sound logic to me, and I mean that in the most sarcastic way possible to humans.

Honestly, either I’ve just been around too long and all these asks are starting to sound the same and impossibly uncreative, or they are just getting more farfetched and bizarre. If you want a proper answer, I told you, bring something to the table that hasn’t been talked to dust yet, or leave it be.

To quote Tae, the man who knows best what he feels: 95z is love.

Until he (and Jimin) changes his mind, this is the answer I have for any and all Xkooker ask, as well as any other ship involving Tae or Jimin.

Also yes, I did see the hate against Jimin that exploded yesterday, we even have an ask about it in our inbox, and honestly these types of questions, anon? Yeah, you're not helping, in fact, you are part of the problem, just saying.

Admin 2: Man, man, man!

We didn't really want to answer these types of questions anymore, but this ask takes the trophy when it comes to delulu/nonsensical questions, so I decided to answer it after all. Because it’s hot and I need a distraction.

Also, this question basically confirms most of our suspicions we’ve had so far. Let me explain.

Folks, who is behind these kinds of stories which are being presented and preached as truth on various sns?

I don't believe this is any single persons invention (in this case, that anon came up with this idea “without help”), if anything it’s the result of delulu, and often times toxic, scenarios and stories created by a group of people intended to further a narrative and actively disrupt the “peace” within ARMY (or at least that’s what it feels like since all these things do is ignite hate and toxicity). Where is the origin of it all? Ship centric YouTube channels.

It is very evident that these "imaginative creators/shippers" behind those videos have no consideration of the consequences and harm their content does because, in my opinion, the more controversial and clickbait-y, the better. You know why? More views means more money, which is the goal of it all. We’ve spoken about this before, I believe, how these videos on “ship evidence” and “ship drama” for Xkookers are the most beloved topics of these videos and thus make up one of the easiest means of generating income, in some cases even something upward of $80k a year depending on the channels CPM, sub and view count.

The average person has to work hard all year round to make this amount of money, if they even have a job that brings in that much. So, it is not surprising that these content creators go very far in their fantasies to support their claims and keep their viewers/costumers engaged and coming back.

I wouldn't be surprised if the creators (or rather the whole lot of them) of both Xkook camps are basically the same people, because their ideas, conclusions and explanations all sound the same and follow the same nonsensical patters. Which is why we’ve already told you many times that the best thing you can do is stay away from this type of content altogether.

So! Let's analyze this ask a little more:

"…Vmins were right Sweet Night is about the past. I guess it’s why Tae give it for the movie instead of for his mixtape."

Ok, let's say Tae wrote "Sweet Night" for Jimin, but in the meantime he has changed his feelings (that's how I understand the question) so he gave the song to the Itaewon Class OST instead of putting it on his mixtape. I wanted to note that Taehyung's mixtape isn't finished yet and we will probably wait many more months for it.

It seems to me that Taehyung really wanted to show his feelings to the world, so he saw an opportunity with the OST, and therefore a quicker release for SN, and took it. The fact is that SN is about the past, but there is also hope for the future, hope for the fulfillment of wishes, which likely did come true judging by how Tae said he wrote SN during tour abroad (so sometimes summer/early autumn 2019 perhaps) and we saw vmin holding hands at the airport on Tae’s birthday in 2019 when they thought no one would see, just three months before SN was released (and likely long schedules for said release since these types of things don’t just happen overnight) and many, many other such things.

“I suspect that JM gave him his consent and why he kept silent about it because it was over between them, TK makes it too obvious. "

And I suspect that Jimin was very touched by Sweet Night and ultimately wrote Friends in which him and Tae sing: “Many promises and memories / and more to come / Someday, when these cheers die down, stay hey / You are my soulmate”

The fact is that BTS didn't say much about SN, but it was the same with many of their other SC releases as well, so it wasn’t unusual, especially since SN came out while they were promoting MOTS7. Also, in my opinion, the content of this song is too personal to be able to describe/discuss the song in detail beyond the bit that was mentioned during Tae’s vlive with Namjoon. During a Japanese interview, the members basically confirmed/pointed out how romantic Tae is and when SN came up, Namjoon “coincidentally” turned around toward Jimin who has a similar facial expression of pressed lips as he did during Let’s BTS.

"JK treats JM as if they suddenly weren't friends"

And here I have caught you, dear anon. I think you're not even looking at the original BH content, but that instead you are basing your conclusions and opinions on manipulative YT ship videos instead because if you would’ve watched the original content like RUN, the recent SOWOOZOO concerts, and interviews, you wouldn’t arrive anywhere near such thoughts and conclusions.

Jimin and JK are still close, also Jimin calls JK his little brother (dongsaeng) and JK describes Jimin (or associates these words with him) as charm and cute. Does there seem to be any kind of conflict between Jimin and Jungkook? Certainly not, no.

„JK always in purple / green. v not shutting up about jk suddenly."

You mean their microphone colors? I wanted to point out how Tae wore a yellow shirt during the concert, which is the same color as the chick emoji ARMY associates with Jimin as well as his mic color. LOL.

As far as I know, when Tae has something to say, he will say it, and if he is praising JKs songs, and especially You Eyes Tell which we know is a song Tae liked a lot, that is a good thing. It simply means Tae appreciates the song JK created, appreciates and values his talents and hard work. If the entire band praises Namjoon and his lyrics/contributions on their songs, does that automatically also mean all six are “not shutting up about him” and therefore must be in love and in a relationship with him, or it’s an indicator of it? If anything, it’s merely an indicator that Tae is an honest person and JK did a good job on those songs. Easy as that.

That's my favorite part of the question: "JM doesn't handle it that well. I think that's why I said he likes JM best (as a friend, I guess) because he feels bad."

Personally, I consider myself a person with a great imagination, but I wouldn't really come up with a scenario like that.

How cruel of a person do you think Tae is? Imagine they aren’t together anymore or close anymore, or whatever else you tried to insinuate anon, and then Tae would go on national TV and do this whole thing of asking for the card in his letter to Jimin to be blurred and then said “Jimin-ah I like you the most”? To do something as hurtful as that you either have to be a sadist or an asshole and I’d like to believe even you, anon, don’t think in such a way about Tae, of all people.

Perhaps that’s something dumb teenagers or kids would do, but not adult men in their mid-twenties who see each other every single day, are part of the same team and have to work with each other. This is real life, not a soap opera. If these types of dramas really would be happening within BTS, they would’ve stopped existing as a band a long time ago because no one would be able to live with such actions and people for a prolonged amount of time. BTS are grown men, best friends, even found family, and not actors on a badly written TV show for our entertainment where they act out increasingly stupid relationship drama in which JK somehow ended up being the toy going from hand to hand like he’s not even an actual person anymore.

In summary, this question was written by a child, teenager, or an emotionally immature person naïve enough to buy into outlandish ship narratives.

Anon, hear what the members had to say during FESTA 2021. Make your own conclusions and stop watching and believing the nonsense on YouTube. As Tae said: Get out of your imagination. It’s not good in there.

[asweetprologue]

Words: 2618, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: The Witcher

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Additional Tags: Fluff, geralt has a fixation on jaskier's hands, Pining, Confessions, it's about the hands tm

Inspired directly by this post by @valdomarx​

“I didn’t even ask you to come this time, witcher. I don’t know why you’re acting so dour,” Jaskier pouted. He was standing in front of a small mirror that he’d propped up against the table, the only thing with a reflection in the small inn. His shirt was untucked over his tight pants, which were a startling peacock blue this time around. It was a fetching color, nearly matching the bard’s eyes, though Geralt would never voice such a thought aloud. He was fiddling with the ties at the front of the cream shirt, trying to decide on a complicated pattern of lacing that was well beyond Geralt’s understanding. The smell of wisteria and honeysuckle filled the room, overwhelming in its recent application. Jaskier rarely used scents beyond soaps while they were traveling, and Geralt preferred when he could more easily smell the distinct musk of the bard himself, rather than cloying perfumes. 

He grunted in response to Jaskier’s comment, leaning against the bedpost. The inn was nice, actually, even though it was small. The sheets smelled fresh, the mattress was free of holes, and there was even a full bath off of the main room. Jaskier had sunk more funds into their accommodations than usual, expecting a big payout from the ball he’d been hired to perform at for the next several nights. “I’m not being ‘dour’,” Geralt said, watching Jaskier tug his shirt closed. His fingers played over the laces, easily working them into a tight series of delicate knots. Geralt wasn’t lying, truthfully. He wasn’t so much dour as… distracted. His eyes followed Jaskier’s hands as they tucked in his shirt, revealing his slim hips. The bard tugged here and there on the fabric, his fingers fluttering about as he searched for just the right amount of artful dishevelment. 

Geralt noticed Jaskier’s hands. 

He wasn’t sure if this was a universal experience or not. Over the past few months, he’d overcome the initial shock of realizing he was interested in the bard. He’d known Jaskier for years - closer to decades - and it certainly was a notion that took some adjusting to. One day Geralt had just looked up and realized that the gangly limbed youth he’d met in Posada had turned into an extremely attractive man, a man Geralt very much wanted to put his hands on. The thought had been startling, and he’d spent full weeks telling himself that it was a fluke. And yet he was captivated by Jaskier’s broad shoulders, his strong thighs, his infuriatingly dexterous fingers. It was embarrassing really. 

But, he reasoned, he was in good company; literally half the Continent wanted to fuck Jaskier. Geralt was particularly unique in that regard. It was honestly more spectacular that he was a person who wanted to sleep with Jaskier who hadn’t. It was a bitter draught to swallow, but Geralt accepted it. Few people wanted a witcher in their bed for more than an hour, and he knew that it could never be a simple one time roll in the hay between himself and Jaskier. Geralt was already spending much of his time reminding himself that he was not and could not be infatuated with Jaskier, the famous bard, womanizer and, above all, his best friend. He was at least self aware enough to know that Jaskier’s rejection would be painful, and that losing him as a companion was unacceptable. 

Still, this left him with a predicament. While he assumed Jaskier had caught on to his developing feelings quickly enough, Geralt didn’t want to make the bard uncomfortable with his attentions. He tried not to let anything change between them. He didn’t reach out to pull Jaskier closer when they shared a bed at night, he didn’t give him the best cuts of meat during meals, he didn’t buy small, intricate rings or beautiful leather bound journals for him when they went to the market. He would think about it and then turn away, and keep things how they’d always been. Jaskier was bright and loud and annoying, and Geralt was quiet and snappish. If the bard had wanted anything more, he would have made it clear long before now. Geralt was doing a pretty good job of keeping things platonic, he thought. He probably would have been totally successful if Jaskier hadn’t chosen a lute, of all the cursed instruments, as his primary tool of the trade. 

The issue was that Geralt had something of a preoccupation with Jaskier’s hands, which may be a common experience but might be unique to Geralt himself, much to his dismay. They were just exceedingly nice to look at. They had long and elegant fingers with wide, reassuring palms that had spent hours cleaning, patching up and comforting the witcher. They were unscared except for a thin white line under his right ring finger, where Jaskier said he’d been punctured by a nail as a child. Though that wasn’t to say that they were totally unblemished. Years of playing had worn deep calluses onto the tips of his fingers, rougher skin that made Geralt shiver when they played over his scalp as they so often did. 

They were nice hands, but it wasn’t just that. They were expressive, an extension of whatever Jaskier felt at the moment. Geralt never knew what to do with his hands if he wasn’t in a fight, but Jaskier’s moved constantly. When he was angry they curled into fists and pointed fingers, elbows tights against his body as he raged at some perceived slight. When he was happy or excited, they darted about him in wide, sweeping gestures, an unspoken language that Geralt thought he might be able to read now without words. When he was tired they dragged, lingering on Geralt’s shoulders or pulling at the seams of his armor as he bullied the witcher into bed. Those moments were almost the worst, picking away at Geralt’s already frayed control, but he found it got to him the most when Jaskier was playing. 

To say that Jaskier transformed when he played was not quite accurate. It was closer to say that he became. Jaskier was always intense, bright and focused and vibrant, but when he picked up his lute and stepped onto a stage he was resplendent. When Geralt had first met him, he’d thought maybe Jaskier was a siren, or some kind of incubus, luring men in with his honeyed words and saccharine melodies. He’d quickly realized that no, Jaskier was as human as they came, but it didn’t stop others from acting like they’d been bewitched when he was around. Jaskier performing was Jaskier at both his least and most genuine, distilled into whatever the crowd needed him to be most at that moment. It was enthralling, to say the least, and Geralt wasn’t immune to the draw. 

At first watching the lute had been a defense mechanism, of a sort. Watching Jaskier himself was almost too intense, and Geralt felt exposed anytime their eyes met across a crowded room. So he’d taken to watching Jaskier’s hands, flying across the strings of the lute and dancing up the neck. Initially it had been only intriguing, and he’d found himself impressed by the bard’s skill. He was faster and more precise than any other player Geralt had come across, while remaining gentle in his ministrations. Jaskier touched the strings of his lute with such tenderness, as if he were caressing a lover.

One night while watching the bard, Geralt had though, Sometimes he touches me like that. And after that he was well and truly lost. 

“I’m just saying,” Jaskier said, bringing Geralt sharply back to the present, “while I would never begrudge your presence, I don’t think the response to Toss a Coin will be as enthusiastic if the titular witcher is off glowering in a corner.” He reached for his doublet, a green jacket picked out with yellow thread that looked like gold in the right light. It was beside Geralt on the bed, and he nearly flinched away from Jaskier’s grasping hands. He thanked every god above that he no longer had the ability to blush the same way a human did, knowing that he would be pink in the face after watching Jaskier lace up his shirt sleeves. The man was actively putting clothes on and Geralt was nearly sweating from it. 

“I’m not going to glower in a corner,” he grumbled. 

Jaskier gave him a look that displayed an insulting lack of faith in Geralt’s word. “Well,” he said, “at least you’re dressed appropriately.” He’d managed to wrestle Geralt into a black jacket and a pair of dress trousers, though Geralt had won the fight to keep his boots and his swords. It was better, Jaskier allowed, that the people be able to see the tools of the trade. The bard reached out to adjust the collar of Geralt’s shirt. The witcher forced himself to still as Jaskier’s knuckles grazed his Adam’s apple. His skin hummed where they’d made contact. 

Jaskier gave him a pat on the shoulder and turned away. “Well, we’re as ready as we’ll ever be,” he said, giving himself one last glance in the tiny mirror. With a grin, he turned to Geralt and said, “If you’re very good I’ll buy you one of those tarts from the market for breakfast tomorrow.”

The words if you’re good rolled over Geralt in a disconcerting way, curling up at the base of his spine and settling like they intended to live there. Shit. He made a slightly strangled sound of agreement that he hoped just sounded annoyed. 

As Jaskier reached for the door, Geralt noticed that the ties of Jaskier’s undershirt had gotten twisted around one of the buttons of his doublet. He must have accidentally pushed the clasp through a loop in the laces while he was doing them up. Geralt wouldn’t have noticed unless he was watching Jaskier’s hands, but it seemed like he was always watching Jaskier’s hands nowadays. Watching, anticipating, hoping for the next touch. Geralt reached out and snagged the bard’s wrist before he even really knew what he was doing.

“Um,” Jaskier said, eloquent as ever. Geralt turned his hand over - in for a penny, in for a crown - and started undoing the buttons on the doublet. Jaskier hummed in realization, seeing where the laces had twisted into a knot. Focusing on his task, Geralt bent his head slightly, pulling the thin string loose from its tangle. As he did so, pale, unmarked skin was revealed through the parted fabric, a spider web of delicate blue lines branching out before Jaskier’s warm palm. Geralt’s thumb brushed briefly over the veins, Jaskier’s skin as smooth and soft as fresh rose petals under his rough fingers. He was seized suddenly by an overpowering urge to put his mouth there, to breathe in the scent and find Jaskier hidden under all the oils and the smell of crisp linen. Without thinking too much of it, Geralt bent down and pressed his lips to Jaskier’s wrist, just below the swell of his thumb.

Jaskier gasped. 

It was like taking a mouthful of Thunderbolt - the world coming sharply into focus, his mind keenly aware of his surroundings. Geralt nearly jumped back, flinching away from the sound. Fuck. Why had he done that? He’d been helping with a fucking sleeve, it hadn’t required his mouth. Jaskier was going to be pissed. He was going to demand that Geralt stay here while he went to the banquet and then he would find someone to bed for the night and he wouldn't try to find Geralt in the morning, and Geralt would have to set back out on the Path alone all because he couldn’t control himself enough to lace up one sleeve - 

“Geralt?” Jaskier's voice cracked slightly. The witcher clenched his jaw, wincing. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice sounded strained even to his own ears. He couldn’t meet Jaskier’s gaze. “That was… inappropriate. Have fun at the ball.”

“You’re not coming?” Jaskier asked, sounding distressed now. His scent was still free of the sour stench of fear and anger, but Geralt could hear his heart beating faster. “Geralt, look at me. Just - Are you alright?” Hands came to rest on his shoulders, and Geralt was startled enough at the contact that he raised his eyes to meet Jaskier’s. 

The bard looked nervous, but there was something else in his face too. Something softer. Geralt swallowed heavily. “I shouldn’t have touched you like that,” he said. His face tingled with the phantom of a shameful flush. 

Jaskeir smoothed his hands gently down Geralt’s arms. A comfort the witcher certainly didn’t deserve. “I don’t mind,” Jaskier said, impossibly. He bit his lip, his tongue darting out to sooth the spot. Geralt couldn’t help but follow the motion even as Jaskier gave him a wry smile. “I wish you’d do it more, if I’m being entirely honest. After all these years, I assumed you weren’t interested.” He took a breath, as if he was about to launch into a very demanding ballad, or perhaps jump from a cliff. “But I very much am. Interested.” 

Geralt stared at him for a moment, allowing the words to sink in. Jaskier was looking at him with wide, expectant eyes. His infuriating fingers played anxiously over Geralt’s, not quite holding on. Unsure of what else he could reasonably do, Geralt kissed him. 

Jaskier’s hands flew away from his own, and Geralt had a singular crystalline moment of panic before he felt them threading through his hair. Jaskier twisted closer, throwing himself into the kiss with little of the finesse he was so renowned for. It was too hard and too fast, but Geralt drank it anyway, inviting Jaskier in with his tongue and trying to convince him to stay. His fingers tangled in the loose ties of the shirt sleeve, and he could feel Jaskier’s pulse against them. It was almost more intimate than the kiss itself. Jaskier’s heart beat quick and steady under his hand, a rapid tempo just for him. 

Finally Geralt pulled away, breathing hard as he pressed his forehead to the bard’s. “This is a fucking terrible idea,” he said. 

