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scoutdoesstuff · 2 years ago

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day nine of my little tea based prompt fest! previous posts (which include more details on what's going here) can be found here. today's prompt was mango green.

Castiel and Dean talk. A direction continuation of this

Dean stares at the pie, then at Castiel, then back at the pie. He seems … thrown, a bit, by Castiel bringing him a gift. Maybe. Dean’s good at controlling his responses to things and Castiel’s nerves are so frayed he can’t even attempt to read the other man. Besides, the last time Castiel attempted to suss out Dean’s intentions, he was completely fucking wrong and hurt the other man’s feelings in the process.

So, Castiel stands, arms outstretched with pie, waiting for Dean to respond. It takes Dean a few minutes. Castiel’s arms start to get a bit achy before Dean finally says something.

“You brought … pie?”

Dean plucks the box out of Castiel’s hands. Eyes flitting between the box and Castiel’s face, like Dean’s trying to puzzle something out. Dean finally reads the box label and his brow crinkles.

“You brought Ellen’s pie?” Dean looks back up from the box to Castiel’s face again, but stays on Castiel’s face this time.

“My siblings tell me that I’m terrible with words,” Castiel says, burying his hands in his pockets now that he no longer has something to occupy them with. “I generally try to apologize with an act or gift of some sort. They allow me to be blunter with people without putting my foot in my mouth.”

Dean takes a long drag from his cigarette and puts it out against one of his battered front stairs. He blows out another long plume of smoke and glances up at Castiel through his eyelashes. “Have you got something to apologize for, Cas?”

“Yeah,” Castiel says, hands fidgeting in front of him now somehow, eyes unable to leave Dean’s lips. “Yes, I think I owe you an apology, Dean.”

Dean’s apartment is simple, with threadbare furniture and little in the way of decoration but it’s meticulously well kept and somehow bright despite its apparent age. Castiel cannot help but think of the gleaming beast of a classic car that Dean had driven up to Castiel’s house on Friday as he looks around Dean’s apartment. The man takes care of what’s his.

Dean sets the pie down on the counter and pops open the box’s lid with a finger to peak at the pie itself. Castiel waits to be weighed and measured against his pie selection. He’s now only ninety percent sure that Dean’s favorite flavor was pecan. He hopes he got it right.

“Pecan?” Dean asks, letting the lid fall closed.

“You said it was your favorite,” Castiel says, hands once again buried in his pockets. He’s standing in the middle of Dean’s kitchen, afraid to touch anything lest he mess it up somehow. He’s too nervous to meet Dean’s eyes and instead stares at a somewhat lumpy collection of mangos that had been dumped in a basket on the counter.

Out of the corner of Castiel’s eye, he sees Dean go completely still.

“You remembered that,” Dean says, flat. Castiel said the wrong thing.

“Of course,” Castiel says, burying himself deeper. He won’t lie just to make this go smoother. He can’t. He looks back over at Dean, steeling himself for this conversation to go poorly. Dean’s watching him, mouth slack, brows furrowed again. “Of course, I remembered. The date we had was wonderful. I want — I want to remember as much of it as I can.”

Dean’s mouth clicks shut. He jerks forward slightly like he wants to move closer to Castiel but jerks backwards like he thinks better of it.

“Ok, I fucking give up,” Dean says, shrugging with enough vehemence that his hands wind up perpendicular to his shoulders and his shoulders wind up by his ears.

“You give up?” This conversation has taken a sudden sharp left turn for Castiel.

“Yeah!” Dean says, pacing back and forth now, voice rising in volume.

“I fucking give up! I cannot fucking figure you out for the life of me! I have no idea what you want man. No clue — none, nada, zilch.” Dean punctuates the last bit by dragging a hand across his throat in a slashing motion.

“What’s to figure out?” Castiel says, desperately trying to find a foothold back into the conversation.

“You tell me!” Dean explodes. “You come into the shop, undress me with your fucking bedroom eyes and being sexy as hell despite wearing a goddamn Columbo jacket half the time —“

“I like my jacket. It’s very practical,” Castiel says, interrupting Dean. Dean gives him a look so severe, Castiel worries it’ll singe of his eyebrows.

“Then,” Dean says at an even louder volume, “you take me on one of the best dates of my entire fucking life, kiss me on the cheek like a gentleman, and when I show up on my day off, at your place, in the hottest outfit I own, you actually goddamn run from me! Like I’m a fucking leper or something! And now you’re here — somehow with my favorite pie from a diner you hadn’t heard of until our one goddamn date and I don’t fucking understand, Cas. Help me understand.”

Dean stops pacing and just stares at Castiel.

“I like you a lot,” Castiel says and shrugs helplessly.

“You sure?” Dean snaps back, defensive as all hell again. “Because you’re sure as shit giving me a lot of mixed ass signals here, handsome!”

Castiel winces. That’s a very true summation of what Castiel has done with Dean this past week. “I’m very bad at this, Dean. I’m so sorry, but I do like you very, very much.”

Dean scoffs, back to being angry again. He rounds on Castiel. “Well then, prove it! Kiss me!”

“What?” Again, this conversation has taken a left turn on Castiel. He thought he’d have a quiet conversation with Dean, apologize for being a boor on Friday, maybe have some pie with Dean, and let Dean decide if Castiel was worth seeing again. So far, absolutely none of those things have happened.

“I said prove it!” Dean shouts, asking for intimacy but bracing like he’s waiting for a fight. “Fucking kiss me!”

Castiel breathes out and then in, once, and crosses the kitchen. He grabs Dean by the back of the neck and reels him in close. He can feel Dean’s breath against his mouth, knows the exact moment when Dean’s breathing picks up with arousal. Castiel brushes their noses together, breathing in and out, in and out. The moment hangs in the air for a second, Dean’s breath following his, their eyes locked. Neither of them move, Castiel lets the tension build. Dean’s eyes are so, so green up close.

“Cas,” Dean begs, voice breaking just a bit, “kiss me.”

Castiel closes the gap between them.

#one day i will post these things not in the dead of night #but it is not this day #i also think my links might be broken on mobile #but that's a problem for tomorrow scout #so uh bear with me while i figure that out #anyway #hope you enjoy :)#spn #my fic #tea prompts

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moa-broke-me · 2 years ago

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Here are my headcanons for some PJO character's favorite dessert flavors, some of them I've thought out, some of them are just based on vibes.

Annabeth: Strawberry, because nostalgia for CHB's strawberry fields, and peppermint, because peppermint is a natural bug repellent and is especially effective against spiders, so her subconscious associates the scent and taste of peppermint with safety.

Frank: Orange and mango. He just radiates those vibes, and you can't tell me otherwise (also, can we talk about that time everyone went out for ice cream and he just had a freakin apple because I think that was a little mean-spirited, like damn at least offer to get him a slushie or something)

Hazel: Caramel. I think she'd like sweet potato pie and gingerbread a lot, too. And not the hard stale gingerbread you make houses out of, but good, soft, chewy gingerbread. She also strikes me as a root beer or cream soda kind of girl, definitely worships at the altar of the PSL, and we love her for it.

Jason: Green apple and lemon lime. Refreshing and simple if not a tad basic, just like him. Also peach, because he eats those brownies with peach preserves. On the subject of chocolate, I think he's the kind of guy to not go for it normally unless there's something to tamp the taste down a little (like the peach preserves) because he was raised by wolves, and even though he knows nothing bad is gonna happen if he eats chocolate because he's not a wolf, he still isn't too keen on it by itself.

Leo: Chocolate (I think this is actually canon, it's at least canon that he prefers hot chocolate over coffee), also cinnamon flavored anything, not just because cinnamon = fire in my head, but also as like, a nostalgia sort of thing because a lot of Mexican desserts have cinnamon in them.

Nico: This is gonna be controversial, but I'm gonna say black licorice. Also adores caramel just like his sister, as well as chocolate (but only the very dark stuff), cream cheese, coffee flavored anything, and hazelnut flavored stuff too, because it reminds him of his sister. Like, he's always got a little hazelnut brittle in his bag, puts hazelnut creamer in his coffee (when he stops drinking it black out of a desire to look tough and manly, that is), he's a little obsessed but that's ok. One last thing, y'know how everyone thinks of McDonalds as one of his comfort foods? Well, so are oatmeal cream pies. In fact, I like to think that's what ambrosia tastes like to him now.

Percy: I mean it's pretty much established that he's going after whatever's colored blue, and I also think cookie dough ice cream is an automatic yes for him. This isn't very hard.

Piper: Marshmallows, and oddly enough, lemon lavender flavored anything. Also watermelon juice, but not watermelon candy because it dries out her mouth.

Reyna: I don't think she's the type to indulge her sweet tooth very often, but when she does, you bet your sweet ass it's those queen anne chocolate coated cherries that look really fancy but you can get them at pretty much any CVS.

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babyspiderling · 4 years ago

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Love Undercover one

“Leiman! I got a story for you! Go undercover as a high school student, do a piece on teen culture or whatever the parents need to hear about their kids. This could be your shot kid!” Flashes of my own high school career three years ago plague my mind. “Sir, are you sure this is a good story? I mean, there are harder hitting stories than a piece on teen culture.” Mr. Edward's eyebrow simply raises in response, and I slink back to my desk. I raise my desk phone to my ear and ring my older brother, Anthony. “Tony, they’re making me go back to school. I thought I would never have to go back. It was hell.” I hear him chuckle through the phone. “Why are they making you go back? You lose your diploma or something?” I scoff into the phone. “No, Tony. They want me to go undercover since I’m the only one who can pass for a child here. I start on Monday. Shit, I gotta attempt to dress like a high school girl again. Thank god I’ve been the same dress size since my junior year. See you tonight Tony, we still on for dinner?” I hear him confirm for me into the microphone and I click the phone off. Standing and gathering my things I peek my head into my editor's office. “Mr. Edwards, I’m headed out to get ready for my assignment. I’ll see you soon.” He nods at me, letting me know he’ll enroll me this afternoon for Monday’s classes and I take my leave.

Monday arrives sooner than later. I feel like a freshman again, out of my element and out of my comfort zone. My hair had been trimmed to a popular cut and I had been trained on how to style it. My journalist instincts took over at the mall, taking in what teens were wearing and how they were wearing it. For my first day I bought a striped blouse with a longer skirt to seem neutral. The end of winter chill caused me to grab a cardigan on my way out and I climbed into the front seat of my old “Mystery Machine” ready to go back to high school.

“Well, three new students in a month, must be a new record. Tom and Doug McQuaid and now Y/N Leiman. This way.” The balding principal tosses my schedule at me and walks off in large, commanding strides. “Tell me Miss Leiman, are you a troublemaker like the other newcomers?” My eyebrows pull together in confusion. “No, no sir. I’m not a troublemaker.” He pulls to a stop in front of a door. “This is your first class. I’m sure someone will show you around. Prove yourself to be on your best behavior Miss Leiman. Wouldn’t want you to be labeled as a hoodlum.” He turns to walk away but is distracted by a skipping student roaming the halls. I tuck my hair behind my ear and fix my appearance. I take one last breath of confidence and open the creaking door. The click of my heels only adds to the attention as the entire class watches me with curious eyes. I feel the girls sizing me up, the boys appraising my value, and the teacher annoyed at the interruption. “This is Mrs. Dustin’s class right? I’m new here.” The woman takes the papers from my hands and catches herself up. “Yes, you’re in the right place. Please take a seat.” I nod and take one of the only seats left open, next to a boy dressed in leather and an earring in his ear. I struggle to remind myself that I’m at least three to four years older than these students, too intimidated by their stares to fill with confidence. I tuck my hair away from my face as I pull out my pen and notebook from my bag. I start to write a mixture of notes for the class and notes for my story when something sharp stabs into my thigh. Turning my head with pinched eyebrows I look at the boy reeking of trouble. “You got any gum? Teach made me swallow my last piece last period.” I nod and rummage through my bag. “Mint, cinnamon, or bubble?” He looks at me in a bit of shock at the number of choices. “Bubble.” I nod and hand him a piece, pulling a lollipop for myself. In my years of studying and writing and taking notes, I know that if somewhere else on my body is moving, focusing is easier. With my mouth occupied with the sugar, my brain is on a roll. Trouble leans in once more, the sugary smell from his mouth fills my nostrils. “You got anything else in that bag of yours? I could use a coke too.” I roll my eyes and smile a bit. “Oh, hush. I have a sugar addiction.” At the sound of our whispers, Mrs. Dustin clears her throat loudly. “Mr. McQuaid, Miss Leiman, is there something you’d like to share with the class?” I shake my head and duck my head back to my notes. McQuaid lifts his chin and smirks at the teacher. “Just Miss Leimans sugar addiction, teach. Probably why she’s so sweet.” My cheeks heat at his comment and I don’t know how to react. My brain berates me for my flustered appearance. He is sixteen, maybe seventeen! You are old enough to drink! Get your head together girl! I keep my head down until the bell rings, no matter how many pokes to the thigh I earn.

I glance down at my schedule and attempt to find my way around the giant high school. An arm drops itself over my shoulder as I look up to find Trouble staring right back at me. “Can I help you? Need more gum already?” He chuckles a bit and pops his gum. “Nah sweets, my brother and I were wanting to invite you to sit with us for lunch. Unless you’ve got somewhere better to be?” His eyebrows raise at his question and my face heats. “Oh! Uh, no. I don’t have anywhere better to be. I guess I can eat with you guys?” McQuaid smirks around his gum and leads me to a table occupied by another boy who is dressed similarly to trouble. With a steady hand on the small of my back, trouble eases me into my seat. I unpack my bag and come to a realization. “I just realized we haven’t Introduced ourselves! I’m Y/N, I just moved here, and I’m a senior.” Trouble and the other boy smirk at each other. Trouble turns his body to me. “I’m Tom McQuaid. This here’s my big brother Doug. He would've graduated last year, or the year before that, but he just can’t seem to pass classes.” Doug gives a shout of defense, tossing a French fry at his brother, who catches it in his mouth, grinning triumphantly. I roll my eyes and give a small smile to their antics. “So you’re the McQuaid brothers. You’re new here too. And troublemakers from what I’ve heard.” They look at each other and laugh. “Well, sugar, what can we say? It’s much more fun to break the rules than to follow them.” After fishing out my lunch I pull another sucker from my bag, strawberry flavored as opposed to the cotton candy flavored from earlier. “Damn sweets, not gonna share with us? I’m hurt.” I roll my eyes and toss the older boy the bag of sweets. “Leave me the mango flavors. Those are my favorites.” Doug chuckles under his breath and tosses the bag to his brother. Tom rifles through the pouch of candy, and just hands it back to me. “I’ll just take another piece of gum when I’m finished eating.” I look from my salad at his burger and fries. “How can you eat that all the time and still look like that? I’m just looking at it and I think I gained ten pounds.” Tom shakes his head as he gives a once over to my figure. “Nah, you look the same. You look fine the way you are. Promise.” I giggle and play with my fingers in my lap. The line of playing the part and enjoying the attention continues to blur at my embarrassed reaction. I swallow my bite of rabbit food down and smile. “So, McQuaid brothers, tell me a bit about yourselves.” Almost evil smirks cross their faces. “Sweets, lets just say we’re not the kind of guy you take home to mom and dad. You’re too sweet and naive to know guys like us. Sugary thing like you’d get eaten alive with us. Too pure for the dark things we’ve done.” I hear the teasing in Tom’s voice. “You’re making fun of me. I know I’m not the “baddest” out there, but I know about the world. I want to be a reporter. I’ll appreciate it if you don’t underestimate me.” I look back at my hands. “And if I’m too sweet and naive to be here, to be involved with you, why was I invited to have lunch with you two? I’m sure there are plenty of defectives like yourselves to hang out with.” I move to leave the table to sit anywhere else. A hand latches onto my wrist. I follow the hand up to Tom's face. His eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are twisted into a pout. “Look, sweets, I’m sorry. You seemed lonely and everything. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” I sigh and gently pull my hand from his hold. “I accept your apology.”

