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mellowyandere · 3 years

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You’re Ours to Protect

Had a weird dream last night. Thought you might enjoy it.

Reader: F

Characters: Toshinori Yagi (All Might), Aizawa Shouta (Eraserhead), Yamada Hizashi (Present Mic)

Summary: Your time as an anti-hero might finally be coming to an end. With three pros on your tail it’s a miracle this didn't happen sooner. (Reader has a quirk but it’s not very important to the smut.)

Length: 4.5 K (I have come to the conclusion that I am incapable of writing below 4 K)

Warnings: non-con, yandere themes, slight bondage/restraints, voyeurism, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, anal fingering, anal sex, M/M/F, mostly clothed male, naked reader, slight cum swallowing, Eraserhead and Present Mic are in an established relationship in this fic.

Hands were on your body, hands that shouldn’t be there. Your mind was stuck in a fog, your limbs so heavy you could barely move them. What was going on? You strained to remember, thinking long and hard about what might have led you here as calloused fingers blazed trails along your exposed thighs. You managed to wiggle your limbs a bit, shaking off the haze that muddled your brain.

You groaned, trying to open your eyes so you can get a better understanding of your surroundings. Your hands were restrained behind your back but it seemed your legs were free. You'd murder who ever had their fucking hands on you. As your eyes adjusted to the light you couldn't help but groan again as the figure in front of you came into view. You tried and failed to subtly use your quirk, this didn’t look good.

“Eraserhead. Didn’t realize you were still wasting your time looking for me. Not my fault I beat you to that criminal. Hero’s leaving trash like him alive is such a stupid concept. He was a murderer you know.”

You looked around to the best of your ability as you spoke, you were sitting on a plush dark green couch in what appeared to be a relatively empty basement. You had been stripped of your gear, leaving you in your underwear and an oversized t-shirt. Two men were flanking you on the couch. The one to your left you didn't recognize. He was ridiculously tall, as well as skinny. Blond hair a mess as two long bangs hid his eyes from view. To your right was a pro you did recognize. His emerald green eyes sparkled in delight behind his civilian glasses as he grinned down at you. So it was their hands on your body currently. They’d die first then.

“So, what does that make you?” the dark haired pro murmured, leaning forwards and somewhat regaining your attention.

You ignored his question, opting to look about some more. There wasn't a one-way mirror or any recording device in sight. Were they interrogating you off the books? This whole situation seemed off, these were heroes right? They’d convict you and leave you to rot in a dingy jail cell somewhere.. but this didn't look like a normal interrogation room.

“I know this is my first time getting caught and all but this doesn’t really seem up to protocol. Gonna haul me away after having fun or something?” You shifted your gaze to the obsidian eyes in front of you, leaning forwards to mimic his posture.

Present Mic barked out a laugh, hand squeezing harder on you thigh much to your annoyance. “Sorry babe but prison won’t be your final destination! I mean after all y’aint evil, just a lil misguided is all, nothin’ three pros can’t fix.” He ended his sentence with a pinch to your leg.

“If you don’t get your fucking hands off me I’ll kill you!” You snarled, turning and getting up in Present Mic’s face. The tall blond to your left pulled his hands back, scooting away as Present Mic continued to leer down at you.

“HAH little girls got some bite, but we already knew that. Don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to use that quirk. I’m hurt now! You really would try to kill me huh?” he mocked with a fake pout, but you could see the amusement in his eyes.

“I’m sure you’ve already realized by now you can’t use your quirk. It wasn’t easy making a device to cancel it out, but thanks to our newest colleague here the hardest part was collecting your DNA and picking what color collar we wanted.” Eraserhead leaned forward, fingers tugging on the collar you only now just realized was around your neck.

You tried to bite him, but he pulled back. If only you could wipe that stupid smirk off his face with a heart attack. Your quirk was the ability to clot blood after all. A handy trick if you found yourself injured, but even more so for killing once you learned how to properly control it. No one really batted an eye at an ischemic stroke due to the clotting of an artery to the brain. Well.. almost nobody..

“You have a very impressive ability,” the tall blond stated, “in all honesty we probably wouldn’t have caught on if we hadn’t watched you kill. You’ve induced countless of natural looking deaths, but upon closer inspection you target people whose crimes would have landed them in jail. Noble, but very misguided. You’re pretty reckless though, what if you had gotten hurt?”

“So fucking what if I did.” You kept your eyes glued to Present Mic as you responded, trusting him a lot less than the man behind you. His eyes narrowed dangerously at your snarky rebuttal.

“Language young lady, and that’s no way to talk! What would compel you to risk your life, why don’t you trust your hero’s more?”

You clenched your teeth in frustration but didn’t respond. You were done cooperating, not like you were doing much to begin with though.

The scrapping of a metal chair on concrete drew your gaze as Eraserhead stood up.

“Back up Zashi, I’ll take over from here. Toshinori you’re fine where you are.”

You couldn’t help but struggle a bit at his words. “What do you mean, what the hell are you going to do!? You insane or something? Just turn me in to the police!”

“You really don't pay attention do you. Hizashi already said you’re not going to the police. I don’t know what skeletons you have in your closet, or why you started killing people, but that will come out in due time. For now you don’t have to kill anymore. The three of us will take care of you, without the law sentencing you to life. We’ve been hunting you down for so long. We’ve been very patient, but right now you need us to help show you what you’ve been missing. Running around all by yourself, you must have been so lonely.” Eraserhead finished up his little spiel as he stalked forwards, looming over your sitting frame.

“Don’t fucking TOUC-gah!” You had been so focused on Eraserhead’s approach you hadn’t noticed Present Mic coming at you with a gag until it was too late.

“Yagi already asked you to watch that dirty mouth of yours, don’t worry though babe once you simmer down a bit we’ll take it out.”

“Ple-please Hizashi call me Toshinori we’ve been over this.”

You gave Eraserhead your best glare as he stopped in front of you. He smiled softly at your defiance before wedging his knee in between your legs and slamming his hands onto the couch, caging you in. Wait by show you what you were missing.. these hero's were going to..?

You tried to talk reason, but all that came out were muffled pleas. None of it coherent.

“We’ve been watching over you for 5 months now kitten. Trying to find the best way to approach you but in the end taking you somewhere safe seemed to be the only logical solution. While getting this house ready for your arrival we all started to feel as if you belonged here all along. I know it’s not fair, we’ve had so much longer to get to know you, but you’ll know us just as well soon enough.”

It was official. These pros had lost their damn minds. They actually figured out how to justify what they were about to do to you. Your promise to only kill criminals was really coming back to bite you on the ass.

You brought your legs up and tried to kick him off, but were quickly thwarted by two pairs of hands grabbing them and pinning you down.

“Now now sweetheart none of that, Shouta here is just going to show you our conviction. No one will ever hurt you again now that we are here. Now that I am here” The last part was mumbled more to himself than the group.

Something must have happened to these men to cause their hero complex to grow into something so twisted. But that was no fucking excuse for their actions. They needed therapy, not someone to play damsel in distress with.

Shouta lowered himself between your legs until he was kneeling on the floor in front of you. You tried to plead with your eyes, beg him to stop, but he met your gaze with something bordering love. That wasn’t good. Breaking eye contact he looked down at your underwear, bringing a hand up you held your breath as he gently brushed against your core.

“You can’t even begin to imagine how much I’ve dreamed of this moment. You truly are something special, and yet you treat your life with such little regard it’s maddening.” He trailed his knuckles against the thin fabric as he spoke, your traitorous body sparking heat in your lower abdomen in anticipation.

Pulling your underwear to the side he slowly began to slide his fingers up and down your progressively wetting folds.

“Well now, someone secretly enjoyin’ themselves baby,” Hizashi all but purred, his hand squeezing your flesh while his gaze was transfixed on where his partner was violating you. You couldn’t help but let out a pitiful whine. It was absolutely humiliating being spread out before these three men.

The noises your wet cunt were making were no help to your embarrassment, and they only got worse once the dark haired pro rid you of your last line of defense and began to insert two of his fingers.

“H-how does she feel?” Toshinori couldn’t help but ask. His face was flushed red, along with the tips of his ears as his vibrant blue eyes watched Shouta’s fingers slowly sink inside you.

“Tight, shit she’s tight. She’s perfect, so fucking wet for her hero's. I’ll work you open kitten don’t worry.” You couldn’t help but clamp down on his fingers at his words, earning a deep chuckle in response.

“See now, such a good girl aren’t you. Prison is no place for you kitten, though if you want we can always role-play your wardens.”

Role-play my ass we’re already living it, was all you could think bitterly.

As if he read your mind Shouta couldn’t help but continue to antagonize you, thumb beginning to make light circles against your clit as he pumped his fingers, adding a third and quickly burying them knuckle deep. Soft whimpers slipped from your mouth as you tried in vain to wiggle away from Eraserhead’s deft fingers.

Hizashi was getting impatient, removing one of his hands to grasp your breast through the t-shirt you had on. His slim fingers began to pinch and rub your nipple, though his eyes never left your cunt.

Toshinori was struggling in his own way. Raspy breaths with slight coughs as he grew more and more aroused. He too removed a hand from your leg, but instead made quick work of the zipper on his pants. Taking his semi hard cock in his hand he began gently stroke himself while watching your display.

You truly were everything they had ever wanted. But you didn’t want this, despite your bodies responses to their ministrations. You could feel it, Shouta seemed to know exactly where to stroke as he worked you up tighter and tighter, velvety walls clamping down at your approaching climax.

You found each man murmuring their own words of praise, anywhere from “That’s it baby girl, take all of Sho now,” to “Such a perfect princess, do you want to finish?” The man between your legs even adding to the mantra of soft words spoken to you. “So close kitten, see what good girls get. You’re going to cum for me okay?”

He posed it like a question but you knew it was far from it. It was a statement, a matter of fact statement that you couldn’t deny even if you had tried. Your back arched, moans and mewls intercepted but not completely blocked out by your gag as you rocked against his hand. He gladly continued to finger you, watching as you came down from your high and only then removed his hand.

You were panting hard, shame quickly washing away the pleasure from your orgasm. Sensing the shift in your demeanor Hizashi was quick to pounce, peppering your face in kisses despite your shifty protests and groans of despair. “None of that now babe, after all we’re just gettin’ this show started!”

Shouta stood and moved out from between your legs, licking some of your slick off his hand before he wiped the rest on his black pants leg. “You got lube Zashi?” Hizashi paused his attack and shot the dark haired pro a million dollar smile. “You bet our babes cute ass I got it! Lemme find it, hold her Toshi.”

Toshinori floundered a bit, cock in hand as Hizashi shoved you closer to him, before jumping up from the couch. Eyes trailing down to his hand you couldn’t help but freeze in shock. Not only was this man stupid tall, his dick was frighteningly large. The older hero noticed your stare and couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at your expression. “Don’t worry princess, Shouta and Hizashi are going to help you today. My sides acting up so I’ll only be watching.”

As if on cue the man was hit by a coughing fit, and much to your surprise he even coughed up some blood. Eraserhead was still looming over you, leaning over he gently rubbed the older blonds back as he tried to ease him through the pain. You didn’t dare move as all this transpired around you. What good would it have done you anyways? You were effectively quirkiness, and your fighting skills would be severely lacking against the two heroes you knew. You had no idea who this Toshinori guy was, but if he was close to Eraserhead and Present Mic you doubted he was weak.

You heard Hizashi rummaging behind you through a dresser you hadn’t noticed earlier. Craning your neck, you peered over and cried out in frustration.

“Tada!” He sung triumphantly, a small bottle of lube in his hand. “Act two can now officially begin!” You could only yell and wiggle about in protest, your arms still tied behind your back. Toshinori’s hand on your thigh moved to gently pat you on the head.

“Behave now for them okay? If you’re good we can show you the rest of our home after this.”

You jerked your head out from under his hand and yelled more incoherent nonsense out of frustration. You had expected anger to replace the adoring look in his eyes but you were only met with fond amusement.

He stood up with a hearty laugh, erection still in hand as he grabbed Shouta’s discarded chair, sitting down facing the couch. Shouta was quick to take Toshinori’s place on the couch while Hizashi took up residence behind you.

“I have a feelin’ this star ain’t a fan of the spotlight, no need to be camera shy babe.” You watched Shouta roll his eyes at his partner in crime before he began to manhandle you. Hands under your armpits he pulled you up and wrangled you onto your knees facing him on the couch.

Hizashi slid one knee between your legs so you couldn't close them. Your tied hands couldn’t help but brush up against his clothed hard on, causing him to rut against you a bit in anticipation.

Without warning he took a solid grip of your t-shirt and ripped it off. You squeaked in surprise, your face heating up as you realized you were the only person fully naked in the room.

“Was it really necessary to rip my shirt?”

“Sorry about that Toshi! Didn’t want to delay the show with takin’ off her bindings yah dig? You rip them a bunch anyways so what’s another to the pile? But ain’t this just so much better, our baby girl on full display it makes my heart swoon!”

“Just get her ready Hizashi, and no rushing it, you don’t want to hurt her.”

“Aight aight sorry I’ll get to work, you keep her happy.”

Both men moved closer, pressing your body between them. They had propped themselves up on their knees and had you effectively stuck. Shouta gently placed one hand around your neck, giving your collar a tug, while the other trailed down and began to gently work your still wet pussy.

You stared into his chest, trying your best to space out but jerked back to reality when you heard the pop of a lid behind you.

“Don’t worry babe I’ll get you ready, I’m somewhat of a pro yah know?”

That was when you felt his lubed finger gently prodding your other hole. You jolted forwards into Shouta who didn’t even budge in response to your full body weight. Hizashi simply shuffled closer, continuing to push until finally he breached you. You whimpered at the uncomfortable intrusion.

Shouta's fingers lazily worked your cunt as he rocked his erection against your lower abdomen. Despite the fact that you hated the feeling of his growing arousal you couldn’t help but lean into him to try and get away from Hizashi as he slipped another finger inside. Tears slowly rolled down your face in frustration as the two heroes prepared your body.

“There we go kitten, you’re doing so well. Just be patient alright and it won’t hurt so bad.” Shouta removed his hand from around your neck and placed it on your head, angling your gaze to the third member of the group you had almost forgotten while pulling you flush to his clothed chest so you couldn’t freely change your field of view.

Toshinori was leaned back in the metal folding chair, which looked comically small with him sitting on it. His eyes were clouded with lust as he stroked his thick cock. His own pre-cum and spit adding obscene noises to his ministrations. He gave you a lopsided smile as you made eye contact, causing you to quirky avert your gaze.

By this point Hizashi had worked three fingers knuckle deep into your tight hole, but coupled with Shouta’s work the line between uncomfortable and pleasurable began to mix together. A breathless moan escaped you as the two pros finally got their desired reaction.

“She’s as good as she’s gonna get Sho, let’s say you and me start the finale I can’t take feelin’ her tight lil hole clamping down on my fingers any longer. Not when I got somethin’ much better for her.”

Your tears flowed a bit faster at your impending fate. This was fucking insane! You might have been a murderer, but you weren't expected to be a good person unlike these men. These heroes who were now violating you.

Since Shouta was in black sweatpants he merely leaned back a bit and pulled them down, cock springing free. He had a solid girth to him, red tip dripping pre down his shaft to his unruly black pubic hair. You heard a zipper behind you as the blond freed himself, though due to being squashed between the two you had no idea what to prepare for.

Hizashi hummed in contemplation at your tied hands, currently in the way of his objective. “Bonds might have to go Sho, you get her hands?” The sleepy hero merely nodded grasping your wrists as Hizashi swiftly untied them.

“Ready now primadonna?”

“Ha ha you’re soo funny Sho... but yes, shit, I’m fucking ready.”

You kept quiet this time, head pressed against Shouta’s chest as you listened to his rapidly beating heart. You gave one last pleading look to the lean blond watching intently from the sideline, but all he did was shrug his shoulders with a small smile on his face.

“You’re going to do great princess don’t worry.”

You felt the tips of each man at their respective entrance, Shouta's teasing your soaking cunt while Hizashi lightly probed your lubed ass. You closed your eyes and accepted defeat. They gently began to rut their hips, cocks sinking deeper with each thrust. You felt uncomfortably full as they breached you.

“Oh fuck oh fuck I can feel you through her.” The blond quickly grabbed your breasts, tweaking your nipples like he had earlier.

“Easy does it kitten, we got you,” Shouta groaned out.

You weren’t a fan of Hizashi behind you, rocking forward into Shouta as they continued to fuck into you. He squeezed down on your wrists in warning, hot breath fanning the top of your head. It didn’t take much longer before they both had finally bottomed out. You groaned in distress while they groaned in bliss.

“I’ve got her wrists you help her out alright, and take it easy.”

“Sheesh I heard yah the first time, I’ll help our lil girl out.”

Hizashi snaked a hand in between you and Shouta, finding your clit.

They both continued fucking into you, Hizashi matching Shouta’s pace as they stimulated your body. You were angry, humiliated, and yet somehow you were so turned on it was embarrassing. You should be thrashing about, snarling into your gag, but instead all you could do was rock your body to their salacious tempo.

Peeking your eyes open at a particularly hard thrust from Hizashi you saw Toshinori on the edge of the chair. You could just barely make out his raspy breaths and small moans over Shouta and Hizashi’s groaning. His brilliant blue eyes bore into your own. One of his hands worked his long shaft while the other was death gripping his clothed thigh. It almost looked as if steam was pouring off of him. Was he always that muscular?

You didn’t have long to contemplate Toshinori though, with a pinch to your clit Hizashi made sure to regain your attention. He had picked up his pace, throwing Shouta a bit off balance. He leaned down sucking and biting at your neck while rolling your perky nipple. Shouta felt your velvety walls clamp down around his cock, picking up his tempo to match Hizashi’s.

By now you were a mess. Traitorous moans fumbling from your mouth as the two heroes played your body. They had picked up an alternating tempo, never leaving you without a cock inside your body. The pleasure had you throwing your head back, leaving your neck exposed and making room for Shouta to join Hizashi in leaving little claiming bites all along your delicate skin.

“She’s getting close Hizashi, we’re gonna fuck her through it alright?”

The blond pro behind you only moaned out something that sounded vaguely affirmative, eager to feel your tight walls clamp down on him.

You were beyond fighting them, on the brink of orgasm all it took was one pointed thrust from Shouta to have you crumbling apart. You pushed back into Hizashi’s chest, his t-shirt sticking to your sweat soaked skin as you clamped down on both of them. Hizashi moaned into your neck, his quirk picking up a bit as he lost his composure. Shouta had released your hands, ripping off your gag so he could grab your face and crash his mouth to yours, swallowing your moans as your newly freed hands grabbed fist fulls of his shirt to stabilize yourself.

As stated they continued fucking into you, dragging out your orgasm as your walls spasmed around them. Shouta’s tongue delved into your mouth, his own deep moans rumbling into you.

“Go-gonna fuckin’ cum Sho, n- not much longer.”

In response Eraserhead reached behind you, grabbing a fist full of the blonds hair and giving it a firm tug which was enough to push him over the edge.

“Sh-shit,” he wheezed, hips stilling as his cum filled your sore ass. “You fu- you fucking dirty cheater makin’ me finish first like that.” In kind Hizashi grabbed some of Shouta’s hair, pulling his mouth away from yours and up to his own.