Jaskier jerked back a bit to glare at him. “How so? Counterpoint: I think it’s a singularly marvelous idea, actually.”

Geralt shifted slightly, uncomfortable. “I can’t… I don’t want to ruin this. You. What we have.”

“We could have more,” Jaskier said, uncharacteristically fragile. Geralt wanted so badly not to break him. “Anything. If you just want a fuck, that’s fine. We can do that. If you want more than that, I… That’s okay too. Or not. Whatever it is, whatever you want.” His fingers smoothed down the back of Geralt’s hair, just at the base of his skull. A caress, as soft as if he were playing his favorite instrument. Maybe he was. 

“I’m going to want you,” Geralt said, like a warning. “Longer than you want me.”

Jaskier looked indignant. It was one of Geralt’s favorite expressions, when it wasn’t directed at him. Maybe even then. “I doubt that very much,” Jaskier bit out. The fingers in Geralt’s hair tightened, and the witcher let out a shaky breath. “I have loved you for almost my entire adult life. I doubt I’m going to stop anytime soon.” Jaskier still looked nervous, but there was more anticipation in it than before. Something closer to hope. “So I’ll say it again: Whatever you want. What do you want, Geralt?”

“You,” Geralt said, leaning in again. He pressed the words against Jaskier’s lips. “Always you.”

“Then you have me,” Jaskier said, and he did. 

[tundrainafrica]

Imagine Levi wearing Hanji clothes. Clothes is probably the only thing he has left of her. He already wears her jacket.

Thank you for the imagine!

Allow me to present a little drabble I made during my lunch break at work based on your ask :D

The First and Last Time Levi Cried After Hange’s Death

Only months after the war ended was Levi finally able to enter her room. 

Not fully recovered from the war, he had been busy with debriefings and hospital treatments. Or that was what he told himself at least. Really, he spent a lot of that time just lying down in his room, wondering how he was going to get the energy to do much of anything else. 

As Armin took over as commander and gave the tired soldier a three month leave, Levi ended up exhausting his excuses much faster. 

It was a cold day in autumn when Levi finally gathered up the courage to go in. In fact, it probably wasn’t courage which pushed him anyway. Cleaning her room felt like a duty and obligation more than anything. As painful as it was to admit, Levi knew it was most appropriate that he be the one who cleans out her room, being the one most familiar with it. 

Armin had said they were probably just going to clean out everything and tear it down if Levi refused and the thought of just that had Levi’s stomach turning. The survey corps was much smaller, in fact, within a few years they would probably be declared redundant. And the transition to a new world, a new government and a new societal structure had already started.  The survey corps barracks was to be repurposed soon and as Levi soon found out, the wing where the former commander’s bedroom was located would be the first to be torn down.

Levi had been to that room countless times. The way to the room was already body memory to him that he found his way through the hallways with the peeled off wall paper and the broken floorboards. They had already started tearing down the wing. 

Levi was grateful at least that they had left the door to Hange’s room untouched and when Levi entered the room, he was relieved as well to realize that it was as messy as the last time he had seen it. Suddenly, Levi who for many years was known as an obsessive clean freak, gained an appreciation for messes. With Hange’s things scattered all over the room, Levi could pretend that she was still there about to use all of them. 

How many times had she told Levi off for cleaning something he wasn’t supposed to?

He never understood it but apparently, the leggings hastily thrown on the chairs were a reminder to take out the trash, the open book on the table was a reminder to take out her samples from the cupboard. Everytime Levi had put something away, Hange’s rhythm went off and she would completely forget something as vital as a strategy meeting or a deliverable as commander. One reason why Levi had stopped cleaning her room years ago. 

At that moment,  everything scattered as haphazardly as it was over a year ago made it seem like there was still someone to remind. 

What took Levi by surprise oddly was the smell that remained. Levi was not as sharp as Miche but he did have a nose for specific scents, particularly her scent, the scent he had grown accustomed to over the years. 

A mixture of titan blood, sweat and the faint smell of soap, from the nights he would force her into the bath. The scent was weak but it was still there. Levi took a deep breath through his nose and closed his eyes. For a moment, he was able to delude himself into thinking she was still alive. 

That was the painful reality about scents. When somebody dies, one can no longer see them, they can no longer hear their voice. As the body is buried, they can no longer touch them. Even when the person takes their last breath, even when the body is burned though, the remains disposed of, the scent remains and it lingers as both a beloved yet unwanted visitor for those still grieving.

If someone chooses to preserve it, the scent can linger a while. Having lost enough people though, Levi knew it had an expiration date. He had experienced those unique scents disappear into nothing in time, with his mother and her dresses, with Farland and Isabel and the room they shared, with his special squad and the headquarters they shared and finally, with Commander Erwin and his office. Having been tortured unnecessarily by it before, it felt like the better option to just give it a quick death, painless for the scent, unbearably painful for him.

Before that though, Levi decided to torture himself a little more. He walked towards the edge of the room where her dresser stood. There was one item in particular he wanted to keep. It was there at the front of her wardrobe, the black dinner jacket she had lent him many years before. As he pressed it to his face, he couldn’t help but note that he could only make out the scent after letting in a deep breath. 

He instead seeked comfort in the familiar warmth that came with having it wrapped around his shoulders. He was sure he was going to keep that jacket, a final memorabilia that would somehow help him cope better with the prospect of just leaving the room to whoever was assigned to clean it out. 

He closed his eyes once again, closed his mouth, took a deep breath and let combination of all those senses, the feeling of warmth around his shoulders and the familiar scent of the room, the final concrete sign Hange had left behind run through him. The scent was the encore to the life Hange had lived. The scent was the epilogue to the great life she had lived. 

Levi let himself enjoy it while it was still strong. He wanted it to die strong and fighting the way she did. Not like the final embers of a dying flame or a candle that burns out as it is deprived of oxygen. Hange would not have wanted that. 

“You lived a good life.” Levi whispered as he pulled the jacket closer to him. He allowed himself one scream, one good kick at the old chair that she had loved so much and refused to change.  He then allowed himself a tear, so small he could have brushed it off and pretend it was a trick of the light.

Or that was what he had intended at least. He had opened the floodgates a little too wide though and it came out as way more than that one tear he had hoped to wipe off. He brushed it off with the sleeve of his shirt as soon as they came and rushed for the exit, with the jacket still held close to him.

He closed the door behind him, taking one last look, making sure to note as many details as possible from the number of books on the table to the number of shoes overturned by the side of the door. 

Before going back to his room, deciding to call it a night even when the sun was far from set, he decided to stop by Armin’s office with one final request. 

 “Just tear it down.” 

[tsu9live]

Before I start, this is in no offence to anyone else’s opinion. You are all valid and probably make more sense than me. This is a bit of a rant and then a short character study.

Warning: This got too long.

I tend to come online for manga updates and ended up reading through opinion posts because I am a curious cat. Most of the time I come across really well-thought out posts, really valid points. But then MHA is also a soap opera/family drama where the main character is not supposed to have any progress in his story unless its to bolster or move along the other favs . But then they shouldn’t be bolstering his story either because why is a story about Deku’s journey all about Deku?

But then there are people who are happy Deku is finally edgy and they want him to wipe the floor with his classmates who love him and are willing to fight him if only to get through to him. So there are both extremes and honestly there is validity in all these thoughts because despite the writer’s intentions, a reader brings the story to life.

I personally hate making my own predictions because most of the time I feel it ruins the experience of reading a work for me. I go in with different expectations and when the story goes a different way I don’t enjoy it as much but I feel its more my fault.

So I do understand and respect the difference of opinion because there is no fandom without discourse.

In my opinion though, this Deku solo arc was a long time coming and I think Horikoshi has handled it really weird. I’m still trying to understand what he wants us to think about.

A story about heroes and putting your life on the line for someone else is controversial, but, I thought it was a given. Recklessness had been part of Deku’s character but an overly-cautious character would do nothing. Deku’s lack of self-preservation wasn’t unnatural for a hero, he rushed in to save Bakugo from the slime-villain when Pros stood by putting himself at risk but it spurred AM to act. Katsuki experienced it as well during the war arc, when his body moved to save Deku.

Going to Kamino to save Bakugo was suicidal, reckless and potentially flawed but story-wise it made sense. How is hero-work anything than risky? Kirishima and Todoroki initiated it.

Disclaimer: Deku, Bakugo, Uraraka, Momo, Toga and Shigaraki are characters that are very dear to me because they have had me extremely invested since the beginning of the story. This is my personal opinion, flaws, rant... basically me working through my feelings about this manga I had been obsessed with recently.

1) There is an opinion where Bakugo had a right to be upset/angry/bully Deku because he wanted to be a hero but did nothing for it. Firstly, I don’t understand the need to justify his behaviour when he himself has expressed regret on it. People want others to move on from the “go jump off the roof comment” but won’t stop talking about how everything about Bully Bakugo was justified. Deku was weaker, but he had the same dreams, dreams that were the basis of their friendship earlier on. Regardless of how Deku wanted to achieve them, Bakugo had no right to keep trying to stop him from doing so. No, 5, 10, 14 year old Bakugo did not do so because he had the brilliant foresight that Deku would be self-sacrificial and it was for his sake, he was an angry kid and Deku was a timid, wannabe that confused him, intimidated him even. Taking out his anger was a way of working through those feelings. He was in Deku’s words “a punching bag”. In a world where the powerful reign, Bakugo couldn’t understand how a quirk less, weak little boy could think he could stand shoulder to shoulder with someone as gifted as Bakugo. Yeah, society is very much to blame. The change and maturity Bakugo goes through where he is humbled by a cast of amazing hero students who are just as gifted yet with inspiring personalities and then traumatic consequences of being kidnapped, watching his hero use the last of his powers to hold back a great evil, having that fight with Deku where he bared himself open, failing the licensing exam, training with todoroki, the internship... the war has changed him in a way that has brought out his full potential as a hero and a person. There is a lot to admire about him yet I see so many people fixate on headcanons that glorify his every action/word instead of praising the amazing person he has become/how well written his growth has been.

2) “Deku wanted to be a hero and he did nothing for it”. “He could have been a quirkless hero like Batman.” Listen, the story is about AFO vs OFA first and foremost. Hori has done a good job of worldbuilding and adding a cast of interesting characters that its easy to forget what the main plot point of the story is. But it really is about a weak/timid boy who was born with a sort of handicap who dared to dream to be someone strong enough to have others rely on him instead. A lot of the times people want to become something they feel they needed, someone who gave people hope just by existing. Its natural for someone who is ‘considered useless’ to want to be the most useful person ever. His mother didn’t believe he could do it, Bakugo told him repeatedly he shouldn’t even try, everyone else made fun of him, and his hero gave him a wake-up call, no... you can’t be a hero without a quirk. Deku studied heroes and quirks all his life, hoping he’d find something that could work for his advantage. Not every hero relies on physical strength, their bodies are adapted to the nature of their quirks. Deku’s analysis, quick-thinking and impulsive nature is what helped him progress even after getting the quirk because he didn’t gain control until really late. People act like he was handed power, seem to forget he has just learned to use it without consequences. His studies of quirks also made him the best candidate to get new quirks, quirks that he has learned to utilise as tools quickly and efficiently. He was doing what he thought was going to help him become a hero without guidance, without backing and constant discouragements. Its admirable and relatable. If you don’t relate to him that’s fine, your life was different.

Batman was loaded. Deku is not an inventor. The Editors shot that idea down because it would not have survived in a genre where power fantasies are the main hooks. Aizawa, sure he’s training Shinso because he sees his potential now but he would have either expelled Deku/moved him to General studies on that first day for scoring the least in that test. He changed his mind not because of Deku’s quirk but because of Deku’s ingenuity.

When Deku did find his guidance, he tried to do years of work/training in a short period of time. He acknowledges how far behind he is, that the rest are leagues above him and all he wants is to be able to stand side by side with those incredible people and he would go to all lengths to do so. DEKU has never said he wants to be the number one hero. He always says he wants to be one so reliable he saves people with a smile and later on, he wants to be a hero that can save without having other people worry about him. Bakugo works hard, he’s not just exceptional he works hard for it, all of 1A do but saying Deku does nothing when he is constantly shown, studying, training his body, understanding his shortcomings and working on it is just petty. You don’t like him because of his saviour complex, newsflash, that is a hero thing. Hero course is about that, Deku’s is just highlighted because of how often he gets hurt. How can you be a Todoroki stan and hate Deku (although to be fair its your right, I’m just making a point), the kid saw Shouto and decided that it was more important for Shouto to stop hurting and gave him a hell of a fight. I still remember Shouto’s smile, it gave me goose bumps.

Deku’s lack of self-preservation is a part of his programming so much that he hasn’t noticed it yet. Deku broke his bones, but he didn’t realise the permanent damage. When Deku got injured with Muscular, he was never intending to fight him alone. He wanted backup, his phone was broken and he wanted to get Kouta out and tried but Muscular gave him no opening. He was driven into a corner and fought his way out. Like Aizawa said, “He got that injured because he has no intention of dying.” Before rushing to find Bakugo, he informed his superior first, knowing she can spread the message.

The fight with Stain, he messaged his location to all his classmates, didn’t intend to fight Stain alone, just defend Iida long enough for help to come along. Fight with overhaul, he just wanted to get Eri away and when he understood Eri’s power, he gave her the opportunity to fight back against her oppressor by teaming up with him, keeping her secure with the cape made out of Lemillion’s hair. During the whole fight he was present-minded enough to take the fight away from civilians and managed to prevent damage and casualties. During Natsuo’s rescue he played support.

During the war arc, he realised with despair that Shigaraki was coming in all his destructive glory for him and tried to stop him before but he didn’t object to Bakugo joining him. In the movie Heroes Rising (the initially planned ending) he willingly gave OFA to Bakugo, because he trusts him with his life, and was willing to be quirkless again if that’s what it took to keep the kids safe, and himself and Bakugo alive. Its mostly been good decisions on his part.

Its the war arc that’s been his downfall. Watching his childhood friend/rival almost die, his best friend, his mentors almost die while he could barely hold Shigaraki back set off a fight or flight response in him. The seriousness of how Shigaraki came for him and left such death and destruction in his wake because he was not strong enough and AFO is a monster and the sight of Shigaraki and the reality of his situation pushed him down the current path. His solo arc started well because constantly training in the field has helped him master his quirk, and he had the backup of the vestiges who trained and guided him in learning to use it as a toolset instead of a one-punch solution. Then coming face to face with the flaws of hero society and the power, manipulative nature and destructive intentions of AFO has prepared him emotionally. He is not acting like AM, he hasn’t in a while. He is acting like NANA and i don’t blame him because she’s in his head. No adult stopped him from doing this, instead using him as bait to lure out the league.

When they started realising he’s spiralling out of control, that’s when they realised they messed up.

He’s running on adrenaline/fumes alone and I think he’s actually terrified.

“AFO is OFA’s responsibility” “Tell the world I am here” “You’re not as strong as me yet,” “You are not a worthy successor”

Deku isn’t self-centered and but I agree with the screw loose comment (its years of “you are useless, not good enough, not worthy and I bet a dozen or so concussions, bloodloss, dehydration lol). I know Bakugo means well and that’s how he talks. At the moment, he’s probably the only one whose sole goal is Deku’s survival. Deku’s like a wild animal, terrified, lost and as always backed into a corner. AFO has him where he wants him and I am curious to see how class 1 A are going to get through to him. I don’t want them to fight, all those fanarts of Bakugo reaching his hand out to Deku and then maybe punching him in the face would have been a lot better then the mocking (the slow clap was a little triggering for me) but again maybe it just bothers me and Deku needs it. I’ll just have to wait and see. Deku and his class together would be an unstopabble force and I am waiting for that to finally happen.

P.S. Class 1 A looks so mature, everyone going crazy about Bakugo and his tie and I’m here like, look at baby Kirishima and his roots <3

I’m sorry if I gave anyone a headache lol.

[ejzah]

A/N: This idea was originally suggested by @mashmaiden and is the next in a series about Deeks at FLETC, but deviates from canon. I put took me a very long time to figure out and I’m still not sure if I am fully happy with it.

In a previous fic, an instructor had asked Deeks to speak on his experience when he was tortured by Sidorov. Since this deals with some events from Descent/Ascension, there is mention of violence, trauma, and PTSD symptoms.

***

A Matter of Experience

Deeks let out a very long breath as he waited for other students to arrive. After a lot of consideration, he had decided to grant Flores’ “offer”. He still absolutely hated the idea, but he knew he was technically doing Flores a favor. Plus, Flores wasn’t wrong. Most of the current candidates had never experienced anything as traumatic as he had.

He hoped they never would.

The night before he’d spent a couple hours going over a rough draft of his presentation. Deeks had also covered some ground rules with Flores. Although he had no control over what questions his classmates would ask, he reserved the right to refuse to answer.

Pulling in another long breath, he closed his eye and rolled his neck a couple of times.

“You ok, Deeks?” Flores asked, actually looking concerned. He had an odd mixture of ruthlessness and deep understanding which didn’t necessarily work well together.

“Yeah, fine. I’m good.” He felt vaguely queasy and restless, but he wasn’t about to tell Flores that. “We never discussed what I should do if no one has questions,” he added. “Do you have a back up lecture?”

“Oh believe me, there’s always questions with this case. We’ll be lucky if we get out on time.” He seemed to realize that he sounded a little insensitive. “Based on what I’ve heard about you, you can handle this Deeks. But if you changed your mind, I won’t judge you.”

That strange feeling of embarrassment returned, but he didn’t have time to evaluate it or respond to Flores as other students started trickling in.

Deeks had purposely chosen a chair to the side and a few rows in where he wouldn’t be too obvious, but could get up without too much trouble. Flores gave them a couple minutes to settle and then walked to the front of the room.

“Good Morning, everyone. I hope you’re all managing your classes alright,” he said. “For today’s class we will be focusing on case study 9.”

He paused as the majority of the class flipped to the appropriate page. Deeks’ pulse pounded faintly in his ears and he swallowed twice, closing his eyes briefly. Even if the details weren’t burned into his memory, he’d reviewed the case, just to be sure he wasn’t caught off guard.

It was surprisingly straightforward, not overly gratuitous and Flores reviewed the details with surprising speed. There was no getting past the pictures though. They were graphic, nauseating. He knew the exact moment everyone saw them and heard someone behind him whisper his name.

When Flores ended the lecture, which was over much faster than Deeks would have liked, he nodded to Deeks and added,

“Now some of you may know that one of your colleagues was involved in this case and he was kind enough to agree to share his experiences with us.” Deeks stood up, joining Flores at the front of the room. “Please welcome Marty Deeks, former LAPD Detective.” Flores gave him what he guessed was supposed to be a supportive pat on the arm and then sat down a few feet away.