I move to sit back down and hear my beeper go off. I fish it out of my bag and read the message from my editor. Both boys crane their necks to read the message. I shove it back down into my bag in defense, thinking up a quick excuse for the interruption. “Oh, it was my brother. I’ll give him a call later.” I swipe a fry from Doug's plate. “What about you guys. You do anything after school? Besides the Dark stuff of course. What kind of records do you listen to?” Looks I don’t understand continue to pass between them. “Well, Doug here is his own entrepreneur. Me, I’m more of a car guy. I’ve got the blue mustang out there.” My eyes widen. “That one’s yours? She’s a beauty. I’ve got the old yellow mystery machine out there. She’s a great road trip car.” Both boys nod. “Our dads a bit of a hippie. He’d love you, flower power. What music you listen to?” I think for a bit, attempting to decide between my true likes and what a teenager would like. “Well, I’ve always loved Bowie. Ziggy Stardust is an absolute masterpiece, and one of the first records I ever got. Prince is pretty good too, but I love a nice mix of rock and funk. Something with a heavy drum beat I can move to.” They nod along, taking in my answer. The bell rings, signifying the end of the lunch period.

I begin my journey to my next class, and choose a seat near the middle. Once I watch the class, looking around at the students and everything about them. And just my luck, Tom McQuaid walks in with his gum popping and a smirk painted on his face. As the student body shuffles into their seats, the teacher has us stand right back up. “I am your History teacher for this semester, Mr. Devo. I will be choosing your seats for my class, please let me know if you need to be seated at the front end of the room.” Two kids with glasses raise their hands and they are seated in the first two rows.

“Anyone else? No? Alright let’s get started. When I point to you, I want to hear your name, your grade, and hmmmm, your favorite record.” He points at several people, pointing at their desks. He points to me pretty early on surprisingly. “Oh! Y/N Leiman, senior, and hmmmm, give me a second. Prince’s Sign ‘O’ The Times. It cost me a bit to get the four disks, but it’s an amazing album.” Mr. Devo nods a bit. “I haven’t heard the entire thing yet, but I do enjoy Prince. Here.” He points to the desk front and center. As if the whole thing was planned, Tom is pointed at next. “Tom McQuaid, teach. Senior like Sweets here, and I like Bowie's Young Americans. If you don’t mind, Sugar here fuels my gum addiction, so if I could sit near her, I’d appreciate it.” Mr. Devo gets a strange look on his face. The journalist in me would describe it as a cross of frustration and possibly… jealousy? But I don’t understand the jealousy part. I shake it off and get myself prepared for class. McQuaid gets sent to the classroom, possibly the farthest seat from me. With a smile, Mr. Devo starts his class.

I walk out the front doors of the school with a slight limp. “I made a mistake today. I can not believe I made the decision to actually wear heels to school. What was I thinking?” Two arms snake around my shoulders. “Well, Flower Power, if you’re hurting so bad, how bout we carry you to our car. We can get you home and drive your car for you.” I look at Doug and roll my eyes. “I’ll be fine. It wouldn’t be the first time I drove barefoot. I appreciate the offer boys, but I should probably head home. See you both tomorrow?” They nod and head to their Mustang. I climb into my mystery machine and kick off my shoes, heading home.

#johnny depp #johnny depp x reader #johnny depp imagines #johnny depp imagine #tom hanson x reader #tom hanson #21 jump street #21 jump street imagines #80's series #80s imagines #80's imagine #80's x reader #80's fanfiction #90's imagine #90s imagines

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shoichee · 4 years ago

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Strawberry Jam

Part 2 of the Pun Fest collection!

Murasakibara x f!Reader

Word count: 3992

Synopsis: The Yōsen’s basketball team is trying to help out a poor manager’s love life.

Note: I went a little too crazy with this;; it is definitely longer than Kise’s prompt (i’m so sorry my bb)

»»—————　☼　—————««

Everything about Yōsen was grand and lofty, from their buildings, their interiors, their tuition, and even their students… quite literally.

A huge downside of attending there, though, was the location of the campus itself: Akita. The biting winds were extremely harsh and unforgiving, particularly when temperatures dropped below negative numbers as snow continued to pile up even more imposing walls than the famed “Shield of Aegis.” Luckily, as the new manager of Yōsen High’s basketball team, you often got to accompany five towering starter players, where you gladly took advantage of their heights to protect yourself from the harsh weather.

Still, if you had the choice to either confess to Murasakibara or to stand outside in an Akita blizzard for a few hours, you’d dash to the latter option with no hesitation.

You don’t even know why you fell for the purple-haired giant of all people.

Was it because his intimidating stature contradicted his laid back personality?

Was it because your heart panged for him when you witnessed, from your seat, him giving his all against his match with Seirin, only for him to leak tears of frustration at losing?

Was it because shortly after, when you joined as a manager to get a head start training for next season (as per Coach Araki’s request), Murasakibara gently ruffled your hair before he went to get his umaibo sticks?

You wanted to deny those pervasive thoughts that were taunting you recently for falling in love so easily, but you shook your head before you patted your cheeks to figuratively slap those inner gremlins away.

“Chibi-chin?” Murasakibara lazily turned his body at an angle towards your direction. “Did the snow fall on you too?”

You could feel your cheeks flush even through under your mittened palms. Himuro flashed you a concerned gaze of his own. “I-I-I… sorry! I was just trying to warm my head?... up? uh—” You paused for a bit, trying to salvage your excuse. “T-there’s always so much a beanie and an earmuff could do to keep… warm?”

“Hnn, I guess so,” he said, giving a quick once over to your figure. “You’re so red, chibi-chin. You look like strawberry jam from this yummy bun I ate just now.”

“Atsushi,” Himuro turned to him exasperatedly. “You don’t compare people to food you just ate. It’s not polite.”

“Oh well, Muro-chin.” He walked on further out of the school gates. “See you too, Chibi-chin.”

“Mura-kun, you always call me that,” you pouted. “If you call me that just because I’m shorter than you, then you might as well start calling that to everybody.”

“But you’re Chibi-chin,” he insisted. “Muro-chin is Muro-chin… Kuro-chin is Kuro-chin… Sa-chin is Sa-chin…” he continued to go off on a mumbling tangent as he chewed on his next pack of biscuit sticks, walking away to finally head for home. You and Himuro were left alone together.

“So, about Atsushi-kun… pardon for me asking but… do you—”

“H-H-Himu-kun, have the other members left home already?” you turned to him, having a premonition of where the conversation was heading to.

He blinked owlishly for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah… Coach didn’t want to risk everyone getting sick and missing out on drill days later.”

“Ah, I’m glad. Although… it’s a bit sad that our 3rd years are leaving so soon—”

“What’s this about 3rd years?” You whipped your head around to see Fukui and Okamura trekking through the soft snow in your direction.

“Fukui-san? Okamura-san? What are you two doing here?”

“Argh, studying in the library stinks,” Fukui groaned, cracking his neck. “Especially when the library’s heater broke earlier. We were all told to just go home.”

“Well, now that you two are here after you interrupted our conversation, let me ask our manager-san again,” Himuro turned to you with a genial smile, but you knew that face hid something truly unpleasant.

“Oh, manager-san,” he slowly started. The 3rd years were silently looking at each other in confusion. “Could it be that you fancy someone romantically?”

It took a few seconds for the question’s implications to heavily sink into everyone’s minds like heavy-duty boots on fresh blankets of snow.

“E-e-e-e-ehhhh??” All three of you screeched out in a dissonance of shouts of disbelief.

“W-W-what??”

“Himuro, what the hell?”

“N-N-NO GIRL WILL EVER LIKE ME AFTER ALL!...”

“I just had a feeling is all,” Himuro reassured, but if anything, it panicked you even more. “If you didn’t like anyone, then maybe it was just my imagination.”

This was it. You could easily deny everything with a “that’s ridiculous!” or “I would never!” or something of the sorts, but when you were about to rebuke Himuro for being so preposterous out of nowhere, all those words dissipated at the tip of your tongue.

“I… you…” you started, mouth leaden with meekness as 3 pairs of eyes, all shining with anticipation, were on you. “Himuro… you, uh—ugh! You’re right… I guess I do… like someone…”

“HEEEEEEEEEE…!” Okamura bursted into tears again. “Why doesn’t anyone like me?”

“Oi, captain! Just get rid of your chin!” Fukui apathetically glanced at him before patting his back with mocking consolation, and Okamura only sobbed harder in response.

“So who do you like, if you don’t mind me asking?” Himuro gently interrogated further, leaning closer to your face to gauge your expressions. You knew that sly smirk meant that you weren’t going to be able to worm yourself out of this.

Damn it, why is he being so insistent about this?

You sighed. There was no turning back now…

---------

“MURASAKIBARA???” everyone clamored around you. Chaos ensued once again when you timidly confessed your deepest secret, and as they all processed the new information in their own ways, you stared at your furred boots, praying for the snow to swallow you up whole and cleanly wipe away all traces of crimson hues from your face.

Okamura really lost it now, going into incoherent despair of never-ending questions of what Murasakibara had that he himself didn’t, while Fukui, for once, was not bullying the poor Yōsen captain but instead standing wide-eyed in shock at you. Himuro had been tilting his head with a finger to his temple, pondering about something that you knew, once again, was not going to turn out to be good news for you.

“Why don’t you confess to hi—”

“A-absolutely not!” At your outburst, Himuro furrowed his brows in utter confusion.

“Why not?”

“Himuro, are you crazy?” Fukui, barely recovering from his stupor, answered for you. “This guy has nothing but food in his brain!”

“Well… Atsushi could be like that most of the time, but—”

“Himu-kun,” you sighed. “Just forget about what I said a-alright?” Hearing them talk about how Murasakibara had nothing in his heart except for his snacks dashed your hopes in your prospective love life. “I’ll see you guys at school tomorrow.”

As you walked away from the boys, head down from either the cold or dejection (or perhaps both), they turned to each other with fierce glints in their eyes, almost reminiscent of the serious aura they gave before their Seirin match.

---------

“Okamura-san? You’re here alone?” You walked up to him before school after surveying that neither Fukui nor Himuro were in the near vicinity. “Well, I guess it’s still a bit too early for anyone to come.”

“Well, uh—” he stammered. “We all decided to individually help you in getting closer to the brat.”

“H-huh?”

“A-as captain, I must be the first one to offer advice from senior to underclass… man?”

You huffed in apprehension but you appreciated that your teammates cared enough to go out of their ways to help you in your love life. But you were afraid of what was in store for you. Very much afraid.

You really weren’t prepared for this unforeseen development.

“Um…”

“Uh, erm…” he stuttered. “R-right! I-if I had a girl who liked me, I’d hope for her to offer me a bento lunch, or maybe a love letter? Or ch-chocolates and a plushie if it was Valentine’s…”

“That… that’s cute and all Okamura-san, but…” you began, flustered. “But this is Mura-kun we’re talking about. He’d only be interested in the lunch and chocolates, but he wouldn’t think too much of a girl giving him free food.”

He instantly teared up, and from an outside perspective, he looked like he was being personally rejected by you.

“I-is that why I’m single?” he sniffed into his sleeve.

“N-no! That’s not it!” you comforted him. “Without a doubt, someone will come to love you one day! Be patient and keep pushing, Okamura-san!”

As you tried to pat his arms in consoling him, a certain looming purple-haired mop overshadowed you both.

“Chibi-chin? What are you doing?” He was munching on a bag of potato chips. “Oh?... Captain?” Both of you jumped out of your skins before leaping apart to provide distance from each other.

“Chibi-chin, I didn’t know you were close to him.”

“Th-that’s not!—” You stammered, but what were you going to say?

Sorry, the captain and I were just talking about ways to fix my love life?

Don’t worry, we’re just figuring out ways for me to get close to you?

Sorry, but he, of all people, was helping me find out a plan to confess to you?

With every excuse you tried to concoct in your mind, your cheeks burned brighter and brighter.

Murasakibara didn’t miss the way you grew timid in his presence again and how you always seem to be so hesitant whenever you spoke with him. He sighed before shoving an non-frozen ice pop to your lips before walking past you.

“Better hurry up, Chibi-chin,” he drawled. “I’ll go look for Muro-chin.” With that he trudged away.

You held the mango-flavored pop in your hands. Wasn’t this his go-to flavor?

“Sorry I wasn’t able to help much,” he moped. He scratched the back of his head while looking at his feet.

“Okamura-san, I’ll be sure to keep your suggestion in mind!”

The warning bell echoed throughout the hallways. “I guess that’s the bell. Well, see you!” You both waved to each other before you went to your respective classes. You made sure to gulp down the pop before you went to your seat.

---------

“Himu-kun! Just what are you guys planning?”

“I don’t know what you’re implying, (l/n)-san,” he feigned, glancing at you glowering at your desk next to his.

“Mura-kun totally has the wrong idea! He probably has a horrible image of me now, and I’m never gonna make eye contact with him again—”

“Just because he saw you and Okamura together? Atsushi isn’t that dumb.”

“But we never talked alone together until this morning!”

You groaned as you opted to faceplant your desk and hoped for a catastrophe to hit Akita and take you out of your misery. At the very least, you hoped that the deities would spare you and fastforward time to the end of the school day, so you can scurry home with no further incident. With your chin still on the desk, you stared at the wall clock; it was still only morning break.

“If you can’t confess to him directly,” Himuro hummed. “Why not use pickup lines? They still get the point across.”

“The only reason why they work for you is because you’re popular yourself. All the girls fawn over you.” You then propped your head against your hand, nodding towards a close group of girls whispering and peeking at your—Himuro’s—desk seatings. “See?”

“They’re always like that, though. That doesn’t mean they’re interested in me like that.” You resisted the urge to groan again.

Himuro turned his attention to the back of the classroom (the action went unnoticed by a brooding you) to see an equally sulking Murasakibara, who had been staring holes at the back of your head ever since the start of class. A silent chuckle escaped his lips and his eyes twinkled with unabashed mischievousness.

“Himu-kun?” you looked out of the corner of your eyes.

“Hmm?” He turned to you before giving a smile that meant he was up to no good. You were about to question his motives before your mind went blank after he gently tousled your hair. “Don’t sweat about this so much, (l/n)-san.”

“Ah…” That was rather out of nowhere, but you figured he was trying to cheer you up. “T-thanks.”

At that, you gave Himuro a tiny, genuine smile.

Himuro swore he sensed a drastic spike in hostility directed towards the back of his head.

---------

The gods must have really hated you, because today just felt like it was crawling by even slower than usual.

It was barely lunchtime.

There was still a shower of drifting snowflakes outside, so everyone was still cramped up indoors filled with stuffy air of artificial heat.

You didn’t mind it that much; you were going to use the time to head over to the library to check out some books for your literature class.

“Himu-kun, take care of my stuff until I get back, okay?”

“Hm? Yeah, sure.”

As soon as you stood up from your desk to leave, you noticed Murasakibara getting up from his own seat to head over towards you guys. In a panic, you made a bolt towards the door and slid it closed.

Phew. You laid back against the door for a second to regain your composure before you strolled to your destination.

---------

“Atsushi,” Himuro greeted him.

“Hnnn.” He plopped onto the empty seat directly behind Himuro.

“You’re making quite a harsh frown.”

“Che, I’m gonna crush you, Muro-chin,” he grumbled, furrowing his brows. Himuro lets out a soft chortle before reaching into his bag.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about, Atsushi,” he replied. “But would you want some snacks? I brought extra.” His hand pulled out a pack of wafer cookies. Murasakibara immediately perked up.

“I’m gonna eat lots and lots~” he drawled, before taking a handful of cookies and throwing them haphazardly into his mouth.

---------

“(l/n)-san, I hast found thou.”

“Liu-san?” You turned your attention from the book to said person behind you. You were still idly thumbing the pages.

“I hast something to talk thee about.”

When you found out a couple of weeks ago about why and how Liu started speaking like that, you honestly didn’t know whether to punch Fukui for pranking the poor 2nd year to speak old-fashioned Japanese or shake hands with said-prankster because that was a golden scheme.