“Go ahead and cum in her Sho you know you want to,” Hizashi taunted between kisses. The familiar sound of metal against concrete drew your gaze as the all too familiar symbol of peace stood at his full height. Holy fucking shit it was All Might.

The two pros ignored his approach, Shouta’s hips becoming a bit more deranged as he fucked into you. All Might reached in between the two and gripped your lower jaw, dazzling smile almost blinding you.

“Be a good girl now and open for me, you don’t have to swallow it all but I’d appreciate the effort.” He didn’t leave you with much of a choice finding it impossible to close your mouth with his grip, which at this point was very sore from the gag. The tip of his large member gently brushed against your lips as he shuttered at the feeling of your soft flesh.

By this point Shouta was thrusting aggressively against your battered cervix, mouth locked with Hizahi’s as he finally reached his own release. His hips stuttered as warmth filled your cunt.

Now all that was left was All Might. Your jaw strained to accommodate him, but he seemed to be more than aware of your limitations. He simply pushed the tip in, one hand stroking his shaft while the other gently pet your head.

“So pretty,” he cooed down at you. “Just like that princess, I’m gonna cum now okay?”

You simply kept your mouth open, tongue flat against the underside of his still cock as his cum filled your mouth. The bitter taste made you sputter, cum running down your chin as more took its place. After a couple more spurts he gently pulled away, some of the bitter substance sliding down your throat while the majority ended up down your chin and onto the couch below.

All four of you were panting, frozen in time until finally All Might disappeared in a large cloud of smoke. The man you had originally believed to be some unknown hero named Toshinori now stood in his place, shyly looking down at you.

“I guess that’s one way to show her huh big guy.” Hizashi jested.

“I-I know probably not the most ideal but I couldn’t help myself,” he murmured a bit embarrassed.

Hizashi and Shouta pulled out, their cum immediately running down your legs causing you to cringe a bit at the sensation.

“You guys.. fucking suck.” was all you could think of at the moment. You waited for the rage, for them to berate or attack you, but instead all that met you was a chorus of soft chuckles.

“Figured you wouldn’t be easy to convince kitten, but don’t worry. Between the three of us you’ll come around.”

These three men must have some thick fucking skulls to dismiss you so casually, that or their obsession was a lot deeper than you could even begin to comprehend.

“Some fucking heroes you are,” you grumbled lowly.

“Some fuckin’ heroes we are indeed cutie! HAH get it? Cause we just fucked yah?” Hizashi laughed at his own joke while Toshinori and Shouta groaned.

“Alright don’t make me gag you next, let’s just get everybody upstairs and clean up. We’ll do the house tour later kitten, for now we’ll just show you to your room.”

#tw: noncon #yandere toshinori yagi #yandere aizawa #yandere hizashi yamada #yandere all might #yandere eraserhead #yandere present mic #yandere my hero academia #yandere x reader #aizawa x reader #yandere erasermic #erasermic x reader #yamada hizashi x reader #toshinori x reader

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evakuality · 3 years

Photo

Matteo - Episode three

Social Media - There’s so much of it this week! At the time, I only followed a couple of accounts and then only saw the rest when it was posted to the tag. I think I’m grateful for that. This is absolutely overwhelming, the sheer volume of things the characters were putting out. But it’s also really nice that we get all this normal teenage life stuff. It really does allow an immersive ‘this is real people doing real stuff’ feeling to everything. Particularly people like Kiki and Sam who have little to do with the plot. It keeps them real and alive through a season where they were a bit more sidelined (and I love that Matteo and David’s little trip later on keeps them alive in a way that doesn’t overpower Amira’s season - this is a really clever way for the producers to keep fan favourites active without having to shoehorn them into places where they don’t belong). I am also a bit concerned about some of this though - how on earth did the boys not get in trouble for filming the dancing girls and posting it to social media? At most schools I know that would have resulted in some serious discipline action. However, the most fascinating thing about the social media is the party at the end of the episode. Sara didn’t start posting much on her stuff until much later in the evening (the reason this post is so late is because I was waiting to watch through all the social media before I worked with it - and there was so much for so long that I was able to notice the patterns in it in a way I didn’t at the time) and then Leonie took over and it was interesting what she chose to show and how non-perfect it all was compared to what Sara was trying to do before she got really incapacitated. I know it’s not technically part of this episode but the text string between the two of them the next day where Sara panics over how Matteo might take seeing her in such a sloppy drunken state is very telling. She really really wants to put on a show to make sure he’s not turned off by her not being ‘perfect’ - again, this is all very subtly done but there’s a really strong push to show how much of what is put onto social media isn’t a real and true depiction of who we really are. And of course that’s most important for Matteo himself. He’s still very actively putting on a front and it’s only partly to try to cover for the fact that he’s interested in boys not girls. He’s really not happy or at ease with pretty much any aspect of himself, but he’s also not really willing to show it to anyone. Except David. Which we’ll see as we go through the clips.

Clip one - Matteo’s shelf in the fridge is so sad! Someone (a parent maybe?) should really be making sure he has food and is looking after himself. We touched a bit last episode on food and nurturing and what we see here is Matteo very much not nurturing himself. Even more so than Sara, he has no care for his own wellbeing. Also he’s relying heavily on other people (Hans in this case) to do the heavy lifting for him. It’s also a major contrast to the playful, if disgusting, sandwich he made with David. Here it’s really just about putting something in to his body and there’s no thought for anything other than basic survival. Which is, tbh, a good metaphor for Matteo’s approach to his life at this time. The chat with Mia again veers close to things that are difficult for Matteo - he’s wearing David’s beanie, trying to get that bit of closeness to him, but then Mia starts asking awkward questions about why the kitchen was so terrible and what Matteo was up to and it’s all a bit tough. Matteo tries again to deflect and lie to cover his tracks. Which... is he ever going to learn? This lying is forever getting him in hot water when he’s caught out. Jonas even calls him out on it, basically saying ‘if you’re going to use me as an excuse then give me a heads up first’ showing that he has Matteo’s back, but is incapable of helping him if he won’t help himself. At this point, of course, Matteo has closed off because there’s a lot he finds too hard to talk about but Jonas is already giving those hints that he’d be there for Matteo if only Matteo would let him be. But at least Mia’s pushing serves one purpose - Matteo makes contact with David again and they manage to connect and get over the little hitch that David’s ditching caused. Both are still hiding bits of themselves from each other (David more so obviously), but both are quite happy to make these connections and are comfortable with each other. That David responds is so nice; it sets up the dynamic so different to the original and Matteo is much more secure in David’s friendship than Isak was with Even at this point just because of this. Then of course Matteo does the gay test, and it’s clear he already knows but he’s just sort of trying to work through some things. It leads to some of the things he says later that are quite unfortunate (both to the boys about the dance teacher in this episode and to Hans later about the ways to be gay), but I think there’s a genuine desire to figure out what gay might look like rather than any truly homophobic stuff. societal expectations and stereotypes and our own internal biases mess with us big time!!

Clip two - There’s not a lot of difference with the dancing girls clip, but it’s nice to see David again and the interactions between him and Matteo are a lot more natural than with Isak and Even. I guess because these two are in the same year, it’s much easier to pass off knowing each other and so Matteo really is a lot more casual than Isak ever was. The tone of the ‘why does he have to be so gay’ is different here too - Matteo’s much more low key and subdued when he’s called out on ‘why do we insult gays’ and he’s apologising fairly quickly. It really is much more obvious that he’s trying to work out what ‘gay’ is than trying to distance himself from the idea of being gay. He has a lot of issues and a lot of stuff to work through but it’s entrenched in an entirely different way to the og even though the words are almost exactly the same. The power of acting and body language!! Of course, this makes sense for both characters too - Isak and Matteo have different experiences and different lives and so they each act in a way that makes sense for them. I’m super impressed that the same conversation can look so different - both actors are very very good.

Clip three - This scene with Matteo and Sara works much better for me than the one with Isak and Emma. But perhaps that’s because Sara is allowed to be much more of a rounded character rather than a plot device. We can say all we like (and Leonie is so clearly right there with us) that Sara needs to wake up and see how badly Matteo is treating her, but the way this is developing makes it clear why she thinks and acts the way she does and we can have a lot of sympathy for her even while rolling our eyes at how obviously this is not working out. This right here is the moment where Matteo really should have said ‘yeah sorry, this isn’t working for me’ but he chooses not to because he still wants that security of having ‘someone’ if the thing with David turns out the way he expects it to (eg, David and Leonie being a thing). He wants the ability to hide and say ‘see, there was nothing there, I have a girlfriend so I’m not at all upset that David has one too’ and it’s shitty behaviour and it’s totally unfair to Sara, but at this point Matteo can’t see beyond his own needs. Sara is very clearly not happy with the situation and she rightly feels sidelined and unappreciated but she is still willing to accept his word when she puts those words into his mouth. She’s still invested in this fantasy in her head and she is carefully scripting it so that it goes the way she wants it to. Like last week when she was talking over Matteo to avoid hearing anything he’s saying, here she’s literally telling him what to say to get the outcome she wants. Leonie has quite obviously got a better handle on the situation, but Sara doesn’t want to hear it. Sara, again bless her, is very open about what she wants and needs from a relationship and how she’s feeling. She refuses to take Matteo’s very half-hearted attempt at sweet talking her at face value and demands some accountability. But it’s the very nature of those demands that sets her doom. She tells him what she needs and he gives it to her - only it’s a very pale and weak imitation of what she would really like. He uses her communication skills to play her.

Clip four - I loathe how no-one takes Matteo’s wants and needs into account, pretty much ever. He’s in such a rut of being used to just going with the flow that even when he tries to assert his own wants people straight up ignore him. It’s sad that he allows Kiki etc to basically commandeer his home for their party but it’s very much in keeping with how everything else is going. Last week, Kiki was super irritated because she had a picture of how things were going to go (they would have their event and Matteo would host it) and she couldn’t deal with things not being under her control. I suspect that if Sara hadn’t been with them and hadn’t done the speaking for Matteo, he would have been bullied into doing what she wanted then too. He clearly doesn't want to do this , but at least he uses it as a way to get closer to David. ‘Well, this party idea sucks, but maybe I can get this guy I like there’ and so he goes right up to him and invites him. While he’s quite checked out of significant parts of his life, when Matteo really wants something he’s not scared of going after it. Of course, as we see in later events, this gets him in trouble at times. But for right now it’s nice to see him taking some small control of his life. This is only possible, of course, because he was able to connect with David fairly quickly after he left last week. The fact that they are able to do this is testament to how easily they do understand each other and even while its awkward, this relationship doesn’t have the underlying tensions that the one with Sara does. It’s awkward in a positive way.

Clip five - there’s lots going on in this one. The studying and how little interest and engagement Matteo has with it. The consequent stalking of David on Sara’s account, the flow over into looking for David’s favourite movie, and of course Hans and his intrusion into Matteo’s quiet space again and then his attempt at using grindr. It’s a slow, fairly quiet clip and yet Matteo ends up doing a lot in it. It shows again, I think, just how much he values his time by himself and how much it works for him to be allowed to do things at his own pace. I’ve said before I really enjoy seeing the characters in their own environments being chill and just hanging with themselves. It shows us a lot of how they are. In this case, Matteo moves very quickly from the boredom of the studying to things he has more interest in. Like David. He’s restless and disengaged, using all of his tricks to try to distract himself (playing with plants etc) and then very quickly giving up on what he should do. I like that we get these sorts of smaller, lower key indications of how much David means to him as well. It’s not big grandiose expressions of interest, but he watches the movie because David likes it. He can’t even let himself stare at the picture for too long because it feels like a huge admission (he literally breaks eye contact with it and looks away the way he often does with David himself). It’s in these unguarded moments in his own space that we really see Matteo and he’s a mess, but he’s a mess who really does want connection and to find meaning with someone.

Clip six - We all love this one, right? It’s such a nice moment with David and their almost-kissing is very intense. But there’s a lot going on before that that I also want to look at. First, the way the boys call Matteo a ‘player’?????? how???? That’s his girlfriend????? He is playing her and stringing her along when he shouldn’t, but he’s not playing the field which is generally what we mean when we say this sort of thing. He has one girl and that one girl has made it pretty clear that he is hers. In many ways Matteo would be better off if he was playing the field - then there’s no expectations and he gets a rep as a ladies man. But this works better for him - he can sort of fall into it and follow along with it without having to put any effort in at all. She literally speaks for him, even. I have always found it fascinating how much Matteo keeps to himself in this clip. He hugs the walls like they’re his home and Sara is out there in the middle and there’s such a disconnect between the way they’re both acting. How would Matteo have coped with the expectations Sara outlines about sex had she not got so blind drunk she had to be taken home? It seems like it would have led to something very awkward and maybe she’d have finally got the picture.

Laura's little visit to see Matteo is cute too. Obviously she knows that David is interested and so she checks him out. It’s a shame it’s interrupted by Hans who then monopolises Matteo, but she was quite deliberate in finding him and speaking with him and I love the sibling support. David’s shirt he chooses to appeal to Matteo is hilarious too. The thought process (and the discussions with Laura at home beforehand) must have been brilliant. ‘I always wear black and am mysterious and aloof and cool, but to attract this boy I will wear a white shirt with a stupid picture on it’ - that it does attract Matteo just shows how attuned David is to his future boyfriend. Maybe he’s stalking the instagrams too - the Matteo Monday and Florenzi Friday do suggest that this is something that might appeal to Matteo.

Hans and Andi bother me too. In much the same way that I dislike that Sara assumes that Matteo not wanting sex with her means he’s gay (like? It’s okay not to want sex!! It doesn’t say anything about your sexuality), I don’t like that Hans has talked about Matteo to Andi and allows him to be so forward and aggressively sexual with someone who is very obviously not willing to be out. I know Hans is trying to be there for Matteo and to encourage him to accept himself (I think it’s pretty clear that he knows or thinks Matteo likes guys). But this is a party with all of Matteo’s friends. What did they think would happen? Why did they think he’d react in any way other than the one he does? Hans looks confused when Matteo pushes away and leaves, but why? This behaviour is entirely consistent with everything we know of his character. That it ends in an actual panic attack makes it all much more sad and difficult to watch. Honestly, outing people when they’re not ready is not cool and Hans should know this.

The panic attack itself is so well done. There’s no dialogue and yet we can see very obviously how Matteo is feeling and just how ‘normal’ this is to him. He has a set of behaviours that he follows to try to take the edge off. He throws things (this is his go-to when he’s stressed and he does it a LOT), he tries weed and he finally tries music and sitting by himself, cuddling a cushion for comfort. I know a million people have discussed this at length, but I don’t think we can speak about this clip without at least touching on it. Everything about it is done so well and it all combines to allow Matteo’s feelings to shine through. I love that it’s allowed to happen at a party and that we see very clearly how these things can be overwhelming for characters. I won’t go on anymore, but it’s just great and the acting is so perfect. I genuinely think this small part of this clip is probably my favourite acting out of everything in this show.

And then of course we have the stuff after everyone else has left. Again, a million people have discussed this in a million ways, but I love how this scene again shows how easily they get each other, how good they are at communicating with each other and how quickly they get on the same page. Matteo has no trouble at all saying what he thinks and pressing for information. This parallels Sara in some ways - she is like this with Matteo, making her wants and needs clear and putting herself on the line. Again, this is all very good set up for later on when Matteo finally finds himself in her position and realises just how much his behaviour hurt her because he’s living her side. However, unlike Matteo, David is quite clear and honest back. And that’s why they can so quickly move into a potential kiss. As with Matteo and Sara, there are close ups as they lean into each other, but somehow it feels like there’s more space for them to breathe here. The camera allows them both to be in the frame naturally, whether Sara is often invading into Matteo’s shots. Here, they’re both on board and both want it. I like that Matteo gets a moment to be open and himself after his experience with Andi. It must take a lot of courage to do this after he was so badly affected earlier. Testament to David’s calming presence which reassures rather than pushes, and how honest they are with each other - there’s no way David could miss how relieved Matteo is when he finds out that Laura is David’s sister not his girlfriend. They’re both very brave here - David for telling Matteo he looks good and Matteo for trying to take that next step even after his panic attack. And I think that’s a nice place to leave this. Because that’s already such a lot and this has all already been said before.

#druck #og druck #Matteo - episode 3 #again super long I'm sorry #one day I'll learn how to be concise

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heyheydidjaknow · 3 years

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If I bounce my foot, it makes this chair sound like someone is doing unspeakable things. Also, it has been a hot minute, but I have a chapter written now, and that's what matters. Hopefully the next chapter will be out sooner than later.

Chapter 16

You are going to kill him.

“That is absolute fucking horseshit!” You pace back and forth in front of the restaurant. “His ass was the one who invited me!”

You can practically hear his eyes rolling on the other end of the line. “How is it my problem if he flaked?”

“You’re guilty by association!” You cross your arms. “It’s a favor to you! How is it not at least partially your fault?”

“Because he said he’d be there.”

You hang up on him. You have been standing here for half an hour, and only now do you hear that he can’t be there because of something about a movie. While, under different circumstances, you would be relatively understanding, standing outside in a dress in November is making you a bit less amiable.

You sit down on the step, letting your hair down and leaning forward on your knees. ‘What a waste of a perfectly good twilight.’

You pull out your phone. It’s your father’s birthday back home, ironically enough. You smile bitterly. He and your mother told you when you were younger you wouldn’t be allowed to date until you were eighteen— something about them being worried about you getting in a bad situation— and here you were, flouting their rules, sitting alone on the steps of a restaurant with just enough money for food. ‘Does this count as disrespectful?’

Nobody online has said anything about it. No messages hoping he rests in peace, nothing from extended family.

You set the phone down at your side, quietly watching people walk by. You had your cast taken off today. The people at the hospital gave you some sort of weird juice, and now you can walk around with only the occasional ringing in your ears and half-decent handwriting. ‘Not that my handwriting was that great before,’ you muse. ‘Maybe I’ll finally be able to sit in a car without wanting to jump out.’

“Something got you down?”

There is a thing you have noticed about people’s voices thus far that, until now, you have not thought about in detail; people do not sound exactly like their voice actors back in your world. For example, Donatello does not sound like Rob Paulsen, but the way he shapes his words, the tone of his voice, and the general pitch is relatively similar. He sounds like a teenage boy who happens to talk like his character, and it is by this you have been able to identify voices.

Oddly enough, she sounds nothing like Kelly Hi.

Your blood goes cold. “Yeah,” you sigh, desperately keeping your voice steady. “My date bailed on me.”

Karai sits down next to you on the steps, looking out with you. “That sucks.” She chuckled. “Why’s that?”

“No clue.” ‘Why is she trying this?’ You rest your head on your knees, hands clenching and thoughts going a mile a minute. ‘I’m not made by the Kraang, and the guys shouldn’t have messed with her anyways, so she shouldn’t have my— but I did kill— but she doesn’t care about that, and neither does Shredder.’

“Well,” she sighed, “that’s teenagers for you.” She points back at the restaurant. “Can I get you something? My treat.”

You swallow thickly. “Sure.” Your hands are shaking despite your best efforts. You hope you do not look as completely terrified as you feel. “But I can pay for my own food.”

“Are you alright there?”

‘Sadist.’ You nod.