It was clear that many of the candidates hadn’t made the connection between him and the battered guy in their text book, but as he glanced around, realized that maybe half the class were watching him with the same strange reverence Omar, Jake, and Charlie had when they first met.

Clearing his throat, he pulled in yet another shallow breath and glanced down at the small stack of notecards in his hand, then stuffed them in his pocket.

“As, uh, Instructor Flores said, I’m Marty Deeks,” he started, pausing to clear his throat again. “But most people just call me Deeks. If any of you have spent more than a few minutes around me, you’ve probably figured out that I have a terrible habit of talking too much.”

A couple people chuckled, but most stayed silent, some looking curious, others intrigued, and a few, mainly Alan, outright suspicious. He’d expected some skepticism since, as usual, he didn’t fit into the mold they expected.

“Like it says in that case study, Agent Hanna and I were captured and held by a Russian arms dealer. They took turns torturing us-“ He swallowed harshly, holding back the shiver that crept up his spine and continued. “to gain information about a colleague who was undercover.

“They had us in separate rooms, but I could still see what they were doing to Agent Hanna. I couldn’t do anything though because I was bound to a chair. I could only watch as they electrocuted him and wait to see what else they had planned for me.”

Before he could continued, Alan raised his hand, his gaze almost defiant and angry as he waited for him to respond.

“Did you have a question?” Deeks asked mildly.

“What was it like?” he said, watching Deeks eagerly, and maybe with a touch of disbelief in his voice as he eyed him. “The case study mentioned that you experienced dental trauma, but it didn’t really go into detail.”

Flores started to intercede from behind him, but Deeks held up a hand, holding him back. If Alan wanted details, he could give him details. He’d avoided the guy as much as possible and put his arrogance and aggressiveness down to immaturity, but now Deeks was truly annoyed.

“No it’s ok.” He smiled tightly at Alan. “One guy shoved this metal device in my mouth so I couldn’t close it. Then Sidorov got out a drill and demanded to know the truth. The whole time I was lying my ass off, trying to keep it together even though I knew he was going to stick that thing in my mouth.”

His breath hitched a little as he felt the phantom pain of the drill bit obliterating his teeth. Someone swore under their breath and Deeks felt perverse satisfaction when Alan squirmed uncomfortably.

Forcing the memories back, he took a couple of slow breaths and then added,

“I ended up with multiple broken teeth, damage to my mandible, and shredded gums-so yeah, dental trauma as they so nicely put it.” Maybe that was going a step too far, but it seemed pointless and Flores had wanted them to know what it was really like. “It took years for me to stop flinching when I heard a drill or to make it through getting my teeth cleaned without almost knocking the hygienist’s lights out. To this day, it’s probably the single most horrific thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Everyone’s eyes were on him, the anticipation and tension almost tangible. A woman-he thought her name was possibly Maria-raised her hand and Deeks nodded for her to speak. Unlike some of her peers, she wasn’t staring at him like he was a particularly interesting soap opera.

“You said it took you years to get over the trauma,” she started a little hesitantly. “Exactly how long did it take?”

“I wish I could tell you that there’s a point when it no longer affects you, but it never really happens,” Deeks said with a gentle smile, sorry he couldn’t give her the answer she so clearly wanted. He saw her face fall and he realized just how young she was and probably pretty horrified at this point. “The memories and dreams and all the other symptoms can lessen over time. They never go away though. That trauma, those scars, they are with you forever.”

“So you’re saying there’s nothing we can do about it?” Another student asked, sounding annoyed and maybe a little scared. “If something like this happens to us, we just live with the trauma for the rest of our lives.”

Deeks shook his head.

“No, there’s a lot you can do. Go to therapy, let the people you love help you, and whatever you do, don’t isolate yourself.” A memory of eating bad takeout with Kensi when he was at his lowest point and added, “Whatever you do, don’t try to face if alone. Believe me, your friends and family will be everything.”

The questions continued for the remainder of the class and as Flores predicted, they went over by 15 minutes. Deeks was completely exhausted and a little shaky, but overall not as much as he had expected. He would probably pay the price for being so explicit about his injuries with a resurgence of nightmares.

“Nice work,” Instructor Flores complimented him as he was packing up his notes and untouched book. “I didn’t expect you to be that...open.”

Deeks grimaced, realizing that he’d basically taken over the class and gone completely off script from what they discussed.

“Sorry, I guess I got a little carried away.”

“No, you got the point across. And that’s what they needed.” Flores patted his arm and nodded his appreciation. “Thank you.”

Deeks left the room, intending to skip lunch and go straight to bed until his next class. Maybe he’d get in a quick call to Kensi. The sound of her voice sounded very appealing and comforting right now. He was about halfway down the hall when someone called out,

“Deeks!” He groaned, recognizing Alan’s distinctive voice and turned as he approached, not up for dealing with him at the moment. He stopped a couple feet from Deeks, eyeing him warily.

“Was Everything you said in there true?” he asked and Deeks rolled his eyes, huffing out an exasperated sigh.

“No, Alan. I just made it up so I could get free implants,” Deeks answered derisively. “Now are you done trying to intimidate me? Talking about the guys who drilled holes in my mouth is a little bit exhausted.”

Alan flinched, but didn’t back down.

“I wasn’t trying to insult you.” He glared at Deeks as though he’d done something wrong.

“So implying that I embellished a case to make myself sound better isn’t an insult?” Alan muttered a fairly creative curse under his breath and then said,

“I’m sorry for what I said the first time we met. I was wrong about you, ok?” He shook his head, jaw clenched like the words were almost painful for him to say. Looking at the ground, he admitted, “Look, I’m struggling with a lot of the courses.”

“And you’re telling this to the guy you hate because...?” Deeks asked, not overly surprised to hear that Alan wasn’t doing well. He’d heard quite a few stories about him clashing with instructors among other things.

“Because I need help and you seem to actually know what you’re doing,” Alan said bluntly, apparently past his embarrassment. “So what do I need to do?”

Deeks blinked at him for a second, resisting the urge to laugh. Even in a moment of crisis, the guy was still making demands.

“Well one thing that I always have to remind myself about is to not let yourself get cocky.“

Alan gave him an incredulous look and shook his head.

“What? That’s your expert advice? Don’t be cocky.”

“A piece of it. It’s easy to get full of yourself. I do it all the time, but there’s always room to grow. New things to learn,” Deeks told him with a shrug.

“What could you possibly have to learn?” Alan asked acerbically. “I’ve seen you in most of these classes and you don’t even break a sweat. It’s freaking annoying.”

Deeks actually did laugh then and nodded.

“I do have a lot of experience. Like you pointed out, I’m the old guy.” Alan didn’t look amused so he sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Look, if you want you can join the study sessions I have with some of other guys. But if you do, you need to lose the attitude because there’s not time for that.”

Alan clenched his jaw, but nodded in apparent agreement.

“I’ll think about it.” With that he turned abruptly, adding a terse, “Thanks.” As he walked away.

Deeks just watched him go, shaking his head, and glanced down at his watch. If he hurried he could maybe just squeeze in a half hour nap and the call to Kensi.

***

A/N: I know this one ends a little abruptly, but I figure I’ll be writing more in this series.

[smallblip]

I see rivers 

Levihan | this one’s pretty PG

They say time is a flowing river, but past the flood and the white waters, Levi knows her as Hanji first. And she hears it in the way he says her name- the words that remain unspoken-

I am yours, I am yours, I am yours.

It’s on Ao3!: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27724813

 Levi knows her as Hanji first. And he hears the things they say about her. She has talent and an intellect that will save mankind. But before she’s promoted to squad leader, she’s Hanji when she first introduces herself to him, eyes bright, grinning like a madman. 

 She’s in the bath when she notices his apprehension. Levi favours stability, but the survey corps runs like a flowing river. The only constant is movement. 

 “You don’t have to call me squad leader...” she says, fingers breaking the surface of the water and watching ripples form by her wriggling toes. “I’m still your Hanji.” She says, so quiet Levi mistakes it for running water. He combs his fingers through her wet hair, untangling the knots. He tries not to dwell on the semantics.

 “Rinse.” 

 And like clockwork, she closes her eyes and slides down the tub. The water laps around her face, tickling her cheeks, she giggles.

 There’s someone at the door for her. Something needs attending to. But she’s Hanji first, and the sound of water drowns out the knocking.

  ≋

  Hanji knows him as Levi first, he introduces himself with the mononym and she’s in awe when she watches him fight. It has taken her years of training to get where she is, but Levi is fueled by pure instinct. Even so, she gets to know him, sometimes she knows him better than she knows herself. 

 Hanji soothes over the sharp edges of his words and presents them how he intends. She wants the world to see him as she does. Wants them to know the depths of his heart. But when he’s alone with her, he smiles easier, laughs at the silly things she says. And Hanji's happy keeping those moments of sublimity to herself. She’s happy knowing his soul comes alive at her touch- a spectacle for her alone to witness.

 Hanji knows he’s tired. She sees how the others rely on him to make the kill. Fear does things to people, and many choose to take refuge where Levi casts a shadow. Levi's face gives nothing away when Erwin promotes him to Captain. 

 Hanji only uses the name once in jest, when he’s making a face at the fawning. But later in her room, he’s just Levi. He’s Levi as he leans his head against her shoulder and falls into a deep slumber for the first time in a long while. 

  ≋

  And the river rages on, coursing with a vengeance. It takes Nanaba with it, then Mike, then the entirety of Levi’s squad. 

 Those who survive sink to the bottom of the river bed like rocks, they wash against each other in an abrasive dance.

 But when Hanji finds him in the forest relief washes over her. Later she bandages his leg and tells him stories of Nanaba and Mike when they were recruits. And she tells him how much Petra adores him, how much Oluo looks up to him, how she overhears Gunther telling the younger recruits stories about him, how Eld had defended his name against the Military Police that one drunken night in the bar. With her fingers carding through his hair, she absolves him of his guilt. 

 “I’m happy you’re alive Levi...” she says, with enough force to silence a river. 

  ≋

  Humanity’s strongest bears a weight on his shoulders. And he’s been living up to expectations with mechanical precision. But even then, Captain Levi bleeds red.

 “I’m sorry...” 

 “I’m not.” Hanji says, resolute. There’s a smile on her face that tells him she knows, and that he doesn't need to say anything else. “You gave your best Levi.” 

 “I couldn’t...” 

 Couldn’t protect your squad. Couldn’t stop them from getting killed.

 He’s not made of metal and forged in fire. He’s Levi now, so vulnerable it makes her ache. Hanji tells him his name over and over and wills him into being. She tells him his body is made of dying stars, an intentional weave of chemicals and stardust. 

 And that she is happy he is alive.

 That a star gave its life so he can be here; so they can be here. Safe in each other’s arms. And if even the stars are acquainted with temporality, maybe it is that which makes life so beautiful. 

 She doesn’t tell him that she dreams of Nifa, of Keiji, of the others. Because he’s there rubbing circles into her back when she jolts awake at night. 

  She’s here with Levi now, and her fear fades into the shadows. Her fingers extend like vines, pulling him close, the sheets feel like the earth beneath her skin. And she feels, in her arms, the warmth of the sun, a star, the brightest of them all.

  ≋

  Levi finds her in the eye of the storm that has manifested around her. Upturned tables, broken chairs, and Hanji in the middle of it, fists clenched, breathing ragged. 

  "Goddam mess." He says as he sets the tables upright and piles up the broken chairs to be used as firewood. She helps when she realises he’s in the room. 

 He holds her hand and guides her away when they’re done and he draws a bath. She undresses with the compliance of a wounded animal cornered into submission. But she’s surprised when Levi joins her. It displaces some water and it splashes onto the floor. She sits, back against him, and pulls her knees to her chest. He works wordlessly on her hair, fingers massaging into her scalp, the bath water licking at the blood against their skin in an attempt at purification. It’s not their blood. Not a titan’s either. It makes Hanji feel filthy in a way she’s never felt before. 

 “Rinse.” 

 She closes her eyes and lowers herself against him. He makes way. Before she opens her eyes again, she feels the warm press of lips against her forehead. But when she opens her eyes, Levi is already reaching for the soap. There’s a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, and she’s turning to face him, hands reaching to run soap in his hair. 

 “Your turn.” 

  ≋

  They learn to smile and laugh again. These are the little moments that remind them that they are breathing. The new recruits are grown now, hurried along by a world turned on its head. It seems ridiculous to deny them some alcohol. So they drink, to anything they can think of drinking to. 

 To the dead, to the living,  To vengeance, to love, and loving.

 Hanji is laughing at something Connie said from across the room, and Levi doesn’t ever want to see her otherwise. But they are soldiers on the frontline of a world gone to shits, so he commits her laughter to memory instead. For now, they’re tucked in the corner of the mess, holding hands under the table out of habit, where no one can see.

 She only lets go of his hand when she spots Jean and Eren fighting. 

 “It’s your turn with the kids, Levi!”

  ≋

  Between stolen touches when everyone is sleeping, the brush of fingertips when they are back to back in the battlefield , and the little glances when they pass in the hallways, between death upon death upon decay, Hanji becomes the new commander. 

 Later in the night Hanji lets him tend to her eye. She catches the look on his face.

 “It’s gross huh...” she knows, from how much it’s hurting. A reminder of what she has lost to get where she is. The people she’s lost to get where she is.

 “No more than you usually are.” He says and she’s chuckling. 

 “I guess you can’t call me four eyes anymore...”

 “Didn’t think it would be appropriate now that you’re Commander.” He says, and there’s hurt on her face. He remembers that this is his doing. He thinks about Erwin in his last moments and wonders if someone will make the same decision for them- to let the river take them. If that had been the right decision to make in the first place. 

 “Please...” she says like a whisper, “not you...” 

 Levi murmurs an apology. He pulls the sheets over them, her head on his chest, wet hair splayed on fevered skin. 

 “I’m still your Hanji.” She says, more for herself than anyone, and it breaks the silence like a storm. Terrible things have always happened in bad weather. But even when it’s thundering outside and the windows are far too worn to keep the wind out, Levi can’t deny that he has always loved the rain.

 He remembers hearing the explosion, and him asking for her. He remembers Erwin telling him to focus on the mission. But the thing about living on the margins of heaven and hell- how easily the mind conjures up images of death. He remembers then, the relief washing over him when he sees her on the roof. He says her name like an affliction.

 He kisses her forehead as she’s falling asleep to thunder rolling in the distance. 

“I’m happy you’re alive Hanji...”

 ≋

  Another year has passed. Hanji tells him the names of the flowers in Spring and they ride out to see the sea for the first time.

 Levi tells her to be careful. He grabs her cloak in case she falls, and later he laces their fingers together. In case she falls, he tells himself.

 They settle to the bottom of the riverbed- smooth and polished from the years that have gone, anticipating when the current will take them again. 

 By the candlelight, Levi looks younger, spared the fatigue of fighting. And Hanji is getting better at catching the moments when the guilt seeps back into his system. She holds him closer then.

 And in the moments when Hanji lets responsibility take on a form that’s almost metaphorical- the meaning itself to a life that’s cruel and brutish- Levi holds her closer. He traces over the keloids on her skin. He removes the patch on her eye and brushes his thumb over the scar, a white line of taut skin, like a silk cocoon. 

 Levi knows this is stolen time, that they’re ever at the mercy of the river. But nights like these he wants to search for calmer waters, to set foot on land again and watch the water from the banks. He thinks of Hanji with him, body moulded perfectly against his like they are now. They watch the glimmer of the river flowing out to sea.

 “When the time comes... Promise me you’ll let me go.” She says. Their foreheads are pressed together and Levi breathes her in, he takes in every word, how acrid they taste. He thinks about all the moments he nearly lost her. The world has taken everything from him. He begs an unnamed god every time they ride beyond the walls-

 Not Hanji, not Hanji please.

 It makes his stomach sink. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t protest because he knows, even though together they are whole, she’s Hanji first. 

 “You gotta dedicate your heart Levi...” she teases, placing a fist on his chest. She knows the whole Commander shtick doesn’t suit her. But she’s laughing and suddenly she’s young again, airy and playful. And Levi thinks there’s beauty even when they’re so far from the safety of shore. There’s beauty in the white rush of water and the capriciousness of the weather. 

 "Tch... Four Eyes..." Levi rolls his eyes and Hanji doesn’t point out that he’s smiling.  

 He presses a kiss on Hanji’s lips, no different from their other less urgent kisses- soft and gentle and the accompanying warmth blossoming in the sanctuary of ribs.

 But despite words unspoken, Levi knows he has already dedicated his heart. 

He is Levi first. A boy who only has a name to call his own. He is Levi who swears an oath and keeps it till his dying breath. 

 But there moments of being that are infinitely more beautiful. Moments that beckon to him with the defiance of home in a world with all the permanence of a flowing river. The moments that have his heart.

 He is Levi when she calls his name in the thick of battle, and in the forgiving lull of the night. And he is Levi when she presses her palms over his chest and smiles when she feels the steady pulse of blood through his veins. 

  It beats with a defiance against the rapids, a steady thrum that calls out to her. Hanji's eyes flutter open at the touch of his hand against her cheek, the beginnings of a smile on her face. And everything left unsaid settles like dust around them. But she hears it when his hands snake around her in the bath, the water warm and inviting. In the way he presses kisses along her spine. She hears it loudest when he says her name-

 I am yours, I am yours, I am yours.

 "Rinse." 

[dreamcatcherjiah]

Part 8

💞Tight Hearts (Idol!Hoseok x Reader)

Plot: The red string of fate was visible when our grandparents were children. They would play around, following the strings from one person to their soulmate and laugh happily when these two people inevitably found each other. It was a reason for happiness. But little by little, people stopped seeing the threads. In bad times, it was dangerous, it was a liability, so people stopped seeing them to protect each other from harm. When I was born, nobody saw them anymore, they just felt their soulmate. Anxiety, happiness, sorrow, love, the hearts of the soulmates are one, feel the same things, but it is almost impossible to find your soulmate, now that the threads cannot be seen.

Tight Hearts Masterlist

Part 8

You were sitting in the toilet lid and reevaluating your whole existence. The night had been chaos and it was taking a turn for the worse. You were supposed to take a shower and change into something a bit more comfortable than those concert clothes which were still bloodstained. Lifting your eyes and sparing a look at the mirror, you groaned. You had met your soulmate and his family like this, hair up in a knot, your face still showing traces of the small tendrils of blood that had come out of your nose and ears. You had deep purple circles under your eyes that looked more like bruises in the dim light of the bathroom. 