“What is it?”

“Is it true that thou fancy Murasakibara?”

Okay, you’re definitely going to punch Fukui the next time you see him. No one else could’ve told Liu except him.

“H-h-huh? Not you too!” Your fingers halted on the held book.

“If thou like him, why don’t thou grant him dinner?” he inquired, tilting his head slightly.

Well, that’s not a terrible idea but…

“I would, Liu-san, but I don’t think he’ll see that as a romantic action. Food is food to him.”

“That’s a shame,” he bowed his head. “Sorry that I canst not grant thou much help. I wish thou good luck on thy endeavors.”

“Thank you, Liu-san,” you gave him a smile and a returned bow. “I’ll keep your words in mind.”

He gave a chagrined smile of his own before he left you to your own devices.

---------

Finally, the dismissal bell echoed throughout campus. You were flouncing around with newfound determination to catch a certain snitch in one of the class-3 rooms. Sure enough, an ash-blonde haired student casually strolled out of his classroom before he bumped into a bloodthirsty you.

“Gah! You?—”

“Yeah, me,” you narrowed your eyes at him. You lowered your voice into a harsh whisper. “You told Liu about this ordeal? Who else did you gossip this to?”

“Ack—no one! I swear! I just told Liu because I figured he had some solid advice! He hasn’t told anyone, I made him swear to keep quiet!” He immediately begged for forgiveness, putting his hands up together in a plea with his head bowed. You sighed.

“I guess it can’t be helped,” you muttered. “He said to take Mura-kun to dinner, but that just falls into the category of ‘food.’”

“But isn’t there a saying of ‘getting to the stomach to get to their heart?’ It definitely applies to him without a doubt.”

“So what’s your idea, Fukui-kun?” You huffed, crossing your arms. “Let’s get it over with. Everyone has been trying to give me some type of suggestion today and I figured that was your ‘plan’ from the get-go.”

“Alright, let’s walk out of the building to the gate while we talk and while the weather is still manageable.”

---------

“I’m sorry, say that again?”

“Why don’t you say some jokes or puns to get a laugh out of him?”

“I know you’re a pranking type of guy, but you can’t be serious right now.”

“What? You wanted to get close to him, right? Friends get each other to crack up.”

“Ugh.” You slapped your mittened hands against your face and leaned your head back to stare at the dreary sky, a perfect portrayal of the inevitable doom you’re going to have to face.

Gods, please don’t torture me any further like this.

---------

“Muro-chin? Is that Chibi-chin and Fuki-chin?” Murasakibara stops to stare at the pair.

“Huh, I didn’t know they were still here,” Himuro said, trailing closely behind the titan.

“He’s bothering Chibi-chin, Muro-chin,” he scowled. “I’m gonna crush him.”

“Atsushi,” Himuro hurriedly interrupted. “We’re already taking a detour to the convenience store to get your umaibo sticks… If we stay here any longer, then we’ll be forced to walk straight home instead because of the weather.”

“Hmph.” Murasakibara reluctantly turned away from you two in favor of a prospect of having boxes of snacks in his arms.

Himuro gazed at the pair before he caught up with Murasakibara.

He’ll be damned if he can’t get you and Mura to at least see heart to heart with each other.

---------

“Thanks Fukui-kun, but your suggestion sounds flimsy at best,” you sweatdropped.

“There’s also the saying of ‘don’t knock it until you try it,’ (l/n)-san,” Fukui retorted. He had a sullen look from having his idea immediately shot down. The two of you continued to walk out of the school gates in awkward silence before you gave in.

“Fine, fine, sheesh,” you sighed. “I’ll… think about it… Happy?”

“Yes!” He whooped and pumped a fist to the air.

---------

Even though the snow let up today, there was still a frigid chill in the air, especially since it was still the morning, but you willed yourself to wake up earlier to prepare to finally confess and just get it over with before Murasakibara figured something was up. You could tell that he had already been suspicious of your behavior, after all.

Your school bag was beyond bulky to carry, drawing attention from other curious onlookers as you trudged yourself (and your cumbersome bag) to Yōsen.

7 a.m. should be early enough right?

All you have to do is wait until Murasakibara shows up, do your confession, and then book it.

Easy. Very easy. So easy that even Fukui could do it. Very easy, quick, easy… easy… NOT easy, NOT EASY—

You took an exaggerated inhale to gulp in as much cold air as possible. You couldn’t back out now. Otherwise you’d look like a fool carrying around a big bundle for no reason.

You glanced at the time. 7:39? Had time passed by so quickly? Why couldn’t the deities do this yesterday?

Before you drown yourself in your pitying thoughts and what-ifs, you noticed your grapehead crush waddling near you, lazily blinking away the last remnants of sleep.

“M-Mura-kun!”

“Ohh? Chibi-chin…” He turned towards you as you rushed to him, eyeing the huge bag on your shoulder.

“I have something important to tell you!” Okay, here goes…

He continued to stare down at you, curious to see you fumbling through your bag and muttering “you got this” and “it’s okay” to yourself. He tousled your hair, causing you to still your hand and short-circuit whatever cohesive plans you had in your head for this moment.

“I-i-i-i—what are you doing?”

“Yesterday you said that your head gets cold a lot, Chibi-chin.” Well, that, but he was trying to elicit the same smile you gave to Himuro after he comforted you the same way.

“A-ah, well, it’s not as cold today!... so…”

Ah, he only made you furrow your brows more. Did he make you even more upset?

His hand was still on your head before you gently pried it off. He frowned.

You took a huge breath and exhaled, leaving a warm, puffy trail of translucent mist behind.

And he thought you looked prettier than usual like that, your hair slightly disheveled from his touch… and your scarf, earmuffs, and hat making you look fuzzy… with a veiled mist framing you like a picture…

“Mura-kun,” you breathed out, once again letting a hazy cloud escape from your lips. You approached closer, tugging on his sleeve to get his attention.

“Hnn?” He really should be paying attention, considering the fact that this was the first time in a while that he got to speak alone with you.

“H-h-here!” you took his sleeve and shoved something soft (and fuzzy too, coincidentally?) into his arms and he gazed down to see a… large, fluffy plushie? He examined the bear with a childish wonder before he noticed a small card attached to it.

His heart beating uncharacteristically fast, he gingerly opened the card:

Are you a doughnut, because I find you a-dough-able. ♡︎

A boyish smile creeped its way onto his face.

“W-w-wait, and…” you stuttered, already losing confidence. “While I think that you’re already a Mura-snacki-bara… I would still, um, take? you and me? out to eat… together?” At “you and me,” you lamely pointed at Murasakibara and yourself to make it really obvious. You’re cringing at your own ineptitude to be smooth about this.

You then embarrassingly took out a handful of coupons for different stores and fast food restaurants and waved it to his face frantically before you shoved them in his hands.

“And… and… u-u-um—I like you—I like you very much!”

Murasakibara now has the biggest shit-eating grin plastered across his face, his eyes shining with utter joy.

“Chibi-chin… you really feel that way about me?”

At his question, you hid your face behind your hands, bracing yourself for rejection.

“Oiiiiii, Chibi-chin,” he whined, bending down to gently pry your hands off your face. He stared intently at your face even as you averted your eyes.

“You’re as red as strawberry jam.”

“H-h-hey!—”

And he kissed you.

---------

“Told you that Atsushi likes her back.”

“Move, gorilla! Your butt chin is in the way!”

“Thou should'st get rid of thy sideburns too.”

“HEEEEE…! Why is everyone so mean? How are the 1st years getting more attention and popularity than me?...”

“Shut up.”

“Keep silent.”

---------

“I thought you liked Okamura, Chibi-chin.”

“Eh?”

You were walking hand in hand with Murasakibara to the nearest convenience store for his daily supplement of umaibo sticks.

“You were huddling up to him and being red the other day.” He turned away, pouting.

Oh. Ohhhhhh.

“Atsu-kun, you dummy,” you giggled. “The team found out I liked you, so they were trying to help me.”

“Ehhhh?”

“Actually, I—uh, used a combination of all their ideas when confessing to… you.” It was your turn to turn away, your index finger scratching your cheek shyly.

“Hmph, Chibi-chin~” He tugged on your arm, his voice clearly filled with relief. “I’m hungry.”

“Yes, yes, Atsu-kun.”

Maybe having nosy Yōsen team starters wasn’t so bad.

Maybe having the deities being so fickle with your days wasn’t so bad either.

And maybe the weather in Akita wasn’t so bad if you could always cuddle up to Murasakibara’s side from now on.

#murasakibara x reader #murasakibara atsushi #murasakibara atsushi x reader #knb x reader #kuroko no basket #himuro tatsuya #okamura kenichi #wei liu #fukui kensuke #yosen #knb #fluff #knb scenarios #punfest series

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meteorherd · 3 years ago

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tell me about your favorite fruits. and knuckles also

YAAAY coffee hi benny :) umm my favorite fruit is MANGO king of fruits...its so good just by itself or in desserts but i think more people need to try pickling it i LOVE pickled mango. i am also a raspberry and blackberry enjoyer and HMM ive never had lychee raw but ive had lychee flavored stuff and i like it :) OH and green grapes those are the only kinds of grapes i think. i actually have no opinion on apples really because im allergic to apple skin </3 you could tell me anything about apples and i would believe you

KNUCKLES okay well first off i just think knuckles would like mangoes. also i think one of my favorite things and coolest thing about him is that he's a treasure hunter i wish we got to see that more...SOOO so awesome. i like to think that sa1 is basically the first time knuckles really left angel island and he became an Actual treasure hunter in between sa1 and sa2 because he learned more about his culture and got interested in archaeology and got some experience from hunting down the emerald shards. the only other time i really remember knuckles' treasure hunting skills being mentioned in a game after that is sonic riders zero gravity? where he's able to read the ancient text. i like the idea that he picks up new languages pretty quickly

OH and i also think unknown from me sa2 remix is the song of all time. knuckles has the coolest soundtrack ever in sa2 but i also think its really funny that he roleplays a lot in his songs. i love the death chamber part where he takes up half the song roleplaying a hypothetical argument with sonic and he's talking as both himself and sonic its REALLY good. like you can tell he's not used to having friends and doesn't really know how to assume certain things happen in friendships just yet. i think knuckles tries to script a lot of his social interactions just from the way he roleplays in his songs like that, i think his songs add SO much to his character + i really love the meteor herd song too because thats the last of his songs in sa2 and thats the first time he calls everyone else his friends, i think the timing of that means a lot considering his introductory song is about how it's all just an alliance that's supposed to be temporary :)

#THANK YOU!!#cirrates #nebasks

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pandemicperipatetics · 3 years ago

Text

Two Weeks in Missoula, MT

View from a bridge over the Clark Fork River

The Verdict

What a fun place to spend two weeks! Missoula prides itself on being weird, and we can see the charm. This tiny university town of 70-80K residents is surrounded by mountains and has the cute little Clark Fork River running through it. There are hardly any tall buildings and the downtown area is full of places to eat, drink, and buy random Montana-themed tchotchkes. We encountered very few chains or national brands (basically just some hotels downtown and the nearby Albertsons grocery).

From the quad at The University of Montana, Missoula

We also got a different kind of weird vibe, though. Missoula is gentrifying, and there’s an odd juxtaposition of it feeling a bit run-down -- the downtown area on the river isn’t terribly well-maintained; the local housing stock is pretty old; the university has lost a lot of funding and applicants in recent years -- and also designed for deep-pocketed tourists (food is more expensive than comparable options in NYC; the new downtown Mercantile building that houses the ~2 year old Marriott Residence Inn feels like an upscale shopping mall; it’s hard to believe how so many breweries could be supported by the size of the local population). As visitors unfamiliar with the area, we didn’t always feel totally welcome -- and we can only imagine what it must feel like for people from the area to experience it being transformed by yuppies and Silicon Valley money. Even the local shops already evoke AirSpace, and it’s a bit sad to think of Missoula losing its quirkiness more in the future.

Walking around downtown Missoula

What to Eat: Vegetarian Edition

For a town of its size, Missoula has a surprising number of places to eat out. It was exciting to discover lots of ethnic food and plenty of vegetarian-friendly options, but ultimately we found a lot of the food to be extremely overpriced for what it was. We also noticed that many of the places we visited were advertising for staff, some were closed due to lack of staff / inventory / ingredients, and a surprisingly high number of places experienced outages of menu items during our time there.

Note: All recommendations are in downtown or within walking distance. We’ve listed them in order of how much we liked them.

Five on Black [5/5]: Brazilian food that is surprisingly vegetarian-friendly and pretty reasonably priced ($12 for a large bowl). The tofu bowl with sweet potatoes and mango BBQ sauce was out of this world. Outdoor seating was available.

Masala [5/5]: Indian make-your-own bowl, Chipotle-style ($8). The coconut curry korma was delicious, and the paneer was pretty good too. This was the best value meal we had downtown. They had outdoor seating.

Basal [4.5/5]: Smoothies and salads. The Caesar salad with vegan dressing was pretty amazing, and the creamy smoothie (blue version) was obsession-inducingly good. Knocked off half a point because it is ridiculously expensive...yet we still went back a second time because it was delicious and healthy. Can’t remember if they had outdoor seating...

Market on Front [4.5/5]: Right by our hotel, and known for breakfast burritos. We tried picking up lunch there one day but it was a 25 minute wait. We tried again for an early dinner and voila...the Rawsome Vegan Wrap ($10.50) was very good The service was friendly, too.

Bernice’s Bakery [4.5/5]: This is a cute little bakery with great bread and vegetarian-friendly lunch options; we really liked their house-made Parker rolls ($0.60 each, or great as part of their sliders). They post their changing menu on Instagram daily. We didn’t try any of their sweets but they looked very enticing. This was also one of the few normally priced places we ate at. The shaded picnic table outside was very nice to eat at.

Zoo Thai [4/5]: This is an overpriced but pretty good Thai restaurant downtown. We really enjoyed the massaman curry ($17) and the coconut milk Thai iced tea ($3.5). There is one other vegetarian curry on the menu that was also decent. The service was exceptionally friendly although they are clearly understaffed (like lots of local places, it seems) and it took an unusually long time to get our food. Their outdoor patio was nice, and about a 30 minute wait on a Wednesday around 6p.m.

Conflux [4/5]: In a similar boat to Zoo Thai: the food was pretty good but it was one of the most expensive places we visited. We liked the vegetarian burger and the mushroom sandwich, and the beers were good too. The outdoor patio is extra cute and there was no wait when we went on a Thursday evening (when the wait was over an hour at The Camino).

The Union Club [4/5]: Our friend took us here, it’s a no-frills spot with a dive bar vibe, including pool tables and a few arcade games. As far as vegetarian options, they have a veggie burger (something like $6-$8) that was pretty decent and various fried items (breaded zucchini, jalapenos, etc). It was the most reasonably priced place we ate and we liked the relaxed atmosphere. There wasn’t any outdoor seating, but luckily it was nearly empty when we went.

Break Espresso [4/5]: Cafe. The lemon jam scone was decent, very sugary. We would totally go back here, but it didn’t seem like they had outdoor seating.

The Catalyst Cafe [3.5/5]: Good brunch options; the huevos rancheros were amazing, 5/5. However, the breakfast burrito with tofu and black beans was disappointing (maybe try the vegan brunch burrito with vegetables instead), and the service was particularly grumpy compared to anywhere else we went. They charge a gratuity on take-out orders, which they were upfront about but is still a bit odd. They have outdoor tables but due to the wait we took our food to go and ate on the lovely patio at our hotel.

Madeline’s Mediterranean (food truck) [3/5]: The falafel plate ($10) was tasty but unconscionably overpriced - 3 falafel balls, some lettuce, and a good heap of french fries.

Bahn Missoula (food truck) [3/5]: We tried the tofu bahn mi sandwich ($8). It wasn’t bad, but the bread wasn’t great, overall it had a bit of a sterile taste like airport food.