“Are you sure?” She chuckles. “You’ve gone pale.”

You scramble for a plausible excuse. “I’ve been fasting.” That is not a good example of an excuse. “I need to start getting more iron in my diet.”

“I’m sure some food inside will have iron in it.” The smile on her face— she is not a good liar herself— tells you all you need to know, all venom and quiet pleasure. You seem to shrink next to her.

It is not a request. It is a veiled demand.

You get to your feet. You will not make it far if you run. “Have you been here before?” You force yourself up the steps, opening the door for her.

“No,” she admits, nodding thanks, “but it’s supposed to have good reviews.”

“So you were here for the food?”

A shrug. “You could say that.”

The two of you settled in a booth not terribly far from the door, on your insistence. If you are putting yourself in this situation— ‘At least Casey knows where I am. Why did he have to suggest someplace where I know nobody?’— you may as well not make it easy for her. She orders a milkshake— you can not hear her very well over the roaring in your ears, but that is what she gets— and you drink water exclusively from the straw because your hands are currently incapable of holding anything. ‘What was even the point of all those dexterity-based exercises,’ you cannot help but internally whine, ‘if as soon as I need to be coordinated, I get all flinchy and shaky?’

“I didn’t catch your name.”

Your head rises too quickly. “Huh?”

Another smile. You hate her. “Your name,” she repeats herself. “You haven’t given me your name.”

“Y/N.” As soon as you say it, you know you messed up. “Y/N Collins.”

“Collins?” She leaned against her hand, quietly staring you down. “What is that?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, what country is that from?”

‘Great question.’ You strain to smile back. “No clue. My parents haven’t ever brought it up.”

“Really?”

Your face burns at how easy the clinking of her fingernails against the glass puts you on edge. “Is that unusual?”

“I wouldn’t know.” She took a sip from her drink. “I don’t have many friends, you understand, and I’m from overseas to boot. I don’t know much about what’s normal.”

“Yeah?” You follow her example. “What’re you here for?”

A shrug. “My father’s here on business. Cutlery.”

“For restaurants or?”

“Sure.”

‘If I call Casey, he— but then I’d have to be in his van.’ You clear your throat. ‘Bathroom. Maybe the bathroom has a window.’ “Do you mind if I step out for a sec?” You stand up. “I have to use the restroom.”

“Not at all.” She looks up at you through her eyelashes. “Want me to come with?”

You shake your head, trying not to trip over yourself as you make it to the back of the restaurant, purse over your shoulder. ‘Maybe she won’t think anything of it.’ You lock the door behind you, exhaling as you look around the small room. As is typical of your luck these days— though, you suppose, fighting back tears, it’s not so much these days if it’s been going on for months; you miss your mother— there is none. Graffiti, sharpie illustrations, no toilet paper, and no window. No plan for if the date went badly in the first place— you kick yourself for having forgotten that essential step— and no ride home. You have money for the ticket home— he said he would pay— and a phone and a charger and it is at times like these where you wish you valued your life more. The only chance you now have, as far as you’re concerned, is to either run or fake a phone call at the table.

You just got out of a cast.

You take a deep breath, walking back onto the floor, thanking her for her patience. She nods, waves it off as no trouble, and starts talking again as she drains her drink. You listen, you try to keep the conversation going the best you can, drink right alongside her.

You do not remember when you start having fun, when you start laughing along with her at something or other, but you are now.

“So,” she sighed, lacing her fingers together under her chin. “Who was the lucky guy?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“The guys you were here to meet.”

“Kid from Bio,” you answer. “Can’t remember his name.”

She nods. “Do you have many guy friends?”

“A couple, I guess.”

“What’re they like?”

“Busy.” You smile slightly. “Most of them are, anyway. The guy that set me up is free most of the time.”

“What about the others?”

“They’re into martial arts.” You glance down at your glass, and for a moment, you swear it looks slightly blue. “Their dad’s into it.”

“What’re their names?”

You blink, picking the glass up and placing it on top of your hand. “Reese and Donnie and Legoshi and the other one.” ‘Why is my drink blue?’

“The other one?”

You nod, eyes drooping slightly as you struggle to rationalize the color change. “Can’t remember his name.”

“Michelangelo, maybe?”

“Maybe.” You take another sip, trying to taste what it is. “That name sounds familiar, but I can’t remember from what.” Something with salt.

“You said your name was Y/N?”

You nod again. ‘Water isn’t blue, right?’

“Then, Y/N,” she smiles again, eyes slowly drilling holes into your skull, “do you know who I am?”

“Legoshi’s sis, right?” You look up at her. “You’re Karai Hamato.”

Your eyes are too blurry to tell exactly what is happening with her face. “What?”

“Your name.” You take another sip. “Karai Hamato. Or Missy. It’s one of the two.”

“I’m not a Hamato.”

“Yeah, you are.” You giggle before the words slip out of your mouth. “You’re fucking— well, not fucking— you let stepbrother, right? Half brother?” You are forgetting something important. “Are you two blood-related?”

“We aren’t.”

“You sound angry.”

A blink. “I do not.”

“Do too.” ‘I don’t like her for some reason.’ “You’re getting all red in the face.”

“Because you’re accusing me of something I’m not.”

“Fuckin…” you grin. “If you’re into that shit, I’m not gonna fuckin judge you or nothin, but at least fuckin… uh… own up to it.” Your eyes drag across the table lazily.

“I’m no Hamato.”

“You are too.”

They land on a plastic bag.

‘Oh. That’s why.’

“Who told you I was?”

“Your stepdad.” You get to your feet, holding your bag. “Or dad, I guess? I dunno, whichever one didn’t kill your mom.”

There’s something else in her voice as she gets up, following you out. “How do you know that?”

“I just said how.” The cold air outside hits you like a brick. ‘Run.’

“So you know where—“ You shove your weight back on her, slamming her body and in turn her into the brick wall and run.

She grabs your something. You fall, head slamming painfully against the ground. You kick her, she grabs your hair. In what you might later describe as a drunken effort, you reach your hands up towards her face. You feel something squishy, a cry, and she’s facing you now, dragging you into somewhere considerably darker than outside at night. You feel something in the back of your head, she covers your mouth as you cry out, and you do the only thing you can think of.

You taste something again. Something is in your mouth. She stumbles back. You trip up to your feet, and you fall in the direction of the nearest subway tunnel.

The things happening around that time are swirling around in your head, now, face held in your hands as you quietly curl up on the subway. You do not remember entering a train car, or buying a ticket, or even what happened to the object in your mouth, but the crying you remember. You remember someone touching your shoulder with a soft voice, looking up with your mouth covered in sticky, dried stuff and fingers covered in red and clear goo, and that being enough to have them get off at the next stop.

You do not know how long you are on the train. When you finally feel yourself again, your phone is almost dead. Hours must have passed. You do not remember leaving, but you remember the ringing in your ears again as you dial someone, sitting on the sidewalk in what used to be the only dress you owned. You are reasonably sure you are going to burn it.

—

“Is this okay?”

“What?”

“This.” Mikey gestures around himself. “What we’re doing.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“They’re people, right?” He looks over at his brother, currently skimming the same magazine again. “The Kraang, I mean.”

It takes a second for him to process the question, but Donnie does not have to look up from his sewing to know his brother’s reaction.

“It’s just a question.”

“A fuckin— do you hear yourself?”

“I’m just—“

“Leo,” he turns to his older brother, “is killing the threat to all of humanity wrong?”

“But we just blew up a giant ship of them though.” He crisscrosses his legs. “Aren't we killing a ton of people, then?”

“Mikey,” Leo sighs, not looking up from the TV, “there are more people in New York than there are Kraang that we could ever kill.”

“Eight million.” He sincerely hopes the gloves are not too large. “For number's sake, it’s eight million.”

Leo shoots his brother a thumbs up, glancing over at his brother’s project curiously. “Thanks, Donnie.”

“Even if we were actively going on a killing spree and mowing them down that way, there is no way in hell any of us could kill two million Kraang per person even if we wanted to. That’s not even talking about the number of people who would be fucked once they were done with New York.” Raphael punctuates this with a pointed and aggressive flip to the next page. “End of story.”

“But—“

“And even if they stopped at New York,” he continues, cutting him off, “that would still be eight million people dead because of us getting cold feet.”

Mikey opens his mouth again, sighs, and closes it. “Fine, okay.” He leans back against the concrete, eyes going back to his phone. “Anyways, why do you keep getting water on your thing?”

“Hm? Oh, you mean the gloves.” His taller brother looks up. “It’s easier to get the needle through it when it’s warm and wet. Plus, it makes the— stop laughing!”

“Then you thought it too.”

Heat rushes to his face. “You’re so immature.”

“But you thought it too. That's hypothetical.”

“You mean hypocritical.”

“I said what I said.”

Michelangelo’s phone rings.

He puts a finger, bringing it to his face. “Hel— hey, slow down.” His brow furrowed, the other three leaning towards him. “No, wait, what— who’s she?”

There’s a pause.

“She did— wait, hold on.” He tosses the phone to Donatello. “It’s for you.”

He catches it. “Hello?”

“Could you pick me up?”

He blinks. “What, with the Shellraiser?”

Your voice is paper. “Yup.”

“You hate the Shellraiser.”

“She wants to go in the Shellraiser?”

Donatello waves his younger brother off, letting you talk. “I hate Karai more, currently. Please pick me up.”

Leo pipes up. “What happened?”

He ignores him. “Where are you?”

There is a pause as she checks, his brothers watching for his reactions. “One-oh-three Saint Corona Plaza.”

“Got it.”

“What happened?” Raphael, this time.

“Need me to stay on the line?” With a pointed glare at his siblings, he climbs into the ‘raiser.

“Please.”

He calls behind him at his brothers. “I’ll be back before two.” The phone is brought back up to his face as they moan about a lack of info. The machine is spurred into motion. “What are you doing in Queens so late?”

“No idea.” He can hear your strained smile. “Ask Karai.”

His heart stops. “What happened with Karai?”

You repeat your statement.

“She didn’t—“

You cut him off. “I’m not back in the hospital, no.”

He resists the urge to sigh in relief. “Did she follow you?”

“I’ve yet to be hit over the head, so I’ll hasten to say no.” There is something off about your voice, a certain quality about it that he cannot quite pin down. “I’ve been essentially useless the whole time, what with her drugging me and all.”

“She what?”

“I think she did, anyway.” It is incredibly disturbing to him how calm you sound. “Unless water’s blue and kinda tastes salty now. I don’t imagine it would be though,” you ponder, chilling years off of his life, “even if you guys messed up the mission. It would be green, since that’s the color of the acid, right?”

He mumbles something out about indicators, head reeling as he tries to not hit a street lamp.

“That’s what I thought.” You sigh. “Say, have you got any hydrogen peroxide at your place? No, wait, scratch that, I’m burning the dress anyways.”

“Dress?”

“Yeah.” You huff. “Last time I’m letting Jones set me up on a date. Last time I’m going on a date period until all this gets worked out, actually.”

‘It is not okay to feel happy that she had a bad date.’ Still, he tries to steer the conversation away from the horrifying for a minute. “What happened?”

“I got stood up.”

“Why?”

“I forget. Where are you?”

He glances up at the street sign. “Still pretty far.”

A pause.

“You know,” you swallow, “I should really stop doing this. It’s not exactly great of me to have to ask for your help all the time.”

“None of us mind.”

“That’s not the point.” He hears a car on your end whizz by. “I should be able to go a week without making you go out of your way for me. You guys manage.”

“We’ve also been training in ninjutsu since we could walk.”

Tired, he decided. You sound tired. “Other normal people manage.”

“You’re not a normal person, though.”

“Sure I am.” Your words sound slow to him. “I keep interesting company is all.”

“That’s a word for it.”

“What, don’t count yourself as interesting?”

He turns a corner. “Not the first word I’d use, no.”

Another long silence. Occasionally, he notes, you will him something into the phone, say a quiet, unintelligible word of phrase he cannot quite make out, presumably in an effort to continue looking like you are on the phone to passers by. The streets, like most nights nowadays, are mostly empty, save for the occasional cop car or kid, making the commute a relatively uneventful one. It gives him time to think, anyways, and after a while of quiet contemplation and forced slow breaths so he did not look quite as panicked as he felt once he picked you up, a question quietly surfaces.

He would have come in a heartbeat. He was not exactly sure what he would have done, but he would have come running, regardless of if he could help. Why would you not call? Why would you try and deal with that sort of situation alone? Did you not trust he would come?

His fingers tighten around the wheel. What had you been thinking going out alone, anyway? After all that was happening, you thought it was a good idea to go on a date without a plan for if it went south?

Another sharp turn. If nothing else, he thinks, he can not say you are no longer naive or lacking in innocence. Maybe you are just incredibly prideful. Regardless, it will get you in more trouble than you had to be in.

What would he do if you got yourself irreparably damaged?

—

You are not having a good time.

You have managed to convince yourself that this is not, in fact, anything like the car. For starters, it is less aerodynamic; it is a metal box on wheels, designed for subway travel and is, therefore, not designed for optimum wind resistance, meaning it cannot go as fast with the same amount of energy. The inside of the vehicle is also distinctly dissimilar to a car, its origins blatantly obvious, and was entirely lacking in windows. While this is enough to convince you currently that climbing into the machine is not as serious a death sentence, the fact of the matter is that, yes, it is a metal monster on four wheels that drives on roads. If you keep your eyes shut, maybe you will not vomit as soon as you stumble out of the door.

Your stomach hurts. A lot of your body hurts, actually. You do not remember the “fight” with much clarity, but you do understand your head hurrying. You have yet to get a good look at yourself, but if you had to guess by the stains on your fingers that you can now identify as blood, the bad taste in your mouth that you are fairly sure is vomit and the flaky stuff on your face that also looks suspiciously blood-like, you would hasten to guess the answer is “not great”. You certainly do not feel great, if that is indicative of anything.

He has not said a word so far.

You do not force conversation, now. You would prefer not to talk about the ordeal, anyways.

There are monitors that he is staring at in order to steer. Why he would not just get an actual steering wheel or the old hull of a car from a junkyard is beyond you, though you guess a hippie van would not offer the same armored protection as a subway car.

“We got molested by a sea monster today.”

You look over at him, eyes half lidded. You want to sleep. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His eyes are focused on the screens. “Apparently it liked my submarine.”

“That’s… a thing.” You rub your hands on your thighs absentmindedly. “How did that work out?”

“Fine. It wasn’t all that strong.”

Your lips curl up into a weak smile. “That’s good, then. The mission went alright?”

He nods. “Without a hitch, funny enough.”

“That’s cool.”

The conversation dies as quickly as it starts.

The drive from that point on is an uncomfortably quiet one. You pick blood from under your nails, thumbs occasionally tracing the scars on your fingers— you are still not used to the difference in texture— as the hum or an engine rumbles underneath you. You are reminded of a memory from when you were younger, driving down the hallway, basking in the warmth of your own body heat with your arms tucked to your chest from under your top layer. The machine you were in now was colder, staler, but the hum of the engine, the time, all reminded you quietly of simpler times.

You swallow thickly. ‘I’m such a coward.’ You shut your eyes gently, stomach churning. ‘I’m going to get the people I care about hurt, aren’t I?’

Donnie says something.

The Shellraiser is stopped. You look up at him. “Huh?”

When he was younger, he and his brothers did not know the limits of their own strength. When they were first learning to fight, when they were first sent to spar against one another when their sensei was asleep, they would often go a step or three too far. He was never one to get involved— his brothers were stronger, more enthusiastic fighters— but he remembered distinctly what they would look like the morning after a fight, cheeks and eyes various shades of purples and blues and blacks. They would ask him, on occasion, after particularly brutal brawls, for him to paint over whichever brother’s face— usually Raphael or Leo— to hide them from their father. He got used to the sight, got better at understanding their anatomy, which chemicals mixed together would do which things.

He is getting sufficiently tired of seeing you hurt the worst he has ever seen.

You look so small in the seat, face black and blue, hands shaking. Your skin is paler than when you two first met, less healthy, a thin coat of sweat coating your skin and hair stuck to the back of your neck. Your dress— he has never seen you in one— is stained with rust, hidden poorly from under your jacket. He can tell already which bruises will take a while to disperse, where she had busted your nose and slammed your head against something hard. You need a shower and water and a blood test to make sure you do not die from whatever Karai gave you.

He clears his throat again. “I don’t want to be rude.”

“You’re doing me a favor. You have a right.”

He does not look you in the eyes. “It’s just… can I ask a question?”

You sigh. Even your voice sounds tired. “Shoot.”

His fingers trace the rim of the steering wheel. He takes a slow breath. “Why didn’t you call?”

“When she cornered me, you mean?”

A nod.

He glances over at you, staring down at your hands, turning them over. “You were on a mission. I didn’t want to mess it up.”

“I would’ve come, you know.”

“I know.” You smile ruefully. “That’s why I didn’t.”

His fingers grip the wheel again, trying to not openly overreact. “Y/N,” he says carefully, “if a mission fails because we need to come save you from Karai, then we fail the mission.”

“How many people in New York would die if you guys did fail?”

“That’s not the point.”

“It is.” You look up at him. “You get yourself in a lot of trouble because of me. You have to make sure I don’t kill myself all the time. Think logically, Donnie.”

He snorts, heart pounding in suppressed, almost overwhelming frustration. “Are you going to say something about thinking logically?”

“Fair point. But you get mine, right?”

“I don’t, actually.” He leans back in his chair, fingers gripping tighter still. “The only reason we’re messing with the Kraang at all, the only reason we started all this, is because I saw you and wanted to help you.” He counts on his fingers. “The only people I really, honestly care about this much are my family and you, and I know that, if I had never met you,” and he looks you dead in the eyes now, “I would just make a filtration system for my family and that would be the end of it.”

Your eyes are still gorgeous. Behind the bruises and the blood, you really are stunning.

“Sure,” he concedes, “maybe Leo would’ve gotten involved because he’s that selfless. I would’ve gone along with it, since he’s my brother and all, but if that were the case…” He takes a slow breath to calm down. He never thought it would come out right now at all times. “If that were the case, I would’ve never tried red velvet cupcakes. Mikey wouldn’t have a friend outside of the family. I never would’ve learned about crime movies, or had talks about science with anyone but myself, or any of the thousand other things you’ve given us.” He does not know exactly when he grabs your hands, but he is now, and you are so warm and alive right now. “I care about you. We care about you. You have to know that. For fuck’s sake,” he laughs, “I’ve told you outright, before!”

You open your mouth to say something. No words come out, for once.

He squeezes your hands. He cannot tell if your heart feels like his does, the straining against his chest, the aching feeling. He was never good at reading people or emotions or any of that.