The night had gone by in a blur: the parents, all of them, were fascinated with the two of you and how your connection worked. Hoseok’s parents and sister couldn’t stay away and wouldn’t stop hugging him, incredibly relieved that he was back to being the happy, bubbly man everyone knew. There was also the fact that now that he had found you, or vice versa, neither of you would suffer any longer, your bodies wouldn’t be forced to stand incredible periods of pain before finally shutting down. But that was the worst-case scenario and none of the people present in the room had wanted to focus on that. Parents had been placated and phone numbers exchanged, eventually calming them enough to send them all home. With the promise to be there for the meeting with Bang PD-nim the next day at BigHit’s headquarters, everyone except for you and the seven men had gone home. You sent Hyejin home with an apologetic smile and a promise to tell her as much as you could by Monday, that supposing you would be back by Monday. You weren’t entirely sure your boss would appreciate all the ruckus that walking arm in arm with Jung Hoseok into the office would create. 

A knock on the door shook you out of your reveries and made you focus on the moment. Hoseok knocked again on the door, worried that you were taking so long in the shower. Jimin had graciously offered to go sleep in Taehyung’s room so you two could have the room to yourselves and that led to Hoseok offering the bathroom and some clothes in case (you wouldn’t have said no for the world) you wanted to freshen up before bed. The mere idea of going home had been discharged so fast it was almost ridiculous, you couldn’t be too far away from him without starting trembling and producing cold beads of sweat. Only walking into the bathroom had proven to be a challenge; as soon as you’d locked the door Hoseok had collided against it, desperate to reach you before it hurt more. To get used to the distance, the both of you had sat back to back against the bathroom door until the pain subsided, moving further and further until you had ended up where you were now, sitting in the toilet lid, sweating profusely only out of the pure effort it was costing you not to run to the door, yank it open and fling your arms around Hoseok. But you had to shower. You had made a fool out of yourself enough for a lifetime that day. Enough was enough.

“I’m going to move to the shower,” you warned him, as you had been doing every time you edged further away from the door.

“Wait just a second,” you heard his answer back. He sounded tense and you couldn’t blame him, you were beginning to feel a dull ache at the back of your skull and your body was screaming at you to put an end to it already. Hoseok took a deep breath and you heard him positioning himself against the door. “Okay, I’m ready. Go slowly, please, or my head will split open.”

Doing exactly as he said, you removed the rest of your clothes and let them fall in a hap on the hamper. You weren’t exactly going to miss them, but you still needed some clothes to wear if you were ever going to go back to your apartment, unlikely as it was. Supporting your weight on the long marble basin, you held your breath as you put one foot in front of the other and entered the huge glass cabin where the shower was located. You could feel how, one by one, each of the hairs in your body stood on end, completely rebelling against your going further away from Hoseok. Reaching the furthest wall, you rested your forehead against the cold tiles and felt how your sweat travelled down your temples. The contrast between the scorching temperature of your skin and the cold respite the bathroom gave you that second made up your mind, even if you were feeling frozen inside, your skin was still too hot to be normal, and a frozen shower was forming as a very solid idea in your mind. 

The initial shock that ran through your veins the second the first droplets of frozen liquid touched your back made you reconsider how much of a bad idea it was, but the water felt so good, washing all the grime from your body that you ignored the trembling and started rubbing soap on your face and neck. Your fingers were trembling uncontrollably now and your legs felt seconds from giving away under you, no matter how hard you focused on keeping them steady.

“Is it okay if I sit down in the shower for a while?” You asked with as much strength as you had left after the exertion of walking mere meters away from Hoseok. “It won’t be long,” you added, promising yourself you would get up as soon as you got your wind back. 

“Yeah… yeah, do that,” his voice was weak, almost impossible to hear through the door. He would be feeling as weak as you were, his head splitting in half the further you moved away from him, and he could do nothing with the locked door biting into his spine.

After sitting on the floor of the shower for what felt like hours, your skin got numb from the cold and you used the stabbing sensation of the water to anchor you to reality. You wouldn’t be able to tell what exactly was causing the light feeling on the back of your neck, the sensation that you had sweat running down the middle of your back even though the water would be washing it away. You realised, startled, that while your mind had been occupied in trying to figure out what was happening, your body had started rocking back and forth while your arms hugged your knees tightly. 

Deciding that you had already put both Hoseok and yourself through enough, you pushed yourself into a standing position and kept swaying while you neared the door. Hoseok had left a fluffy white towel resting on the basin and draping it around your whole body you rested against the door and allowed your body to slid down until you felt the cold tile floor against your flesh. You sighed.

“Thank you,” said Hoseok, his voice with an undertone of relief and gratitude, “I don’t know how much longer I would have been able to stay here, I would have thrown the door open.”

“I couldn’t stay away much longer either,” you answered, resting your head in the wooden door and closing your eyes for just a second. “I felt dizzy, had I stayed in the shower longer you would have had to throw down the door to get me out,” you chuckled and he answered with a light bout of laughter. 

Silence stretched between the two of you. You took it as a signal that it was time for you to get out of the hot bathroom, maybe it was all the heat and humidity that was making you feel lightheaded. As you inspected the clothes you found they were tiny (by the standards of these men, you figured the t-shirt and sweatpants would still be huge on you) for them to be Hoseok’s and the FG logo on the front of the grey cloth confirmed it for you. A smile fought its way to your face and you couldn’t help the warm feeling that flooded your chest. These people didn’t know you and, yet, they were going out of their way to make you feel comfortable.

Towelling your hair dry, you opened the door and Hoseok jumped to his feet and pivoted to face you completely. His face looked guilty while his eyes wandered from your still wet hair to the darker spots on the t-shirt and the rolled-up legs of the sweatpants, but his expression was still unreadable. Clearly, both of you were still strangers, what were you expecting?

“I’m sorry we don’t have better clothes that fit you, we usually just wear whatever clothes we find when we are not going out. Erm… I could ask Jimin if he has a hairdryer somewhere if you want. I lost mine during the tour and still haven’t replaced it, I was intending to but I wasn’t in the mood most of the time and I forgot to tell Sejin Hyung…”

“It’s okay,” you interrupted his rambling. He had been very composed most of the night and this sight, him flustered and showing you that big smile of his where he tried to hide his teeth when he was feeling shy, was making you feel giddy inside. “The clothes are great, you don’t need to worry. And I don’t need a hairdryer, I always leave it to dry on its own.” You smiled at him from under your lashes and a light blush coloured the top of his chiselled cheekbones. After the second prolonged silence in less than two minutes, he scurried past you into the bathroom and, with a last warm, shy smile, closed the door. He gave you enough time to sit with your back completely flat against the door before he moved any further and it wasn’t long before you closed your eyes to the sound of running water. 

The door suddenly gave away behind you and you woke up with a start seconds before your head collided with the hard tile floor. Wincing, you opened one eye and felt instantly mortified. Heat flooded your whole body and you tried to cover your blushing face before Hoseok could see it. He was standing frozen right above you, his legs apart and wearing only a pair of black shorts. Only a pair of loose black shorts. Neither of you dared to move. You, because you still had the image of those defined thighs and lithe abdomen branded in your retinas and him, well, because the situation was surreal in and on itself and there you were, laying on the floor with your head right in between his feet.

“You could perfectly say now you have fallen at my feet,” he joked, and silence ensued. Not knowing how to react, you separated your pointer and middle fingers and peeked up at him to gauge his reaction. He was incredibly red in the face himself, the blush even reaching his ears, but his face was so absolutely adorable that your embarrassment ended up dissolving into an uncontrollable fit of giggles. He didn’t even try not to join you and soon he was bending down to help you regain your own footing. The second his hand took a hold of your elbow all the anxiety, the residual pain in your chest and the back of your head disappeared. Both of you sighed at the same time and upon looking each other in the eye, burst out laughing again. 

“Jiminie offered his bed for tonight,” moving you to the foot of the bed closer to the bathroom door, he sat you down and looked at you with his hands on his hips and a pensive look on his eyes, “I don’t want to push your boundaries, so we can sleep one on each bed and gauge how far away we can be without hurting.”

His thoughtfulness was touching and so was the smile he was giving you, no trace of all the tension present in his features before, but now a confident and youthful look replacing it. 

“Thank you so much for everything you’ve done today,” you whisper, “you could have been much less accommodating and I really appreciate it.”

Frowning, he laid on the other bed, on his side completely on the edge of the mattress, and looked at you. “It may not have looked like it, but I am beyond happy I finally found you. Not only for the pain stoping,” he looked conflicted at you while you copied his posture and mirrored him on your own bed, “you know, but my grandmother also used to tell me stories about the bond and how it was for her and my grandfather. I always had a very romantic image of the soulmate system while growing up, even if most people didn’t believe it existed anymore.”

You sighed, feeling the throbbing pull at the back of your skull returning, you tried to find a comfortable position to rest your head, but it didn’t seem to work. Blinking away the numbness and the slight discomfort, you focus on Hoseok while he keeps whispering.

“When I began feeling what could only be your emotions, a childhood story turned into my everyday life and it was growing more and more painful as time passed. When I met the boys and became a trainee I could still stand the pain without wincing but not for long. They were worried, but I never told them what I thought it was. It was Tae who found out, by the way,” he added as an afterthought, “if he hadn’t seen the thread among the crowd tonight…” his words dissipated into the tense air of the room. Neither of you wanted to voice what could have happened tonight if Taehyung hadn’t seen the red string connecting you both. 

Growing up you had tried to ignore what all the signs were pointing at. It reached a point where you had a monumental argument with your father that you would gladly just forget. It went along the lines of “why would you rely on something as fictitious as a soulmate, those are just psychosomatic, you’re killing yourself”. Suffice to say Hoseok wasn’t going to be meeting your parents anytime soon.

Hoseok groaned from the other bed and you looked up in time to see him catching himself on the edge just before he fell to the ground. 

“Hey, are you alright?” You asked, even though you felt it was quite a stupid question. You could feel the hairs on the back on your neck standing with the effort it was taking you not running to his bed and just touch him. Restraining yourself was proving to be harder as time passed and you doubted he was faring better than you were.

“The combination of the pricking at the back of my head and you feeling miserable all of a sudden is not a pleasant one. My body is all for just fucking around and throw caution to the wind, I’m sorry.”

He did look guilty, in a deep way that had more to do with your mixed feelings than with sounding so angry and frustrated. You pressed your head harder into the pillow and planted your heels into the mattress, the effort of not doing just what he had said being already too much for your tired body. Taking a deep breath you balanced your options; the only thought of losing your mind over his touch made you feel nausea, but even if it was to yourself you had to admit you trusted him not to touch you if it became too much. He had even offered to sleep on another bed when you could see how much it was bothering you both. Now the question was, were you brave enough to say what you both wanted, even if it would mean not being in control? Your hands were starting to sweat and the fastest solution was obviously moving closer but you weren’t really attracted to the idea of sleeping on the floor and you wouldn’t even allow him to think that possibility existed. Letting go all the air in your lungs, you opened your eyes to find Hoseok observing you intently. His brows were furrowed and he looked deep in thought, his eyes unfocused and his mouth slightly open. When he saw you looking at him, his eyes focused again and he offered you a small smile. 

“Do you trust me?” Your voice trembled a bit at the end, but both of you pretended not to notice. Frowning, he nodded and lifted his head from where it was resting on his arm to look at you closer. “Then get up and slowly get closer to this bed.”

His eyes went wide the second you finished talking and you could see in them that he was about to refuse, to shake his head so adamantly that he would really fall off the bed, but he seemed to catch himself in the last second and, remembering the car trip and how he had spoken to you as an equal asking for your trust, he pushed himself into a sitting position and then to his feet. Just the fact that he wasn’t laying down anymore eased the nagging on your head and the both of you sighed at the same time. With a nod, he started taking small steps towards the bed you were resting in and, feeling a bit silly just laying there alone, you sat down and indicated with your head he should do the same. When the bed dipped under his weight something inside you did a somersault and while you didn’t know if it was just his proximity or your traitorous body, you were feeling lightheaded. You could feel your rational thoughts leaving your head and you clawed at them with your whole being. You wouldn’t ruin this by becoming a puddle every time he touched you. 

“What now?” He asked when you were both sitting cross-legged on his bed, facing each other. As to what to do, you hadn’t thought that far. You knew the longer you touched, the further apart you could be but your mind wasn’t computing at the moment. That had to work for something, right? You had thought something along the lines of “if we can spend the nights together, maybe we’ll be able to spend the day apart” but then the smell of his lotion had reached you and your mind had gone blank. If you could just hold onto that thought, maybe you’d be able to get through the night without dying of embarrassment at the thought that you needed J-hope’s touch to survive. You basically were a glorified parasite.

“I’m trying so hard right now not to start drooling, God, I am pathetic,” you mumbled, making him chuckle at your little pout, “do you think if we start touching slowly, not much skin… maybe it won’t be as overwhelming?”

“Just tell me what you want to do and we’ll do that,” he whispered, smiling, catching up with the almost solemn atmosphere.

Grabbing his shirt sleeve (why had he gotten dressed after his shower? Do you hate me universe?) you tried to push any inappropriate thoughts to the deepest and darkest part of your mind and guided him next to you and positioned both your bodies so you laid face to face without touching at all. The silence that filled the room after that wouldn’t have been as suffocating had you not been looking each other in the eye the whole time. As soon as your hand had made contact with him, his brown eyes had darkened and his breathing had quickened. Your own heart was threatening to beat its way of your chest. The both of you stilled there, never breaking eye contact while your bodies became accustomed to such proximity, feeling a strange kind of heat emerge from your bodies, collide and create a blinding hot dome around your bodies. 

Little by little, your breathing came back to normal. Hoseok reached a hand forward without thinking but stilled it immediately before it came in contact with your waist. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. Beads of sweat were running down his forehead from the sheer effort he was making not to move too fast. You could see in his face he resented the mindless state of bliss the bond was giving you both as much as you did and was resisting it as best as he could. A vein was jumping on his temple and a muscle on his jaw wouldn’t stop moving. Seeing how much it was costing him, you took his wrist over the long sleeve and whispered, “do you trust me?” Waiting until he breathed in and out and gave you the go, you got closer to him and let his hand drop over your waist. 

The euphoria you felt then was unlike anything you had ever felt. It radiated out of Hoseok in waves colliding with yours and knocking the wind out of your lungs. Your eyes opened wide and the only thing you could see for a second was a white scorching light bathing everything in the room, your bodies surrounded and hugged by it. A boast of laughter escaped your lips and you couldn’t (and wouldn’t) resist and got as close to him as you could, nesting your face in his chest. His arms instantly encircled you and pressed you against him as if his life depended on it, each of his fingers marking your shoulders as his arms crossed around your back. Your legs tangled, all your muscles taut, vibrating with the pure joy running through your veins and into each other. Hoseok was panting in your ear, his breath hot and sending tremors down your spine so strong you felt them on your toes. His skin was hot to the touch, goosebumps all over his body when you found the nape of his neck and your fingers combed through his hair. 

When there was no longer any space left between your bodies, and in a moment of rare clarity, you realised what you had done and gasped, fighting against your instincts and your body to restore the distance again but Hoseok tightened his hold on you and all the fight left your body. 

“Wait, please,” he begged, his voice desperate and tense but calm at the same time, “I won’t move, won’t touch you anywhere else, but please don’t leave. Let’s just sleep like this, I’m too tired to resist tonight.”

Shame filled you now instead of panic. Your day had been long and very painful, but you hadn’t had to give a concert in front of thousands of people and rehearse for that same concert on the same day. Knowing Hoseok and how all of them gave their 200% in every concert and performance, you were very surprised he was still awake and coherent at — you looked — 3 AM. Relaxing in his arms and fighting with yourself, you decided to prove to him how much you trusted him and stayed. Not long after, he whispered a small “thank you” and his arms relaxed around you. Your bodies separated as you relaxed as well, your head resting on his arm, so you finally could see his face. The lines that had been there before — of worry and pain — were no longer visible. His eyes were closed and his long lashes bated against his cheekbones as he dreamed, a satisfied smile pulling at the corners of his mouth while small noises escaped between his parted lips. Through a sleepy haze, you noticed how the hand that was still on your back moved and started tracing small circles over your shoulder blades. The last thing you noticed before you finally succumbed to sleep was how his other hand was sweetly playing with your hair. 

A/n: I know it's been a hot minute, but I was so busy with finals I barely slept, but here it is, finally!! I wasn't feeling happy with anything I wrote and you guys don't know the times I opened my laptop to write and just closed it again. I finally said today, I’m gonna post it or I won't sleep tonight so I hope you like it, let's chat!! 🥺

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[ikeromantic]

Lipstick

Day 3 of Ikemektober

For this prompt, I decided on Seth. Approx. 1100 words, fluff!

“Do you want to go shopping?” Seth’s cheerful voice filled the kitchen where Alice worked on breakfast cleanup. 

She glanced at him and smiled. “I’d love to. Just give me a minute to finish up.”

Seth nodded. He slipped on an apron and sidled up to the counter. “Two are faster than one. I’ll rinse and dry if you scrub.” 

“Thanks. It’s a big job for one person. I still don’t know how Luka did it on his own for so many mornings.”

“Speaking of, where is our hard-working Jack?”

Alice lifted a shoulder. “He said he had something to work on today. It must be important to miss breakfast.”

“And the washing up,” Seth joked. He blew a soap bubble at her and watched as she crossed her eyes, following it as it landed on her nose. Then it popped and they both laughed. 

He loved these moments alone with her. He got to see the girly side of Alice the other men didn’t. A perk of being ‘one of the girls.’ It was a bittersweet position to play. He cursed the magic tower and his own willingness to continue playing these games. One day he’d tell her what he felt. When he was free to be the man he wanted to be.

After dishes, Seth helped her with her hair and waited patiently until she changed into something cute to wear to Central. He had no complaints there - she came out in a pink sundress so thin he could see the outlines of her breasts beneath it. 

If he’d been Luka, the sight would make him speechless. Sirius would have sent her back to change. But Seth, he just enjoyed the view. “The city awaits, my sweet.” 

Alice let him take her arm, and they left together. It was a beautiful day. Most days in Cradle were. The sun was shining, the streets were bustling with people, and the shops were full of wondrous things. 

Seth was a little surprised when she stopped in front of the apothecary. Her eyes scanned the items in the window. At first, all he saw were cough syrups and skin balms, but then he realized what caught her eye. A set of eye powders, kohl, and lipstick. 

“Let’s go in,” he suggested.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t. There’s nothing in there I really need. And I haven’t got much money to spend.” Alice rarely spent anything on herself. She usually insisted on presents for the officers instead.