Le Petit [not rated]: This is a very popular local bakery that was recommended by a friend. We visited on a Sunday a little over an hour before closing and they literally had ZERO pastries left. We actually haven’t seen that anywhere before. Maybe it’s a small town thing? We didn’t see outdoor seating.

An area across the river from downtown, near the University. Close to Bernice’s and Le Petit. The reminder to “Believe women” brought us back to Jon Krakauer’s book Missoula.

Notable places we didn’t try:

The Camino (Mexican): We heard good things from friends but the vegetarian options looked sparse. Their happy hour could be a good option if you’re in the mood for margaritas -- we put our names down on a Wednesday around 5:45PM and an outdoor table wasn’t available for us until 7:10PM, after we had already sat down at Conflux. Notably, there was an open patio table for 40 minutes that they were saving for someone who was supposedly coming “soon.”

Tagliare Delicatessen: Our friend highly recommended, but the sandwiches were mostly meat- or cheese-oriented. Could be great for a tomato/basil/mozzarella lunch option.

What to Drink

There are so many great breweries! We only tried the most popular ones, but imagine there is much more to enjoy.

Draughtworks: Gorgeous and spacious outdoor patio; we easily got a table on a Saturday at 5p (though it filled up a bit later). They seem to be known for sour and fruity beers and have many unique flavors; the flight ($10 for 4) is a great way to try them out. The watermelon rhubarb kombucha was also amazing.

Dram Works: Has a good outdoor patio and exceptionally friendly service. They let you sample anything before ordering. We really loved their peanut butter beer. They also have multiple kombucha options on tap!

Big Sky Brewing: We didn’t actually go to this brewery, but tried their beers at a fun street festival (Roots Festival) that happened during our visit. We had to mention this because their beers were so delicious!

The Roots Festival was fun -- in addition to enjoying beer and food trucks, the 4-mile race through south Missoula was great!

Plonk: Cocktails place with an extremely cute outdoor patio upstairs. The cocktails were excellent -- especially loved the Pink Panther (it had watermelon in it, what’s not to love?)

Lake Missoula Tea Company: Not beer, but their array of loose leaf teas was incredibly interesting and expansive! They can brew a cup of any tea for purchase in store if you’d like. We heard the lychee black tea was exceptional, though didn’t try it. We did try the vegan ginger chai, which was good. Definitely a fun place to visit if you enjoy tea.

What to Do

As this was our stop between Yellowstone and Glacier National Parks, we didn’t do a ton apart from eating and drinking.

We did hear there is some decent hiking nearby. We walked the M Trail -- a short, straight uphill hike (1.2 miles each way) with a good view of Missoula -- it was perfect at around 8:30a.m. while still shady. Pattee Canyon was a longer hike recommended to us.

View from the M Trail

We heard hanging out on the river can also be fun. We did a chill ~2 hour tubing excursion on the Clark Fork River with Clark Fork Yacht Club. It was a lot of fun, we definitely recommend!

Where to Stay

We would have loved to stay in an Airbnb to get a feel for what it’s like to live in an actual neighborhood. Availability was sparse -- a local friend told us housing has been very difficult to find across the board as gentrification has accelerated, and we were also visiting for the 2 weeks before the fall semester started at the University.

We ended up staying at the Marriott Residence Inn Downtown (it was actually cheaper than the few Airbnb options we saw -- you can get a decent discount for staying 12+ nights). It felt more like a hip Manhattan high rise apartment than a Residence Inn -- it was swanky with a great gym and outdoor patio. The service wasn’t great and the staff were fairly unhelpful, but it otherwise worked out fine. The location was great: we were within walking distance of basically everything we wanted to do.

View from the Marriott Residence Inn Downtown Missoula patio

#missoula

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bruh-haikyuu · 5 years ago

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Waaaaaaah!!! I really liked you (internecine/oikawa tooru)!!! Can I ask for a part two? What happened with s/o-chan? Her ex(not Oikawa) is dangerous? Will Oikawa discover the truth? Thanks for writing so well!

A/N: DAMN THE SEQUEL YALL BEEN WAITING FOR dabbled with a smidge of iwaizumi x reader ;)) HANA THIS IS FOR US OIK SUCKERS I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY

sequel to this

querencia. | oikawa tooru

word count: 5437

warnings: blackmail and angst! (+slight gaslighting)

(n.) a place from which one’s strength is drawn, where one feels at home; the place where you are your most authentic self

Iwaizumi knows Oikawa was strict when it came to volleyball. He knows how riled up he gets whenever he does solo practices. Although that focus came with Oikawa’s obliging reticence, the absence of noise was really pissing him off.

“Oikawa, let’s go, dude. We have to lock up soon or the Discipline Committee will chew us out again.”

He noticed a slight glance from the captain’s sepia pools but Oikawa Tooru kept his lips sealed. This guy… Iwaizumi grimaced. “Hey, I know you heard me. Don’t give your old lady grey hairs by coming home late all the time. Let’s go.”

“Hey, Iwa-chan, are you devoted to anything?”

Iwaizumi hid a relieved expression. At least Oikawa was finally saying something in full rather than the half-assed responses he’d been giving out the past month.

“Huh? What’re you trying to say? Of course I’m devoted. To volleyball!” Iwaizumi didn’t mean to sound angry, but looking at his best friend’s current state, he couldn’t help but to clench in frustration.

The blue and yellow ball rebounded from the polished hardwood floors into the setter’s expecting grip. “…Was it that? The problem. My ‘devotion’?”

Iwaizumi scratched the back of his neck in earnest before grabbing Oikawa’s wrist to drag him away from the fluorescent spotlight of the gym. Heaving two school bags over his shoulder with his limp friend on the other, Iwaizumi grumbled.

“I don’t get any of the shit you’re saying.”

Iwaizumi lied. He knew exactly what Oikawa was talking about.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Being in the Library Committee came with its own perks.

A peaceful workplace to drown yourself in your own thoughts

Full privilege to a lineup of all the volumes of Hirunaka no Ryuusei

Being the one and only member of the Library Committee

You had always enjoyed the tranquility that the magnificent atrium of papers offered—not a lot of people scourged for outdated reference books anyway. It was a welcoming interlude from your hectic life… Especially with your current state of affairs. But your head was stubbornly rejecting peace.

If it had been a couple months ago, Oikawa Tooru would have been sneaking into the library to avoid getting his head bashed in by Iwaizumi for being ‘too good at Old Maid’. He would have groaned and whined, subtly asking for your attention to make it all better. You would have refused, a blush betraying your response. Either way you would’ve surrendered to a single kiss after all.

The impression seemed so distant despite it being so recent.

Oikawa Tooru could find someone better than you. Someone who didn’t have this mess piled up upon their shoulders. Someone who wasn’t stupid enough to have dated an obsessive, creepy bastard.

You were so sure of the thought… but why do you keep remembering the taste of Oikawa’s lips lingering on yours? It had always suggested a hint of peaches and tropical mango juice. Flavors that had sparked fireworks in the depths of your belly.

In the end, you decided you would stop by Lawson’s after your duties to buy a mango ICE MONSTER bar. Just for the sake of the memory.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

“Ah. L/N-san.”

You cursed yourself to a million deaths. What on Earth did you pull to get karma this big? You were sure the constant suppression and cold shoulders from school were enough to cover for your sins against their volleyball superstar. But to encounter said superstar’s best friend at the convenience store (especially with your theatrical “baton pass” to him a month prior) was beyond your gravest punishments.

“I-Iwaizumi-san! Funny to see you here.”

“Ain’t this the only convenience store in the area though?”

God, you idiot. Just can’t keep your mouth shut, can you?

In the deserted frozen food aisle, two Aoba Johsai third years stood faced off with one another. If it were one of your younger brother’s RPG games, Iwaizumi would’ve been an impossibly matchless boss level—emanating all sorts of auras that screamed ‘INDOMITABLE’. And you? A level one player with only a wooden stick at your siege.

Crossing his arms, he huffed. “Anyway, L/N-san, I wanted to talk to you about—”

You prepared yourself for another blow like always. He was probably going to talk about that. But this time, your legs acted faster.

“Um, I have to go! Goodbye, Iwaizumi-san!”

“Huh? Hang on a sec! L/N-san!”

Iwaizumi Hajime, ace of Aoba Johsai Boys’ Volleyball Club, was chasing you. Why was he chasing you?! Your head spun with images of him cutting you up into pieces to serve for Oikawa’s breakfast, lunch and dinner. Merciless. Brutal. Vile. Was this his way of getting you back for dumping Oikawa on his shoulders?

You let out a small shriek, zipping past a bicycle parked horizontally on the sidewalk. Maybe with his large size, Iwaizumi would have to slow down a bit, giving you a chance to—

Vaulting over the bicycle, Iwaizumi only became hairs closer to your hurrying form. “Wait! L/N-san!”

“Please don’t kill me!” You sobbed, turning into a corner. “I have a family I still want to come home to!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he yelled, the hoarseness of his voice striking horror in your legs. “You didn’t pay for your ice cream!”

“Ha?!”

After dropping off 195 yen on the shop counter and dutifully bowing your head to the cashier at least ten times, Iwaizumi escorted you to the store’s entrance, the light amber of the sky gracing his stern features. For a moment, Iwaizumi Hajime, ace of Aoba Johsai Boys’ Volleyball Club, seemed like a normal high school boy instead of the terrifying column of pure muscle.

“Sorry for chasing you like that… You got the wrong idea and everything too,” he chuckled, low vibrations bobbing in his Adam’s apple.

“It was my fault too,” you cringed, head empty with only the thought of your animalistic instincts kicking in to take you away from ‘danger’. “I was just shocked that anyone would talk to me right now.”

“…Is that so… B-by the way…”

You almost forgot that you had run away just as he was about to beat you to a pulp with his words. You held your breath, feet rooted in place now that you had learned that there was no way you could beat an ace in races.

“We’re on Cleaning Duty tomorrow, right? Don’t forget and bail on me like that asshole Takahashi does.”

Gradually, you felt a World’s Biggest Idiot crown settle on your head. You breathed through your nose and muttered a sullen “yes, yes” before turning around and going your own fine way home. Of course, after apologizing once more to Iwaizumi for making him chase you distances just so you would pay for your treat.

Watching your back shrink into the golden horizon, Iwaizumi scratched his head, heart heavy with the weight your words carried. He probably shouldn’t have stalled his real question to you like that.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Becoming the enemy of Aoba Johsai’s general public didn’t seem so bad at first. At least they weren’t doing all the malicious shoujo manga-esque type of torture. No carved out voodoo dolls or vandalized tabletops.

But the thought didn’t make your sentence seem lighter.

When you had been with Oikawa, everyone suddenly wanted to get to know you. To eat lunch with you. To invite you to hangouts. Now that you’ve broken him, your only worthy punishment was to be broken tenfold.

How cowardly of me. You scowled, the contours of the broom handle etching itself on your palms. I don’t even know if half of Daisuke’s threats were real…

If the texts hadn’t sounded so genuine, you would have probably been laughing it off with Oikawa right now. But you weren’t. And that made you hate yourself for it.

“L/N-san, you okay?”

Pulled back into reality by your ever placid Cleaning Duty partner, you cleared your throat and swept the remaining bits of grime onto the fluorescent green dustpan.

“Y-yeah. I’m alright,” you said eyes flickering from his sharp ones.

Iwaizumi must’ve had some sort of sixth sense because his doubting gaze did not falter the slightest. “Really? You seem especially off today, though. You hungry or something?”

Now he was toying with you. “No I’m not.”

As if it had been cued, your stomach growled and you gritted your teeth in defeat. Stupid, stupid digestion.

“If you’re free after this, I’ll treat you to lunch. We need to talk about some unfinished matters, L/N-san.”

“But—”

“It’s about Oikawa.”

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

The scent of pork and shoyu weaved into your senses, blinding you with flavor. In the midst of burly men and hearty-looking meals plastered in bold in the quaint shop’s menu, a small high school girl like you did not mingle well with her surroundings.

Sitting across from you was Iwaizumi, attention pinned on a flimsy laminated piece of paper with a list of ramen that seemed to drone on and on. In the heat of the place, both of you had shed your blazers, draping them over the back of your rickety seats. Seeing Iwaizumi’s sleeves rolled up, you shivered at the thought of what those arms could do to you if you had run away from him again.

“Master, I’ll have the Aka Tonkotsu ramen today. Large with extra pork slices as always,” he piped up, catching the brisk nod of the shop owner from the corner of his work station. “How ‘bout you, L/N-san?”

“Um… a glass of mineral water, please. Iced.”

The ramen master and Iwaizumi’s faces twisted into expressions of concern and offense. You were sure you had attracted the attention of few others too with your order… but what was so wrong with just having water though? It wasn’t like you really enjoyed ramen. And your visit here wasn’t really much of your choice…

“Come on, you have to have the ramen here. I’m paying anyway,” Iwaizumi wanted to add in a comment that the prices at this particular shop were extravagantly affordable, but he chose to miss out on that. “Do you like spicy food?”

“I suppose I do—”

Iwaizumi grinned knocking on the wooden table to gain the master’s attention once more. “Make that two large bowls of Aka Tonkotsu, Master!”

You sputtered, ears barely registering his words. “L-large? Iwaizumi-san, I won’t be able to finish that!”

“Huh? Why not though? Your stomach growled really loudly back at school, I’m sure you’ll down the entire thing in seconds. But it’d mostly be caused by how good the ramen here is.”

You noticed how the ramen master’s ears flashed a bright pink. Seriously, how blatant can this guy be with his words… You were sure with the way Iwaizumi talked, he could either have all the girls in Japan swooning over his honesty or have everyone else throwing nasty glances at him. You fell into the latter category.

“About Too—” you paused, although insistent on breaking the frosty wall between the both of you. “Oikawa. I-is he doing well?”

“Well he’s obviously acting more differently than he used to,” Iwaizumi replied in blunt, hands centered on trying to pull the modest pair of wooden chopsticks apart cleanly. Snap. A small chunk of the second chopstick had awkwardly stuck with the first; Iwaizumi frowned. “Why’re you asking? Didn’t you guys break up?”

You puffed out fumes from your nose indignantly. “Aren’t you the one who invited me here to talk about him? Iwaizumi-san, if you’re not going to say anything important I’d rather leave than have you toy with my time.”

Iwaizumi’s hand reached out to scratch his nape—an old habit you had noticed from him countlessly in class, especially when he seemed nervous. “Alright, alright. Geez… don’t tell anyone about it but I’m worried about Oikawa. Trust me, I can tell when he’s being serious about practicing volleyball and when he’s just plain… letting loose. I suspected it had something to do with you because all he’s been doing is mope around like a beaten dog after you dumped him.”

You gulped.

“Why did you break up with him? I know he could be a crappy jerk with volleyballs for brains, but I know he won’t put his ambitions over someone he cares about—he learned that from his first relationship. So why did you do it? Was he finally getting on your nerves too? Or did you get bothered by his fanclub?”

Your hands gripped your skirt until your knuckles turned white. Iwaizumi definitely wasn’t the first person to drop the question on you. But that didn’t make you less nervous whenever you had to respond. Deciding to dodge the bullet like always, you went for a simple “it’s complicated”.

“Two large bowls of Aka Tonkotsu ramen, one with extra pork slices!” the ramen master announced, a bell of dismissal to your relief. “Plus a glass of iced water for the young miss.”

Watching the master limp back to his post, you didn’t notice Iwaizumi sprinkle a dollop of chili powder into his bowl, his sharp gaze cutting through your body. “Whatever. I’ll get it out of you one way or another. You wouldn’t have told me to take care of Oikawa if it wasn’t a serious problem.”

You slipped a stray strand of hair behind your ear, picking up your own chopsticks in the process. Despite the fear that pooled in your stomach from Iwaizumi’s promise, you couldn’t help to anticipate for a person to share the heinous truth with. Murmuring a soft “thank you for the food”, you decided that the truth belonged to another day and enjoyed your meal in silence.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Apparently, Iwaizumi did see your mouth forming the request. When he had brought it up at the ramen shop, you felt your entire universe fall apart at its core. You wanted to punch yourself for even thinking up such an shameless action. Whispering to him to take care of someone he spent his life tackling was useless. Pressing your face into your pillow, you wondered if you could sleep yourself to dematerialization.