But it’s time now. He can barely think. If he does not now, he might not ever.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Table of Contents

Chapter 15

Chapter 17

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piscescastiel · 3 years

Text

ok so for laughs i went on the spn subreddit to see if they've actually been as homophobic and/or dumb as shit as we all think they've been about deancas and the ending and everything. and for the most part they have been! except here's one take that clocked me in that it was actually surprisingly good: someone suggesting that dean didn't reciprocate in 15x18 not because he didn't feel the same way about cas, but because he was Deeply Repressed™-- so deeply repressed, in fact, that if they really wanted to do a deancas storyline justice, they should've included at least another half-season arc just about, like. dean learning to deal with the trauma of his internalized homophobia (and other various traumas) and learning to actually fully believe what cas said about him doing everything he does for love and not anger.

and now i think that's actually just going to Haunt Me Forever! like yeah what we've learned over these past 12 months of november 2020 is that the C*W would evidently be too homophobic to ever even *think* about greenlighting something like that, but could you imagine???! like, an alternate universe (or a future jackles reboot miniseries) where, after cas gets sucked into the empty, dean actually gets adequate time and space to process that on screen??? like ok, they would still get rid of chuck and cas would still seemingly be stuck in the empty for the forseeable future, and then that would be the end of season 15. but then that wouldn't actually be the end, bc instead we'd still have a nice little 8-episode season 16 to finish wrapping everything up.

and in this imaginary season 16, the overarching big bad storyline becomes finding a way to deal with the empty and get cas back, while the emotional arc becomes about sam and dean having to figure out who the fuck they want to be now that they have free will. and maybe that means we see more of sam with eileen, and we see sam confronting his whole "but i'm inherently evil bc demon blood" complex and leaning into his witchy side, and/or we see him start to build up the men of letters and become a mentor to other hunters.

and then while that's going on, we actually get to see the emotional fallout dean is going through after cas's confession. we see dean trying to reconcile what cas told him (he is love) with how he feels about himself (he is violence and anger.) we see dean trying to process how he feels about cas telling him he loves him, and realizing that, holy shit, he feels the same way and he has for a very long time. we then see dean trying to make that realization fit with his conception of himself as the whole ~macho hunter toxic masculinity~ stereotype that he always thought he had to put on, and we see him realizing that free will means more than just not being beholden to chuck, it means not being beholden to john winchester's idea of right and wrong and not being beholden to whatever it is that anyone else may need or expect from him. and maybe that also means we even get to find some excuse to bring back john for just long enough that dean gets to verbally (or physically) curbstomp him a little bit!

and THEN by the time the season is reaching its high point plot-wise, like they've found their solution and they're ready to go get cas back from the empty, all this emotional stuff has been processed and dean is more certain about what he wants from his life now that it's actually up to him. which also means that he's now absolutely certain and guilt-free about the fact that, if they manage to pull this off and get him back, he does want cas in exactly the same way he knows cas wants him. and then cas *does* come back, and we get a nice little speech from dean summarizing all this character development, maybe a nice little call back like 'maybe happiness for you is in just saying it, but i want more than that' or something. and then dean finally gets to be true to himself and put his own desires first, and cas finally gets to hear someone else tell him they love him (in english), and then they kiss. and then it ends with an epilogue of sam and eileen running their hunter internship program or whatever, and jack coming to visit whenever he wants because he realizes he's god so he can do that, and dean and cas retiring to just be together, to just be normal and a little bit selfish and AT PEACE for the first time in either of their goddamn lives.

anyways every day i am tortured by visions of all the ways supernatural could have been Good if the C*W were not homophobic and also completely incapable of producing even one (1) coherent television program. on a related note, jackles baby you just focus on getting those reboot rights, i promise you the show and resultant glaad award victories will come together all by themselves

#i apologize for the incoherence gang!!! i am simply having thots about What Could Have Been #destiel #destielgate #deancas

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caffeinated-yearning · 3 years

Text

Confessions and (Bad) Dancing

In which pieces of the puzzle slot into place, feelings are lain bare after a year of working together on cases, and some people are better at dancing than they have any right to be (but unfortunately I am not one of them).

Word Count: 2103 Warnings: uhhh aside from crippling embarrassment as a center-stage piece, none I can think of.

“Slow dance? No, sorry, I don’t know how.” It was ironic, the tone Mark used- but he was sincere; not for lack of trying, but a waltz was simply outside his dancing expertise. So was pretty much every dance step ever; he had never been very skilled with dance. I’ll step on your foot and scuff your shoes, or I’ll fall into you, or “it will be unsightly,” and that’s a promise. A low hum as the half-smile fell from something almost sincere into a flatter expression that looked more unyielding than it was.

Mark’s eyes remained on the offered hand, still outstretched as Mr. Edgeworth spoke; “I promise it’s easier than you think.” For one half-second, Mark actually considered it. Considered it carefully, from every angle- and from all perspectives foresaw himself getting embarrassed. Either through his own inexperience, or some comment thereupon. If nothing else, being that close to Miles- to Mr. Edgeworth would destroy the easy-going facade that he so carefully kept. A quick one-two and done, Mann overboard.

Miles added, after a half-second of silence; “consider it a request; it has been a while since I’ve had the opportunity, and I can think of no one I’d rather share it with.”

…

What?

Operation ‘try not to think gay thoughts’ has been blasted wide the fuck open, and all smashed to smithereens; what does that mean? What does that mean?! Dumbstruck, feeling his hands and feet go ice-cold and at the same moment his chest and face start to burn, Mark was… Passingly aware that he’d accepted Edgeworth’s (Miles’?) hand.

What???

What a terribly foolish thing to admit. Miles chewed his lip, hoping that that specific admission would pass cleanly over Mark’s head. The opportunity, hah! No one he’d rather share it with— a request?! How utterly embarrassing to have said so much. He considered himself lucky, and unlucky, that this Mann was so incapable of noting any act of affection leveled toward him.

Not… not that Miles was well known for being terribly affectionate. Still.

And, likewise now, Mark seemed wholly preoccupied with other things. Perhaps his utter obliviousness would continue to spare Miles the indignity of having to discuss any matters of the heart.

… That there were matters of the heart which needed discussing was… well. It certainly wasn’t something he wanted to acknowledge.

Mark didn’t have the emotional wherewithal to hold his head up on the path to the dance floor- normally he wouldn’t dream of hanging his head, but the ground became very interesting when one needed to focus on one’s step, and even if he didn’t need to focus, meeting the eyes of (not allowed to think ‘crush’ but) Miles Edgeworth was dangerous enough.

Ah- oh no. They really had crossed that distance rather too quickly for Mark’s liking. Hand-on-back that rested warmly against this, his body, and it suddenly felt cumbersome to be- just to be. Mark’s own hand held feather-light over Miles’ shoulder; unwilling even to touch- to touch Miles. His hands were so cold and his face so warm- God, if there be any mercy in the world, may lightning strike me down here and now.

Alas, no such luck.

As the music started, step-one-two, don’t mess this up and stumble as Miles pulled him closer-; hand landing like lead to stabilize himself, and Mark felt his brain go absolutely empty- empty and full of static at the same time. “Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled, pulling back just to see where he was stepping- to see he was trodding on Miles’ feet and step-step stumble off. “I’m sorry—.” Sorry sorry sorry fuck.

“You really are unfamiliar with this,” Miles almost found it amusing, how little coordination there was. It- the dance- was all an excuse to be close to Mark in an otherwise over-crowded venue; he almost certainly should not have done this, should not even have admitted that he wanted to do this, but he had. While it was clumsy, it was still enchanting- just to be there together.

If only Mark were slightly more aware of the situation.

Miles sighed lightly, watching Mark glance one way, then the next- evidently searching for something, though what exactly he was looking for was beyond Miles’ kenning. Looking up, then down, then up again; it was a wonder he didn’t get dizzy.

A tense voice, anxious; “I said I’m bad at dancing.” Not exactly… ideal, for a (not a date but) dance.

“You’re not the worst,” Miles offered.

“But I’m not the best.” Quickly dismissed.

“Do you need to be the best at everything?”

“You can’t tell me you disagree- that you don’t want to be the best at everything you touch.”

That was… A fair enough point, he supposed. “But it’s an unreasonable standard to hold yourself to.”

Mark laughed at that- rude enough, tonight; “from you? From you?? We’re the same in that regard, at least. Neither willing to be less than the best, and neither expecting the world to live by the same standards.” At least he wasn’t still so stressed. And he’s back to watching our feet.

Mark felt himself pulled along at an unfamiliar speed; again he had been pulled a little too close, the dizzying steps tossing him face-first into Edgeworth’s cravat with a muffled ‘oomph.’ Despite all his struggling, he managed to scowl up into the grey above when he recovered his legs. So much struggling, with this dance thing. Struggles to meet a gaze, struggles to match the step. Infinite struggles, it seemed. Terrible!

Miles looked away too quickly when the glare was cast- had he been looking at me? “It gets easier with practice, you know.”

Mark grumbled and huffed and felt very inelegant as he tried not to step on any shoes without looking. “Which is useful if you are inclined to practice- so, not useful to me.”

“Hmm. Perhaps you would be so inclined if you had someone to practice with?”

Mark glared back at his feet with that; to look at Miles when his face was this bright (step over, Rudolph,) would convey only that he found the notion embarrassing- and master of logic that Miles was, surely if he didn’t put it all together by now, he’d have the final piece of evidence in the long and storied history of Mark has a big ol’ stinkin’ crush on pretty boy Miles Edgeworth like some kind of gay dweeb or something. Mark was sure he hadn’t been found out, but just as sure that it was only a matter of time. Damned if he would speed that along by actually showing off his embarrassment like some neon sign over his head. Over his face. Whatever.

“What-? Practice with you?” He tried not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“Is that so bad an idea?” Oh Miles was on fire with suggestions that would be impossible to explain away in the future, when they had work tomorrow and had to act like nothing happened.

“It’s a terrible idea!” Despite the words, Miles could hear the smile in Mark’s voice; like it was all a joke.

“Oh?” He tried not to take offense to that- the offer was genuine, even if it would have been hard to explain away in the future. “And what’s so terrible about it?”

Mumbling, as though trying to speak under his breath and not accounting for the fact that they were less than arm’s distance from each other; “I’m gay; you figure it out.”

This time when Mark walked into Miles’ chest, it was less because of his own inexperience, and more to do with Miles coming to his own screeching halt.

“… What?”

“What?” Mark looked up, and reflexively Miles looked away again.

While blushing might have been a bit too strong a word for it, Miles felt his throat, face, and ears burn with… hmmm, embarrassment? Something more akin to sudden, unwanted understanding, as all the pieces fell in place. “Wh-?! What does- what does that have to do with it?!”

“I said I’m bad at dancing! You’ve noticed!! You can’t tell me that you haven’t noticed. Perhaps I am completely without rhythm, perhaps I am wholly incapable of such things as stepping around a room elegantly!”

“That’s definitely not what you said,” he started moving again- but this time, it was less of a dance and more of an attempt to hurriedly get out of the center of the room, get off the dance floor and into a place slightly quieter, slightly less in the view of everyone around. The appreciation in Mark’s expression was subtle, once he realized they were leaving- only for it to get suddenly screwed up into apprehension.

Miles supposed it was probably because Mark had put together that they were leaving for the sake of a slightly more serious discussion.

The evening breeze was lovely, Mark supposed; it was cool enough that he could almost radiate away all the embarrassment without having to go shove his entire head under a cold tap.

Almost.

“Now,” Mark refused to look at Edgeworth- not that looking would have been so difficult in the dark of the night, but the idea that Edgeworth would be able to see Mark’s own face was enough to keep him looking to the side. “Mr. Mann, please.”

He glanced over in spite of himself- and though it was dark, something in Miles’ stance, or gestures, conveyed the same unease. “This is he who’s speaking.”

“This is not the time for jokes, sir.”

Miles groaned, and despite the fear sense in the air, Mark cracked a smile. “But I am such a jester! It’s only natural that I crack a joke to lighten the mood.”

“I— even so,” Miles sat on the steps, gesturing for Mark to join him. “Please explain why your being gay is relevant.”

“You’re clever; can’t you figure it out?” Mark had almost sat down, and then the question (request?), and he elected instead to lean against a pillar and not, in fact, sit at all. “Surely something like that is obvious.” The smile had faded, that much was obvious in his tone.

“You’re not afraid to fall in love with me,” Miles posed it as though it was a question, rather than a statement of fact; attached to the end was an ‘are you?’

“Far worse,” Mark breathed; a whisper directed away that didn’t land upon any ears at all.

“Since that’s not an issue, I’m afraid I don’t see the logic.”

“I already…” have.

“Hmm?”

“Your logic is faulty. It’s well past your statement.”

“My… Do you mean ‘afraid to fall in love’?”

“That one, yeah.”

“Well past, then…” The silence sounded almost like disbelief; not that Mark was going to look over and see for himself. “You—?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

“You didn’t—!”

“For a long time!!” Mark wanted to laugh and scream all at the same time. God, what a terror this was! To admit to a crush one’s feelings, to acknowledge—.

“You didn’t notice either—?”

Wait what??? Mark turned around so fast he got dizzy and fell over. Miles was standing, having stood up at the revelation, and now he was leaning over Mark to help him get back up on his feet, and oh what a humiliating thing— “what do you mean ‘notice either’??? What’s that supposed to mean???”

“I knew you were oblivious but I was certain at least by tonight you’d have figured it out-.”

“Figured WHAT out?! What are you talking about?! Is this a dream? Am I dying and dreaming or something??”

“When I asked you to dance I was certain that would have clued you in-.”

“Oh my GOD whAT no I’m surely dying this is it, goodbye sweet world!”

“I can’t believe you would just throw away all evidence that pointed to my liking you at all!” By now they were both standing, and the panicked stream of words that had seemed never-ending had slowed to a point where they once again took turns speaking. “You really had no idea, then?”

“No. I’m a clown, remember?”

“Hmm. Well.”

“Regretting saying anything?”

“No, I think not.”

Hand in hand, a moment’s pause before clearing of throats and suggestions that perhaps they ought to return inside.

“I still think I’ll simply die if you try to teach me how to dance.”

“Well we certainly wouldn’t want that. Very well, you are free of such an obligation.”

“Good. I’d rather not have any more heart-attacks for a while.”

#for reference when there's a single dash it's meant to indicate perspective shift #[[ Reason and Rationale | Miles Edgeworth ]]#I've had this in my WIPs for TOO LONG #IT'S FINALLY DONE #caffeinated writing #no memory of my tagging system. sadge #no I do not know how to title things. thank u

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pfft-yikes · 4 years

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Hey!! I have another request?!?! Could you do a Neji scenario in which he acts just like Hinata around his crush?! With all the blushing and stuttering from his side please?!?!

Well fuck me sideways and call me an absolute FOOL, because I'm clowning for this so bAD

To me Neji is more of the quiet tsundere type, so this will be interesting. I don't think he'd be exactly like Hinata, but he could be quite similar!

This will be sfw, but I'll make a nsfw version if enough people want it <(￣︶￣)>

Neji: Shy! (SFW)

Neji is known to be quite mature and stoic; however his emotions and nervousness comes out all at once around his crush, much to his dismay

This first started happening once he saw them from a distance while training in the forest

He decided to check whether this person seemed like a threat, but found nothing out of the ordinary. Just a small woman it seemed

He would admit that she were indeed quite attractive, but that's about it

Wait.

H u h ?

I-I..I find someone..attractive.?

....It must be my imagination. Maybe I should ask Lady Hinata for tea to help alleviate stress when I see her later.

Neji was just about ready to head home anyway, so he grabs his water and heads into town

Unfortunately for Neji, things will just turn out a lot more troublesome than he would like

As soon as he turned the corner, he bumps into someone else

His water container was thrown into the air, hitting his head on its way down

"Ow."

Shouldn't I have been able to catch that? Ugh, I guess if I were able to move, I-

...

I can't move.

???

Neji then realizes that the small woman from earlier had been huddled into his chest while he ran through what just happened

*Neji Drive:C has overheated*

"I- y-you-"

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry sir!"

She picks her small frame up and smooths her clothes out

"I-It's okay-"

"My sincerest apologies for my haphazard actions. If you'll excuse me, I must be going."

She bows, and quickly trots off

Damn

Girl didn't even give him a second to speak LOL

Neji is left an absolute mess

W-Why..

W-WHY COULDN'T I SPEAK, I JUST WANTED TO ASK IF SHE WAS ALRIGHT AND IF I COULD ASSIST HER IN ANY WAY BUT FOR SOME REASON IT FELT LIKE I WAS PHYSICALLY INCAPABLE OF SPEAKING LIKE SOME HALF-WIT, SHE PROBABLY THINKS I'M A WEIRDO OR AN IDIOT, WHAT IF SHE THINKS I'M A CREEP? OH NO, WITNESSES; WHAT IF I’M FOREVER BRANDED A PERVERT? DOES SHE THINK I’M A PERVERT? WOULD LADY HINATA THINK I’M A PERVERT? AM I A PERVERT? WHAT, NO, OF COURSE NOT, ALL I SAW WERE HER EYES- THEY WERE PRETTY, WEREN'T THEY? A-AND SHES SO POLITE, I REALLY WISH THAT I-

Oh God.

He almost screamed on his way home

Never been so terrified of his own thoughts before

Started eating away at him so he decided to talk to Hinata about it after some time

Turns out; she knows the woman he's talking about

EXCUSE ME

And she's coming over soon

HHhHhHHhHHhHH

It seems that she just moved to the village, and is being mentored by Hinata

This means..I-I have to figure out how to act like a normal, functioning human being again

...H-How do I do that with her around?

No, Neji isn't a stalker or anything

He just

Likes to make sure she isn't getting into trouble..

Decided to just speak when needed

Now she's worried that she had a bad first impression on him because he always looks angry when she's around

This is, obviously, not the case

He just doesn't know what to do with his face

Has his arms crossed around her to hide his sweaty palms

Omg could you imagine

"Rotation!"