Seth grinned and tugged her inside anyway. “I insist! Besides, we just want to look. Who’s to say we’ll buy anything? But really . . .” he dropped his voice to a whisper just for her, “every girl needs a good make-up kit, don’t they?”

She squeaked, as he intended. Her cheeks blushed as if she’d already applied the rouge.

The shopkeep was a kindly old woman, and once she understood what they wanted to look at, she took them back to a wide counter set with little round mirrors. There were different color palettes laid out, and brushes, like a painter’s tools. 

“Try some of them out - it’s always best to see how a color looks on your skin. I’ll be up front if you have any questions.”

When she was gone, Seth pointed to a tray of blue and grey. “Hmm, are these my color? Maybe something more cheerful?”

Alice giggled. “I have never seen you wear make-up Seth.”

“Are you sure? You know, a good artist can wear it so you’ll never realize it’s there.” 

Her eyes went wide, half-believing him until he gave up his serious expression and laughed. 

“I’m just kidding, sweetie. But why don’t you pick something you like?” She nodded and bent to the task. After a few quiet minutes, she had a palette of soft pinks and delicate reds. She started to dab some onto her hand, but Seth stopped her.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking the color . . . like the lady said to.” 

Seth shook his head, mouth a moue of disapproval. “That’s not how you test it. Let me.” He picked up a brush for the eyeshadow and dusted it lightly in her chosen color. “Close your eyes.” 

Alice’s lids fluttered shut. “B-be careful. I’ve never let anyone do this to me.”

“Don’t you trust me?” He dusted her skin with the powder, enjoying the way she tensed up at his touch, only to relax as the brush tickled lightly across the skin under her eyebrows.

Alice started to open her eyes when he stopped. “Does it loo-”

“Ah! Don’t open them yet!”

She shut them again. “Why not?”

“You can look when I’m done. You will be my master piece. A beauty like no other.”

Alice blushed again, adorable in her naivete. “You say the silliest things sometimes.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. In his real voice, “It isn’t silly to say you are a beauty. It’s truth.” 

This did not help the stain in her cheeks, which was precious. 

Seth carefully applied the kohl, giving her a slight cat’s eye look that would make her eyes even bigger. Then he chose a petal pink for her lips. It was perfect. Just red enough to stand out, but pink enough to stay on the sweet side of sensuality. He knew it was the right choice as he applied it.

“Part your lips,” he told her. 

Alice opened her mouth a little.

He painted the color onto her, his focus intent. Not because he was afraid to mess up but because he was so close to her. Alice’s face turned up toward him, trusting and innocent. 

Seth couldn’t help leaning down to kiss her. He could feel the lipstick smudge against his mouth, but he didn’t care. Her lips were as soft as he imagined, her taste as sweet. And after a surprised breath, she kissed him back. And that was heaven. His fingers tangled in her hair, and her arms went around his waist. He could feel her nip at his lower lip, her tongue darting forward to press into his mouth. Naughty Alice.

He pulled back, smiling. “Ah, now I’ve messed it up.” He used his finger to clean the edges around her mouth as Alice stared up at him in glassy eyed languor. 

“Wh-what just happened? Did you? We ki-”

Seth interrupted. “I just blotted your lipstick, sweetie. Now it’s perfect.” He held out a mirror for her to look. “Beautiful.”

And she was, with or without it. Seth still wore a smudge of pink all the way home.

[piccolina-mina]

The Art of Reciprocity

A/N: For @shadowandbones, the only person who could ever get me to write kysobel/kybel.💙 

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

She pressed a manicured nail hard on the doorbell, not bothering to let up.

She couldn’t tell if the buzzer was working or not, so she knocked on the door for good measure, until she heard a muffled thump and swearing. Then a series of locks were unlatched and the door was wrenched open.

She smiled, syrupy sweet at a disheveled looking Kyle, stepping across the threshold and pushing past his lame attempt to block the entrance.

“No, by all means, come in, Isobel,” he mumbled, shutting the door and shuffling, barefoot back to a makeshift cocoon of blankets on the couch.

“No worries, I already did,” she tossed back, taking in her surroundings, her nose crinkling at Kyle’s questionable taste in decor. 

She could work a miracle there. It screamed “bachelor pad,” and while he was neater than she would’ve imagined, it could have used a bit of a feminine touch.

God knew the Sheriff didn’t count. She was pretty certain the only time Sheriff Valenti would’ve witnessed the full spectrum of the rainbow is if she actually showed the woman her pleasure treasure trove.

“I was being polite. I could’ve come in on my own.”

“You being polite? Never!” Kyle snorted as he burrowed into a pile of blankets.

He stiffened when she plopped down next to him and kicked her feet up on the coffee table as if he still hadn’t gotten used to how she encroached on space without warning.

“You mind?” He nodded pointedly at her feet on his table, and she rolled her eyes, but took them off and kicked her shoes off too. She looked smug.

For a brief moment, she wondered if he would say something else, but a forced smile was frozen on his face.

She shrugged, her eyes landing on a pathetic looking sandwich on a saucer. Her stomach rumbled at the sight of it, so she snatched a half and took a bite, blanching at how utterly tasteless it was with its sad, wilted lettuce and boring multigrain bread.

“Kyle, this is – this is sad, man,” she said around a mouthful of sandwich that she unceremoniously spit back out on the saucer.

“I was going to eat that,” he stared, disgusted at the chewed up bits that landed on top of the other half.

“You shouldn’t, though,” she took a swig of his Gatorade, ignoring his dissent and smacking his hand away.

She choked back the pungent beverage that reminded her of melted popsicles on hot summer days in the desert. “You should have better standards.”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said tiredly, snatching the bottle back from her and placing the cap on it. He sighed, collapsing back into his mountain of blankets as if the mere act tuckered him out.

She took in his appearance for the first time since she got there. His normally well-styled hair was damn near plastered to his forehead. His face had a sunken pallor unlike its usual tan, and he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days.

His t-shirt had patches of sweat, and his skin glistened with sweat even though he shivered on occasion. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he had some killer stubble action going on.

“You look like sh!t,” she mused out loud. “Yet still doable,” her tongue darted out to lick her lips because the stubble was definitely hot. “It’s unfair, really.

“I don’t get sick, Doc, so I’ll be fine.”

“Isobel,” he blinked slowly, unamused as tired eyes met hers. “Not that this hasn’t been fun, but what exactly are you doing here?”

“Can a girl just drop by and chat with a friend?” She quipped. She batted her eyes playfully.

“We’re friends?” He deadpanned.

It came off both lighthearted and honest, the latter causing her to recoil a bit. Her lips turned downward as she refrained from a snappy comeback because … were they?

And in his defense, she did come over there with an ulterior motive, so was he wrong?

His expression softened, picking up on her shift in mood despite her best attempt to hide it, put that mask of hers back up, the one she had perfected for the better part of two decades.

He opened his mouth intending to walk back his comment, except before he could say more he was overcome with a coughing fit. 

His whole body convulsed with each cough, and he groaned when he was through.

A small part of her was amused that even physicians suffered from a man cold.

He feebly reached for his meds, and she used her powers to pop the lid off and place a couple of pills in his hand. She telekinetically pushed the Gatorade in his other palm too.

“Thanks,” he said, out of breath. He threw back the meds and rested his head on the back of the couch for a moment.

“How about I make you something to eat?” She swiped her palms across her jeans and stood, making her way to his kitchen and rummaging through his cabinets without so much as waiting for a response.

“You’re going to cook?” Kyle sputtered, dumbfounded. “For me?”

“Why is it so hard to believe I can be nice?”

“Isobel-” Kyle started.

“Don’t answer that. Yeah, I’m going to cook for you,” she slammed a few cabinets and arranged a bunch of on ingredients on the counter.

“Southwestern Chicken Soup,” she frowned. “Well, a variation of it, you know, you have a surprisingly well-stocked fridge. Last time I was at Michael’s, all I found was boxed mac ‘n cheese and Twinkies.”

“Isobel-” Kyle began again, watching the blond studiously ignore him while getting down to work. “I just-”

“Why don’t you do us both a favor and go shower,” she pointed the edge of a knife in his direction, nose upturned at his sweaty state. “Take your time, if we’re lucky, and you do it right, everything will be done once you’re out.”

She couldn’t resist the potshots, but his brow arched, more amused than offended. So much for hitting him where it hurt in retaliation.

She angrily chopped vegetables, the action serving as a release for her pent-up frustration. She busied herself assembling the soup, then searched high and low for any alcohol beyond the unappealing drafts in the back of the refrigerator.

She followed the sound of running water toward Kyle’s bedroom, dark colors, and sports paraphernalia abounded, and not only didn’t she bother knocking on the bathroom door, but she yanked back the shower curtain too.

“Kyle – stop shrieking,” she snorted at his surprised yelp. “It’s just me. Hey, do you have any wine?”

She never clocked him for the modest type, but it still surprised her when he stood stark naked, soap and suds pooling at his feet, and stared at her more exasperated than anything else.

“Isobel, do you have any comprehension of privacy?”

“Relax,” she gave him a slow once-over, biting her lip against her own volition. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. You saw mine, and I most certainly got to see yours,” her eyes roamed downward with appreciation before returning to his face. “Consider us even. Wine?”

“No, just beer. What can I say? I wasn’t expecting company.”

“Cute,” she yanked the shower curtain closed.

“So you keep saying,” Kyle chuckled beneath the rushing water.

She turned the cold water up with her mind, and he yelped as she slammed the door.

He didn’t say much when he was done. He smelled amazing, like himself, and it brought some color back into his face. He seemed revitalized but also more relaxed, as he sat on the stool across the island from her.

 She could feel his eyes on her as she slid a heaping bowl of soup in front of him while leaning against the island and finishing off a half-empty bottle of beer.

He ate in silence, enthusiastically, she noted, and she secretly applauded herself for impressing him, even if he didn’t admit it.

“This is amazing, Isobel. Thank you,” he shoveled the last spoonful in his mouth.

Go figure; Kyle wasn’t spiteful or petty. He wasn’t – he wasn’t like her.

“Thank you,” he said again. His voice was soft – his eyes earnest and genuine. He reached across and rubbed her arm, and the intimate gesture sent warmth throughout her.

He knew she was attracted to him, and she propositioned him often, but it wasn’t just that he looked like a deity carved from stone. Kyle was a good guy, warm and cool at once, and he was so easy to be around. With Kyle, she could just … be.

With Kyle, she felt like the only thing that mattered was the present, not her past and who she was then, not her future and who she could be.

For Kyle, the present was enough, and since that’s all she could figure out, day by day, minute by minute, she appreciated the comfort in that, in him.

“So, Isobel,” Kyle flashed her that warm, disarming smile that cut through to the core of her. “Are you going to tell me why you really came over here?”

In hindsight, the only reason she was so agitated with his earlier response was because of how right he was, how right everyone was.

She did only come over for selfish reasons, and she didn’t know how to not be so self-absorbed, but she was trying. She wanted to be better.

“How did you do it, Kyle?” She attempted to sound lighthearted, but her voice cracked at the end. It hadn’t gone unnoticed based on the way his eyes widened infinitesimally. “How did you figure out how to be a better person?

She half shrugged, threw in a crooked smile too, and hoped he didn’t see the vulnerability in her eyes, hear it in her voice. Smell the loneliness on her skin.

She felt unsteady, constantly, endlessly unsettled. She felt like, at 28 years old, she didn’t know shit about herself, and she was starting from scratch.

She didn’t know who the hell she was, and if she didn’t know, how could she expect anyone else to?

“In high school, you were –”

“Kind of a dick?” He offered sheepishly. “Yeah, I know. Not my finest time.”

“And apparently, I’ve always been a bit of a bitch,” she mused.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he contested, his head canted to the 

“You would be one of the few who didn’t.”

“Isobel, you’re human,” he frowned. “Well, close enough. You’re not perfect; no one is.”

“You are,” she joked.

“Not even close,” he argued with a scoff.

“Everything in my life is a lie, and everyone important in my life is stuck with me, they never chose me. My own husband didn’t even lo–” a lump caught in her throat as her eyes misted over.

“I distinctly remember a certain bartender choosing you, only you, out of a bar full of women. That wasn’t a fluke, Isobel.”

“Yeah, because she didn’t know me,” she argued, picking a carrot out of his soup bowl and popping it into her mouth to give her something else to do.

“No, because she did know you because you allowed yourself to be known. No rudeness, or snottiness, no snarky comments, or a prickly exterior, just you, letting go, being … you.”

She wanted to argue, but he shook his head. “You want to know how I became a better person? I’m not. I work every day to be better than I was the day before with the understanding that there’s no end to it." 

"You care to give me something I can work with, Yoda?” She snarked.

“Alright,” he sat back. “For starters, being aware of the other people around me certainly helps.”

“Like at the very least noticing that someone is sick after you’ve bogarted your way into their house?”

“Something like that, yeah,” he replied coolly. “Look, I had to face who I was and the things that I had done, work through my own shit, and the rest just fell into place.

"Life happened. It has a way of beating you down and teaching you lessons. My world expanded beyond this small town and my small thinking or that of those around me.

I forged my own path, focused on me instead of what others thought of me. By doing that, I became better for myself and everyone else. I grew up; every day I’m growing up, and so are you, if you allow yourself to. You stop fighting the process, and it all goes smoothly.”

“And as for others, Isobel, you can’t have real friends until you actually learn how to be one. It’s not always about someone choosing you. It’s about you choosing them, and then putting in the work to show why it’s worth it, why they’re worth it, why you’re worth it.  And you are. Worth it.

He ducked his head, made eye contact with her even though she attempted to look away blinking back tears she refused to let fall.

"All you have to do is get out of your own head, get out of your own way, and show up.”

He gave her that full smile that let her know he wasn’t being a dick. 

“You’re so busy wondering why you don’t have friends that you can’t see that you do. You know who your friends are?

They’re the ones who show up for you, the ones who will make you a priority. You know how you become a better friend? Return the favor. It’s as simple as that.”

His voice drifted off on the last line, and he stifled another cough. 

He patted the counter, gave her a tight-lipped smile, and hoisted himself off the stool. He was giving her space after saying his piece.

He shuffled to the couch and slumped down, kicking his own feet up on the coffee table and toyed with the remote. 

For the first time since she waltzed in, she was unsure of her presence. She cleaned up the kitchen, put things away, and placed the leftovers into the refrigerator.

She meandered in the kitchen, not really wanting to leave but unsure if she should stay.

“Can you bring me another Gatorade when you come back in here?" 

It was as if Kyle read her uneasiness, her reluctance, and she released a relieved titter as she brought him another drink, looming over him as she held it out.

He grabbed it, not releasing it for a bit, dark eyes boring into hers as if he was searching.

For what? She didn’t know, but he had a way of stripping her bare with one glance, it rattled her but also thrilled her, comforted her being looked at and seen.

But still, "You gonna stop batting those browns at me? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were the one trying to undress me with your eyes,” she joked.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Isobel. Saw it all before, remember?” The slight smirk took the sting out of it. “I was just wondering if you were a Wendy or a Ruth." 

"What?”

“How do you feel about drug cartels?” He ignored her confusion, queuing up his Netflix. 

“Is that a trick question? Are you part of some criminal enterprise in between surgeries and alien research, Valenti?”

“Haha, I’m being nice, I’m willing to sit through the first two episodes of Ozark again to catch you up, but if we ever plan on making it through the first season today, we gotta start now.”

“I’m…” she squinted at the screen. “That’s… isn’t that like ten hours?”

He waved at his bundle of blankets, sweats, and Kleenex boxes. “I don’t have any other plans today, do you?”

“Me? You want to binge a show about drug dealers  … with me?”

“My house, my choice. And I’m sorry, I’m not watching Outlander or whatever,” he continued, burrowing into the covers again.

“Yeah, no, but–”

“It’s always more fun bingeing with a friend,” he shrugged casually. 

The obnoxious gong of Netflix played at the same time she plopped on the couch next to him. 

But she couldn’t take her eyed off of him, his profile, relaxed, and unbothered by her, by her company. High cheekbones, strong jawline, and long eyelashes. 

Warmth flooded her chest. 

“It starts off hot, if you keep glaring at me, you’re going to miss stuff, and I’m not starting it over again,” he murmured. 

She leaned in close, tilted his head toward her with a manicured finger beneath his chin, her face impossibly close.

“Kyle,” her voice dropped an octave, as their faces were centimeters apart, she could smell the body wash still clinging to his skin, the spices from her soup on his lips. “Thank you.”

“For what,” he whispered, barely moving his lips, meeting her hooded eyes with his own.

She pressed her lips against his, a searing hot kiss, sucking his bottom lip between her own, nibbling, then soothing it with her tongue. Her fingers playing with his hair at the base of his neck.

She pulled away, leaving his lips swollen, his mouth slightly ajar, eyes a bit unfocused. She knew he was constantly thrown off by her temerity, but he never seemed to hold it against her.

“For being my friend,” her voice cracked at the end, and he was back to looking at her like he could see her soul.  She averted her eyes, settled in resting her head on his shoulder as she pulled her feet up on the couch.

“I’m sorry,” she broke their comfortable silence halfway in.“How do I remind you of Wendy and Ruthie? Wendy’s bitchy, and Ruthie is obnoxious!"  Kyle shrugged, with a wicked grin.

"You’re an ass,” she hissed, punching him in the shoulder.

“Oh, but you like it,” he teased.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I’d also ride it,” she sighed. 

“Isobel,” he choked on his drink, and she held her chin up triumphant and unapologetic. 

“Hey, do you have any… dude, hold your arms up over your head,” she whacked him on the back as he sputtered and coughed.

“Anyway, do you have any popcorn?” She stared at the screen with rapt attention, unaware of him glaring at her with watery, red-rimmed eyes.

“Screw you,” he replied with no heat.

“Hey, I keep offering. You’re the one who says no. Now, are we watching this, or are you going to keep talking about your feelings, Valenti?”

She didn’t give him time to respond. Instead, she turned the volume up and stretched out on the couch half sprawled on him, ignoring his protest.