Tugging you out from your misery, your cell phone vibrated in vigor before dropping still on your bedside table.

From: Unknown

Subject: This is Iwaizumi Hajime

09:34 PM

Yo. It’s Iwaizumi, save my number ok? I hope you enjoyed the ramen. Did you get home safe?

Right. You and Iwaizumi had exchanged numbers after he had paid an amazingly cheap price for the ramen. The surprisingly succulent ramen that had you gulping down the bowl until it was drained—just like what he’d promised. You’d hate to admit he was right so soon though…

To: Iwaizumi Hajime

Re: [This is Iwaizumi Hajime]

09:36 PM

Thanks for the ramen ^_^~ Also, I got home in one piece, so don’t worry about it.

A few moments after you had pressed the send button, another text came flying into your inbox. Two texts. From two entirely different contacts. The first one was Iwaizumi’s.

From: Iwaizumi Hajime

Subject: You didn’t answer my question

09:36 PM

About our topic of discussion today… are you going to tell me the truth or not? I don’t want to pry it out of a girl, it’d be rude assuming we’ve only started to officially talk today. But just so you know, I won’t give up until I know the reason. It pisses me off to see Oikawa so moody every day. I hope you’ll understand.

Your fingers hovered over your keyboard for a few moments too long to string together a coherent reply. Iwaizumi was a prime example of trust and valour. Sure, you had considered yourself a knight after ‘protecting Oikawa from your dangerous ex-boyfriend’, but now you just seemed like a jerk.

Scrolling over to see the second text loitering in your messages, you felt your blood vessels tighten. The sender’s name was seven syllables long. Seven syllables that you had hoped to never have to thread together ever again.

From: Masayuki Daisuke

Subject: None

09:36 PM

I knew you’d listen to me, Y/N-chan~ You were always such an obedient one, such a good girl. Now that that good-for-nothing playboy has his hands off you, we can be together right? Of course, we’ll have to wait until you graduate high school but that’s just a matter of time.

We’ll get married, Y/N-chan. I’ll make you as happy as you can ever be, even if we have to elope. I’ll even buy us a house in Tokyo, just where you wanted… You made a right decision to leave Oikawa, if you didn’t, I know it’d make you suffer just being in his presence. You belong with me, Y/N-chan, not with anyone above our insignificant roles. He’d make you feel small for the rest of your life… but I’m here for you.

I hope you won’t be unfaithful to me as we count down to the days when we shall begin our lives together. I love you~

Your lips curled into a flat line. All the blood had drained from your fingertips, leaving the fluorescent light of your cell phone to eerily illuminate through the limpid skin. You wanted to vomit, to wail, to look for and tell someone. But who? You couldn’t possibly run and cry to Oikawa. Hell, Iwaizumi and your ‘friends’ were out of the question. And your parents would overreact, making matters worse.

“I hate this,” you grunted, tossing your phone onto the couch across your bed. Maybe you could sleep it off like you usually did. Alas, you didn’t seem to receive a wink of sleep at all. This is bad, you finally admitted.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Iwaizumi Hajime had made it a habit (and a nuisance) to stumble in the library or other parts of the area after school to drag you to the ramen shop and fruitlessly attempt to wring even a droplet of truth from you. On the bright side, the food was always tasty, and you had adapted yourself to genuinely enjoy ramen as a delicacy. Plus, when it came to Iwaizumi’s savory bribes, you never even had to think about pulling your wallet out of your pocket!

Throughout the course of your ‘interrogations’, you had also learned that Iwaizumi was just an awkward puppy hiding beneath a shell of a raucous yankii. Of course, this was all fueled by his concern for his best friend, but nevertheless, you discovered that it didn’t take much to revert the almighty volleyball ace into a flustered mess of a high schooler.

You came to realize why Oikawa loved to tease him to the brim. And why they had stuck together for so long. In fact, if Iwaizumi had been a girl, you were dead sure that Oikawa would pick him over you—he was everything you weren’t and so much more…

Idiot, how long has it been already? Stop thinking about things like that, you braced yourself. Slapping yourself with the leather-bound cover of a weathered Chemistry textbook, you diverted your focus back on the cart of new books you were supposed to arrange.

Quiet hours in the library was especially your favorite time, of course, until Iwaizumi had recently interrupted it with persistence despite his prior knowledge that your duties wouldn’t end until half an hour later. Another trait of his, you had come to realize, was that he was unbearably annoying when he didn’t get what he wanted.

Hearing the clack of the library door’s swing (though much quieter than Iwaizumi’s usual loud shove), you scowled, eyes twitching in annoyance.

“Iwaizumi-san, for the last time! Stop coming in here if you’re not going to read or borrow a book. And don’t ask me the same question over and over again, I can’t tell you why it happened because it’s too—”

Crap.

You felt your heart jump at the sight of a pair of umber eyes that roused an emotion from deep within your memory. You almost didn’t recognize him. He looked taller, much more sturdy. And way too drained.

“Y-Y/N-chan,” Oikawa murmured, your name dripping honey on his tongue like it always had.

You didn’t even stop yourself from calling him by his name. “Tooru…”

You swore you could lock eyes with him for eons. Subtle glances in the hallway didn’t compare to being in Oikawa’s light. When you were with him, he made you feel warm. You missed that warmth. You missed him.

“What are you doing here?” you managed to sputter, eyelids freezing up.

When he broke from your gaze, you felt your heart plummet and shatter. “I just needed to look for a reference book for my English homework.”

It hurt. When you were dating, Oikawa never let the both of you dwindle in silence. He knew silence sickened you to the stomach. When you had broken up with him, he didn’t let silence waver over him either. But having the absence of noise barricading you from him, you felt cold.

“A-ah, you must mean Ogawara-sensei’s literary task…” you murmured, drinking in the appearance of his face, tracing pre-existing etches of it in your head. “Do you want me to help you look for them?”

How stupid of you to ask. Oikawa basically had the map of the library emblazoned on the back of his hand. You would know—it all came from the secret rendezvous he’d pull you into while you still had deemed yourself worthy of being loved by him.

“That would be nice,” he smiled shyly.

You led him into a warmly lit section pulsing with the livelihood of foreign words. Gliding between the wide space between the shelves, your fingers slipped through the seams across the books. It didn’t take you more than 2 minutes to locate a volume spilled with the wisdom you needed to ace Ogawara-sensei’s class.

“William Faulkner? I thought you didn’t enjoy those kinds of works,” Oikawa murmured, almost teasing as he thumbed through the fragrant pages of ink.

Eyes tracing the lettering of ‘A Rose for Emily’, you said, “I don’t particularly dislike this one. Tragic endings aren’t my cup of tea, but the romance really sucks you in.”

“I almost forgot how much of a shoujo otaku you were,” he chuckled, laughter like small bells tinkling in the soft wind. “You always look so serious, but figuring out that you were a sap was the funniest part.”

You puffed out your cheeks indignantly, “It’s not like I can help it! You want me to help you or not? Geez…”

Oikawa’s laughter ruptured in the great expanse, a contagious feeling bubbling in your throat. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just— it’s nice to see you again, that’s all…”

Your heart burst into streams of golden confetti, drawing universes within your chest like Oikawa used to do. He was always more different with you. Less fake, more genuine. More honest. You still hadn’t figured out why he’d go after you, especially with all the pretty girls willing to throw themselves in front of a train for him. You didn’t even have enough guts to ignore your ex-boyfriend.

All the wondering made you dizzy, you wanted to sit down, but Oikawa’s desolate eyes chained you to your spot. Iwaizumi was right. He looked like he had thrown himself across the gym a couple times before staying wide awake for 48 hours. As much as you hated to admit, you wanted to help him.

“Tooru, I’m—”

“Found you!” Both of your heads snapped towards the library entrance, blasted open haphazardly by a burly third year student.

“Iwaizumi-san!”

“Iwa-chan?”

A sly grin crept up the boy’s features, making him look more of an ogre than usual. You felt an uneasy lump dissolving in the pits of your stomach, from the corner of your eye, you spotted Oikawa slumping in what seemed to be defeat.

“Just as planned. Now, anyone hungry for ramen?”

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

This was by far the most quiet meal you’ve had with Iwaizumi and Oikawa—combined and separately. You didn’t even dare to excuse yourself to the restroom. You haven’t even touched your food either, for all you knew, it was probably already cold.

On the other hand, Iwaizumi was already stuffing his face with today’s special lobster ramen. “What’s wrong, L/N? Ain’t hungry? It’s your favorite dish too.”

Your brows pointed downwards in an annoyed scowl. Iwaizumi wasn’t known to be the best at reading situations anyway. You kicked his shin below the sunken space beneath the table, taking care that Oikawa wasn’t looking.

“Right! Nearly forgot,” if Iwaizumi hadn’t been someone who towered over you, you would’ve pestered him for being such a nuisance. “I damn hope you know why you’re both here.”

You gulped, cheeks reddening at the mention.

“Sorry, is there something I should know about?” Oikawa smiled faintly, a heavy air of concern draped over his shoulders. Sweat began to clump in your palms.

“Ha? Of course you do! You’ve gotta know why L/N broke up with you, right?”

“I-Iwa-chan! I don’t think that’s appropriate to talk about right now. I know for whatever reason Y/N-chan’s got for it, it’s a respectable choice.” Liar. You know I was just being a coward for not telling you, you pursed your lips.

“It’s only respectable until we know what it is,” Iwaizumi boomed, eyes boring into your shrinking figure. “Things don’t just happen for a reason, right, L/N? It’s okay if you tell us.”

“…”

“L/N, it’s for Oikawa’s good. Didn’t you say you wanted him to be happy?”

“Stop that, man. Don’t force her,” Oikawa’s tone wavered between anguish and warning. You almost wanted to leap into his arms. He was so close, sitting right next to you, but for some reason he felt miles away. “But…”

Sucking in a deep breath, you blinked back the tears that threatened to spill. “I don’t—”

The shrill ring of your phone shattered the torrential dilemma that hung in the air. Glancing at the number, you paled to the tips of your toes, all color lost from your skin. No, no, no, no. Not here. Not now.

Throwing your school bag over your shoulder, you stood shakily, hand gripping your phone like a vice. “I-I have to go.”

Turning your back on the two boys, you quickly hurried out the door of the shop, hands too tremulous to drop a tip in the glass jar adorning the entrance. He shouldn’t be here. Why was he here? You’ve had enough. No more. Hanging around Oikawa and Iwaizumi was a deadly mistake you’d swore you’d never repeat. But you were a mere mortal who fell too easily to the temptations of forbidden love. A love you could never have.

“Y/N-chan!” a plush hand wrapped itself around your elbow, throwing you back against a solid wall of warmth. A distinct scent of peaches and mango juice pressed against the crown of your hair, a familiarity you would be forced to pry yourself from.

“Tooru, please…” a single drop escaped your quivering eyes, rolling down your cheek, clumping at your chin. “I can’t do this. You have to let me go.”

“At least tell me what I did wrong. Was I not devoted enough? Did I offend you in some way? Or did you find someone else…?” The bob of his throat wobbled against your head. “I’m sorry that I loved you. I’m sorry.”

To hell with it. Turning in his grasps, you looked into his glassy hues, shining with tears, laced with the afterglow of genuine affection. For you.

“Don’t you ever apologize for loving someone. If someone has to apologize, it’s me!” you barked at him, tears streaming down your face, hot in its trail. “I made a mistake for loving the wrong person. I’m sorry I had feelings for such a psychopath. This was before I met you. Now he’s out to get us and it’s all my fault…”

You paused, burying your face into his uniform, taking in the deep pitter patter of his heart.

“I’m scared, Tooru… He’s been sending threats to me. I don’t want him to hurt you… Please, help me,” you sobbed, ignoring the incoming echo of a lone walker approaching the scene.

“Y/N-chin?”

Dark eyes stared back at yours, emptiness filling it, only a murderous aura emanating from the figure. You watched as Daisuke’s fist closed, veins popping for the world to see. You wondered how your day could get any worse.

“Traitor! You left that bastard just to run back to him?!” he growled against the silent backdrop of the market district. “I promised you a life where you wouldn’t have to feel so inferior. I sincerely love you, Y/N. Why can’t you understand that we’re the type of people who can’t fit in with assholes like… him.”

When Oikawa stepped between the both of you, you felt your heart drop and hang dangerously on a thin string held together by your prayers. “Are you the guy who’s been threatening Y/N-chan the whole time?”

Daisuke turned to you, leering viciously. “Oh, so I’m the bad guy? Don’t do this to me, Y/N-chin. You belong with me. You know that.”

“She doesn’t belong to anyone. Leave her alone, she obviously doesn’t want to be with you.”

A quick gleam of a silver blade caught the gentle light of the setting sun and you felt your mouth go dry. Before a scream could escape your mouth, a vivid thud then a crunch thundered in your ears. You didn’t even want to open your eyes. You didn’t think you could even see with the flood of tears clustering your vision.

“Y/N-chan? Y/N-chan! It’s okay,” Tooru. “It’s okay now. I-I knocked him out.”

Wrenching your eyes wide, you saw Oikawa crouched next to you on the ground, rubbing circles onto your back as he nestled himself in your shoulder. Behind him was Daisuke. Laid spread-eagle on his back, the menacing cutter now seeming so small in his large grip. Next to his bruised head was a single volleyball shoe.

Just about the size of Oikawa’s sock-clad right foot.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

A month later

“Ain’t Captain awfully chipper lately?” Kindaichi muttered to his upperclassmen, balancing a ball on his fingertips, only to have it bounce to the floor in an instant.

Hanamaki, while unlacing the intricate knots adorning the nets, shot the first year an incredulous look. Sighing, he said, “You really haven’t heard at all, haven’t you?”

Kindaichi felt it would be too embarrassing to say. He kept quiet.

“He made up with his girlfriend recently. Turned out, she was being threatened by her psycho of an ex-boyfriend if she didn’t break up with him. The guy’s finally behind bars, so I guess that contributes to it too.”

Kindaichi’s eyes lit up. Oh, he knew about this. “I’ve seen that before on the news! Man, must be pretty scary for Oikawa-san’s girlfriend… I honestly wouldn’t be able to do anything if I were her. That’d put too much mental strain on me.”

From behind him, Matsukawa snickered, ruffling the boy’s hair casually, earning him a dirty look. “Don’t try to compare yourself to L/N-san. The tips of your haircut will catch fire if you had the same amount of stress she did.”

“Grilled Napa Cabbage!”

“Hanamaki-san, don’t tease!”

From the other side of the gym, Oikawa Tooru eyed his phone glassily, his pupils on the verge of forming hearts. It was over. It was finally over. Now he was back to his previous routine, with a dash of something new everyday. Same as always. He loved that always—that always was you.

L/N Y/N: I can’t wait to eat with you and Iwaizumi-san today! Thank you Tooru

Oikawa Tooru: Are you sure you don’t want to eat somewhere we usually do? I was a bit surprised that you invited us to the ramen shop ╮( ˘ ､ ˘ )╭

L/N Y/N: Ehhhh??? Do I have to cancel reservations? Do you want to eat somewhere else??

Oikawa Tooru: Just kidding Y/N-chan~ ☆⌒(ゝ。∂) I want to see how much red peppers you can add to your broth before passing out ☆

L/N Y/N: Mean!! ( `ε´ )

Oikawa Tooru: Ehehe~

“Oikawa, let’s go. L/N’s probably waiting for us already,” Iwaizumi called out from the gym’s doors, mouth nearly frothing at the image of free bowls of ramen that he didn’t have to pay for tonight.