*sweat sprinkler activated*

One time he almost cried because he fudged his sentences and sounded like he was threatening her

In the end, this strangely quiet woman has nothing but respect for him; she obviously doesn't understand why Neji acts the way he does around her

Poor Neji just wants to get closer to her: maybe it will happen without him realizing it

Or he needs to get shitfaced

One thing is for sure though

In reality they are both too polite and formal to one another to make any headway for now;;

#headcanon #headcanons #neji x reader #neji hyuga #neji #neji headcanons #neji headcanon #x reader

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fairycosmos · 3 years

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i hate grief bc i've wanted to die my whole life and thinking about the person i lost never wanted to make me stay but now that they are the ones who died i'm angry as fuck every day and feel trapped but i know that if it had been me the one to die it would have been ok and i wouldnt even have worried about it/hurting ppl with my death. like every day i do H and get drunk and i dont care about dying you know? but i lost someone and it makes me angry that THEY didnt care. do you get what i mean?

i am really really sorry for your loss. yeah. i know what you mean, at least to an extent. everyone’s grief and suffering is unique to them and the relationship they had with the one who passed, but i can relate so much to being trapped and mad and out of my mind. i think a lot of people can. it seems like so many of us are walking around half disillusioned by this existence and half completely done with it because of the shit we’ve been through. every day i feel a form of anger (most of the time it is cold and numbing) when i think about how my sister died. i have gone round and round in my head about why she did the things she did. because even if it wasn’t fully preventable, it wasn’t cancer or a car crash or anything like that. when i found out what she had in her system. god. i can not explain to you what that moment was like. it fucking choked me. all i remember is i felt my heart beating somewhere in my head, and i was PISSED. i thought i was going to pass out. because it’s like you said - she didn’t care, and that was almost like proof. she went to sleep thinking nothing of anything. mindless. after weeks of lecturing her, after her constant presence in my life, all that time. after years of her fucking around w other drugs and finally finding stability only to slip for less than a month bc of some fucking man, only to lose her entire life to a mistake - it’s inexplicable. i can sit here and write to you about it but i still cant’t fathom it. how she didn’t give a fuck, or she couldn’t see the situation clearly enough to. and now i’m living this forever without her. now i have to take care of my mother alone. now i’ve lost my best friend. and she lost everything. she was a whole person, she would’ve had years left and she deserved to. and the only reason she didn’t is because she couldn’t fuckin accept how much she was worth, how much life was worth so she gambled w death. what i’m saying is i understand that in a way, maybe a selfish way, i don’t know - it almost feels mocking. because we’ll never know if they realize what they’ve done. after she died that’s all i could repeat out loud in the shower. i kept saying: you don’t know what you’ve done. idiot, stupid girl. shit like that. every time i tried to talk to her, it was a lecture. so yeah. it is very very normal to be pissed off and bitter dude. it is not easy or fair to be left behind. it’s all a normal part of grief. losing it entirely is the whole thing because honestly what else can you do.

i could be wrong but. unfortunately i think all of these emotions, in the context of you, stem from the fact that it is easier to care for others than it is to care about yourself. you’re not bothered about yourself dying because you don’t have the same love for yourself that you had for the one who passed. you don’t see yourself as important in that way. i don’t know what happened to make you feel like that. maybe whatever it was lead you to use drugs n alcohol to escape in the first place. maybe you think you not mattering is some sort of universal truth, but it’s not. it’s a belief you constructed either out of pain or as a trauma response that you’ve clung onto so much that you’ve convinced yourself it’s reality. it’s clear you’re going through an insurmountably difficult time, and i know words on a screen aren’t going to change that. i wont pretend to get it first hand. i just want you to know that the same way you wish your friend had realized the worth in their life before it was too late, that same anger born from frustration and sadness - that’s how a lot of people likely feel about you. and i know you don’t care about hurting them w your death because you don’t care about anything. your friend didn’t care, why should you, right? but that’s how the cycle perpetuates. and you’re the one who has to live with this all now, stuck here or not. try to periodically and consciously recognize how fucked up and permanent grief is. you don’t want to be the one to cause it. not really. not when you can see it for what it is and you have the option to prevent it. you are here no matter how much you wish not to be. you do deserve to find substantial peace, stability and good health while you still can. that’s non negotiable. even if it takes a fucking life time getting there.

i completely understand that it is all far easier said than done. that you have to be the one who is willing to reach out for help and to really stick w a plan but. i guess i just hope you know that the option will always be waiting for you when you are willing to seek it out. whether it’s through a hotline, rehab, your doctor, your friends and family, 2 hours without using or drinking. any step in the right direction is commendable. you are absolutely more resilient than you realize. more in general than you realize. you’ve had to deal with so much, just the most unimaginable things, and you’re still here. i know that’s because you feel you have no real choice in the matter, back to being trapped here. but nonetheless you’re making it. you can learn to treat yourself w the same regard that you treated your friend. you can learn to care about what happens to you. you can slowly make a home out of what you currently see as a jail. through talking, through implementing healthier coping mechanisms into your daily life, through building a support system, through confronting and processing how much it hurts, through finding the clarity that comes with progress. all the things your brain wants you to write off. addiction and mental illness are genuine health concerns that require long lasting therapy and treatment just like any other ailment. and maybe the point is to learn to live with them, rather than to cure them entirely. but they are not a death sentence (and that is a good thing), and they are not the entirety of you. you are just currently very overwhelmed by them, understandably so. excuse me if this is all sounds like naïve bullshit, but maybe some day you will be able to take some of it on board if you can’t right now. anyway, it sounds cliche as fuck, but every day that you’re alive you’re keeping your friend’s influence on this world alive too. you were shaped by them, in more ways than you realize. and they’re here in more ways than we realize too. not necessarily ghosts, at least imo. but just around. and in your head, in the universe. i am rooting for you so much and i hope you can accept that even if it all feels like lies, it’s ok to treat yourself w kindness. any attempt is good enough. sending a lot of love your way. please take care of yourself as much as possible. please consider your needs and your well being while you still have the choice to. sorry to go all 90s drug prevention ad on you btw, but u know me. i’m incapable of shutting up and minding my business abt this sort of thing lol

#tw drugs #tw addiction #tw death #tw overdose #tw suicide #anon

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faerytale-au · 4 years

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A Darkness Lingers Pt.1

Word Count: 8,805 Fourth Prompt Place: During and After “Promises and Tokens” Rating: M TW: Mentions of Past Abuse Part 1 - Part 2 Cross posted to Ao3 here!

(During Prom&Tok)

“So your brother’s getting hitched, talk about a shocker.” Papyrus casually gave Undyne the side eye as they walked. Why everyone kept repeating that he didn’t fully understand. Sans could be devoted if he wanted to be, after all he had helped raise him since he was young, even back when their father was still around.

“I SUPPOSE TO THE UNOBSERVANT EYE IT WOULD BE QUITE THE SHOCK YES.” Undyne could always tell when Papyrus was being sarcastic.

“Hey, I’m not the only one who thinks that, you have to admit Sans doesn’t really do much unless he absolutely has to. I wouldn’t call this a necessity either.” Papyrus stopped in place to stare at her.

“IS THERE A REASON YOU’RE BRINGING THIS UP RIGHT NOW?” When she’d all but demanded him to walk with her to work with the excuse that they were heading the same direction he’d been expecting some friendly chatter.

Not a cross examination.

Undyne stopped beside him and folded her arms, her expression turning serious as she seemed to contemplate something. “Is the wedding even going to be legal?”

Papyrus was offended. “WHY OF COURSE IT WILL BE! WHY ARE YOU EVEN ASKING THAT?”

“It’s just well...Frisk is a mage.” Undyne stated plainly as she placed both her hands on her hips. Papyrus didn’t see what her point was, and so narrowed his sockets at her suspiciously. He knew she was uneasy with the thought of mages walking around, but last he was aware Undyne liked Frisk.

“THE ROYAL FAMILY AS I RECALL HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH MARRIAGES BETWEEN CLANS. THOSE ARE VERY MUCH STILL PERSONAL MATTERS AND DECISIONS LEFT TO THOSE ENGAGING IN THE BINDING CEREMONY.” Papyrus casually dismissed. But Undyne only seemed more reluctant about dropping the conversation as she frowned.

“That’s another thing, does she know what a binding ceremony even means Paps?” Ah, there was the crux of the matter, he could tell by the way her gaze skirted around him, but he was confused.

“I’D ASSUME SHE DOES, THE HUMANS MIMIC THE WHOLE PROCESS RATHER EFFICIENTLY IN THEIR OWN CEREMONIES.”

What was there to even know he wondered?

A binding ceremony meant exactly what it was called, the two participating became tied to each other usually until one or both parties fell down shortly before dusting. In the meantime their tokens they exchanged, powered through the upholding of their promises, would act like soft mood detectors and tracking beacons. They would be able to tell when one was in danger or had gone somewhere far away from the other.

But then again that was for Seelie.

Papyrus had no clue what rules would apply to his brother and Frisk, he didn’t even know if it would work the same for them.

He did know however so long as she stayed in the realm and remained a mage her lifespan was sure to endure as long as any other Seelie. However Mages and regular humans didn’t go through the falling down process when reaching the end.

For the briefest moment Papyrus felt a flicker of doubt and worry for his sibling.

What would it mean if Frisk was somehow killed or died before him? Most Seelie didn’t survive when their partner passed away, and there had been stories of the effects tokens could have on those that still lived.

He didn’t want to think about the implications a token from a powerful human soul could have.

So he didn’t.

But Undyne did have very good reasons to worry.

“AND IF SHE DOESN’T I’M SURE IT WILL BE EXPLAINED TO HER. ARE THERE ANY OTHER CONCERNS THAT ONLY INCREASE THE JOVIAL MOOD I AM IN?” Undyne didn’t want to voice it seeing how his expression went neutral, his sockets habitually going wide with an empty grin to match, just as Sans’s so often did when he was talking about a subject he was uncomfortable with.

Still it was a legitimate question that needed asking. “Yeah, last one Paps. Who’s going to bind them? Last I checked the job belonged to the clan elder, or to the oldest member and your dad is…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish.

Papyrus’s smile finally dropped completely. “AH, I WAS THINKING ABOUT THAT MYSELF. I AM AWARE I AM TECHNICALLY BY TRADITION TOO YOUNG TO KNOW ABOUT THE CLAN RITES, AND THAT SANS IS THE ELDEST BUT GIVEN THE CIRCUMSTANCES I AM HOPING HER MAJESTY AND GERSON WILL BE KIND ENOUGH TO LET ME LEARN AT LEAST THIS ONE.”

“Is that why you’re heading to the castle with me?”

Papyrus forced his smile back on but it was so easy to tell for the other Seelie how fake it was. “ONE REASON YES.”

Undyne shifted in place awkwardly. She was never good with emotions when it came to someone other than Alphys but she was insightful enough to know when an invisible line had been crossed.

“Look, I’m sorry I brought up Ga--”

“IT’S FINE!” She jolted at how quickly he cut her off and Papyrus was quick to rub the back of his vertebra as he offered an apologetic smile. “IT’S NOT EXACTLY A GOOD THING TO MENTION HIS NAME, YOU KNOW THE POWER BEHIND SUCH THINGS.”

“...You mean the power for him behind such things.” She glowered.

Papyrus didn’t respond, simply stared at her, with all the patience many would have thought him incapable of. It was clear he wasn’t willing to continue the conversation. Her sigh of defeat was enough to make him silently grateful even as it irritated her.

“Sorry for the questioning. C’mon we’re going to be late.”

He smiled and went to follow, only to pause as a thick foreboding chill ran the length of his spine. Papyrus peered over his shoulder as the air around him became saturated with malevolent energy and the taste of sulfur.

If he focused long enough he swore he could see the minimalist movement out of his peripheral, the area usually reserved for wisps or other mischievous Fae that sought to cause havoc.

He was usually never bothered by such things.

But a clan member could always tell when their eldest was nearby, Seelie or Unseelie alike.

“PAPYRUS! ARE YOU COMING!?”

Gaster watched from behind the veil as Papyrus turned back around and sauntered off after Undyne. He could tell his magic was riled but the lanky skeleton kept it cleverly concealed as he chased after the blue fish Seelie.

It was almost impressive how his youngest’s magic control had developed he thought absently.

But then he lingered on what he’d heard.

So his oldest son was getting married? The possibility of such a thing never once crossed his mind, seeing how cold and distant Sans had become in the years following his departure, it was quite the surprise.

Someone made Sans happy, enough to break through his guarded detachment and a human no less. Oh what irony that was.

Gaster’s corrupted soul gave a sickening twist as a foul wave of contempt overcame him.

He supposed he wasn’t due an invite.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t by all rights allowed to meet the bride. He always knew his eldest had a soft spot for the other race that was simply his nature as it was all Seelie’s, but to go so far as to bind them to their family name?

What made this one so special?

Frisk wasn’t experienced when it came to cooking.

In her youth when she had to fend for herself she usually had a kind neighbor to help her, or if she was really lucky the town’s crops would already be just beginning to ripen and she’d pluck one or two fruits for a meal when she was hungry.

None of that required fire or pots.

So why it had been a good idea to Papyrus and her...fiancé...to let her make dinner she had no idea. She was even a bit worried she’d potentially end up burning the house down; how was she supposed to know when the meat was fully cooked, let alone magic meat too.

Her narrowed eyes flickered over to the cookbook Papyrus had set up for her.

It said to simmer the meat until browned...how did one simmer meat?

Magic maybe? Wasn’t that always the answer?

Frisk was so busy worrying and glaring at the food to notice as a thin shadow slipped from the kitchen doorway behind her, it’s shapeless form gliding across the floor to rest just behind her own feet.

It lingered still as could be while Frisk hummed and begun to look over seasonings.

Slowly the shadow darkened and grew upwards like a pillar of smoke, it’s ascent silent as the grave as it twisted and enlonged. It continued to grow until it was just tall enough it threatened to touch the ceiling and all the while Frisk was ignorant to its presence..

The sharp popping of the meat and a loud gasp from her was enough to cover a nauseous sound of rolling curd and dolloping phlegm, the crackle of raw magic, and the food’s smell of char as it burned was enough to mask a scent of coal and wood.

A face, white and round, cracked from the left corner of its mouth with a matching lightning bolt jagged like cut curving up from it’s right eye rolled out from the churning darkness to grin wide and maliciously at the human woman’s back.

So this was her?

Gaster tilted his head as he took in her appearance with an apathetic look. About average height, dressed simply in Seelie garb, but to his keen eye all together plain looking. He couldn’t see anything that would have coaxed his son’s attentions.

Nothing truly remarkable stood out about her that he could see. There were even faint scars dotting her arms if he looked close enough, a feature that normally would’ve been off putting among her kind he was sure, he could even see one or two trying to show from under the collar of her shirt.

Yet.

There had to be something he was missing.

A flare of brilliant magic circled his right socket as a monocle formed and his frown curved up into a smile both fascinated and intrigued. Right in the center of her being he could see a heart floating and radiating the aura of magic around her.

Her soul was the most vivid and bewitching shade of Red he’d ever seen, determination practically poured from her being in rivets. It made his hands spawn and itch. Even enclosed within her body as it was it gave off a sense of bewitching ambition and drive.

Was it truly a wonder his eldest had fallen for her then?

All Gaster could see...was fathomless potential.

Frisk mumbled to herself as she rushed over to the sink, her hands fumbling as she filled a cup and rushed back over before stilling as an icy shiver raced up her spine. She frowned. It felt as if she had eyes on her, someone watching her as she attempted to pour water over the smoking remains of her ruined dinner.

Gaster smirked.

Trying to keep calm she drew a shaky breath and tensed. Swallowing down her nerves she turned and froze, her body preparing for a sudden assault or unexpected visitor.

She blinked at the empty kitchen.

Frisk had been living in the Seelie realm for a while now, unexplained sensations or fluctuations of magic weren’t unusual or uncommon. But this felt off...as if whatever that was she had felt didn’t belong to the rest of reality around her.

Furrowing her brows one of her hands came up slowly to brush the air in front of her as if to feel something she couldn’t see before snapping it away to her chest. She started to breath heavy and glanced down at her palm.

A feeling, something magnetic had rebuffed her.

“Paps? Sans?” She waited, a clamminess overcoming her skin, but no one answered her. Mentally she started to count backwards from ten as she cast a wary glance around her, her eyes lingering in corners and doorways before finally she started to calm down.

Feeling reassured there wasn’t really anyone around she let out a sigh and nearly whimpered as she reluctantly turned back to the stove and saw the meat had turned solid as a brick and black.

She couldn’t even tell it had been meat anymore.

Looked like it was going to be takeout for dinner again, Papyrus wasn’t going to be too thrilled.

“WE’RE BACK!” Frisk flinched, talk about convenient timing.

Frisk smiled in relief as she called back, her eyes locked on the smoldering pan, and shivered as she swore silently to herself that she felt eyes on her again. Her hand clenched the cup she still held nervously as her heart verged on picking back up.

The feeling of familiar and warm arms encircling her waist relaxed her.

“wow, my favorite, charcoal.”

Her cheeks stung and the stiffness in her shoulders changed meaning at Sans’s teasing and the chaste kiss he pressed to her cheek. Her worry was instantly forgotten as she smiled at him in amusement. Her fiance had a habit of liking things just a bit overcooked.

A lot overcooked.

“Well, at least one of us will have a lunch for tomorrow.” She pouted.

Sans merely chuckled and slyly glanced over to the corner of the kitchen at the same moment as his brother walked in. Papyrus’s loud exclamation and Frisk’s apologetic stammering faded to the back of his mind as his eyelight flared.

Gaster and Sans stared at each other.

His hold on Frisk tightened.

“Sans?” He blinked and his father was gone.

Belatedly he took in the way he was standing, like a wall separating where Gaster had been from the rest of the room. His suddenly blurry gaze lingered on the empty corner with a hostile intent roaring through his bones.

When had he let go of Frisk?

...Why was Gaster showing up again?

Feeling unnerved he forced a grin and made sure to carefully control his tone as he turned with a shrug. “sup?”

“You okay?” Frisk drawled slowly, her eyes flickering from where he’d been facing and back to him. If he didn’t know better Sans would swear Frisk knew Gaster had been there too. Coming into her powers he knew she would start to be able to feel distortions just as they could, but he worried; Frisk wasn’t officially tied to the family yet.

Was Gaster so strong now that his human fiance, a simple mage, could sense him?

“fine, just wondering if we have enough ketchup to go with dinner.” Papyrus frowned.

“YOU NEED TO SEE A HEALER FOR THAT ATROCIOUS SENSE OF TASTE.” Sans inwardly sighed as Frisk giggled. He couldn’t help but to be thankful that his brother helped with the subject change. This wasn’t something that needed to be talked about right now, hopefully ever.

He watched as Papyrus stole a spoon and a new mixing bowl. He looked really determined to teach Frisk some skills in the kitchen and Sans wasn’t complaining, he always enjoyed a show.

Even if he was incapable of relaxing now.

(Post Prom&Tok)

Frisk blinked sleepily and let out a yawn, her heavy lids fluttering as she slowly sat up. She frowned as she looked down at herself to see her everyday clothing and cloak adorning her instead of the pajamas she’d worn to bed.

What?

She blinked, and then she was on her feet, Sans standing in front of her with his cloak billowing ominously in the wind whipping around the both of them. His sockets were void of light, and his posture was hunched, almost broken looking.

An echoing and child-like sob had her looking around to see no one in sight.

Was she dreaming?

Frisk didn’t know what to think as a low growl caught her attention. Confused, she looked behind her and froze.

A being of blackest night stood tall and imposing, their face horrifyingly cracked and grin maliciously wide. Eight hands floated around the creature, circling and moving with purpose.

She didn’t know how to explain it, but she could feel them staring at her, and it felt terrifyingly familiar. It didn’t take much for her to realize it was the same feeling she’d felt that one lazy afternoon in the kitchen.

Her blood began to race.

There was no doubt what she was looking at was an Unseelie.

“G U I L T Y.”

A stab of ice and terror raced through her at the word, Sans’s voice echoing around her and plunging her under a shroud of fear.

Guilty?

The next thing she knew it was an out of body experience. Sans and the Unseelie stared each other down and the scene darkened, turned to hues of grays and blues as a chuckle, low and fervent came from her husband.

It sounded nothing like him.

The Unseelie spoke, and his voice grated Frisk’s hearing like nails on a chalkboard.

“SuCh A dIsApPoInTmEnT...TRAITOR!”

She just barely caught the way Sans flinched but there was no missing how the air turned cold, how his smile impossibly grew but at the same time lost all hints of emotion.

It was like Sans became a shell, nothing but an empty vessel.

His voice was unusually quiet and subdued, “traitor...thought you hated jokes old man.”

Her heart skipped painfully in shock.

Old man? Was this...Sans’s father?

Her silent question was answered for her.

“YoU aRe No SoN oF MiNe…” With that something seemed to break, and the atmosphere instantly ran thick and suffocating.