It felt good having a friend.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

[blindtaleteller]

Gin being an Ass for a page (Quotes & Exerpts) [draft 1]

Rogers looked about as convinced down the negotiations table as the rest of the natural world probably had been when one of the previous rulers had claimed he hadn’t inhaled; and proved as much when he said “ You’re the god of lies. “ managing to push Loki’s face into a lean into one set of knuckles at the cheek “ Why should we-- “ and cut him off with a projected and exasperated “ Father. “

      Which drew the blond’s brows immediately, along with a defensive “ What. “

“ I’m the father, of lies; you insufferable tit. Not, the God of. “ he waved two fingers briefly in dismissal kicking out before he could be interrupted. “ If you’d like to conceive a few; come down the table and bend over it: I’m certainly becoming mildly irritated enough with you to give it a try. Though! “ as he sat back in his comfortably padded seat at the end of the table to cut Fury off in particular, and stop Steve’s reddening face from spewing anything else along those lines. Well at least the Frenchman laughed, even if he was trying not to; once that had been translated for him. “ Given your particular brand of excess I wouldn’t be surprised if their quality was reduced to the label and boring effect of the very white sort, once birthed. “

“ I don’t see why you feel the ne-- “

             “ Oh do shut up, Nick. “ Did work, if only because he was in a mood; and the cyclops still owed him big time. That and Loki wasn’t in the mood to continue along these lines; Rogers had been on it long enough. “ It’s a bloody waste of everyone’s time entertaining Rogers’ too late venture atop his soap box. And let’s not pretend, the Captain wasn’t attempting to defame me and my intent at this table farther than he already has in front of the rest of those powers present at the table by ignoring even your own historical literature on my background; mythical though much of it may be. Regardless of the fact that I myself bloody well helped write it with those here: yourself included.” Loki’s middle finger tapped at the arm-rest pointedly. ” Frankly, Rogers should not even be here in my opinion since we’re stating them. This isn’t, a bloody debate. This is an agreement; one we’ve already reached and have only to sign on. Not a difficult one, either. No more fucking nuclear bombs. From either side, now that I have a few of my own. “

      TAP, and Rogers inhaled audibly.

                  “ No mass military aggression within the already taxed North American continent affected by the last bomb thrown in this general direction; outside, of the currently allotted space in our ‘neutral’ zones. Want to assassinate me? Fine and try. Seriously, good luck with that. Want to go to open war on my soil however and make things worse for those I rule.. fuck off, I will destroy you and be sure to return the favor tenfold. You lost. Mostly because you decided to try and kill every living thing in Manhattan. End-fucking-game. “ he waved that off though; that went both ways, as far as intent went. Unimportant.

TAP. That had been part of the discussions to get them here. “ Border defenses and checkpoints, of course allowed and encouraged for both. “

                            Another TAP, annoyance resounding with it down the table, and he heard Natasha shift on her feet behind him and to his right against the floor to wall ‘windows’ that gave them such a lovely view of the Chicago Skyline from up here. “ My remaining Chitauri will settle where they need, beneath the ground and out of the way of folk they otherwise have no great interest in anyway; there is plenty of room for that even with he dead zone along our easternmost coast: allowing both sides’ civilian populations the ability to recover properly without interruption, just as a start.”

His eyes landed on Rogers again.” So. Ending your bullshit: as my fiancee puts it? Unless the populace these terms protect mean that little to you as to continue without such agreements and punishments already set in ink, Captain: kindly shut up. You’re here as a witness, not as a world leader. A disruptive one, might I add. Another, can be obtained; if you should refuse. ”

         Of course, the Russians still had and jumped in immediately with a few concerns; and he heard them as he and Steven had their not so subtle staring contest across the length of the table: but Loki was past caring about the stab behind that blue eyed gaze. About the opinions behind it too, and about the shift Rogers’ eyes made to latch onto Natasha where she stood silent against the windows behind his own high backed chair.

          Loki didn’t have to look to know she was looking right back in those long seconds; and decided to smirk at him, just for funsies when Rogers did finally tear his eyes away from Loki’s bride to be. He might as well get something fun out of working up the framework for their very blatantly political marriage incoming. Maker knew neither one of them wanted anything else to do with each other in that regard. The look paid off with a scrunching of Steven’s brow; before their  attention was called back to the current speaker with a very important question.

               Loki took the moment Rogers looked back to him to flip the good Captain the two fingered bird with a smile before he answered; making certain no one else saw it of course. Illusion was some of what he did after all. And, the man seriously annoyed him; but he wasn’t worth risking any one of those present not signing, the same. “ Yes, we do still intend to continue pursuing Hydra outside of our borders.. “ They had something of his, after all; and just as a start...

[softlighter]

this might be an odd request but might u write something based on the song true faith for the bees

I based this off of the Lotte Kestner cover from “The Last of Us II,” although I hadn’t heard the song before I got this prompt!  I focused more so on the ~vibes~ of the song than on the lyrics, but you’ll see some lyrics snuck in there.  I hope this satisfies!  Also posted as “Heavy” on ao3.

Yang laid on her bed, her back to the mattress as the world swirled around her.  She couldn’t get up.  She couldn’t move.  She couldn’t breathe.  Yang was all too aware of the weight of the covers on top of her, so thick and heavy.  She couldn’t move them, not when she couldn’t even move herself.  The world felt so heavy around her.

“Yang?”

She tried to move in response to Blake’s voice, tried to force a smile on her face.  “Hey,” she croaked.  Everything was gray around her, and she kept staring at the ceiling as Blake drew closer.  “You’re not supposed to be home until Saturday.”

“It is Saturday, Yang.”  The bed dipped as Blake sat on the edge.  “Are you alright?” she asked softly. 

Yang didn’t meet her gaze.  “Just tired,” she lied.  “And I have a killer headache.”  Her usual lies to get her off her back.  

“You don’t seem like yourself,” Blake said quietly.  “Is something wrong?”

“I’m fine,” she clipped.  “I’m fine.”  She tried to force meaning into the words, but they came out flat, even to her own ears.  She closed her eyes and turned away from Blake.  “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

Blake sighed.  The bed rose once more as Blake stood up, and Yang didn’t dare to hope and fear that Blake was leaving.  She wanted her gone, she wanted her to stay, she needed someone there and needed to be alone.  Her throat thickened, and she clenched her eyes shut to block out the world.  

But the bed dipped once more, and then Blake was pulling back the covers.  “What’re you doing?” Yang asked, turning to face her.

“I’m coming in,” Blake said, diving under the covers.  She pulled them up once more and turned on her side to face Yang.  Her face was painfully soft and open.  “If you don’t want to talk, that’s okay, Yang.  But I don’t want to leave you alone right now.”

Yang swallowed hard.  “I’m fine,” she said, but her voice cracked.

Blake just nodded.  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked slowly.  “Because I’m here, Yang.  I’m here for you.”  Her voice was soft and smooth and warm without being pitying.  Just pure understanding and selfless desire to help.  

“I just don’t feel like me right now,” Yang confessed, the words forcing their way out of her chest.  She bit her lip and barely held back the rest of the words that threatened to break out of her throat.  “I don’t feel like me.”

Blake’s eyes were glowing in the afternoon sun, even though she had closed the blinds.  “Why don’t you feel like yourself right now?” she asked.

“I don’t know!”  The words came out sharp, sharper than she intended.  She flinched, but Blake didn’t even wince.  She just kept looking at her, her face soft and open.  Yang wet her mouth.  “I don’t know,” she said, quieter this time.  “I just don’t feel like me, and the world is so heavy.”  She closed her eyes.  “The world is so heavy.”

Blake rested a hand on Yang’s face, and Yang didn’t have the energy to move away from her touch.  “What do you need right now?” Blake asked quietly.  

“I don’t know,” she whispered.  Her still shut eyes heated up, and tears threatened to overwhelm her.  She curled into a ball.  “I don’t know what I need.”

“That’s okay,” Blake said, gently stroking her cheek.  “That’s okay, Yang.”

“But it’s not!”  Her eyes snapped open, and her voice broke.  “It’s not okay.  I’m not me right now, and I don’t know what I’m feeling or why I’m feeling like this and the world is just so heavy, Blake, it’s so heavy.  I’m not even here right now, and I just don’t care.”

“But you are here,” Blake said.  “You are here.”

“I don’t feel here,” she said.  “I don’t feel present.  I feel stuck, and I can’t move.  Everything is gray, and I just- I can’t find anything to make me feel like me.”

Blake went silent then, but she was still brushing her fingers against Yang’s cheek.  “You are Yang Xiao Long,” she said finally.  “You are the strongest person I know.  You are smart, and beautiful, and strong, and you are always you.  Even when you feel like this.  Even when you can’t see it, you are you, Yang.”  Blake kissed her forehead, a chaste and reassuring gesture.  “I’m here for you, baby.”

“I know,” she croaked.  She hesitantly opened her eyes.  “Something’s got its hold on me.  And I can’t shake it.”  She swallowed hard.  “I can’t shake it.”

“We’ll shake it together,” Blake said.  “You’ll come back to yourself, Yang.  I promise.  This isn’t forever.”  

Yang nodded.  “But it’s for now.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”  Blake gave her a tentative smile.  “Let’s get some food in you, okay?  You’ve been in bed all day.  And then we can go sit in the garden, or watch a movie, or whatever you’re up for.  But no more laying in bed.  I know it’s hard, Yang, but we have to get you out of bed.”  Her voice took a turn towards pleading that made Yang’s heart ache.

“Alright,” she said softly.  She pushed up against the mattress and forced herself to sit up.  Yang took a deep breath.  Blake helped her, hands holding her.  Her head felt packed with cotton and dull.  Everything felt dull, and it was like she was trying to break out of her own brain.  Yang rubbed her face.  

“When was the last time you showered?” Blake asked softly.

Yang blinked, trying to remember.  “I don’t know,” she admitted after a moment, breath catching.  Fuck, she was so pathetic.  

But Blake just rubbed her back and shoulders.  “Do you want me to draw a bath?” she asked.  Before Yang could answer, she added, “I’ll help you, Yang.”

“I don’t need help,” she said, but she did.  She buried her face in her hands at the realization.  “Fuck.”  Tears threatened, and she closed her eyes once more.

Blake stood up and pulled on Yang’s hands to get her to stand.  Yang stood for the first time in days, and her stomach grumbled.  Fuck, when had she eaten last?  She blearily blinked as Blake carefully led her to the bathroom.  Blake started the bath, checking the water, before she helped Yang take off her clothes and sit down in the large tub.

Yang sat, knees curled to her chest, as the tub filled with warm water.  “I’ll be right back,” Blake promised.  She turned and left, leaving Yang in the tub.  Yang closed her eyes once more, trying to revel in the warmth of the water.  It felt good.  It felt good, and she could already feel the grime starting to lift off of her skin.  It was good.  This was good.

Blake was back with a cup of water in hand.  She pressed the glass to Yang’s hand, and Yang took a sip.  She had drank water over the past few days, but that had been about it.  Still, the cold water felt good running down her throat.  She handed the glass back to Blake, who put it on the counter and turned off the water.  

“I’m going to wash you now, okay?” Blake said softly.

Yang nodded.  She kept her eyes closed as Blake started pouring water over her back, her shoulders, her head.  She kept herself loose and malleable so that Blake could manipulate her body easier.  Yang relaxed as the scent of their lilac and lemon soap filled the air and covered her body with soapy slick, Blake running the bar up and down and around her arm and torso.  She stayed still as Blake pulled her hair over her shoulder and started rubbing her back with the bar.

“Can you raise your arms for me?” Blake asked.  Yang obliged, and Blake cleaned her underarms.  “Thank you.”  

Yang’s throat thickened.  “Thank you,” she rasped.  

Blake just hummed.  “You’re welcome,” Blake said, pouring more water over her body.  “I just want you to feel good.  Feel like you.”  Yang slowly opened her eyes and stared at her knees.  “We’ll wash you up, and then we’ll go sit outside.  How does that sound?”

“Good.”  She tilted her head back as Blake started massaging her scalp with shampoo.  Her fingers were strong but careful, and even though her head still felt packed with cotton, it was soothing.  Blake gave the best scalp massages, although she claimed that it was just an excuse to play with Yang’s hair.  “You’re too good to me.”

“No, I’m not,” Blake said patiently.  “You deserve good things.  I just do my best to give you some goodness.”

“Well, you succeed.”  Her eyes closed again as Blake poured more water over her head, washing the shampoo out of her hair.  Blake then started working the conditioner through her hair, twisting the conditioner into the long strands.  “I love you, Blake.”  

Even when she was like this, even when she wasn’t herself, even when the world was gray, she loved her.  It was as easy as breathing to love her, and it was just as hard to stop breathing as it was to stop loving her.  No matter what, she loved her.  Her world was gray, but Blake was like the morning sun to part the clouds.  Blake helped lessen the brain fog, and she took care of her, even when Yang didn’t need or deserve it.

“I love you too, baby,” Blake said.  “Close your eyes again, we’re gonna rinse you off and then we’ll get you into some sweats.  Sound good?”  

Yang nodded, and she let Blake rinse her off.  She stood up, and Blake was there to towel her off.  She didn’t walk one step without Blake beside her.  She stood in the middle of their bedroom, hair dripping water onto the floor, as Blake dug in their drawers for some clothes.  

“Fuck bras,” Blake said, and a smile twitched on Yang’s lips.  

“Fuck bras,” she agreed.  She accepted the underwear Blake handed her and stepped into them before pulling on her tank top and sweatshirt.  

“Sit down on the bed,” Blake instructed.  Yang sat, and Blake got behind her with a brush.  Yang winced as Blake brushed through the knots.  “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said.  “I’d rather do it now than later.”

Blake continued, and she carefully worked the tangles out of her hair until it smooth.  Yang stared into her lap, slowly coming back to herself.  Her stomach rumbled again.  “Can we watch a movie?” she asked as Blake finished.  “Pop some popcorn?”

“We can do that,” Blake said.  “In the living room.”

Yang nodded and stood up, stretching her shoulders.  She wasn’t wearing her arm, and she wouldn’t bother putting it on.  She padded out to the living room, but Blake ducked into the bathroom to grab the glass from earlier as she settled on the couch.  She grabbed a blanket for the both of them and started flipping through movies to order.

“I’m popping popcorn and getting some tangerines,” Blake called from the kitchen.

“Okay.”  She settled on an old favorite of theirs, Legally Blonde.  The perfect movie for when she got like this.  Yang curled deeper into the blanket, being sure to leave some for Blake when she got out of the kitchen.  

Blake came in with a tray of water, juice, popcorn, and tangerines.  Yang rolled her eyes at her over-preparedness, but her heart panged at the care Blake had for her.  She had even peeled the tangerines for them, knowing that, even if Yang had her arm on, she wouldn’t have the energy to do so.  She swallowed thickly.  “Thank you,” she said, taking a sip of her water.

“Of course,” Blake responded as she settled down on the couch beside her.  “Legally Blonde it is.”  Blake grabbed the remote from Yang’s hands and hit PLAY.  Yang laid her head on Blake’s shoulder, and Blake wrapped an arm around her.  “You’ll be okay, baby.  We’ll get through this.”

Yang snuggled deeper into Blake’s body as the opening of the movie started.  “I know,” she said softly.   “Thank you.  For being here.”

“Of course, Yang.”  Blake kissed her forehead.  “I’m always here for you.”

“I know.  Still.”  Her tongue felt awkward, but she still managed to say, “Thank you.”

“I love you, Yang.  Even when you’re struggling.”  Blake squeezed her gently.  “I love all of you, baby.  Even when you don’t feel like you.”  Blake laid her head on top of Yang’s.  “Because you’re always you, and I will always love you.”

Yang dove deeper into Blake’s embrace, her breath still and steady.  “I’m sorry,” she said.  “I’m sorry I’m like this.”  Her voice cracked.  

“It’s not your fault,” Blake said.  “It’s something you struggle with, struggle through.  And I’m sorry I can’t help you more, but I’m here, Yang.  You can lean on me.”  Her voice was a soothing balm to the grayness of the world, and Yang loosed a breath.  “Don’t be sorry, Yang.  Be proud of yourself for being strong.”

“I don’t feel strong.”

“You are.  I promise you, you are.”

Her throat thickened.  She opted to remain silent and just press closer into Blake.  “I love you,” she said.  The words weren’t enough, they would never be enough.  But they were the closest words to encapsulating what she felt for Blake, how grateful she was, how much she loved her.  “I love you so much.”

“I know,” Blake said.  “I love you too.”  Blake started gently massaging her shoulder.  “You can do this, Yang.”

“Not without you.”

“Even without me,” Blake said.

“I couldn’t get out of bed for three days.  You’re the one that’s taken care of me, I can’t- fuck, Blake, I couldn’t even bathe myself.”  Her chest shuddered, and she closed her eyes.  “I don’t feel strong.”

“You’re doing your best, Yang.”  Blake let out a breath.  “You’re strong, and you’ve done so much by yourself, but this battle is too much, and that’s not a weakness.”  A pause.  “I think we should visit that psychiatrist Qrow recommended.”

Her chest tightened, but Blake continued.  “Not because you’re weak, baby.  Because you’re not.  You’re strong as all hell, and you just need a little help.  Because I don’t want this for you.  I don’t want you to feel like this and deal with it by yourself.”

“You think it’ll help?” she asked quietly.

“I think it’s worth a try,” Blake said carefully.  

Yang sighed, but she nodded.  “Okay.  Okay.”  She took a deep breath.  “Let’s do it.”

“I’ll call tomorrow.  Today, let’s just focus on the present.  Okay?”

“Okay,” she said.  She sighed at the screen.  “Warner is such a shithead.”

Blake let out a small laugh.  “He is.”  Blake gently jostled her.  “But you’re the Elle to my Emmett, you know that?”

“Is that because I’m blonde?”

“Partially.”  She could hear the smile in Blake’s voice.  “But also because you’re both smart and resilient and determined.”  

Yang smiled.  It was small, but it was real.

[serendipityjxmn]

I Hate You, Park Jimin!

Chapter 8

Words Count: 4.4k

TW: Smut

Link to Chapter 7

Link to Chapter 9

I wasn’t able to sleep properly that night so I went to school looking like a zombie. I head straight to the vending machine, in desperate need of caffeine. As I made my way towards my locker, I saw Park Jimin and his group of friends coming from the opposite way. His eyes flickered towards me.

I looked down almost immediately. God- I had no idea why it suddenly felt so embarrassing. I continued straight towards my locker and chunked my books inside. I turned around and regretted instantly. I was met with a sight of two girls scurrying towards Jimin. I was a few meters apart but I could easily read the situation. They wanted his attention and he easily gave it to them! He was flirting back.

I felt my heart sank slowly. Why? You thought after all the time that you spent with him - he’d somehow look at you? A voice inside my head said. I could clearly picture her scoffing at me. I shook my head as I smiled pitifully at myself.

I was going to wait for Jimin at the locker because I had something to say to him but since he seemed occupied with a scene that does not really bring joy to me, I walked away. I still texted him to meet up out front at the bus stand.

It took him about 20 minutes to show up. I pulled one side of my earphone.

“You could’ve waited for 5 minutes just now.”

I ignored his remark. “There’s a fundraising event next week so I won’t be able to see you on Wednesday.” I said matter-of-factly.