Waving off his best friend, he turned to his screen to type out one last message, a soft smile adorning his face. “Happy birthday, Y/N-chan. I’ll cherish you today, tomorrow and the days after that. Thank you for loving me as me.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru imagine #oikawa tooru scenario #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime imagine #iwaizumi hajime scenario #aoba johsai x reader #sfw #bruh haikyuu writing #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi x reader #tooru x reader #hajime x reader

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ladieslovingladiesandfics · 5 years ago

Text

Cupcake

Modern day Aveline de Grandpre is a big ol lesbian that either drives a Jeep or a truck and has no self control and her jock bff Connor is at least 90% of her impulse control

Y’all can fight me on this

“Are you two going to kiss, or what?”

Aveline almost slams the front end of her beautiful Jeep-sophine into the rear end of a truck in front of them, almost choking on air. She pulls over, on to the side of the road, dark eyes glaring over at her taller best friend who stares down at her with the most innocent of eyes he could ever muster.

Bastard. “Do you not know how to keep out of my business, Connor?”

“Maybe.” the taller man shrugs his broad shoulders, a sort of quizzical yet neutral look upon his face; but the woman knows that her best friend is snickering underneath that facade of his. He’s just super good at hiding it.

Damn him. “I am only asking because we have known one another for many years and you are obviously in love with Y/N to the point it drives me insane, and if you are not going to kiss her then I wil- ow!” the man lets out a small hiss at the rough punch the woman dealt to his elbow, before falling silent as she drives her way back on to the Boston roads, both of them ready to scream at anything and everything that moves. “What?” Connor hisses out. “You know that I am right.” “Fuck off.”

“Legally I cannot, seeing as we’re going at least sixty miles an hour in your car and if I jump out of the car, I will certainly die-”

“If you do not shut the fuck up, Connor, I will kick you out of my jeep and run you over myself.”

“But then I will not be able to bake for you anymore.”

Aveline opens her mouth for a moment, then closes it, grumbling as her eyes were kept trained on the road ahead. Connor was right though, and while she knew that he was kidding with his threat of himself kissing the tiny woman, she knew that he would just do about anything to get them together. A kind man, and her best friend no doubt, but curse his persistence. “Where is this bakery you mentioned?” she questions him after a moment of silence between them, the taller man glancing down at his phone for the GPS. “A few more minutes. I promise you that they are good, Aveline. Do not be so worried.”

She only answers him with a hum as they turn left, according to the directions murmured by the device parking at the lot in front of the store. The woman marches into the store with her friend behind her, but Connor had busied himself with greeting the friendly bakery kittens, cooing over all three of them with their mum. Aveline would greet them later. She instead surveys each of the wares, humming in deep thought. “Can I help you?” The sweet old lady questions, having to stand on a stool to peer over the glass cases that held the pastries. How cute, it’s just like Y/N and her need to stand on top of everything to reach something.

The thought brings a gentle smile to her face, spreading across her lips in an unconscious effort. “Ah, I know that look.” the baker lady smirks from her position across from her. She hums and giggles in her own sage-like way. “You getting something for your boo?”

“Well…” Aveline begins to say, the grin fading into obscurity, a feeling of shame. “Not exactly.” “Ah, a confession then? We do those a lot here.” the woman lets out a hum, hopping down from her stool to stride over to the counter in her wobbly steps. Aveline follows in her footsteps, pausing at the countertop when there is a snicker from the lady. “From what I can guess, is your boo shorter than you?” “Yes...how did you know?”

“Pssh, comes with the territory, dear.” she rubs her hands together in anticipation, a twinkle in her eyes. “Now, what are you planning to do to confess to this person?” “She loves flowers, and has researched extensively on the language of them.” Aveline pauses in her words, refusing to continue as she brings a hand up to her head, where a pin of a tulip crafted out of yarn and beads lay. “She claims roses are overrated, and prefers tulips.” she remembered walking in on Y/N one day, her nose in yet another giant book about flora and fauna.

She remembers her eyes lighting up the moment their eyes caught one another, beckoning the taller Frenchwoman to her secret corner in the library and curl up beside her, sharing the book on both of their laps and reading it together. Shoulder to shoulder, oh so close, hands always ghosting over each other whenever they try to move and turn the page.

And then they began talking about the flowers they read, before delving into the topic of favorites and their meanings. Y/N always stuck by her love and adoration for tulips and irises, knowing that when combined it’s a message and a declaration of love.

The way her eyes shimmer and shine and her lips curl up into a sweet smile caused her heart to shudder and stutter every time she sees it.

“Ah, I see…” the old woman’s words brought Aveline out of her reverie, writing down scribbles on a notepad. “What else can you tell me about her, dear? What does she like to eat?” “She eats fruit to destress, berries are her favorite.”

Aveline always brought her lunch whenever she could, with a small carton of strawberries or mangoes or peaches or whatever she knew that Y/N liked. When she eats something she loves, she always lets out a small squeal of delight, her foot rapidly tapping against the floor like a dog who has its favorite spot scratched; a little puppy, full of love and oh so sweet as the fruit she devours.

Y/N is never without some sort of fruit flavored boba tea or her all time favorite avocado smoothies from Vietnamese restaurants; and one time Aveline decided to bring some banh mi and a smoothie to her and oh...oh. Never had she seen her light up like that. With a face and expression that rivals the sun itself.

Again the woman hums, further writing things down on the parchment. “Anything else? Colors? Hints of things she likes?” “Poetry.” her hand subconsciously went straight to her purse, leather and designer. Inside held her wallet, inside held a poem that she kept close to her heart. The first poem that Y/N had ever given her, sealed with ink and stickers of Sanrio mascots. “She also loves the Sanrio characters, like Hello Kitty and My Melody.”

“Sounds like a sweet girl.” the old lady rips the sheet out of its glued position, “Give me a minute. I know just what to give her.” and with that, the woman skips her way into the back, humming with pride.

Aveline blinks, curious as to what this woman could come up with. She had heard from Connor that this special place has a knack for making the right dessert for the right occasions. And she wanted to see if it was true.

Instead, she goes off to occupy her time with Connor and the trio of kittens and their mum, cooing and purring in delight.

“Done!” the happy ring of the baker’s voice caused six heads to turn towards her, the woman who held a box of cupcakes in her wrinkled paws. “My masterpieces!” Both of them stride over to the woman, gasping at the decorations she placed upon each of the cupcakes.

A flower out of berries and fruit.

Rose, tulip, iris, sunflower, and more, a sextet of edible flora. “It’s perfect! Thank you!” Aveline hurriedly pulls her wallet out of her purse, ready to shove her credit card into the hand of the woman before Connor slid his own towards the baker. “What? Connor?” The man shrugs, smirking. “It is on me, Aveline.” he says, bumping their shoulders together. “Come on, we should get going. Her lunch time is almost going to start!”

The bag containing the cupcakes in hand, Aveline smiles as they rush out to the car, her heart lighter and full of confidence.

With these cupcakes in hand, surely...surely, she will be able to announce her feelings to Y/N at last.

Who wouldn’t want to be confessed to with cupcakes, anyway?

#aveline de grandpre #connor kenway #AND IF U SQUINT RLYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY WELL U CAN SEE A HINT OF #Ratonhnhaké:ton x reader #in there #aveline de grandpre x reader #Assassin's Creed #assassins creed #assassin's creed imagine #assassin's creed x reader #ac3 #assassin's creed 3 #Ratonhnhaké:ton #connor kenway x reader

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ziracona · 4 years ago

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Do you have any favorite drinks and foods headcanons for ilm?? I feel like Meg would like Shirley templess 👀

Hmmm for sure but there’s so many characters I don’t know how to comprehensively answer this, haha. Meg probably would enjoy that. I think she drinks sometimes for fun or bc it seemed like a good idea at the time, but actually prefers non-alcoholic, because it’s not that great to her, and also because you have to not take your adhd meds if you plan on drinking that day as they interact, and amphetamine > depressant lol. I think she enjoys fruity mixed non-alcoholic stuff a lot. Specially if it got that 👌 zest 👌 to it.

Meg is a huge nerd who likes most of her favorite foods for fan reasons. Her favorite food is chocolate chip cookies with blue chocolate chips because of Percy Jackson. Favorite drink she would probably say is coke, but in reality it’s probably some kind of non-alcoholic cocktail she wouldn’t think to name.

Jake has a proficient pallet from being rich and can actually tell a huge difference in food quality, but hates this and is determined not to be the spoiled rich shithead who only deins to eat from a plate prepared by someone who graduated prestigious culinary school at the top of their class. Has forced himself to acquire a taste for lean meats and nuts. Would request like salted cashews if Meg was getting snacks & she’d throw a fit bc mixed nuts isn’t a treat and he would be offended she was judging his pick. Secretly really appreciates diligently and artfully prepared food. Does not like lamb. He will hunt and there’s not much he feels bad about eating, but he saw a lamb going to get slaughtered as a kid and absolutely will not stomach that as food ever since. Would feel weak & has probably only mentioned it to Dwight, or maybe Claudette, bc she’d never judge or be mean, or maybe Quentin, Kate, or Adam, because Quentin & Kate would agree, and Adam is like, the chillest man ever.

Dwight likes sea salt and vinegar chips, beers, Pepsi, pretzels, steak, and (secretly) those frosted animal crackers. Gets shit constantly for his taste in food and drink. Just wants to be left alone. One time Claudette drank a beer with him to make him feel better bc everyone else was making fun of him for liking beer and she is sweetheart.

Claudette enjoys a dish her mom makes out of fried onions, squash, artichokes, and optionally also mushrooms, probably more than any other food in the world. It is really good. Favorite drink is sparkling grape juice. It makes her feel like she is drinking champagne, but it actually tasted good, and won’t get her drunk or hungover. Also likes tea a lot. Most green and white tea types especially.

Nea likes almost anything with a cronch when you bite into it. Enjoys fish too, and curry the way Min makes it (which is very rushed college student but like, rushed college student with standards). Really likes empanadas after being introduced to them. Also genuinely really loved both Claudette’s amaranth oatmeal and her realm cookies, and since she and Quentin kind of ‘grew up’ inside the realm, it’s also like, surreally and kind of heartbreakingly, a nostalgic and comforting childhood memory to her. They remind her of times she was more okay as a teenager. :’-] Favorite drink is probably a kind of complicated cocktail that is very strong but also sweet and tangy, nursed for a long time. Or a sports drink if she’s on the go. (Lol her fave drink is just the alcoholic version of Meg’s).

Min likes anything spicy that is prepared well, but especially likes meat dishes. Girl wants her protein so she can kick ass. Really loves Ace’s cooking. Smell is 70% of taste. Spice it up, fam. Only knows how to cook 3 dishes on her own, but they’re a good 3. Doesn’t have a single fave. Although she does greatly enjoy just like, devouring a slab of meat if Anna cooks. It makes her feel like a powerful wild beast to just shred a flank with her teeth and she digs that. Fave drink is baijiu, although more in a competitive way because it’s alcoholic af & she can stomach it than actually for taste or pleasure. For taste she will just mooch off Nia & Ace, who both like fruity alcohol.

Ace likes a homemade bread recipe of his mother’s most (I think he and Frank are the only two with stated favorites in-fic?). Makes it a lot for the girls and for friends, and everyone likes it so this works out well. Enjoys martinis and any fruity alcohol, but is good about not actually getting drunk past lucidity. Also enjoys just really nice brands of various juice (mango is probably his favorite?)

Quentin likes his Dad’s pasta recipes probably most, but doesn’t have a favorite from among them. Also likes red velvet cake a lot because he only ever gets it on his birthday and it makes him happy. His mom died when he was really young and he pretty much doesn’t remember her, but one of the memories he still has is of her giving him birthday cake. It’s the time of year he always feels closest to her. Favorite drink is energy drinks because he’s stupid and likes to play god with his body and knock back adderall with shots of redbull. Didn’t like energy drinks so much before Freddy, and back then probably Coca-Cola or something was the fave, but now energy drinks are associated with comfort in his head, so he genuinely likes them. Also really likes M&Ms. Used to treat himself to a bag from the school vending machine if he had a shitty day, so they are also associated with comfort.

David likes chips (as in fries cut UK style/thick, not American chips). He is enlightened and sees the true value of all potato products as well, and honors them as such. Also is the enjoyable kind of person who genuinely & visibly appreciates most all good food. He likes beers too (you and Dwight, buddy) although he’s got better taste in them. His favorite drink is probably coffee though. He likes strong coffee, full body, with just a little bit of cream and sugar so it’s still bitter but has a pleasant edge to it. Not sure why that’s his favorite. He just really likes it.

Laurie likes strawberry milk. Would give that answer if asked for fave food or drink. If prompted further would consider, then suggest that as her drink, and some kind of really nice soup as her favorite—probably pumpkin. Will genuinely enjoy any gift of food someone picked out for her with some thought. Also loves Mac’n Cheese a lot, but would not admit to that to everyone because she’s kind of embarrassed that as many times as she’s had it in the past two years alone, her heart still sees a warm bowl and years for the good shit.

Kate likes fruit. Mangos, raspberries, blueberries, blackberries, peaches, pears, pomegranates. Has the patience to eat a pomegranate too. Would just say “fruit” if asked. Loves to pick it fresh. Favorite drink is probably a smoothie, but she would insist that counts. What flavor would vary, but she leans towards blueberry or raspberry on default because she likes the colors.

Tapp likes Chinese food. Mostly this is because Chinese takeout was the nicest thing he could ever afford on the reg as a treat. However, he gets to eat real chow mein and mapo tofu (former made by Ace, the latter by Min—spicy mapo tofu being one of the 3 dishes she knows), and decides those are now his favorite food. Would not ask people to make that because it would be being a hassle, and he would think it wouldn’t matter and would be stupid & not worthwhile to request a dish when visiting a friend, but gets excited internally when they make that & gives sincere and generous compliments. Tried and failed super badly to learn how to make both, but Rachel Thomas (who didn’t know at all how to either but is great at teaching herself shit) helped him figure it out and now he makes them as often as he can without feeling like it will get old/annoy the people living with him. Favorite drink is whiskey but that’s for depression reasons. For genuine enjoyment, he likes probably just juice. Orange or pomegranate.

Adam shares Min’s enjoyment of spicy foods, but is really into trying new things and genuinely doesn’t have a favorite. If he had to pick, he’d probably say Bulla cake, because it is his favorite desert/treat. He really enjoys them & they are nostalgic to him. Good memories of his childhood. His uncle wasn’t always great at knowing what to say, but used to pack him one to take to school any time he knew Adam was stressed or intimidated by an exam or due project. Even if it went bad, he had a comfort reward for making it through. Always buys them when he’s somewhere he can. Favorite drink is tea. He likes a wide variety, but masala, jasmine, and ginger are some constant favorites. Would actually know, care about, and adhere to proper boiling/steeping times per tea type.

Jeff likes baked goods. He really enjoys the baking process itself a whole lot, especially if he has people he can cook for/share with. Definitely has created several original & very good bread recipes. Prefers bready goods to sweet ones. About the sweetest fave he has is basic scones (just bread/no nuts or fruit or filling. Slightly sweet bread with a little sugar on top, meant to be paired with jams etc when eaten). Likes those a lot. Favorite drink shifts from subtype to subtype, but is always one of his homemade craft beers. Also enjoys Dr. Pepper (ah I knew I was forgetting—both he & Joey also have some stated canon favorites. So does Susie).

Jane’s favorites are both things her dad makes. He has a really good ceviche recipe and a complicated secret recipe bean dip, and Jane likes snacking on those with a bowl of chips while chatting on the porch. Slow meal extends both fun of chat and fun of conversation. And her dad has a really good sense of spice use. She can make both well too, but is convinced they taste completely different when she does & distressed by this. Her dad insists they taste the same, but also always sympathetically packs her some time take home anyway. Her favorite drink is probably either coffee or wine, out of familiarity and comfort. She’s not very particular though. As a treat she enjoys moccacinos with a ton of whipped cream a whole lot though.