Her husband’s smile dipped but quickly recovered and then--

Frisk watched as Sans charged, a blast of ice coating the ground as he propelled himself forward. His expression was haunting, a grin so wide with sockets to match. Her heart hammered as he brought a hand up, thick white phalanges coated in contrastingly beautiful frost and blue magic.

An animistic roaring filled her ears as she spun to see Sans’s father curling and shooting forward like smoke to meet him, the eight levitating hands bloating to gigantic proportions and surrounding him like a cruel halo.

Sans’s hand jabbed out in silent command and bones, both blue and white, formed to shoot forward; thick tails of ice and snow rending the air in their wake as they rushed passed her suddenly spawned body.

Frisk cried out as one came close to scraping her cheek but dodged out of the way in the nick of time and narrowly avoided being swept away with the attacks by a wide sweep of one colossal hand as it batted them away.

“What’s happening!?” She shouted in fear, her skin breaking into a cold sweat.

Frisk went ignored as the hand that had so easily dismissed her husband’s assault met Sans, his smile lifting in one corner before he vanished and reappeared above it, hand raised and then brought down in a furious snap that spawned two demonic looking heads.

Her eyes widened as their jaws unhinged and two jets of freezing azure light erupted, shooting out with deafening noise like thunder as they connected and shattered the levitating limb in a fashion like glass.

The Unseelie, let out a pain filled shriek.

Sans landed on one of the floating skulls, a light Frisk couldn’t make out from the distance between them flaring briefly in one socket as his cloak and clothing whipped violently around him. “heh, looks like you’re out of practice gaster, but what do i know? i never practice.”

Gaster looked up scornfully, something Frisk hadn’t noticed before around his wide socket blurring and glowing with an ominous aura as he grew in size and hissed nastily through his own demented smile.

“bUt Of CoUrSe, YoUr BrOtHeR wAs AlWaYs ThE PrOmIsInG oNe!”

Another sob, louder than the first drew Frisk’s gaze and it landed on a huddled child; a smaller skeleton bent over and tucked into himself with his hands covering his face. But there could be no mistake, not with the sharply red colored cloak around his shoulders, smaller but still as eye catching and attention seeking as it’s longer counterpart.

It was Papyrus, and Frisk’s heart ached.

Sans’s grin finally dropped.

Gaster whipped up and twirled into the sky like an arching bolt of smoke, his hands moving in front of his face in a circular formation as they begun to spin rapidly. A low whine turning sharp and high pitched snapped Frisk’s attention from where it rested on Papyrus to both of the combating fae.

“Stop it…” She didn’t know why but the words were leaving her mouth without her consent as a burning in her chest grew intense.

“Stop it!” She cried out just as Sans raised a hand and summoned another skull; this one bigger than the others with immense blue power rolling off of it in thick waves, causing thick icicles to form and instantly break into countless shards around it..

Dark and tainted cold light, pitched and subtly hued purple on it’s edges, burst forth from Gaster’s hands just as Sans pointed towards him, the gigantic skull unhinging it’s massive jaw and firing--

“STOP IT!” Frisk shouted till her voice cracked--

The world was engulfed in blinding light.

And then she was falling.

“Seems you did not like that little glimpse into my son’s past.”

She jolted as everything snapped into darkness, leaving her dazed and with a thick feeling of cotton in her mouth. Blinking, the area began to brighten as her eyes adjusted to reveal she was now looking at a stone wall.

From what she could tell she was in a cavern.

Swallowing nervously she took a step forward, yelping as a shape came from seemingly nowhere in front of her and forced her shockingly weakened legs to waver as she hurried to take a step back.

Frisk stared with her hands clutched to her chest, waiting for her heart to stop racing.

Was she still dreaming? It was difficult for her to focus on the thought, the issue slipping just out of reach every time she attempted to answer it. Why was it so hard to concentrate?

“Frightened? Not surprising for a human in the Unseelie realm.” She flinched at how close the voice sounded.

Twisting her head this way and that she couldn’t make out anything other than the abnormally dark spot in front of her. That feeling was back again, and it was just as present and unnerving as the first time she’d ever felt it.

“U-unseelie...realm?” Her voice came out shy and breathy, the air around her feeling chilly and cold. Now she understood what she felt; it was a feeling of being unsafe, so vulnerable. She was hyper aware of just how powerless she instantly was.

The voice, observant but yet somehow soothing in it’s tone spoke up, “Yes, you need not worry however. No one dares to enter my dwelling here.”

Frisk found no comfort in the mystery man’s words, instead she only hunched into herself as she tried to fight off the unending chill and frost threatening her skin. A moment of silence fell between them and it was if the entity knew she didn’t have the strength to respond.

“I forget how fragile your race is, allow me to adjust the space for you.”

There was no warning. The darkness just suddenly brightened and illuminated the space around her almost blindingly like someone had casually thrown a candle in her face, and warmth instantly replaced the abnormal glacial air that had had her teeth nearly rattling.

She didn’t even get the chance to adjust to the sudden flux in her surroundings and assault on her senses before the voice was back. “It’s bothersome how hard it is to read you. Usually I have no trouble in knowing what one needs or feels, but in this case it’s exceedingly difficult. Although I am enjoying it.”

Sucking in air through her nose she rubbed her hands over her eyes and focused on how clear the cavern was now, noticing with a start that the blacker than black spot still stood in front of her, the edges of it curling and coiling like thin tendrils.

Gradually it shifted and Frisk fisted her hands to try and fight off the wave of bizarre wrongness she felt as the top morphed into what she could see as shoulders before a face emerged, transforming into a taller and darkly elegant looking fae. The bizarre placement of a monocle over a wide socket disturbed her in just how menacing it made him look, but not as much as the cracks her eyes traced.

Right away she recognized him. “Are you...Gaster?”

He appeared satisfied as he smiled at her. “An accurate assumption.”

His gaze panned her form for a brief moment before looking back up at her confused expression. His monocle sparked with light ominously. “I would say it’s a pleasure to meet my daughter in law finally, but given the situation that would be a lie.”

A cold sting raced down her spine as he moved closer to her, his form so imposing and tall in comparison to her withdrawn statue it made her mouth go dry. He easily dwarfed her. “I always knew Sans had unusual tastes but a human bride no less. I see he still maintains his passive aggressive attitude.”

Frisk didn’t know how to take that but her heart gradually stopped racing as Gaster shifted a bit further from her, the oppressive feeling he radiated dulling with the small distance. It was enough to allow Frisk to gain her bearings, and one fact came slamming back down.

“You said we’re in the Unseelie realm!?”

The place Sans had vanished to for three years!? What was only three days to him!?

Frisk felt a wave of panic start to sink in.

How long had she been here!? Would anyone look for her? Did Seelie willingly send out search parties for vanishing mages? Did Sans and Papyrus know? What would Pap do--

Oh no.

Sans

What if he thought something had happened to her? Had thought she’d abandoned him?

“I-I need to get home!” Gaster raised a brow.

“Do you believe that a real possibility for you currently?” He sounded amused.

Frisk found sudden strength as she stood tall and faced Gaster down. No one was going to use her to hurt the ones she loved, especially the only one that had ever loved her when she’d needed it most, and Gaster wasn’t going to keep her here if she could help it.

He was surprised as Frisk attempted to look intimidating, her aura of magic spiking around her as small iridescent flames sparked in a bewitching halo to frame her body. Her emotional response wasn’t what he’d been expecting, in fact, he hadn’t even seen it coming.

Gaster was definitely enjoying this.

“What are you planning to do? In a one on one fight your chances of winning are low, I have centuries of experience next to you.” His words seemed to have the impact he desired as he watched her slowly wilt, her flames turning dim as the courage she found turned sour.

But then she perked up again, her flames blooming into raging infernos that wrapped along her arms to ball within her hands. It wasn’t hard for the scientist to imagine the flaring of her soul, to picture it brimming with her determination as she spoke with a tone commanding attention and confidence.

“It doesn’t mean I still shouldn’t try!”

Gaster shot her a disinterested look but all the same willed his hands into existence and watched her eyes go wide as they enlarged large enough that she could have easily fit through a hole in the center of one palm three times over.

Still she didn’t back down.

She was either a brave fool, or a desperate mouse wanting an out.

After a moment of Gaster trying and not so surprisingly failing to calculate the ramifications of the possible fallout if they fought he dismissed his hands with a blink. She looked confused as her flames vanished but he simply spoke as if the standoff hadn’t just happened between them.

“I have no desire to fight a battle I would easily win. Instead, tell me human, do you know what an End of an Era is?” Frisk frowned. She didn’t like how that question sounded, she didn’t like how much hearing ‘End of an Era’ made her skin crawl, and could only shake her head as he pressed the tips of his many fingers on his numerous hands together.

His one good socket narrowed as he spoke.

“Its when the Rulers lose their lives, the end of the current millennia, unlike normal Seelie and their dark counterparts their lifespans are shorter. An unfortunate drawback to being the anchor that holds the Realms very existences in place, to keep magic itself alive and flowing.” She tensed as he moved around her, his embodied darkness bending and flickering like excited vapor as he continued.

“At the Age’s end the realms temporarily vanish, and those fae, mages, all magical beings still alive are suspended in the Either until the previous ruler’s heir or another is selected to become the new anchor. In the meantime the Veil is what keeps your human world safe from the endless flow of magic until the reformation year is up.”

“Reformation year?” Gaster let his hand drop behind his back as he smiled. If he didn’t make her feel so uncomfortable Frisk could have seen the smile almost friendly, like a teacher to a student in a way. Why he was even speaking to her about this she didn’t know, but curiosity had her focusing on his words.

The derisive chuckle he let out quickly banished all temporary illusion of friendliness.

“You have a very interesting soul, Frisk.” Her hand instantly went to cover her chest.

“You have an interesting eye piece.” His sockets widened and she bit her lip. It felt so similar to when she’d first met Sans, she’d responded just as absent and truthfully when he’d commented on her eyes.

Was she...at ease...somehow?

Gaster stared silently at her. “...My monocle interests you…”

She looked hesitantly at him. “Is it how you were able to see me in the Seelie Realm?” He went quiet again and Frisk wondered what he was thinking as an emotion seemed to cross his face so quickly she would’ve thought she imagined it.

“...I see, so you knew I was watching did you?”

“I guessed…” She whispered.

Gaster was impressed.

Her heart began to race as he suddenly glided closer to her, close enough that she could see the tiny iridescent gems of rolling colors embedded in the monocle over his one working eyelight as it pulsed brightly.

“It takes a year of human time for the realms to reform and for the Either’s magical influence to settle in it’s new host, that’s why it’s called a reformation year.” He paused and seemed to contemplate Frisk’s befuddled expression before pulling back and cupping his bony chin.

He hadn’t expected Sans’s wife to be this intelligent. Gaster had been right to assume the amount of potential she had, and the soul she carried...Maybe there was something special about her after all.

“Are you sure you still want to know why I have this? Why I am able to see through the veil?” The way he tapped the eye piece, languid and slow made Frisk’s nerves shoot up. But she had asked, and despite everything she had always been too curious for her own good.

“Yes.”

Gaster’s smirk dropped and his sockets darkened.

“When fae and magical beings alike are suspended in the Either the Veil not only protects you humans but us as well. It puts us to sleep as many call it, though that’s far too simple a term and not as close to what it means, what actually happens to us.” His words faded out, went weak until silence swallowed them as he stared unseeing passed Frisk.

He looked haunted and beguiled.

She didn’t know what to make of that complicated expression but for some reason it hurt her to witness it. Gaster looked as if he’d seen things no other being ever had before. Frisk just didn’t know if that was necessarily a good thing.

He blinked and refocused on her.

“The Veil coats us similar to a shield and blinds us as well. That’s what it’s supposed to do at least. The last occurrence, however, failed to protect me the way it should have.” Gaster watched as Frisk bit her lip and could easily tell how she automatically wanted to comfort him.

But he ignored it as flashbacks threatened to overcome his vision. Memories he didn’t have all but begging to drown him in their morose nonexistence. It always fascinated him how he could talk about them, but never truly live them, only feel their presence and the old ghostly burning of his torment as if he’d experienced it only seconds ago.

He took a carefully hidden breath and looked at her dully.

“I was awake, and the Either burned into my sockets and mind endlessly.”

Frisk felt an icy shiver run up her back as the unfathomable horror of his words struck her speechless.

He...had been tortured for a year…

Something about that statement resonated with her. It wasn’t the same thing that she’d gone through growing up, in fact it was worse but, she knew what it was like to feel hopeless. To feel as if the torment would never end and to sometimes silently beg to give just about anything to be free of it.

When she didn’t react Gaster simply shrugged. “A year of screaming with no one to hear would have broken a person, but I survived.”

That didn’t make what he’d gone through okay.

He didn’t give Frisk the chance to say it out loud though as he turned his back to her, the tenseness in his shoulders going lax as he stood straighter and let out a bored sigh.

“And when we woke up the first thing I did was shortcut to my lab where I took the Either, still filling and pouring from my sockets, and collected it in a flask. Astonishingly once it no longer clung to me but only to the cold and unfeeling glass in my hands it solidified, almost crystallized I would say, instantaneously.”

He turned to face Frisk again and this time there was a light in his sockets, something warm and full of curiosity that it shocked her to see in an Unseelie gaze.

“Of course I went completely blind in one eye and partially in the other. Though I began to notice how different the realm around me was. Where a pond or tree would rest all I’d have to do is blink and it would instead be nothing but cracked and brittle ground with an obsidian lantern in the tree’s stead. It was gradual at first but then became constant.”

He paused to give an annoyed roll of his eyelight. “And each time it would leave me with the worst of migraines! Even worse than my son’s ridiculous puns!”

How frustrated he sounded and the way a floating hand waved dismissively had Frisk struggling to not let out a giggle. Gaster looked so enthused it was hard for her to keep telling herself to be weary of him. His tone had gone fond and so eager with every sentence he spoke.

He suddenly seemed so normal talking about this.

“But then I had an idea, maybe I was glancing through the Veil, each vision was startlingly similar to what the Unseelie realm was described as in the texts, and this ability only manifested after the Either had affected me.” Gaster grinned sharply, his hands wringing together as he looked at Frisk with a sobering conviction that bordered madness.

She sobered.

“If the Either could take away my sight, why couldn’t it help grant me another?” She had a feeling she knew where he was going with this and she felt her stomach drop.

“The gems in your monocle, it’s the solidified Either?” He looked so proud at her answer that it did weird things to her chest. A sense of accomplishment, a feeling of satisfaction. Frisk had only felt that particular way once before, and it had been the only time her father had ever smiled at her.

Gaster...found himself wanting to be honest with her.

“...You’re more intelligent than I’ve given you credit for.” The feeling increased in Frisk’s chest.

“Excellent for a human, my son wasn’t completely clueless choosing a partner after all it seems.” And the feeling quickly changed to a mild offence as she frowned. Apparently Gaster was where Sans and Papyrus both got their mood ruining habits from.

“But yes, it turns out the gems when placed in a particular fashion can infuse objects. This eye piece not only allows me to peer easily through the Veil without repercussions but to choose when it happens. It offers me control.”

Frisk did not like the way his eyelight flared, the sheer malice and mania inside of it. But it didn’t scare her, if anything it made pity form a knot inside of her. She hesitated but found the strength to say what had been on her mind as he’d ranted and raved.

“It must be awful, being here alone?”

Gaster’s face for the briefest moment went lax. His built up excitement and sense of triumph shattered as if Frisk had taken a hammer to it and replaced the feeling with a cold sensation of apathy.

“I...can’t fully imagine what it’s like for you. You seem so…” Her words failed her but still she struggled to get her meaning across as Gaster leveled a detached stare so piercing it felt as if her very soul had been laid out in the open. “...like you’re meant to be around people, to create and discover and then share that with others.”

He slowly looked down at nothing and he didn’t know why he said what he did but found he didn’t regret it. For some reason it was bizarrely easy to confide in this particular human. “...It’s a similar feeling to being in the Either, only there’s no hope of it ending.”

Frisk’s response was instant.

“There’s always hope. Even if it feels impossible.”

Gaster looked sharply up at her.

“Such confidence when the evidence says otherwise. There has never been an Unseelie returning to their previous nature once banished and I stand firm on my belief even now. You humans are nothing but trouble, the very reason our monarchy and the magic in the world goes ignored and depleted.” Frisk flinched but stood resolute before him, squared her shoulders even as she clutched her hand to her chest.

“Beliefs can change…” Her mind flashed back to her parents, doubt and confusion trying to turn her voice hollow, but she pushed the vision down and said “People can change. If they are just willing too.”

Gaster turned to fully face her and his many hands vanished as his grin turned into a firm and curt line. He had never seen such fire in a being before, her determination shone so strongly it nearly emanated from the golden tone of her eyes turning them brighter.

He had never seen golden irises before in his many years of life, how was he just noticing them?

“Where does such hope come from? The conviction in your eyes?”

A smile, warmer than summer and brighter than the darkness he’d long become accustomed to slowly curved her lips as her thoughts instantly went to horrible jokes and a grin so expressive even in its perpetual existence. And her eyes softened as she thought on political rants and the smell of tomato sauce within loving arms.

“Your sons gave me that.”

His face crumbled and Frisk saw the way his already hollowed sockets emptied even further. Watched as his hands flickered in and out of reality as if he couldn’t concentrate enough to decide on summoning them or not.

Gaster looked pained and so remorseful that it felt as if it saturated the air itself.

She...wanted to help him.

“How did you end up here?”

Gaster didn’t speak and the air around them grew heavy and suffocating as his stature steadily grew dauntingly taller. Like a switch had been flipped his whole demeanor changed into hostile and violent, his monocle glaring white as he begun to approach her with corrupted intent.

Caught off guard Frisk took a step back and stumbled, her rear and hands stinging as she fell to the ground and continued to move backwards. Her mind raced to figure out what she’d done to cause Gaster to slowly corner her. Her blood was rushing loudly in her ears like a deafening roar and it took all her will not to cry out, only to continue in her retreat in a bid to keep distance between them.

Her heart was threatening to rupture in her chest.

Gaster’s voice was low but it was loud enough in the stillness engulfing them as he bent over her. “That is a story I don’t feel like telling.” it was laced with utter rancor and spite.

“Why don’t you ask that husband of yours?”

Frisk felt her lungs lock up as her back hit wall and tried to curl in on herself as he so cruelly leaned down and closer to her that the darkness of his form devoured the area and space around her. Like a vortex that consumed everything in it’s path.

Sans? Was it to do with what she’d seen earlier?

Her father in law gave an amused and mordacious leer.

“After all, you’re not even here.”

Her cry was cut short as the world went black and tilted, smoky darkness and the scent of something bitter flooding her senses and suffocating her. She tried to push back, tried to get away but there was no escaping.

It was the closet again--

Mom was home--

Shouting--

“frisk!”

She jolted upright, the piercing sob she let out loud and bloodcurdling right before she felt a pair of bony arms wrap around her.

For only the briefest second she struggled, the thought of Gaster’s enraged sockets and the sound of her mother’s voice sending her into a frenzy to escape, but quickly she relaxed as the smell of ketchup and the clothed ribs she was tucked against registered through the panicked haze.

She...she was in bed?

Blinking she tried to get her breathing under control as Sans rocked her.