He raised his brows. “You’re joining?”

“Yes, I’m in the committee.” I answered impatiently. “So-“

“What will you be doing?”

I threw a look of are-you-serious-right-now. “Carwash.” I replied in exasperation. My bus had arrived. He frowned but didn’t press further so I continued. “So, again, I won’t be seeing you next week.”

He snorted. “Pfft. It’s summer anyways. Who the fuck studies during holidays.”

“I mean-“

“Fine.” He cut me off. “Then I guess you owe me.”

I simply nodded because technically I do owe him. He glanced around but frowned towards the people queuing to hop on the bus.

“Are you heading home?” He asked and I nodded. “Okay. I’ll send you home.”

“Nevermind.” I said and hopped on the bus without glancing back at him.

I woke up with a surge of excitement that day. It was finally the day of fundraising event where any profit that we gain would be sourced to all sorts of organization in need such as autistic kids. The whole committee had spent months planning this. I was sleep deprived up until last night but since today’s the day, I can’t keep the buzzing excitement away. Also, I can’t wait to get this over and sleep all day long after that.

The committees all wore white shirt customized for the event so I paired it with a long pair of blue jeans. I made an attempt to look presentable by curling my hair slightly although I knew that at the end of the day I’d look like a mess after running here and there.

I arrived at college at 8 and was literally out of breath 20 minutes later. I ran around to make sure everything was smoothly set up. My carwash duty won’t start until 10 later so I stopped by Ah Young’s booth to help her get started. She paired with Mina, another girl of the same year to sell cupcakes, macaroons and a lot other delicacies.

“It’s gonna be just fine.” Ah Young assured me when she saw my eyes scanning around every corner just to identify if anyone’s in need of help.

I smiled kindly at her. “It better be. I had so much sleepless nights for this.”

“True, true.”

“Anyway, thanks a lot for helping me out too. You’re always there to save me.” I hugged her shoulders.

“Anytime, babygirl.” She winked at me.

I glanced at my watch. It was almost 10AM so I excused myself from her booth and made my way towards the other side of the school’s parking lot, towards where the carwash would take place.

Some other students had been in charge to distribute flyers informing our carwash service so we had plenty of customers. There was only a few the first hour but a number of cars approached after that.

I looked up when I heard people whistling. Apparently there was a BMW i8 entering the parking lot making its way for a carwash. I shook my head. Boys and their shining toys.

The driver went out and I noticed it was our senior Min Yoongi, one of Jimin’s close friends. Wow, rich kids be hanging out around rich kids huh? For a moment, I thought his eyes flickered towards me but I could be wrong.

Speaking of Jimin.. where is he anyway? I don’t think he does this kind of shit, the other voice in my mind said. I nodded in agreement.

Someone tapped my shoulder. I turned to see Jeon Jungkook grinning widely with his bunny teeth at me.

“Hey!” It had always been great to see Jungkook. He’s normal and not intoxicating like someone... although Jungkook is good looking, yes but his bright personality made it all seem easy. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s my break turn and I already had my lunch. I thought you could use some help? Maybe go and grab a lunch? I can cover for you.”

I glanced at my watch. I didn’t realize it was already noon. “Nah, it’s okay. I’m not that hungry yet. But we could always make use of some extra hand.”

He grinned even widely I almost thought his lips were gonna rip apart.

We had fun working our ass off cleaning the cars, whistling our way when expensive cars came through, shouting over the noise with stupid conversations. The amount of cars coming through slowed down in numbers. We had plenty of time to work on the same car together. It was all good until Jungkook decided to be an ass and started teasing me by sprinkling water with soap.

“Stop it.” I glared at him. Of course; knowing the playful personality of his, he didn’t. Instead he was now threatening me with a bucket of soap water. “Oh no you wouldn’t dare!”

“Come and test me.” A devilish smile crept on his face.

I quickly backed myself from him. It all happened so fast then- I tripped over someone’s bucket of water, fell flat on my butt and got sprayed by water.

“Ya Kim Hana!” Jae, a boy same year as mine rushed over to say sorry.

“It’s fine.” I said but I was slightly creeped out by the way he was staring at me.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook extended his hand to help me out.

I nodded as soon as I got on my feet. I noticed Jae was still staring at me while Jungkook’s eyes were looking anywhere except me. I frowned. I wanted to question him but someone approached us to ask if his car was done so I quickly went and retrieved his keys.

JIMIN’S POV

I made my way to the bathroom. As I relieved myself, I heard some other boys entering as well. I was far at the corner and they were deep in conversation so I took it that they didn’t notice my presence.

“Yah- Glad we listened to Woong. Just now was the highlight of my day.”

“I know! I didn’t know it was that easy to make the girls wet.” He made a groaning sound.

“Yah to be honest doing carwash was difficult but seeing all those wet bodies underneath their shirts.. hmmph-“

Carwash? Wet bodies? Didn’t Hana mention she’ll be doing a car wash for this fundraising event?

“I know, man. Yah did you see Hana? Kim Hana? Damn, I thought she was a total nerd, dude. Can’t believe she was hiding a body like that all these time.”

What the fuck? I quickly zipped my pants and charged towards the two guys. They were in my year, I wasn’t entirely sure of their names but I can recognize their faces. I held one of them at their collar shirt. The other one panicked seeing me.

“What the fuck did you just say?” My tone was low and menacing.

“W-what do you mean?” The other guy asked because the person I was currently holding was choking.

“What the fuck were you guys saying about Kim Hana?” I roared.

And then the other guy explained that Woong who was also in the same year as us told them to sign up for carwash. That way they’ll have a chance to see girls with wet bodies by pulling a prank and spraying them with water. I wasted no time punching them in their face after that. I couldn’t contain my disgust.

I immediately went out and began to search for Hana. I headed towards the campus compound where the festival was located at. Within seconds I spotted Kim Hana a few yards away from me. Something burned inside me when I saw her talking animatedly with Jeon Jungkook, the new boy. I went straight towards the car wash area. When I arrived, she seemed oblivious to my presence. I went up to her and snatched the hose away from her.

She seemed shocked to see me. “What the-“

I grew even madder at her sight. She was wearing jeans with her white shirt tucked inside. And they were wet- I could completely see her black bra underneath. “Are you stupid?” I bellowed at her. My tone came out harsher than I intended to and I saw her flinching at my sudden outburst.

“What are you talking about?” She eyed around her, obviously afraid that I’m making a scene and that’d attract people’s attention. Then she looked at me, her eyes scrutinizing me. “Did you fight again?”

I shut my eyes in exasperation. It took me so much not to yell at how stupid she is. Why is she so dumb letting people take advantage of her so easily? I let out a huge breath, trying to remain calm. “I’ll do it.”

Her expression confused.

“I said I’ll do it.” I toned down my voice slightly. I tried hard not to let my eyes roam lower than her face but it was taking all of the effort in me. Fuck, of all days, why did I choose today not to wear a jacket? I could’ve given it to her and helped her cover herself. “If I’m here to replace you then you don’t have to do it right? Just- go home.”

She seemed puzzled by my actions and I softened a bit. “Go. I’ll cover for you.” I said softly. “Just- cover yourself well.” I muttered.

She immediately look down on her shirts and her eyes widened. I tried to stifle a smile at ther reaction. Her hands automatically went across her chest. Yeah, now you know.

“T-thanks.” She muttered and then walked away.

I looked up to see Jungkook staring at me. His expression unreadable. Was he part of the whole prank too?

*KIM HANA*

My brows creased as I made my way towards Ah Young’s booth. Jimin asked me to go home but obviously I wouldn’t. I think I needed some explanation from him. Why was he acting like that anyway? He is so mercurial and unpredictable I was constantly left confused by his actions.

“Hey! You’re done with your work?” Ah Young asked as soon as she saw me.

“Actually, no.” I said, frowning. “Jimin said he’ll cover for me.”

“Huh. I wonder why.” She raised her brows at me.

I shook my head. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

I was quite sure that she was about to say something but was interrupted by a customer stopping by. Ah Young’s booth was not that far from the carwash. I could see Jimin’s back as he sprayed water at the cars. I was surprised that he actually does his job. I made a mental note on how many times he gave a different turn of events than what I expected him to do. Then again, what do I know about him? Outside yes, he is all the bad things. Obnoxious, rude, playboy and a lot other negative adjectives. But that’s what he chose to lay out for people to see. Why do I constantly get the feeling that he’s not just all that?

“Is someone in love?” I hear Ah Young’s voice.

I jumped a little. I turned to see her leaning against the table, hands on her waist. I stifled an awkward laugh. “What are you talking about?”

She smiled kindly at me. “It’s not something wrong to fall in love you know. Just want you to be careful. He’s a nice piece of ass but you can’t deny he’s dangerous.”

I swallowed my saliva. “I guess that’s true.” I smiled sadly. “Ah Young ah, I’ll just head to the washroom real quick, okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah, go go.”

As I made my way towards the washroom, I overheard something that made me stop on my tracks. Some boys were talking at some empty corner.

“Aish- we got into a fight with Park Jimin just now.” One of them said. Was it Jae?

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, and it was all because I said Kim Hana’s wet body looked so good.” I clasped my hands on my mouth.

The other guy laughed. “To be honest, you deserve that.”

“What- I was just following Woong’s suggestion.” He groaned.

I couldn’t listen on the conversation anymore so I walked away immediately. My head was spinning. Was Jimin trying to protect me? Was that why he was so angry at me? But why? Why would he? He doesn’t have any feelings towards me.. does he?

I ran back out. My intention to pee suddenly evaporated. My heart was racing as I tried to wrap my head around the situation. As soon a I reached Ah Young’s booth, I slung my bag onto my shoulder.

“Ah Young ah, I’m going to head back first.” I said in a rush.

“Oh sure, we’re gonna wrap it up in a few minutes anyway. Are you okay?” She frowned at me. Shit, this isn’t the time to be held back by Ah Young’s Inquisition.

I nodded, trying to force a smile.

“Well,” she went in for a hug. “Will I see you during summer?”

I smiled down at her. “Of course you will.

“Bye!”

I waved at her and then went straight towards the carwash area. I scanned the area to see Jimin still working on wiping a car. Briefly, I marveled at his deliciously toned back. I walked towards him.

“Hana-ya!” Jungkook called as soon as he saw me. But I don’t want to talk to him right now.

Jimin turned around and his eyes met mine. Staring fixatedly at him, I went straight at him and took his fingers in mine as I pulled him out of the place. He blinked as he tried to process what was happening.

I didn’t care at the heads turning twice at the sight of me pulling Park Jimin by his hands. I didn’t stop as I dragged him out of the campus.

“Where are you taking me?” He finally asked once we’re out of the entrance gate, my fingers still gripping his.

I didn’t answer but I continued to drag him with me although my steps had visibly slowed and now we looked like we’re walking hand in hand, side by side. He didn’t question further as he knew the direction we’re heading to.

We reached my small apartment and I punched in the passcodes quickly. I led him inside and towards the sofa. He took a seat and I finally let go of his hand as I went straight to my room to retrieve a first aid kit.

I sat beside him and placed his hands on my lap. He watched me in silence as I nursed his bloodied knuckles. I carefully cleaned his cut and put bandage over it. Then I looked at his face without meeting him in the eye. I spotted a tiny cut above his right brow. I proceeded to wipe it with cotton buds.

I had no idea what washed over me that I wasn’t at all frantic over this close proximity with Jimin, the subtle skin contact with him as well as his piercing stare as I nursed him. Maybe because I was too absorbed in my job or I was far too concerned about his cuts and wounds. As soon as I was done, the awkward atmosphere filled the air. I tensed.

“Am I allowed to talk now?”

I tried to stifle a smile. I noticed that his shirt was also wet. Wet enough to tell me that there’s some very toned muscles underneath it. “Yes.”

“Thank you for nursing me. Although it was merely small cuts.” He said as he placed one arm over the sofa’s back.

I stared at him, my expression serious. “I know what you did.”

“What did I do?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know. I overheard Jae’s conversation.”

He regarded me for a moment. “Well then maybe that should make my feelings clear I guess.”

What? I searched his eyes for a hint of joke but there was none. I scoffed. “Let’s not play around. We’re strictly business, you know that.”

I could almost swear that his face fell for a second but it was too brief for me to make sure. He then tried to pull his shirt over his head.

“What are you doing?!” I screamed as I shut my eyes closed. As if it wasn’t enough, my hands flung against my eyes too.

I could hear him chuckling. “My shirt is wet. I need to dry it.”

I opened my eyes slightly but shut it again because he was now completely shirtless. “It-it’s just right beside my kitchen-“ I stammered. I felt him raise and then went straight towards the dryer.

I groaned. How was I supposed to open my eyes if he’s going to be shirtless for the next half an hour? I then realized that my shirt was wet too just now. I stood up, trying to find my way towards my room but someone stopped me.

“Where are you trying to go?” Jimin asked, his voice and his hot breath near my face told me that he was standing very near to me.

“My-my room.” I stuttered.

“If you don’t want to end up having bruises, I suggest you open your eyes.”

“No.” I replied almost immediately. But I felt his hands gripping mine, tearing them away from my eyes, slowly placing it on each side of my body. My eyes were still shut tight though.

“Just open your eyes. There’s nothing.” He persuaded.

I gave in. I slowly opened my eyes. I knew he was still shirtless but I locked my eyes with his. He was staring at me so deeply it sent electrical surge throughout my body. His gaze was intense and hot. I tried to look away but he was quicker to cup my chin with his fingers, forcing me to look at him. He inched closer and I gulped, my imagination running wild on the possibility of his next action.

He inched closer and closer, and then I felt his soft lips against mine. I closed my eyes, savouring his taste. It felt so right against mine, as if it was meant to be mine. After what felt like so long, he released my lips.

“Now- tell me,” he whispered. His voice so low and seductive. “Is this a kiss? Or is this still our lips merely brushing?” My breath hitched. I sensed him smiling as his lips still ghosting against mine. “I know you want me.”

“I-I don’t-“ I stammered as I felt heat gathered at my face.

“Are you sure? Even when we’re.. this close?” His fingers circling my cheek softly.

Shiver went down my spine at his words. I thought that was just it but he proved me wrong. He crashed his lips against mine again, this time pushing it deeper. He kept persuading me to give in and reply to his kiss. I refused at first, or at least tried to but he was so skillful and his tongue was so persistent demanding entrance that I finally gave in. I could almost sense his smile as he gained access. His one hand was at the small of my back, giving me support which I was thankful for because with the amount of air being sucked from my lung and how my legs are turning jelly, I would’ve collapsed right then and there if it wasn’t for his support. His other hand moved from my chin towards the back of my neck, pulling me closer towards him.

He tasted sweet and it was almost addictive to continue kissing him. I had never been kissed this way in my whole life. It was careful, passionate yet there was a bit of an urgency in it too.

“I’ve been missing the taste of your lips ever since I kissed you for the first time.” He whispered in between kisses.

He does? My heart skipped a beat. Does that mean he had been thinking about me? He pushed my shoulders gently until I was seated on the sofa without breaking the kiss and he followed suit beside me.

He kissed me so passionately I felt like I was in euphoria. He held my waist and I didn’t know where the courage came from but my hands roamed around his stomach. Shit I forgot he was shirtless. I tried to move my hands away but he was quick to lead them back on his stomach. He guided me towards his toned six packs. He wants me to touch him..

I hesitantly let my hands roam around his stomach and his chest. Damn it, I should stop. I know I should but my body won’t cooperate. I moaned under his touch.

Jimin’s hand went from my waist towards my nape. Then he moved lower.. towards my chest. He brushed his hands against my breast and it was enough to make me whimper from the sensation. The small touches were killing me. Then I felt it. His hands groping my breast, giving me a surge of pleasure. I moaned louder.

“Fuck- you’re making me hard.” He said.

And then I realized that I, Kim Hana was currently making out with Park Jimin. “We need to stop.” I said, breathless. He had now moved his kisses towards my chin and my neck. Shit, I moaned again. My neck was my most sensitive part and he mercilessly planted wet kisses on them.

“Why?” He asked in between kisses. “Do you not like it? Hmm?”

“Ahhhhhggg-“ I moaned as he licked my nape and groped my breast hard.

“Stop me if you don’t like this.” His hand crept under my shirt and reached my breast in no time. He pulled my bra down and he could see my breast under my wet transparent shirt now. He groped and fumbled with my mountains and I moaned again under his touch. “Stop me if you don’t want me now.”

I wanted to stop him because this shouldn’t be happening - because Park Jimin’s bad news and I shouldn’t cross the border line I’ve created ever since I had to partner with him. But he was irresistible. He was too skillful at his touch.

“Ahhh- hmmph,” I was falling apart from the hot and passionate kisses he’s giving me and his fingers that skillfully massaged my breast. “This is wrong..” I whimpered.

“Is it though? Your body says otherwise.” He said as he bites into my neck, a loud moan inevitably escaping my mouth.

“Jimin- stop.. we can’t do this.” I said, trying to find my voice.

“I know you want it too,” he said, all too seductively.

“Jimin, stop.” I said, this time more firmly.

He stilled at my words this time. The air was silent except for our heavy breathings. He then retracted his hand from underneath my shirt and removed his lips from my neck. I missed his touch as soon as it left mine. I hated myself.

I could hear his uneven breath. I didn’t dare to look up to his eyes. “I’m sorry.” I said softly.

He was silent for a few seconds, trying to process things. I assumed he was just as carried away as I did. He then leaned away, making a few centimetres more distance between us. His eyes searched for mine.

“I’m sorry.” I repeated softly. “This is a mistake. We can’t do this. This is wrong.”

“I-“ he paused. “I’m sorry too.”

He looked so distraught I almost wanted to kiss the frown away from his forehead. Shit- Hana. You’re the one asking him to stop. I readjusted my bra and my shirt and then I raised to my feet, walking towards the dryer.

His shirt was done so I quickly took it and went back towards Jimin. I smiled at him. He smiled back at me but it almost seemed painful. Why am I feeling guilty at making him disappointed? I wet my lips as I carefully help him wear his shirt.

“You know what? You’re the first girl that ever rejected me.” One of his eyebrows was raised.

I had no idea what to reply to that but I was relieved he was not angry. “Someone had to do the honor.”

He chuckled and I was again struck by his beautiful smile. “I’m sorry. I just can’t help it.”

Can’t help- what?

Suddenly he leaned into me, closing the proximity between us. His facial expression serious. “I know you have a crush on me.”

My heart skipped a beat and I gulped. How the heck does he know that? If it isn’t too obvious, a voice in my mind retorted. “No- I don’t.” I tried to say as firmly as I can.