This was already super long so I’m gonna stop here, but I wood cry if I didn’t include at least Philip in what is now clearly just a survivor lineup. So honorary addition:

Philip likes anything really cold and refreshing. Prefers things with a little bite, so he would pick a cola or alcohol over a fruity drink. Not a big preference past that. Always touched and surprised any time a friend goes into a gas station pitstop and comes back with /any/ ice cold beverage for him, no matter how many times it happens. The gesture to him is very much genuine kindness instead of a friendly nothing. For food, he likes anything with enough substance to actually make him not hungry. So meat dishes are a big plus, as is nice bread. He doesn’t have a favorite meal-meal, probably, but there is a kind of cookie made entirely of egg whites and sugar, that is beaten and fluffy and sweet like a cloud and really delicious somehow despite having almost no substance. Philip had no knowledge of these, but Claudette made him some one morning she was feeling happy not too long after they both first went home to Montreal, and the meringue chocolate chip cookie variant she made was one of the best things he had ever eaten, and probably is his favorite food. They’re like little bites of the concept of sweetness without it being an overdose, and have a very unique and pleasing texture. With the chocolate added, it’s just right. 👌 And then also, of course, it was a gift welcoming to his new home, from the person who more or less is his new home. : )

#ask #anonymous #long post #im so sorry i forgot about the updates & made this on mobile so i physically cant add a read more TuT #dead by daylight #in living memory (fic)#in living memory #hope ya enjoyed! happy to do other buddy crew (Susie-Joey-Sally-Nancy-Benedict-Michael-etc) just thought the post might become fatal if it #got any longer haha #i have another ask i am excited to answer too but its 4am where i am so i am gonna do it tomorrow TuT #ilm spoilers

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excuseme-howdareyou · 5 years ago

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So you wanted Birthday prompts right? Jason sneaking Baby Damian out of the League compound for the day to celebrate his Birthday like an actual child for once. Maybe he gets to try ice cream or see a play or go to an art museum and just fldraw or something.

Stephanie Brown was the loudest and the most obnoxious singer, Damian decided, and made a face when she sang purposefully out of tune. "Happy birthday to you~!" she crowed and gave Drake a big, fat obnoxious kiss on the cheek.

On Drake's other side, Cassandra Cain smiled and plopped a cake down on the table. It was hardly bakery store worthy, with frosting slathered on in a heap of sugary chaos and the words 'Happy Birthday' piped onto it in the most atrocious handwriting. But Drake beamed at it like it was an award winning confection.

"Make a wish, birthday boy!" Steph demanded, as if it were her birthday and not someone else’s. Damian rolled his eyes at her demanding tone, but for once kept his mouth shut when Tim did just that.

"What'd you wish for?" Cassandra asked, head tilted.

Stephanie, dramatic as usual, gasped in horror," He can't tell you! Then it won't come true!"

This time, Damian could not contain his snort of derision. "Such an idiotic superstition," he mocked," Telling someone your wish -which is stupid by itself- won't affect the likelihood of it happening or not."

Steph's gasp of horror turned into one of betrayal. "You take that back," she pouted," A birthday wish is a sacred and magical thing."

"As much as I hate to agree with the Demon Brat," Drake hummed, low and thoughtful," He's got a point. Telling somebody doesn't change the odds of it happening."

"Heathens, the both of you!" she threw up her hands. One of her fingers pointed at Drake," You're just a heathen in general." Then her other hand pointed a purple painted and glittered nail at Damian," And I bet you're just sour because you've never made a birthday wish on a birthday cake since you don't celebrate your birthday."

It was true, sort of. Damian Wayne didn't know what day he was born, and he didn't really celebrate it. But...

"I've had a birthday cake once," he murmured.

Instantly, four pairs of eyes turned to him, curious and demanding. He didn't answer their silent question, but instead played with the lighter in his hand. It had been years ago, and he hadn't told anyone, not even Mother. And the only other person who knew... didn't remember...

Nanda Parbat 7 years ago, 2013

Damian al-Ghul was seven, and he still had a babysitter.

Actually, babysitter was too generous a word. Damian had a shadow. If anything, he was the babysitter, as he was the only one of the two capable of making decisions. The older boy, with his blank eyes partially hidden by shaggy dark hair, followed Damian around wherever he went. At first, he'd hated it, believing this stranger to have no part in their home with this expressionless face and nameless existence. Mother had quickly disavowed him of that notion. "He is your brother now," she actually told him, and after that there was no arguing with her.

(He'd also learned really quick that J wasn't as useless as he seemed. Out of anger one day after being followed for five hours on end, Damian once attempted to punch his new 'brother'. Instead, he found himself thrown onto his back, and then J just... stood there. As if he hadn't just body slammed a 7 year old out of pure instinct)

So now here they were, for while Damian could slip past his retinue of 'babysitters', he never really managed to lose J no matter how hard he tried. It was annoying, is what it was. But J was quiet, and he never said a word, so Damian graciously elected to keep an eye on Mother's pet project until he decided to return to the palace. For now, he was intent on wandering the market and explore since Mother and Grandfather usually never let him leave the palace unless it was for a training session.

The market was... new. There were so many new smells and sounds, and so many people. After Damian broke a man's pinky finger, the crowd of people quickly learned not to bump into him so much. It had been fun to watch J throw another person through a stall when the individual tried to grab his arm. Damian had no clue what had been going through J's mind when he did it, but he hardly broke stride as he grabbed the assaulter's arm and flipped him over onto the counter full of apples. The next second, he was right back by Damian's side, silent and blank as ever.

'He would make a decent bodyguard,' he had to admit. If only they could get past J's inability to actually think, and to be more proactive instead of reactive. But that was Mother's problem, not his.

So despite all the roughhousing, or maybe because of it, Damian was having a good time. No training, no fear of failure, no Grandfather looming over him with a sword, just him and J wandering the market and minding their own business. At one point, Damian paused when he smelled something delicious. There was a stall of small sweets, stacked higher than him and in all sorts of colors.

J stopped in front of a towering pile of burfi.

Usually, J had no manners whatsoever and just ate whenever he was hungry. It didnt matter what or who was in the vicinity, if he was hungry and there was food, he ate it. As he appeared to be gazing at the burfi with startling intensity, Damian wondered if this would be one of those moments.

Aaaaaand sure enough, there it was. He almost sighed at the predicability as J reached out and grabbed the chocolate burfi sitting on top. Before the stall owner could throw a fit, Damian tossed payment onto the counter before grabbing a mango flavored one for himself. He took a bite -not bad- and thought about looking for any weapons stalls out here when he noticed J hadn't eaten his burfi yet.

Odd. Usually it was next to impossible to stop J from eating whatever was in his hands.

Damian took another bite of his burfi and eyed the taller boy, silently wondering what he would do. And then... J did the oddest thing.

Still with that blank look in his eyes, J reached out back towards the stall counter. Instead of grabbing more food though, he plucked a stick of incense from the burner sitting there. Still smoking and smelling strongly of cardamom, the incense then found itself stuck non-burning side down right in the middle of the chocolate burfi in J's hand.

Then he held it out to Damian.

And he was humming.

Gotham City July 2020

At the time, Damian hadn't known what song J had been humming. Hell, at the time, he hadn't even really known who J was. All he remembered about that day was how he'd never heard J make a sound, both before and after, and to Damian it felt... special. It wasn't J following him around everywhere. It wasn't Mother telling him that they were brothers now. No, it was in a crowded stinking marketplace where J made his first comprehensive sound, a nameless little tune, that Damian felt that maybe this whole J sticking around thing wasn't so bad.

He never told Mother what had happened in the marketplace (other than the commoners that harassed them) nor that he heard J humming a song while giving him a sweet cake with a stick of incense sticking out of it.

It wasn't until years later, when he came to Gotham, when Dick Grayson sat him down and stuck a cake in his face with 11 candles on top, that he heard the tune again. Grayson hadn't been expecting him to attempt to twist his arm behind his back, but had laughed when Damian loudly demanded to know what that song was and what's with the cake.

It wasn't until years later that Damian fully realized what had happened that day.

And he still never told anyone.

"Grayson tried to sing me the birthday song once," he lied to Drake, Brown, and Cain," I smashed the cake in his face."

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 4 years ago

Text

Kissing Dead Pearls (Part 6)

Sokka used to chase gulls with her.

That was how they met. On a bright sunny afternoon. One where the sun blazed hotter than it had all summer. Where there were only a few extraordinarily puffy and perfectly white clouds in the sky. The forecaster had announced record high temperatures that afternoon and Ursa had been yelling, from atop the cliff, at her to get inside before she got charred.

Azula decided that day that she was a sea dragon and had boldly declared as much and that, “dragons don’t get hot!”

Ursa had stormed off the patio at a brisk pace, only to be caught by Ozai. He’d muttered something to her that was probably akin to, “let her have her fun, I’ll watch her.” Because Ursa had disappeared back into the lighthouse--presumably by Zuko--and Ozai made his way down to the beach.

She caught sight of Sokka and his family before Ozai had made it to the sand. Hakoda held his hand and Kya held Katara’s. They’d expected her to take a shining to Katara first, but she’d marched right up to Sokka and declared that his shark print swim trunks were cool, but that her dragon swimsuit was better.

For a while she, Sokka, and Katara batted at a mound of sand with brightly colored plastic shovels. Katara insisted that these little mounds were sandcastles. Azula’s had more shape to them, but they kept collapsing every time Sokka carelessly chucked sand at them. She couldn’t hit him with her eclectic blue shovel until his parents weren’t looking. And when she’d finally gotten the opportunity, he hit her back! Zuzu never hit her back. The look on his face when she’d whined that he hit her was priceless. And for nearly an hour she played exclusively with Katara.

And then they’d spotted the seagull. She hadn’t paid it much mind, none at all, actually. She had a rather decent sandcastle in the makings now that Sokka was in time out. But the seagull made itself known by landing upon her hard work and collapsing it. She screeched in aggravation and she thinks that her father might have had to stifle a chuckle. Hakoda, next to him, surely did.

In an attempt to get himself out of trouble he chucked his dark blue shovel at the gull. It squealed and shambled off. “I bet that you can’t catch it!” Azula proclaimed loudly.

“I can so!” Sokka insisted.

“If you do I’ll buy you a boat!” In essence it was a promise to steal her daddy’s credit card and somehow make her way to the boat shop across the way. Not that Sokka, only eight, could do anything with a boat. And not that she, only seven, could legally purchase one.

That logic passed the both of them by and he chased the gulls for days, sacrificing countless hamburger buns for the sake of that quest.

He never did catch that seagull.

.oOo.

She knows that she ought to go home, that there’s no sense in staying, especially not now that the tide has risen again and she can’t make her way out to the rock cluster. Instead, Azula sits on the shore with her head resting on knees that are drawn up to her chest, toes buried in the sand. The sun beams down upon her, scorching her skin. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing particularly does.

She knows, just as much as she is aware that there is no point to watching the arch, that she shouldn’t hinge her entire life on one boy.

One kind, humorous, and loving boy.

But then, this is no breakup. It isn’t a matter of moving away or growing apart. There is no chance of getting him back. So maybe it is justifiable and understandable to give in and render herself useless over one boy. One kind, humorous, and loving boy.

She feels numb. Numb to the sun on her skin that would normally breath life into her. Numb to the ocean lapping at her calves that would normally soothe her. Numb to the kind ocean breeze and numb to the greetings of the old sailors and their good natured inquiries about how she is holding up.

She answers that she is fine.

She is not fine.

Ozai has returned to the bar with a promise to come back by noon. The promise is well intended but empty no less. A few drinks from now and he will have forgotten that he’s made it at all.

It is Katara that finds her. She isn’t surprised, the girl has probably seen her from the deck of La-bsters. In the same way that Azula goes to the arch, Katara likes to sit on that deck and read or stare at the ocean and the seagulls as they zip by.

She watches Katara pad down the beach, hears the crunch of the sand beneath her feet as she kicks up small clouds of it. “Zuko told me about last night.”

Azula scoffs. “Of course he did. Zuko should stop sharing other people’s business.” She doesn’t mean to be snappish and confrontational.

Katara gives a sad half smile. Azula supposed that Katara is used to her moods, she is prone to cold and biting remarks when grief settles in. The girl drops beside her and hands her a mango-pineapple smoothie, her favorite. Long since going enviro-friendly, it is served in a hollowed pineapple. “On the house.” Katara smiles. Azula takes a sip, a pleasing fruity tang bursts on her tongue like a mouthful of sunrise. “I made it myself.” She adds.

“No wonder it tastes so horrible.”

Katara gives her bicep a firm nudge. “At least Toph didn’t make it, you remember Toph’s smoothie, right?”

Azula nods and gives her eyes a roll. “The Mustard Mango Mishap, who cold forget.” They’d let Toph truly her cooking skills and she’d very confidently pushed the mustard dispenser instead of strawberry and then several other smoothie flavors before handing it off to Azula.

It tasted lovely; pineapple, peach, and mango. But instead of strawberry or even wild berry, Azula tasted mustard. She gagged and sputtered, “i-is that mu-mustard!?”

“Whoops.” Was the only answer she’d received.

Azula sips her smoothie, the beverage icy against her palms. She adjusts her sunglasses and peers into it. “He’s dead.” She remarks bluntly.

Katara cringes. By now, she is used to Azula’s straightforward speech. She is used to it enough to take no offense, to know that she means no harm. But it doesn’t take away the sting of hearing the word ‘dead’.

“I know that he meant a lot to you too.” She says quietly.

Azula grips the pineapple tighter and lightly gnaws on her lower cheek. “I loved him.” She doesn’t think that she had told him enough. In fact, she is almost certain that she had only been able to do it once. When she, face red like a sunburn, asked him if he’d like a date with her. She recalls playful teasing, mostly central to her fluster, before he had agreed.

“So did I.” Katara says. “So do I.”

“Sometimes I want to go out and search for him myself.” Azula confesses. “That way I could say that I did everything I could.”

Katara nods. “Yeah, I sometimes think of the same thing. But then I remember that I don’t have a boat.”

“I do.” Azula replies. “Father is never home, he’d be too drunk to miss it.”

“Azula…? You’re serious?”

Azula rifles through her beach bag and pulls out a journal and several books on navigation, boat maintenance, and general sailing tips. She opens the journal and shows Katara a few pages of notes. “I’ve been studying them for months.” She pauses. “Before he went missing. He was always so enthusiastic about sailing and I enjoy learning new things. I figured that I could do my research and we’d go on a trip together one day…”

She sees Katara’s eyes tear up and her lip tremble. “He would have liked that a lot.”

Azula nods. She turns back to the horizon, watching the place where the clouds swoop down to touch the ocean. “I could get Zuko and we can all go together. I can bring Mai and TyLee, maybe…” She wasn’t holding her breath on that. Despite owning a boat rental, TyLee is horribly afraid of the ocean and is prone to seasickness. And Mai’s mother, kind as she is, is all too overbearing to let her go out to sea. “Your father can come along. And your mother.”

“One of them would have to stay behind to work on repairs to our restaurant. I can’t just leave either of them alone.”

Azula understands. It might just be she and Zuko. Or she alone. “Think about it?” Azula requests, picking up a shell and turning it over in her hand.

Katara is silent for a good while before replying, “sure, Azula. I’ll think about it.”

Azula fidgets with the shell.

“Really, I will.”

Azula nods.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Katara #Sokkla #Zutara #Zuko #Fanfiction

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bang-to-the-tan · 5 years ago

Text

Vessel Euphoria Chapter 1

► SciFi!AU

Thriller

Warnings: Major Character Death, Mind Control, Upsetting Themes Throughout, Alien Parasitism

↳ Summary: 6 months ago, the crew of the space vessel “Euphoria”—destined for a scientific study on a distant planet—dropped out of all communication. You and your fellow crewmates are inbound to reestablish communication with home base, but things are not as they seem and the fate of the mission is placed in grave danger.

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The screen in front of you buzzes gently as it boots up. It flickers blue for a moment, casting the light about your small quarters before flitting and finally settling on the menu screen. You shift to make yourself more comfortable in the worn-out dip of your military-issue chair, taking another sip of your protein shake and ignoring the potent flavor. “Mango” your ass. It would be nice if Jimin would stop hogging the strawberry ones, but like he’s said before, beating him to them would mean getting up earlier than he does. And you both know that isn’t happening.