“hey, it’s okay. shh was just a nightmare. i gotcha.” His words were so reassuring just as they always were when she had night terrors, but the feeling of asphyxiating darkness still clung to her skin like static.

It wasn’t just a nightmare.

But she couldn’t bring herself to say it, not with how she clung to him and felt the sins and fears of her past rolling down the slope of her sweat soaked back. For now she was selfish, she only wanted Sans’s comfort.

She shut her eyes and tucked further into him as she relished the feeling of his phalanges running through her tangled hair and brushing away tears that had run down her cheeks. She grounded herself with how he began to hum a calming tune as he nuzzled her.

Gaster’s words echoed…ask your husband.

For the life of her she couldn’t figure out what that meant.

What was there she didn’t know about Sans? He never kept secrets...at least she didn’t think he had any to keep, he’d always been so open with her, said what was on his mind.

But then again she hadn’t known about Gaster.

G U I L T Y

She hadn’t known he could sound like that or look so...dangerous.

“Sorry.” Anxiety and curiosity made her hoarse reply come out a near whimper but her loving husband only chuckled lightly.

“nothing to apologize for, wasn’t really out. sleeping desserted me tonight.” Frisk weakly glanced over to his end table and snorted as she saw a half melted sundae sitting abandoned.

“Papyrus is going to get onto you for midnight snacking again.” She commented.

Sans gave a wink. “only if he finds out. going to turn me in?”

Frisk smiled and felt the last of her tension melt away. “Never.”

Tomorrow was another day and she’d ask him then, maybe with sleep she would have a clearer head for the upcoming conversation. There was not an ounce of doubt in her mind that it wasn’t going to be a sensitive subject for him.

And she was too haunted by her own demons tonight to try confronting his.

“Sans--we need to talk.” The words felt rough in her throat but she didn’t waver as Sans pulled up short of the door to turn and face her.

The look he gave her was one of mild confusion, he hadn’t heard her sound so uncertain since she was a child, and he let his hand drop from where it had risen halfway to the handle. He gave her his full attention as he widened his smile at her and forced his concern behind a wall of habitual patience as he responded. “sure, what’s up?”

“...Right now?” Frisk was a little taken aback at how quickly he relented. He was about to head off to work but instead he was delaying to make sure she was okay. Frisk forgot sometimes just how attentive and caring he was, how often he put her first before everything besides Paps.

It almost made her change her mind bringing the topic up in the first place. She really didn’t want to upset him. Not when he looked so ready to placate or fix whatever was bothering her.

He always did so much for her.

Sans was silent as he noticed her shuffle in place, his eyelights taking in how she shyly looked at the floor with hesitancy. Something was definitely wrong, maybe to do with her night terrors from last night?

He tried his best to give a lazy chuckle and added a shrug for good measure. “i have time. undyne isn’t going to say much.”

Frisk swallowed.

“It’s about Gaster.”

That was the last thing Sans expected to hear from her. His eyelights immediately went out and a chill permeated the air as all the light around them seemed to dim and fade out with how his aura flared and spiked.

Frisk tensed, her eyes going wide as she recalled Gaster and his suffocating darkness. Suddenly she was also recalling how Sans had looked in her dream and she wasn’t even thinking as she took several steps back.

Sans was quick to notice the retreat.

She never ran from him, Frisk never looked as if she might be at risk around him.

It hurt, it was a harsh slap from sanity.

Immediately he blinked his eyelights back into existence and the mood shifted, the light turning once more to its previous brightness as a drop of sweat ran the curve of his skull. His mind was racing and he found it hard to concentrate on anything other than his wife and how she cowed.

“i’m sorry frisk i--i didn’t mean to.” She quivered as he reached for her but she didn’t fight him as he embraced her. He swallowed down the magical saliva building in his nonexistent throat. “just...how do you know that name?”

Frisk’s tensed posture loosened at the remorse she heard in his voice, the fear. Sans appeared terrified, but rather from her knowing or from just who exactly Gaster was she couldn’t be sure.

“I met him.” Before she knew it Sans was holding her at arms length with his hands gripping her shoulders, not enough to hurt or bruise but firmly, as if she could slip through his grip and be lost within seconds.

His tone was hushed but stern, hard as iron and cold. “what do you mean you met him?”

She had to remind herself that this was her husband, he’d never hurt her and would be the last person who’d ever wish any ill will on her, that he loved her in order not to shrink under his aggravated gaze.

She’d never seen this side to him before. He was so...uncontrolled. “My nightmare…last night.”

Sans shook and gritted his teeth as he forced his hands under his cloak so that she couldn’t see the way his hands balled into tightly clenched fists. His sockets lidded in thought.

It had been years since Sans had even heard that name last and it angered him how now that he did it was from his own wife of all people. It was bad enough he’d seen him before they’d gotten married. He should’ve known that wouldn’t be the last time he saw him.

What was his old man up to?

“i don’t want you looking into this.” Frisk looked at him.

It sounded like he had just given her an order, not a request or even a soft plea, a command. And it made something harden in her chest, burn in rebellion. Out of the whole time she’d known him Sans had never made demands of her.

“What?” Sans leveled a look so empty and void of all his familiar softness it felt as if a stranger was standing in front of her.

“i’m serious. gaster is dangerous. stay away from him.”

She bit back the initial response that built up on the tip of her tongue. Why she had the sudden urge to fight him so fervently on the subject puzzled her, it was just a feeling; a boiling and simmering feeling of wrongness for her to listen and cut off all contact with the Unseelie.

Something was telling her there was another path she could take, a better one.

It couldn’t be wrong if her very soul cried for her to obey could it?

Unknowingly what she said struck her husband like a blow. “I want to help him.”

Sans...was outraged, frozen in shock.

Frisk didn’t know the implication behind her statement, how insulting it was to his role as Judge. In a way it sounded as if she thought there was a flaw behind what he’d done, as if there was hope for someone he’d deemed beyond any sort of salvation.

She wasn’t aware just how damning it sounded to throw her support behind a being who represented everything wrong and unnatural with the world and how it should be. By saying what she did Frisk might as well have just crushed a flower beneath her heel and called life itself disgusting.

But this was Frisk.

There were times he forgot just how pure she was. How determined and strong the woman he loved could be if she tried hard enough, of course she’d want to help someone if she could, that’s all she’d ever wanted as a child. Why wouldn’t she give that back tenfold as an adult?

He loved her, so much.

It was that fact alone that cooled him and made his voice come out weak instead of bitter. “you can’t.”

If his own dust and blood wasn’t enough what hope did she have? She was only going to end up hurt if she tried and Sans did not want that. He could already see the cogs turning in her head and he hated it.

He couldn’t think of a way to convince her.

Frisk didn’t believe him, she desperately wanted to after all as a fae he knew more about how his world worked, but she just couldn’t. Something in the way his shoulders slumped told her she couldn’t ignore this.

She let out a gasp of shock as he abruptly turned away and opened the door. He was going to leave? Just like that? They hadn’t even finished talking.

What was happening? “Sans--”

“frisk.”

He paused long enough to speak but didn’t even turn to look at her. “i have to go.”

Her heart felt like it broke as the door shut behind him. But she knew the pain was nothing compared to his, he’d sounded as if he’d been about to cry with how his voice had broken, she’d seen the way his shoulders had shook.

Frisk wondered if he even knew he’d reacted that way.

#frans #adult frans #prompt 4

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minsugapie · 4 years

Text

Miscommunication 1/2

pairing: Yoongi x reader

genre: fluff, smut, ftrustration(?), one shot

words: 4905

a/n: *unedited* omg ok this is a few days late but i had school and whenever i wanted to write the smut part, i was always with a family member and that’s a no go for me so...also jackson is in this bc i found al those tiktoks hilarious where they introduce bts as the cast and then bam jackson is in it for no reason lmao

anyways HAPPY BELATED TO MY ULT 😍

also, this came to be for 3 reasons:

1. Solastia’s post

2. this generated prompt

3. @thealexalcala bc it was a joint idea

• • • • • •

Y/N’s p.o.v

“Jiminie, why am I going to this thing again? I know I love a good night out, but I don’t even know this guy…” you sighed as you opened the door to get out of the cab. You both decided that taking a cab to the bar that night would be the best, neither of you knowing how much you were actually going to drink.

“Because! I didn’t want to go alone! I only know like three people…and plus, I like to have my best gal pal with me! Yoongi told people to bring as many people as we wanted, as long as he told me the names, so they could be put on the list!” He simply answered as you two lined up at the entrance. There was a list of people that could get in. Apparently, the birthday boy had a lot of friends.

You and Jimin walked in to a bar full of people. You hadn’t expected it to be this busy, this early, but apparently people liked to party. It didn’t take long for the birthday festivities to happen. There was a table by the bar with a giant cake on it, something that you wouldn’t mind cutting into earlier rather than later. Unfortunately, it wasn’t your birthday just yet.

After a few minutes, a man walked onto the platform stage with a microphone in hand, easily catching the attention of everyone and calming to chatting. The M.C (you would call him for all intents and purposes) tapped the mic to make sure it was on before he looked around, seeing if he knew anyone.

“That’s Hoseok, he’s Yoongi’s best friend,” Jimin whispered when he noticed the question on your face.

Hoseok’s smiled was contagious as he took a deep breath, ready to get the party started. “First off I should say hi and introduce myself so…Hello, everybody, you can call me Hobi and I’ll be your speaker for the night! Now that a good chunk of people are here,” he started, covering his eyes to block to spotlight that was shining right in his face, “it’s time to introduce our star of the night, Min Yoongi!”

You noticed someone emerging from the crowd to your left. There was endless cheering for him as he made his way to Hobi. You’d never actually seen him before, but you couldn’t deny that he was pleasing to look at. You watched him as he smiled at Hoseok, who continued to talk once again. “Now, please have fun and introduce yourself to Yoongi if you two have never met! I’ll check back in when it’s time to cut into that delicious cake over there!”

When Yoongi and Hoseok left the stage, you turned to Jimin to say that you wanted to get a drink, but he had a completely different idea. He grabbed your wrist and started pulling you towards Hoseok and Yoongi, who were talking to someone already. Jimin stopped quickly, looking at you.

“Hair, good…makeup, perfect…outfit, hot… ok, you’re good! Oh, wait, let me smell your breath!” Jimin grabbed your chin, guiding you to his nose.

“What the heck are you doing?” You asked, pushing yourself away from him with a chuckle.

“Breath, acceptable. You’re perfect. Let’s go.”

You were more confused than ever, but the confusion ebbed away once Jimin finally stopped pulling you. You were in front of Hoseok, who noticed Jimin right away.

“Chim! Great to see you, buddy! And this must be Y/N?” Hoseok said loudly, you noticed.

You smiled at him, putting out your hand for him to shake, “I hope I’m not intruding on anything by being here…”

“Oh, definitely not,” he responded kindly, jabbing Yoongi, who was studying behind him talking to some other guy, in the ribs with his elbow.

“Ow, what the fuck, Hobi?” He turned to his friend, punching his arm.

Hoseok rolled his eyes at his friend as he emphasized, “This is Y/N, Jimin’s friend.”

Yoongi’s eyes go from Hoseok’s eyes and down his arm that is placed gently on your shoulder. When Yoongi’s eyes meet yours, he simply stared, so you decided to say something. “Uh, Happy Birthday.”

He was even more exceptionally handsome up close than he was on stage. Maybe Jimin was onto something by asking you to come with him tonight.

“It’s not until midnight, but thanks,” he smiled, breaking whatever quiet spell he had himself under.

You looked at his smile, thinking about how cute it made him look. He wasn’t your normal type, and you couldn’t believe how quickly you were attracted to him. You almost wished this you weren’t here, so you could have some time alone.

“Well, I’ll have to make sure to find you again then…” You flirted, tilting your head to the side as you bit your bottom lip. Yoongi looked at it quickly before looking back at your eyes.

It took him a few seconds to respond, but when he did, you were surprised by what he said. “Or you could just keep me company until then,” he whispered, taking a step closer to you.

You didn’t hear it, but Jimin right then actually excused himself, bringing Hobi with him.

You noticed Yoongi looking at your hands, and then he said, “Let me buy you a drink.”

You smiled at what he suggested, rebuking his comment. “No, no. It’s your birthday! I should be the one buying you a drink!”

“Come on,” he grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the bar.

The bartender was a guy called Jackson, who you shared a class with. He smiled at the two of you. “So you found the birthday boy?” He joked, wiping the counter in front of the two of you.

“Actually, he found me,” you replied, putting one elbow up on the bar. “Can I buy him a birthday shot?”

It was Yoongi that interrupted, “Nope. Not happening. Two shots on my tab, please.”

Jackson looked between the two of you before quickly getting two shot glasses. “Sorry, Y/N, but he’s the law tonight. Also I don’t wanna get my ass beat later.”

You groaned, frowning at Jackson. “Fine.”

Jackson gave Yoongi a look, and they stared at each other for a few seconds. It only broke when he placed one shot in front of each of you.

“Bottoms up,” Yoongi whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

• • • • • •

Surprisingly, Yoongi kept you with him all night, and you had absolutely not problem with it. You did a bit of talking, but not much because the two of you were constantly getting interrupted by his friends that were wishing him a happy birthday.

When the two of you decided to dance, you wondered how it would be? Would you save room for Jesus or would he want you all over him? All you knew was that you wanted him all over you regardless. Your body was gravitating towards him without your consent.

You were pleased when he pulled you flush to him during the dance, faces only centimetres apart. One of his legs between both of yours, a hand slid down to your lower back and held your cores together. The two of you danced together for while, not really talking. At this point, it was simply just the alone time that was nice. You practically knew nothing about the guy, but you wanted to. How was he this popular? What was he taking in school? How did Jimin know him?

When the song changed, you found yourself looking down at his lips that were almost on yours. They were lips that framed that cute smile that you’d gotten to see a few times over the night. They were lips that you wanted to feel on your own.

So you took the leap since he wasn’t. Your hands pulled him even closer to you as you finally felt his lips over yours. Yoongi didn’t hesitate to kiss you back, wrapping both his arms around your waist to keep you close to him.

The kiss was interrupted after only a second because all of a sudden, a voice came through a microphone again. It was Hoseok’s voice.

Yoongi didn’t pull away from you, however. Frankly, you didn’t even notice what Hoseok was saying because Yoongi was successfully distracting enough.

As it turned out, he was actually calling for Yoongi, and neither of you noticed until there was a spotlight shining directly on the two of you. It was you who pulled away first, covering your face that was harbouring a major blush.

“Seem’s like the birthday boy already gotten his wish! And we were just about to announce that it’s time to cut the cake!” Hoseok laughed through the speakers. Yoongi could tell how embarrassed you were in the spotlight, so he pulled you behind him to block most of the prying eyes.

You slipped out of Yoongi’s arms as quickly as possible into the shadows. You realized that you’d left Jimin a really long time ago. You see that he’s watching you walk away from him as Hoseok’s goes to pull him to the cake.

• • • • • •

You sat outside, wishing you could see the stars. You had spoken briefly to Jimin, who was playing some drinking games with Jungkook and Tae. Jackson was revelling in all the money they were spending on alcohol. He was going to get a fat tip from Jungkook, you just knew it.

Your fingers made their way back to your lips, thinking about kissing Yoongi. He made you feel weird.

You’d always had this thing where you thought you were incapable of feeling love. You’ve been in relationships and had crushes on people, but you never let it get far enough for whatever reason. But whatever had happened between you and Yoongi had felt different.

Suddenly, you felt a body sit beside yours on the cool bench. “I was looking around for you,” Yoongi’s voice softly came from beside you.

“You were?” You asked. It was starting to get late, and the few drinks that you had didn’t make you tipsy enough to think about your feelings.

“Yeah, I brought you some cake,” he joked, nudging your shoulder with his.

You smiled at how cute he could be. He definitely didn’t give off that vibe at first glance. “Oh, that’s it…”

“I mean, I kinda wanted to talk about what happened earlier.” He didn’t take his eyes off the cake.

“You mean when I kissed you?” You took a bite of your cake. It caught his attention, and he watched you take it off the fork.

“Yeah,” he breathed, moving closer to you. The expression on his face mirrored how you thought yours would look if he was doing the same thing. When you pulled the fork away, his hand automatically moved up to your face, wiping some icing that got onto your bottom lip. He didn’t pull back. Instead, his thumb pushed into your mouth, and you instinctively licked it off.

“Listen, I don’t want to be too forward because we just met, but what would you say if I asked you to come home with me tonight?”

You were surprised by his question. Mostly, it was because of a personal thing and not him or what you had between the two of you.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. “Actually, I, umm…”

Yoongi looked away from you and at a flickering street light instead, “It’s fine if you want to. I’m sorry I suggested it.”

“No! It’s not that I don’t want to,” you swallowed, trying to find your words, “Really, it’s just that I haven’t actually had sex before.”

“You’re lying,” he said, mouth falling open, “I don’t believe you.”

“I’m not lying.” You started eating more of the cake, trying to diffuse your nerves.

“Why? I mean, I should never have asked that. I’m sorry…again.”

You calmed slightly. “No, it’s fine. There’s really no reason for it. There was never an opportunity, and there was never a guy who I wanted.”

“So you just said that it wasn’t that you didn’t want to-”

“Exactly.”

• • • • • •

Yoongi lived in a small, one-bedroom apartment. But that was the last thing you were thinking about because there were other things on your mind.

“So I don’t want to be like this, but I really want to start kissing you now…” Yoongi said as he guided the two of you to his bedroom.

“No, let’s get on with it, birthday boy,” you replied, pulling on the front of his shirt before turning and pushing him back on the bed.

There was a short look of surprise on his face before a smirk took over. “I thought you said you’ve never done this before?”

“Oh no, this is fine, it’s what comes after that’s foreign territory,” you clarified, crawling onto him.

“Y/N,” he breathed, letting his hands brush up your sides. Just as you were going to kiss him, he gripped your hips and flipped you over.

“Are you going to kiss me or what?” You joked, opening your legs, so he could comfortably lie between them.

“I just want to do this right because it’s your first time,” he admitted, letting his lips brush yours with every word.

You rolled your eyes, lifting your head to connect your lips. You really didn’t want to wait any longer, and you were pleased when he kissed you hard. You took this time to really let yourself enjoy him. When you were kissing at the bar, there were people around, but now you didn’t have to worry about any prying eyes.

Yoongi’s lips still vaguely tasted of cake as he opened his mouth to yours, tongue passing your your lips with every movement. You brought yours hands up to his head, running your fingers through his hair and nails across his scalp. His muscles tensed up, goosebumps rising all over his skin.

Yoongi pressed his hips into yours, one hand holding his body up and the other moving up from your hip to your breast. Matching his pace, you started inching up his shirt. He got the message straight away, using one of his hands to rip the shirt right off.

That simple gesture caused the speed at which you were progressing to increase. Clothing was hastily removed until you were left in your jeans and Yoongi in his underwear.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” He asked between heavy breaths.

You nod your head, letting your eyes fall to all his exposed skin. He was very pale but his skin looked like porcelain, so smooth and free from blemishes (it was kind of unfair).

“Because I want to make it feel good for you…” he drawled, starting to kiss down your jaw and your neck. Because he’s taking off your bra right after the shirt, your entire upper body was free for him to kiss.