He backed away and leaned against the sofa. “You do. You just won’t admit it.”

“No I don’t.”

“It’s okay. I’ll make sure you admit to it one day.” He smirked at me the very same smirk that had haunted me years ago. It continued to haunt me for the rest of the summer.

Link to Chapter 9 

Posted on 200525 10:52PM

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

Their Hero Academia – Chapter 35: The Sports Festival Part 8: Round Four—FIGHT!

Presenting the next raw and unedited chapter of my on-going, next-gen, My Hero Academia fic, Their Hero Academia!

Earlier chapters can be found here

Mika hadn’t seen Shiro since his fight with the moth girl from General Studies.  Which was worrisome.  Her ex-tweenage boyfriend was moody under the best circumstances and not always the world’s most gracious loser.  If he hadn’t rejoined his 1-B classmates in the stands, then it meant one of two things.   Either he had been hurt a lot more than it had looked or he was somewhere sulking.  

Her money was on sulking. With having Doc Clock and her Rewind Quirk for a doctor, competitors taken out of the fight generally got back up pretty quickly.  Plus, she just knew Shiro.

As expected, she found him on a bench in one of the hallways beneath the stadium, just outside the waiting rooms, hands folded in front of him, head down.  He’d lost to the moth girl and thus any shot at fighting Kirishima-Bakugo.  Kirishima-Bakugo had lost her own fight too, but she supposed that was small consolation to him.  Who’d known Todorki had had it in her?

When she’d talked with him at lunch with Kana and Anime, they’d offered him fairly contradictory advice. Kana had suggested cutting out the theatrics and just having an honest conversation with Kirishima-Bakugo. Anime had suggested a wacky scheme in which he pretended to be dating Kana in order to make her jealous (that had been shot down as both a) not desirable by either party, b) illogical because Kirishima-Bakugo knew Kana was interested in Haimawari and c) something that only worked in bad manga and soap operas).  Mika’s suggestion of hijacking the broadcast equipment and making an anguished declaration of love on the big screen had also been shot down.  Of course, she hadn’t been completely serious about that, but it would have been hilarious to see him try.  She’d ultimately sided with Kana.  Just because she loved drama didn’t mean she wanted to see him get hurt.

She plopped down on the bench next to him.  “You okay, ‘ro?”

“Mmm.”

She put an arm around him and scooted a little closer, until she was pressed right up against him. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Mmm-nnn.”

“Okay, you don’t gotta if you don’t wanna.”  She gave him a little squeeze.  “You wanna touch my boobs?  That always cheers me up.”

“Mmm-nnn.”

“You just been down here the whole time?”

He shook his head.  “I brought a post-victory gift to Kocho. She’ll need her strength to keep fighting.  I’d intended to check on Kirishima-Bakugo too… but lost my nerve.”

Well, at least he was talking.   “I’ve got some time before my next fight.  You want to tell me how to beat Dashi?”

“I’ve got to stand with my Class.  But I’m sure you can figure something out.”

So much for that.  “You want me to just sit here with you for a while?”

“Mmm…hmm.”

Sure, Shiro was a pain in the ass.  But he was also her friend.  She could be here for him, for a little while at least.

***

Koharu held her breath for a moment, then let it out slowly, thoughts racing through her mind faster than she could keep up with.  Sitting in the Waiting Room, getting ready for her next fight, she should have felt exhausted from everything she’d done so far, but instead only felt wired with nervous energy.

She’d beaten Shiro Monoma and made it to the second seed.  It was, frankly, almost unbelievable.  She’d taken down a Hero Course student.  Granted, she’d had an extremely favorable match-up.  She was pretty sure she couldn’t have taken down Deku’s kid or the bird girl.  But she couldn’t let psyche herself up like that.

Absently, she unfurled her proboscis and inserted it into the protein pouch she was holding, slurping up the contents.  Being unable to eat solid foods was inconvenient sometimes, but she managed. There were a surprising number of options available on the market these days; insect Quirks like hers or other variations were surprisingly common.  

Surprisingly, Monoma had actually brought it to her.  She’d meant to get one from one of the food stalls, but had gotten caught up watching the other fights before her next.  She’d tried to apologize for beating him, but he’d waved her off. Said he just wanted to support an up and coming talent, now that he was out of the running.

She didn’t know what to make of that.

And, of course, her next fight would be one of the few Hero Course kids she actually knew.  She liked Ojiro and her friends, Sero and Sato. They’d been more than welcoming and encouraging in just the short time she’d known them.  On the other hand, she was pretty sure there was very little Ojiro could do to her if it came down to it.  She just had to stay out of her way.  Even if she went invisible like she had in her fight against that cartoon girl… Well, Koharu might have a couple tricks up her sleeve for that.  She’d never tested them against someone invisible before, but she supposed there was no time like the present.

She wondered just what the odds were of making it to the Hero Course.  The famous Hitoshi Shinso, the Underground Hero known as the Voice, had gotten knocked out in his first fight, and yet had impressed Eraserhead for him to take him under his wing.  He was still a legend in the General Studies Courses.

Koharu had already gotten farther than he had.  She didn’t dream of winning, not with the people in the other matches.  She wouldn’t last a minute against Todoroki, she was certain.  Maybe she could take Mineta, if she could keep out of range of those sticky balls she shot.  Maybe.

The door to the waiting room opened.  “Kocho?”   She looked up to see a cat-eared woman with dark hair at the door.  One of the teachers from the Business and Management Courses, she thinks.  “They’re ready for you.”

She took another breath. This was it.

***

“And we’re back and ready for the second seed!  First up, Koharu Kocho, the Moth-Maiden of General Studies!  She’s already made her mark getting this far, surpassing even some of the Recommendation Students!  Will her winning streak continue?  And facing her is Kimiko Ojiro, the Invisible Girl of the Hero Course!  She proved her stealth and skill already, but is it enough to last?”

“You do realize this is a serious competition and not some reality television show?”

“It can be two things!”

Ojiro gave Koharu a friendly wave.  “Oh, man,” she said, “I can’t believe we’ve got to fight!  Totally unfair!”

Koharu shrugged apologetically.  “Just how the matches worked out, I guess.”

Ojiro crossed her arms. “Yeah, well…” she said, then pointed dramatically, “don’t think I’m going to go easy on you just because I like you!”

She smiled.  For someone invisible, Ojiro obviously had a flare for theatrics. “Yeah, well, I’m not going to go easy on you either!”

“Ladies,” Hawkeye said, sounding very tired, “if you’re ready?  FIGHT!”

Immediately, Ojiro winked out of existence, her clothes becoming as invisible as the rest of her. Koharu drew in a deep breath, then flapped her wings hard, lifting off the ground.  Before she had gotten more than a foot up, though, she felt a leg smack into her midsection, knocking the breath out of her and knocking her back to the ground.   Another blow came almost immediately, punch upside her head.   Ojiro was obviously faster than she looked (Which, given that she was invisible, probably wasn’t hard.), having closed the distance between them quickly.  A third blow followed, another punch that made the world go blurry.

She had to do something, had to get back in the fight.  She couldn’t just get smacked around like this!

She flapped her wings hard, forward instead of down, feeling her left wing slap into Ojiro.  Koharu used the brief moment it bought her to let loose with a blob of String-Shot, unfocused and messy.  A yelp let her know she’d nearly hit Ojiro, who winked back into existence briefly, before turning invisible again.  

Another pair of blows slammed into Koharu before she could get her guard up and she lashed out with her wings again, flapping wildly until she her right wings connect with Ojiro again. It didn’t give her much time though; Ojiro was tough and Koharu was forced to bring her wings back in, folding them in front of her protectively.  They served as a shield for a moment, blocking several fast blows. Koharu winced. Her wings were tougher than they looked, but they couldn’t take too much of a beating.  She tried to swat Ojiro away with them, but missed each time. Ojiro was clearly getting her rhythm.

The blows stopped through and the sound of shoes on concrete suggested Ojiro was trying to get behind her. Koharu flapped her wings as hard and fast as she could, desperate to get airborne.  A rush of air behind her suggested she’d done it just in time. Now in the air and out of grabbing range, she actually had a moment to think.  She could unleash her Scales, but unless she knew where to aim, she’d have to throw them pretty broadly and even then, she might miss Ojiro.  And if she used up enough of them before she took Ojiro out, she’d be unable to fly and then they’d be right back where they started. So first things first, she needed to find her target.

“Hey!” came a voice from somewhere down below.  “Get back down here and fight me!  What’d am I supposed to do now?”  A broken piece of rubble floated up in the air for a moment before it went flying at her, but Koharu dodged it easily.  There weren’t any would-be projectiles big enough for Ojiro to hurt her with, even if she could throw that far.

With what most have seemed to onlookers like a violation of all common sense, Koharu closed her eyes.

The feathery antennae that sprouted from her forehead, which normally hung loose, lifted up and began feeding information to her brain.  For a moment, it was overwhelming.  Her antennae brought forth all kinds of sensory information, very different than the information returned by her eyes, ears, or nose.  It took a few seconds for her to make the switch from one set of senses to the other successfully.  But once she did, she was aware of where everyone in the stands was, aware of countless foods being eaten, of all kinds of conversations happening, and, most importantly, where exactly Ojiro was.

“HAAAACK!” Koharu shot out a thin stream of her String Shot, quickly entangling Ojiro’s legs.  The invisible girl let out a cry of alarm as she tripped and went down.  But she caught herself, keeping her from hitting her head or otherwise injuring herself.

“Hey!  No fair!” Ojiro said.  “I’m invisible!  Lucky shot!”   Koharu’s eyes snapped open and she could see that Ojiro had returned to visibility and was working to try and free herself.  This only served to get her hands stuck as well.  “Oooh, yuck!  This stuff’s disgusting!”

Koharu took another breath, then dove down, swooping in at Ojiro.  She grabbed the back of the girl’s gym uniform and kept flying, right up to the edge of the ring. Once there, all she had to do was let go and Ojiro went flying out of bounds.

The crowd exploded with applause.   “Ojiro is out of bounds!” Hawkeye announced.  “Kocho wins!”

“I think we’ve got a rising star here on our hands!  What’s a girl like this doing in General Studies? The Hero Course is missing out and the second seed is off to a bang!”

Koharu walked over to Ojiro. Her String-Shot was already starting to dissolve; she hadn’t put too much effort into it, she’d just needed Ojiro immobilized for a few moments.   She offered Ojiro a hand up and felt a hand wrap around hers.

“Thanks,” Ojiro said, as she helped her up.  “Also, gross! That stuff came out of your mouth! I’m gonna be washing my hands for a month!”

Koharu had to laugh at that. “You’re not the first person to say that.  Really am sorry about beating you, though.”

Ojiro shrugged.  “I didn’t even think I’d get this far. Besides, somebody’s gotta win!”

Koharu didn’t think that someone would be her, not beyond this.  But she was proud of what she’d done.  Maybe… just maybe, this would all work out.  Placing was no guarantee; there were stories of General Studies students who’d made it to the Tournament round more on luck than skill and hadn’t moved anywhere.

So she guessed the real question was, was she lucky or skilled?

She just had to keep fighting to find out.

***

“And now we’ve got Mika Miketa back again, facing off against Kimiko Dashi!  I’m really hoping for a good, clean fight this time!  Nobody needs a repeat of the last time Mineta got in the ring!”

“It’s the kind of trick that only works once anyway, Mic.”

Mika stepped into the ring, across from Kimiko Dashi.  The tri-hair colored girl looked pretty relaxed and that really wasn’t surprising. Her match against the wheeled girl from 1-C had taken less than five minutes, since all Dashi’d had to do was freeze her and then accelerate her out of the ring.  Which meant she couldn’t get hit, not even once, or it’d be all over for her. And that might be a tall order. She was pretty light on her hooves, but if all she had was one shot…

“Tetsutetsu warned me about you, you know,” Dashi said.  “And I saw your match against Kan.  I’m not going to fall for your mouth.”

“Really?  Kana’s ratting me out?  That is just so incredibly rude.”  Mika gave Dashi her best smile.  “You wouldn’t believe the number of people who’ve said that though.” She got a glare in return.  Must have been doing something right.

Hawkeye pinched the bridge of her nose.  The English teacher seemed to be having a bad day.  There had been a lot of talking and not fighting today.  But she knew the job was dangerous when she took it.   “Are you done making a mockery of things, Mineta?” she asked.

“Sure thing, Teach,” Mika said.

“My apologies for the delay,” Dashi said.  Mika made a face.  Suck-up.

“Then… FIGHT!”

In a snap, Dashi brought up her arm and fired a red “stop” beam from it, but Mika was already moving, the beam sizzling through the air where she had been.  She lowered her head and fired an opening volley of sticky balls from her horns, not really bothering to aim, just to disorient.  If they stuck to Dashi, so much the better. But even if they didn’t, they might trip her up later.  Mika would just bounce off.

She kept running, hooves slamming into the concrete.  Dashi kept firing, red beams racing through the air.  Hopefully they weren’t hitting anyone in the stands or anything.  Provocation probably wasn’t going to work here; she was actually going to have to fight.

Mika turned and fired, launching another volley of her sticky balls at Dashi.  Dashi was quick on the defense though and fired a red beam again, stopping them in mid-air.  They hovered there without stopping, neither moving forward nor falling. Just like she wanted.  Mika took a running start then jumped, sailing over the blasts Dashi put her way.  She landed on the hovering balls and then bounced, launching back up into the air.  

Dashi tracked her ascent for a moment then fired a yellow beam.  Mika hadn’t known she could do that!  Crap!  She’d only seen the blue and red beams so far. It struck her dead on and time seemed to slow to a crawl.  She was still falling, but at a fraction of the speed before.  Below, she could see Dashi moving out of the way, seeming to be a blur.  

After what seemed like an hour but was probably only a minute or so, Mika hit the ground.  Fast as she could, she spun around throwing a roundhouse kick.  Just like she’d predicted, Dashi was right behind her, about to fire another beam. The kick connected, hitting the weird traffic light looking gizmo Dashi wore on her arm and throwing off her aim. Probably helped her focus her Quirk or something.  A red beam went wild, heading towards the stands again.  Mika followed up with a second kick, hitting Dashi in the stomach and sending her flying back a few feet.

Mika fired off another sticky ball, a single one from her left horn.  Dashi, still dazed from the kick, fired off a series a red beams, none of them hitting it.  Instead, the ball smacked right into her open right hand with a slightly wet plop sound.  Dashi tried to shake it off, but it held fast, and would for a while yet.

Then, Dashi brought her hand up and jerked in surprise as nothing seemed to happen.  She looked down at her hand like it had betrayed her, trying again to shake the sticky ball from it.   .  “What the?”

She brought her hand up again and this time Mika could see the barest hint of red flashing around the ball.  Slightly bigger than a softball, her sticky ball had been large enough to cover Dashi’s palm and fingers.  And with the ball blocking the beam, Dashi’s Quirk was effectively taken out of the fight. All this time and Mika hadn’t seen her ever fire a beam out of her left hand.  Combined with her support item there, it had suggested to her that Dashi could only fire her beams from her right.

She’d been correct in that guess.

Mika raced across the ring and Dashi’s face twisted up in anger.  “You’re… how did you…  You’re not supposed to be this smart!”

Closing the gap, Mika lashed out, kicking again with her right leg.  Dashi sidestepped the blow, trying to return a punch of her own, but Mika ducked away from it.  Still partially ducked, she rammed into Dashi’s middle, horns on either side of her. With a jerk and a twist, Mika lifted Dashi, and gave her a toss out of the ring.

“Dashi is out of bounds!” Hawkeye announced.  “Mineta wins!”

“How about that, folks?  Class 1-A’s horned girl takes the win again! And all without a single dirty joke! I guess we won’t have to edit the home video version of this fight after all!”

Mika grinned.  And very quietly, she spoke to herself.  “I’m more than a pretty face,” she said.  “Or a foul mouth.  That’s just more fun.”

***

“You.”

Isamu jumped when the door to the waiting room flew open.  He’d been so deep in thought that he’d lost track of his surroundings.  But it wasn’t one of the teachers come to fetch him for his match.  No, it was the person who scared him most in all the world.  Kirishima-Bakugo.  Her red eyes were locked on him in an intense glare that, if she’d had some kind of eyebeam Quirk, would have meant he was dead.

“Yes?” he said.  “Me?”

Apparently his mouth was running on extra stupid today.

“You’re fighting Izzy.” It wasn’t a question.

“Ah, yeah,” Isamu replied, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly.  He was pretty sure he could get away from her before she could kill him. And somebody would surely be here any minute to fetch him.  He probably wouldn’t die today.

Kirishima-Bakugo crossed her arms and frowned, hesitating, as though searching for the right words. Probably searching for the best way to describe how she’d explode his head.  It seemed to be her go-to intimidation tactic.

“If you’re going to threaten me,” he said, “can you just get it over with?”

That got a laugh out of her, which, in all honest, was far scary than any other sound he’d ever heard her make, including all the different times he’d heard her scream “die!” He scrambled up out of his chair and towards the back of the suddenly too small room.  There was no escape.

Katsumi recovered from her laugh and he thought, for just a moment, he saw something like amusement or approval in her eyes.  “You’re starting to grow a spine,” she said.

“Ah, maybe?”

She shook her head.  “And now you’ve blown it, Newb.”

“You were, you were saying something about Izumi?” he tried.

She nodded.  “Right.  I don’t like you, and you don’t like me.  But we both like Izzy.”

He nodded.  More like he was terrified of her, but not setting her off was probably in his best interest, so he was just going to be agreeable. Unless she was here to threaten him if he wound up hurting Izumi when they fought.  Which would probably be pretty hypocritical, given how all out he’d seen her go against their mutual friend, but he also wouldn’t put it past her.

“Izzy, lots of people treat her like she’s fragile.  I did. More than I should have.”  She jabbed a finger in his direction.  “So don’t go easy on her.  She wants a fight?  Give it to her.  Or you’re going to answer to me.”

Okay, he was not expecting that.  He didn’t claim to understand the full extent of the friendship between Izumi and Kirishima-Bakugo; he only knew how protective the latter was of Izumi.  That had certainly seemed to shift in the fight between the two.  A now, she was telling him to fight instead of trying to scare him off?

The coma theory continued to look more and more likely.  Coma dreams didn’t have to make sense.

“I can…  I can do that,” he said, finally finding his voice.

“Good,” Kirishima-Bakugo growled.  “Remember it, Newb.  I find out you went easy on her…”  She made a cutting gesture across her neck, then turned and left.

Isamu realized he’d been holding his breath and finally let it out, sucking in gulps of air greedily. That girl was going to be the death of him some day, he was sure of it.

But for now, he had to survive his next match.