Navigating to the files you’ve been assigned takes a fraction of a second—the filing system is badly organized and outdated, but you’ve already pored over them so many times you could access the videos in your sleep at this point. The monitor buzzes again, flickers again, before the title jitters into existence, white lettering over a black background.

LOG DATE: 13.6.2213

Space Vessel Euphoria Model 2C-4S

Flight Officer Kim Namjoon

The man that appears once the letters blink out is almost too familiar. Black hair growing steadily out of the mandated cut, pushed up and off his forehead for the time being. Deceptively strong biceps shown off by his tank top, but partnered with a kind face and easy-going presence as he leans forwards in his captain’s chair to check the recording light. You only saw him in real life the once, when you saw his crew off on their maiden voyage alongside the rest of central command. There was so much excitement that day you often have trouble remembering exactly what you thought of him and his men. Whatever you saw about the way they carried themselves. The only thing that really stuck with you all this time was how young everyone looked. How unsure, but determined. Namjoon, especially, seemed so confident and you’ve never forgotten his bright smile. It’s strange to think that you aren’t too far from seeing him in the flesh again. Face-to-face, shaking his hand, even. It’s an intimidating thought, but you can’t wait.

“This is Flight Officer Kim Namjoon, of the Vessel Euphoria.” He begins. The first time you saw this log, you completely missed the way his plump lips quirk as he speaks his title. The brief, quickly smothered flash of pride. Sitting in your chair, legs draped over the edge comfortably, you can’t help but smirk along with him. Go ahead, Officer Kim. Own it. You earned that title, fair and square. You take another overly-sweet sip of your shake.

“It is—“ he checks his watch, then looks back to the camera, “Roughly 1500 hours in earth time. We have been safely landed and had our research base fully set up on our target planet for about two months now, and research is going…” He pauses here, stares off into the distance, rubs his hands together as his chair swivels gently.

“It’s going.” He finishes. “Our chief biologist has run into a few hiccups with regards to the local flora and fauna, but nothing to impede progress. Maintenance has gone smoothly, mostly thanks to the station being well-stocked and navigation’s rationing of equipment. There have been a few…disagreements among the crew, but again, nothing to disrupt the mission.”

He goes on for a while like this—describing the minutia of everyday life at his post, the adjustments they’ve made and the problems they’ve encountered. None of it particularly interests you anymore. You’ve already scoured his messages to the bone, could practically recite it along with him. The biology specialist received the camera they had requested and found it to be more than satisfactory. The navigator had successfully rerouted a more efficient path to the secondary communications tower. You fast-forward a little until you see his shoulders drop and the tell-tale sigh that signals your favorite part of the whole video, and hit play.

He hesitates again. The way his eyes flit upwards, meet yours through the screen—you could almost convince yourself it was a video chat instead of a recording. All of his logs are like that, in some form or another. He’s very good at being open, honest, in a way that feels like he’s actually talking to you.

“We miss home.” Namjoon confesses. You nod.

“Understandable, sir,” you mumble. “Home misses you.”

“But this is an incredible opportunity.” His eyebrows raise and a real, excited smile curves his mouth, dimples his cheeks. “And we look forward to the strides science will take with the aid of our efforts.” He nods with a sense of finality. A sense of gathering himself back into a professional doing his job, instead of a young man millions upon millions of miles from home. “Nothing else to report. I will deliver a full report next week, and maintain our daily checks in the meantime. Flight Officer Kim Namjoon, of the Vessel Euphoria. Signing off.” He reaches up, out of the camera’s sight, and the video drops.

You watch the screen hum and turn blue, taking another long pull from your cup. It’s not like the video’s ever going to change. You know that, logically. And you doubt you’re going to notice anything new the ten-million-and-secondth time you watch it. But that won’t stop you from replaying it. Trying your best to glean any information you can.

Besides which, you’ve always felt...comfortable with Officer Kim’s logs. He talks to the camera like it’s a person, like you’re really there, listening to his deep, soothing voice tell you about how everything is going according to plan and how he looks forwards to the future. The other crew members’ logs are charming—but there’s something about Namjoon that always settles whatever unease is plaguing you.

Your comm crackles and your own officer’s voice speaks through it, shattering the moment of almost-peace.

“All technicians to the front deck in five minutes for the pre-contact debrief.”

Jimin’s voice is the first one to reply, always eager to check in before anyone else. “Navigation, copy.”

You set your shake down to quickly reach for your communications device and hold the button on the side down. “Communications, copy.”

The line is silent.

“Maintenance?” When Officer Jung Hoseok speaks again, you can almost taste the annoyance in his voice.

Finally, there’s an answering static. “Yep, yes, maintenance copies.” Min Yoongi’s distracted, deep voice crawls out of the speaker, obviously currently possessed by whatever it is that he’s tinkering with now. Probably the storage lockdown units—his personal pet project. He’s been convinced lately that they’re not secure enough for touch down. Of course, it could just be a front to hide the fact that he’s stashing instant coffee down there, but you let it slide. He’s made a point of looking the other way when he catches you with chocolate, anyways, so the two of you have something of a silent agreement.

“Can maintenance copy when I give the order, instead of requiring a separate prompt?”

You chuckle as you sit up, gathering your work jumpsuit off the floor, shuffling into it awkwardly. It’s not like your commander to interrupt free time, or to get so markedly pissed at something as simple as not answering an initial comm call, but everyone’s on edge right now. Even him.

“Maintenance certainly can roger that, sir.”

“Thank you, Specialist Min.”

“Anytime, Officer Jung.”

The jumpsuit catches halfway up your chest for a moment, but you get it zipped up eventually, just as you’re shaking your head at your crew member’s sass. Any other flight officer might have had him for any one of those comments. Pulled him into a meeting, chewed his ass off for disrespecting his chain of command. But Hoseok didn’t operate like that. He knew when to tighten ship and when to let sleeping dogs lie and thankfully Yoongi always knew where to draw the line between being a dick and being insubordinate. You’re not certain now is the time to be mouthing off, so close to the most important stage of your shared mission, but it’s not like you exactly had a leash on the man, either. Sometimes, you just counted yourself lucky that Jimin wasn’t confrontational. At least, not directly.

Despite the fact that you weren’t the first to copy in, you’re the first of your crew to actually enter the ‘front deck’. Hoseok is already set up there, standing by his usual seat at the head of the table taking up the majority of the space. He rolls his eyes at you when you walk in and stand in front of your chair to his left.

“I can’t wait until this mission is over.” He mutters.

“Why? I thought you loved reconstituted mashed peas?”

“Oh, God, I adore reconstituted mashed peas. I’ll have to get them on special order when we get home. But more specifically, I would relish the chance to laugh in those two clowns’ faces when they mouth off to their boss back home and turn up late to whatever part-time cushy office job they do between callouts and get fired for it. I mean.” He gestures towards the empty doorway, just as Yoongi meanders through it. “It’s been five months on this little road trip. You think they’d have learnt to answer their comms and maybe walk just a tiny bit faster.”

“It’s not like the station’s going anywhere,” Yoongi quips as he leans against his seat to Hoseok’s right comfortably. He shrugs, pouting, and reaches to scratch at the back of his neck. “And the mission isn’t going to complete itself any faster even if I ran here.”

“None of us are used to callouts taking this long,” you point out, “They’ve always behaved better on short missions.”

“I’m here, I’m here, sorry,” Jimin pipes up suddenly, bouncing through the doorway and slipping gracefully towards his chair on Yoongi’s side. He shuffles to stand behind it, one hand raised in an apologetic gesture. “Sorry--”

“Is this the ‘deep shit’ room or the ‘boring work stuff’ room right now?” Yoongi asks your commander.

“Little bit of both, thanks to you two. I thought I had made myself clear by saying five minutes.” Hoseok looks down each of you in turn, easily slipping from harried nanny back into Officer Jung with one switch of his tone. All three of you straighten, hands by your sides, facing forwards. “These next phases of our mission are critical to its success, and one mistake could result in us having to abandon even Euphoria’s mission and taking her crew back home with us. I won’t tolerate this again. I want you in here, on time, when I call. Early, even. Does everyone understand?”

“Yes, sir,” rings the agreement from each of you.

“Good.” He nods. Then finally goes to sit. The rest of the crew follows, filing into their seats in unison. “Okay, team. We’re due to hit Orul-82’s atmosphere in a couple of hours. From there, we land by the primary communications hub. I’d like to quickly run back over what each of your tasks is. Yoongi, I want you assessing any damage on the hub itself. Jimin, I want you with Yoongi to determine and fix whatever is downing their contact with control. The remaining two of us will go into the station and look for the crew. See if we can’t get statements. Remember that the only official statement that we have to consider is Officer Kim’s.”

“In case there’s been a fight,” Yoongi rumbles.

“In case Seokjin tries to slip his comms line to our communications expert,” Jimin retorts with a grin and a waggle of his eyebrows. You shake your head at him, rolling your eyes towards the ceiling.

“Like that would happen.”

“I heard he’s very persuasive. And it’s been over a year since he’s even seen a real woman. I’d give you two days of holding out, tops.”

“That’s incredibly unprofessional,” you tease, “but also how dare you, I bet I could make it to three.”

“I’d bet shakes against anything longer than 24 hours.”

The determination in the expression you shoot him is too real. “Strawberry?”

“The entire crew is inexperienced,” Hoseok cuts in. “Officer Kim is the reporting authority and anything we take down goes through him first, unless we have reason to believe he has a conflict of interest or reason to discredit his statements.”

“So just to be clear, we’re all still ignoring the fact that this whole situation is fishy, then.”

Your gaze flits to Yoongi, who leans back faintly in his chair, rubbing his fingertips together. As you all look to him, he frowns and shrugs, rolling his eyes anywhere but to meet yours.

“We’re still putting our faith in the squeaky-clean official report.” He clarifies.

“Not this again,” Jimin complains quietly.

“That the communications tower just needs servicing. I know I’m not the only one who’s seen the holes in the mission objective.”

“Yoongi.”

“I’m just saying. Those towers aren’t built to fall over. They’re sturdy. A monkey could keep their condition from critical—and Jeon Jungkook is one of the best maintenance operators to come out of the academy. The towers don’t even need maintenance but every six years or so. It’s strange—“

“We all know what you think.” Your officer interrupts. Yoongi falls back into petulant silence. “And we’ve discussed this before, Specialist Min. Several times. This is not some kind of rescue mission. We didn’t come all this way just to settle a disagreement. This crew is working under the assumption that the reason for the Euphoria’s half-year radio silence is a technological issue that could not be solved because of a lack of resources on their base planet. As per the official report.”

He pauses. Looks back down to the desk with an assenting twitch of his head. When he continues, his tone has relaxed.

“It’s….yeah. It’s strange. I’ll give you that one. I know you worked with Namjoon back on Earth. So did I. Even command has to know that it’s not like him to abandon his reports. But we have to assume the best case scenario until we get there. We have to continue based on the information we do have, rather than speculating. It’ll do no one any good to run in, guns blazing.”

“Do we have guns?” Jimin murmurs under his breath, a quizzical tilt to his jaw.

You snort. “You know that we don’t.”

“Maybe we should have guns.” He raises his eyebrows at you. It’s hard, but you resist the urge to roll your eyes. The Epiphany is a ‘mission assist vessel’, the equivalent of a repair van specifically tailored for scientific studies—by no means a combat-ready ship. The most offensive item you even have on board is a taser. Or possibly Yoongi without his coffee.

“The mission objective is to re-establish contact,” Hoseok repeats firmly, cutting back through with professionalism. “Anything else we need to deal with, we will deal with according to protocol. Are we all in agreement?”

Another chorus of “Yes, sir,” rises among the crew, though Yoongi still doesn’t look convinced.

“Are we all clear on our duties from here on out?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Excellent.”

When Officer Jung stands, everyone stands with him. “We’ll be entering the atmosphere in two hours, at which point I expect every one of you to move forward with your assignments. You’re all dismissed.”

But instead of leaving, he reaches his hand out over the table and everyone follows suit, placing your hands on top of one another. He looks each of you in the eyes individually, his signature grin pulling at the corners of his lips. When his eyes meet yours, you feel a rush of loyalty straight from your head to your toes. Revitalized, like being given a mission from your home sun itself.

“Who are we?”

“Epiphany.” The three of you answer. The hands dip once, firmly.

“Who are we?!” He asks again, bordering on shouting.

“EPIPHANY!” You all shriek. Yoongi tries to hide the answering smile that begins to cross his face, but one look at how Jimin plays at being so incredibly pumped—eyebrows reaching for the ceiling, eyes wide, grinning like a madman--ruins any chance he had of remaining cool. All four of you dissolve into scattered giggles.

“Let’s go kick Namjoon’s ass for being careless and rub our superior crew in his face.” Hoseok says, craning his neck and stretching briefly as he straightens, still grinning.

“I can’t wait to see Taehyung again,” Jimin begins to chatter congenially, tailing Yoongi out of the door. “I bet he’s king of the jungle by now.”

“Didn’t you watch his logs? There is no jungle on Orul, Jimin.” “Bet he’s made one.”

“Out of what…?”

You hesitate in the doorway on the way out. When you turn to look at your commander, he meets your gaze steadily.

“…It’s been five months off home soil.” you say finally.

“I can count, thank you.”

“Enough time to think about our objective. Objectively.”

“Not this again.” Hoseok looks tired. You know he’d hoped that actually reaching your destination would have meant Yoongi’d stop voicing what everyone’s already come to think. That there’s something going on down there. Something command doesn’t want on the record books. There’s never even been a vessel of your classification sent so far from home base.

“He’s always been right about the communications towers. They don’t break easy.”

“You haven’t met Namjoon,” he chuckles, but it’s distant.

“What do you think?”

“It’s not in my job description to think.”

“Off the record. Nowhere near the record. Just…for opinion’s sake. Crew member to crew member.”

“I worked so hard for all those years to become your superior officer only to get demoted the minute you want my opinion…?” he complains, but the way his eyes flit to the side gives him away. It hasn’t exactly been an easy half year. And everyone’s had doubts.

“They’re good guys.” He replies after a beat. “Really good. I never met the others personally, but Namjoon is the best at what he does. He’s a good leader; good at supporting people and good at resolving conflict. I couldn’t have picked anyone better suited for his mission.”

“But?”

He pauses again. Looks back to you. When he sighs, his shoulders drop and his mouth quirks into a wry smile. “But, we’re all human. That’s something a million miles between you and the rest of the world can’t change. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried. Maybe he’s finally bit off more than he could chew. I don’t know. Let’s just hope he tripped over a stray wire or something.”

You can’t help but smile back, amused by the image. You nod, and turn to take your leave, but look back to meet his gaze. “Thank you for your honesty, Officer Jung.”

“Of course, Specialist. And, just for clarity’s sake--” he begins to add. A comical look of concern drapes itself over his face, breaking the serious atmosphere totally. You grin.

“Ten feet of distance between you and Navigation Specialist Kim Seokjin.”

“Can we bargain for nine?”

“Eleven. At all times.”

“What can we accomplish at eleven feet…” you pretend to muse. “Especially considering he’s primary navigations…?”

Hoseok shakes his head with a scrunched-up expression of disgust, arms up as if to physically defend himself from your implications, eyes screwed shut. “Please, god.”

“Do you think he could ‘navigate’ his way—“

“Specialist I will turn this vessel around.”

You laugh. “I’ll see you at touch down.”

“Yeah. You too.”

Though you feel better for joking around, you’re only too aware of the tight angle of your commanding officer’s shoulders. The way his eyes seem heavier than usual.

Five months of speculation, answered in two hours and everyone is only too aware of it.

Even with everything else taken into consideration, you’ll admit to being excited.

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#bts fanfic #bts scifi au #bts thriller #vessel euphoria #bts x reader #sorry its later than usual i almost lost that stupid fucking title card like four times lmAO #what a travesty #ya so this is the bad horrible times nonsense that has been bubbling away in my head for a while now uhhhh #ENJOY lol!

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