He massaged one breast as his kisses attacked your shoulders and collarbone, moving down towards your other breast. When he started kissing around the most sensitive skin, you couldn’t help but arch into him, wanting him to continue his attack.

You legs flew around his waist, pulling him closer to you. You desperately wanted him to increase the friction. You were already wet just thinking about Yoongi, and the sweet little nothings that he would say to you were helping that.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. You ran your hands all over his back, feeling his soft skin. Using your nails, you lightly and painstakingly slowly dragged moved down his spine.

“Yoongi, I want to do it now,” you voiced, trying to find the will to talk.

“Already?” He stopped, coming back up to your face, so you could look eye to eye.

You half smiled at him and then pushed his hair back from his face. It was sexily falling into his eyes and you could barely handle it. He was so definitely your type…and boy were you glad that Jimin had dragged you to the bar earlier. “You don’t want to?” You joked, pulling his lips to yours.

“You have no idea how much,” he admitted between kisses. His hand went down to your jeans, popping the button. He was definitely letting you know that he was ready for this.

“Ok then, help take my jeans off,” you ordered, lightly pushing him back, so you could access your zipper.

“Aren’t you nervous?” He asked, surprised at your willingness.

You were totally 1000% nervous, but it was bound to happen sometime, and why not with a man that essentially said that he wanted to make sure that it was as enjoyable for you as it was for him.

“Completely, but you make me feel comfortable,” you answered.

“Ugh,” he groaned as he looked at you. His eyes were raking over all your exposed skin in bliss. “You have no idea what’s going through my brain right now.”

You could imagine. You knew how guys could be, and you’d gotten a glimpse into Jimin’s brain a few times in the past.

“Listen, like I said—I want to do this right, so,” he started, stepping off the bed to go to the desk drawer to grab something, “we’re going to use lube.”

You obviously knew about it, but it wasn’t something you often heard about. But you nodded your head anyways.

“It’ll make it easier for you,” he clarified, crawling back onto the bed. He grabbed the bottom of your jeans, tugging them off. You were left in only your underwear now in front of him, strangely not feeling nervous about that particular fact.

You then gained just enough confidence to grab the band of his underwear and tug at them. You didn’t pull them all the way off, but at least he knew where your head was at.

To kickstart the moment again, Yoongi kissed you hard, almost to the point of hurting you (but in a really good way). He seemed eager to you, teeth biting at your lips with more intensity than you were prepared for. Your body could barely keep up. Your senses were in overdrive.

During the kiss, Yoongi was still able to deftly removed your underwear by sliding them down from one hip. He only got them about halfway until you took over, almost ripping them right off.

His touched had completely vanished for a few seconds, but you didn’t even open your eyes, trusting him a little too completely.

When his kiss returned to your mouth, you felt the light touch of his knuckles move down your breast bone and across your stomach. Using his knees, he pushed your legs apart.You gasped into his mouth when you felt his touch move down to your most sensitive place.

“It might be cold,” he mumbled, stopping his kisses but still keeping his lips on yours.

He wasn’t entirely wrong. But if you were being honest, it wasn’t the feeling of the lube that was weird. Actually, it was the feeling of someone’s hand that wasn’t your own down there.

You anticipated what was going to happen next, letting your arms slip around his waist. It was a feeble attempt at getting him closer to you.

He pushed one of his finger into your entrance, opening his eyes to see your reaction, but you were already looking at his beautiful face. Your hips pushed up into his palm involuntarily, and he took that as a sign to try a second finger. You felt him smile against your lips, so you smiled with him as best as you could.

“Is this fine?” He asked. You started to feel his strain against you, all his muscles tense as he made sure that you felt okay.

A thought went through your mind: it was his birthday, yet he was the one taking care of you. That didn’t seem to make any sense.

However, the thought quickly left because you started to crave more of him.

“Yoongi,” you breathed, unable to finish your sentence of ask for what you wanted.

He pulled back, and somehow managed to take off his pants, open the condom packet and put it on in the span on 10 seconds.

You watched in mild fascination as he used the leftover lubricant and your own liquids to lubricate the condom. His hand stoked himself a few times before he positioned himself at your entrance.

“I hope you realize that every bit of me is totally into every bit of you,” he revealed, guiding your legs around his waist.

You didn’t have the chance to saw anything in return before he was asking you, “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

You nodded your head, keeping eye contact with him.

He didn’t say anything in return, only slowly letting himself fill you up. You couldn’t concentrate on anything but the foreign feeling. It wasn’t exactly painful as much as it was uncomfortable. But, you did notice that the further he went, the more natural it felt.

“Stop,” you said, causing him to completely freeze and look as if he’d just killed someone. “…Just let me adjust,” you clarified with shaky breaths.

He visibly relaxed but he still looked uncomfortable. You couldn’t imagine what it felt like to be in that sort of situation and remain completely still. His eyes shifted around the parts of your body that was exposed to him. It was when you pushed your hips up to him that his eyes found yours again.

You realized that the movement really helped. It helped so much that you found yourself having a hard time with wanting to keep it slow. Your eyes clamped shut as you tried to get him to pick up the pace, wanting more friction. However, instead of picking of the pace, you felt a small kiss on your nose and his hand move to grab yours.

“I want you to tell me if you don’t want something,” he told you, making sure that you nodded your head before he guided your hand between the two of you. “I also want you to help yourself out…at least until I figure out how you like it.”

You eagerly nodded your head, immediately rubbing yourself in a way that you knew would get you off. His hand ghosted your movements, almost studying what you were doing. When you gasped, he took over, effectively picking up where you left off.

“Oh, my god,” you breathed, hands gripping the sheets as you squirmed under him. You arched into him, legs squeezing his hips.

Yoongi finally picked up the pace, creating exactly the experience that you wanted. “Where are you at?” He asked, clearly wanting to get to his own high.

“Just don’t stop,” you answered, knowing that you were close to done.

For a moment you forgot what was happening as you saw stars behind your eyes. This feeling was entirely different. You barely noticed Yoongi thrusting faster to finish himself.

When he succeeded, he slumped onto you. When both of you managed to catch a breath, you frowned and said, “I feel like you did most of the work even though it’s your birthday.”

“You being the one I shared it with was enough,” he provided. He was a smooth talked, and you could definitely seeing yourself wanting to do that with him again.

“Well, Happy Birthday then,” you said with an exhausted look on your face.

• • • • • •

“So what’s going on with you and Yoongi then? You two seem to be spending a lot of time together,” Jisoo asked you as you chilled between classes.

“Yeah, I’ve been wondering that too,” Irene added, out of breath as she sat down at the table. It was a miracle she’d heard what Jisoo said.

You slouched back in your chair. “Honestly, guys, I have absolutely no idea. We’ve basically had a thing since his birthday, but that was almost a month ago!”

“Define thing,” Jisoo probed, taking sip of her iced coffee. Irene had brought one for each of you.

“Well, we hang out a lot and go to cafes together to just chat and do homework. He holds my hand and kisses me goodbye,” you answered brushing a hand though your hair.

“That’s so confusing,” Jisoo added.

Irene spoke this time, asking, “Have you guys done anything more? I mean like sleep together since the night of his birthday.”

You close your eyes, nodding your head. “God, he’s so frustrating. You’d think that he’d make it official if he was essentially acting like we’re in a relationship. But honestly, I don’t even know if he’s seeing other people at the same time. Plus, I’m sure he just thinks it’s casual since I slept with him on night one.”

“Speaking of seeing other people…maybe that’s what you should do,” Jisoo suggested. She shot you a small smile before continuing, “I’m not talking about making Yoongi jealous or anything, but maybe you should consider dating other people, especially if he’s just doing this as a casual thing.”

You snorted. “Like who?”

“Jackson,” Irene suggested.

Jackson? Like the guy who was in all your classes and who works as a bartender? You’d never really thought about him in that way but you guessed he was attractive and a super nice guy.

“Why him?” You asked, finishing half your drink quickly.

“He was asking about you the other day. Come on, Y/N, you have to know that the guy has been crushing on you since last year,” Irene commented, throwing you a complete look of disbelief.

“What? No, he hasn’t!”

Jisoo chime in, “Yes, babe, he has.”

Huh, maybe you should give him a chance.

“Wait, but why haven’t you just talked to Yoongi about this?” Irene questioned. It really was a decent question.

“I don’t want to ruin what we have. While it’s literally the most frustrating thing in the world…it’s nice.”

“But—if you go for Jackson, you’d be ruining it anyways. But at least you’d have a committed relationship,” Jisoo whispered as a group of your classmates walked by.

“Gosh, do I ever have a lot to think about…If Yoongi would only be straightforward instead of so goddamn frustrating.”

• • • • • •

You were seated across a small table from Yoongi in your most frequented bubble tea joint. He was on his laptop, working on some project, while you were reading a textbook and highlighting important passages.

Being in his company was nice, it calmed you, but you were still a little of edge. Yoongi’s knees brushed yours and his eyes would lift up to watch you every once in a while. He’d caught you staring at him once already today, as well.

The rhythm the two of you got into that day was peaceful, but that was soon disturbed by your phone screen lighting up on the table beside your notebook. You were so concentrated that you didn’t notice it.

But Yoongi did.

There were two text messages on the screen, both from Jackson.

The first one read, Hey, are we still on for our date tonight?

The second one read, Btw I’m glad you finally agreed to this.

“Y/N,” Yoongi got you attention, tapping your leg with one of his feet.

You took a headphone out but didn’t look up at him as you answered, “Hmm?”

“You’re texting Jackson,” he stated, pushing your phone towards you. When you read the messages, your face paled. You hadn’t told him that you were going out with Jackson later.

“Yeah?”

“Why?” He asked, taking his headphones completely off and not looking away from you.

“Because he likes me?” You were honestly confused by this whole interaction. It shouldn’t have mattered to Yoongi what you were doing when you weren’t together. Because the two of you weren’t together.

Yoongi closed his eyes for a second before opening them again and shaking his head. “Wait, are you dating other people?”

“Aren’t you?” You countered, dropping your highlighter in your book and giving Yoongi your full attention.

“What?”

“Uhhh, what do you mean dating other people? We aren’t dating, Yoongi,” you attempted to clarify, knowing full well that this conversation was going nowhere.

“We’re not?” He asked, looking simultaneously confused and hurt.

“No?”

“Hold on a second,” his voice got louder as he straightened up in his chair before continuing, “how in hell are we not dating?”

“Because we didn’t ever talk about it! You never asked me to be your girlfriend, so I just assumed that you wanted it to be casual,” you explained, scratching your head.

Yoongi took a deep breath, trying to not yell since you were in a public place. “Well, I definitely don’t want you dating other people, thats’s for fuckin’ sure. I 100% haven’t seen anyone else since before my birthday. I’m sorry if that’s not what you want, but I want to be in a relationship with you.

Your mouth dropped open at his words. You were not expecting this. Yoongi had just assumed that the two of you were dating while you assumed that you two were just casual. This all could have been cleared up with better communication. “That’s what I want,” you whispered, shooting him small smile.

“Good. Now tell Jackson because if anyone is taking you on a date tonight, it’s going to be me.”

• • • • • •

PART 2/2

• • • • • •

MASTERLIST

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mikauzoran · 4 years

Text

Adrienette: Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses: Kiss Four

Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses: ...where it hurts.

“Dude,” Nino sighed, the word soft and affectionate yet slightly exasperated.

Adrien raised a hand in greeting. “Morning.”

Nino frowned. “Why are you leaning up against Marinette’s locker?”

A sheepish smile tugged at Adrien’s lips. “I figured it was the most-likely place where I’d run into Marinette?”

Nino shook his head, taking off his baseball cap to run a hand through his hair. “Do you think this is a good idea, Mec?”

Adrien shrugged. “Meh. I mean, she said she’d bring pastries yesterday before the whole trying to kiss her fiasco, so…”

“Mec,” Nino groaned plaintively.

Adrien held up his hands at chest level. “Hey, it will only make things awkward if I avoid her. Isn’t it better to just bite the bullet and try to repair the friendship right away?”

Nino sighed again, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I don’t know, Adrien. It just seems like you’re ripping the bandage off awfully quick.”

“Nino, I promise you I’m fine.” Adrien gave Nino’s foot a light kick.

“You weren’t fine when I saw you less than twelve hours ago,” Nino grumbled.

“I’m better now that I got it all out of my system.” Adrien smiled disarmingly.

Nino snorted. “…You do look better than I expected, but I’m chocking that up to your parents selling their souls to the devil in exchange for the perfect offspring incapable of ever looking unattractive.”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew how much makeup I’m wearing. If I slept thirty minutes last night, I’d be surprised.”

Nino cocked an eyebrow in suspicion. “Weren’t you convincing me that you were fine?”

“I’m totally fine,” Adrien replied with a winning smile.

Nino pursed his lips. “Adrien, you know I care about you, right? I just want you to be okay.”

The smile dropped from Adrien’s lips, replaced by complete sincerity as he reached out to rest a hand on Nino’s shoulder. “Of course I do. Don’t worry, Nino. I swear it’s going to be fine. I’m fine. For real.”

He wished he could tell his best friend that this was because his superhero alter ego was actually the boyfriend in question, but he knew that was impossible. Ladybug was still adamant that secret identities needed to remain absolutely secret, and he could kind of see what she meant on a larger scale. He didn’t think that they should tell everyone, but…he couldn’t help but think that the people closest to him like Marinette and Nino and even Ladybug herself should know. …But regardless of his opinion on the matter, his hands were tied.

“Thanks, Nino. You’re the best friend a guy could ask for,” he added earnestly.

With another sigh, Nino reached out to ruffle Adrien’s hair. “If you say so, Mec.”

The locker room door burst open, startling and silencing everyone so that Alya’s roar echoed even louder against the absence of ambient noise.

“—all night!” Alya concluded, holding the door open for Marinette who slunk in behind her best friend, looking like she’d rather be fighting the Nemean lion than dealing with Alya.

“So your phone better be broken, Girl, because I know you weren’t screening my calls,” Alya snorted. There was a thinly veiled threat in there.

Marinette shrank, keeping her darkly circled eyes on the ground as she made her way to her locker. “I’m really sorry, Alya. I wasn’t feeling well, so I turned my phone off and went to bed early. I didn’t get your voicemails until this morning.”

Alya clicked her tongue, clearly not satisfied with the excuse. “So? If you got my voicemails this morning, you know I know you’ve been holding out on me. I want details on this secret boyfriend of yours.”

“Al?” Nino groaned, drawing Alya off the scent and alerting her to her surroundings. “Baby, I love you, but right now probably isn’t the best time to be hounding this particular scoop.”

Alya blinked, just then registering all the people staring at the scene she’d caused. She looked to her boyfriend and then to Adrien at his side.

Adrien gave her a sheepish finger wave.

Alya grimaced.

Marinette, seeing Adrien, went as white as rice paper. She took a step back and tripped, fumbling the bag of pastries she’d had in her hand, sending it soaring in a high arc.

With the speed of a fencer’s lunge, Adrien sprang forward to catch Marinette around the waist, steadying her.

With his other hand, he snatched the pastry bag out of the air to a round of applause from the spectators.

“Ten points!” Alix announced.

Adrien didn’t seem to notice. His attention was solely on Marinette. “You okay?” He anxiously scanned her face, currently frozen in shock.

She blinked and, then, all of the sudden, jolted back to life, breaking out of his hold and spluttering, “Yes! S-Sorry. I’m such a klutz. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” he called softly, giving her a tender smile. “No worries. It’s okay.” He held out the pastry bag for her to take back.

“Oh.” She blinked at it. “That’s for you, actually. If you want it, that is.” Biting her lip, Marinette met his gaze, her eyes filled with apprehension and uncertainty. “I’m sorry. I—”

“—Marinette,” he cut her off, not letting his reassuring smile waver, trying to show her that everything was fine. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I…don’t?” Her eyes rapidly searched his face.

He shook his head. “Nope, but I’m more than happy to accept your peace offering.” He held up the bag of pastries like a prize. “But, actually…could we talk?” He tipped his head towards the locker room door.

She looked behind her, confused for a second. “Oh! Out there?”

He nodded, trying to just get through the awkwardness of the interaction so that his civilian self could be friends with his girlfriend once more. “If you don’t mind?”

“Of course! Not at all.” Marinette whipped around and nearly tripped again as she attempted to make her way towards the school courtyard.

Behind her back, Adrien winced, wishing things could just go back to normal already.

Nino gave him a thumbs up, and Alya mouthed, “good luck” as Adrien turned to go, feeling, oddly, like he was being led to his execution.

Marinette cleared the doorway and looked back at Adrien for direction.

“Over here.” He led her to one of the benches off on the sidelines of the basketball court.

They both sat, and, partially to break the ice, partially to give his hands something to do, Adrien peeked inside the pastry bag.

“Wow,” he breathed. “Two pain au chocolat, one croissant, a pain au raisin, and three chouquettes! Maybe I should completely humiliate myself and let you break my heart more often if this is my consolation prize.”

Marinette flinched, averting her gaze. “I am so sorry.”

“Too soon to joke about it?” Adrien deflated, fishing out a pain au chocolat and taking a bite.

“You’re wonderful, Adrien—really wonderful—but my boyfriend is wonderful too, and I just…I picked him, and I can’t go back on that decision,” she replied in a burst. “…He deserves someone as awesome as he is, and the very least I can do is be faithful. I’m sorry.”

“You say that like you don’t think you’re awesome,” Adrien hummed thoughtfully before taking another bite of his pastry.

Marinette shrugged, still not looking at him. “I’m pretty great…just not…” She shook her head. “…I admire him a lot. There’s a lot to admire.”

It took some considerable amount of effort on Adrien’s part not to choke. “…I’m sure he’s not perfect, Marinette.”

She shrugged again. “No, but he’s good…just a really good person and so sweet and thoughtful. Yeah, he can be impulsive and childish…sometimes he doesn’t think before he says or does something, but all the negatives are so small compared to the positives, so…”

“Maybe you’ll change your mind once you’ve been dating longer,” Adrien muttered into his pastry. As much as it thrilled him to hear his girlfriend speak so well of him, at the same time, it was intimidating. Adrien was aware that he had self-esteem issues, but he couldn’t help but worry that he wouldn’t be able to live up to Marinette’s high opinion.

“Sore loser much, Agreste?” Marinette snorted.

Adrien cringed, casting her a sidelong look. “Maybe? I mean, can you really blame me for being a little bitter after losing out on a treasure such as yourself? …Wanna share my pastries?” He held out the bag with a boyish grin.

Marinette snorted again, this time in amusement. “Thanks.” She chose one of the chouquettes. “…You said you wanted to talk?”

“Right,” Adrien sighed, setting the pastry bag down between them. “I owe you an apology.”

Startled, Marinette looked up. “For what?”

“Seriously? There’s a list,” he chuckled self-deprecatingly. “First of all, I’m sorry I tried to kiss you. Please believe me when I say I never would have done that if I hadn’t thought you wanted to be kissed. Obviously, I read the situation between us completely wrong, but I wouldn’t—”

“—Adrien, it’s okay. I know,” she broke in to assure him, reaching out and taking hold of his wrist. “…And you didn’t read the situation wrong.” She let go, looking away once more in shame.

“O-Oh?” He hadn’t anticipated that response when he’d prepared what he was going to say.

She shook her head. “I’ve had a crush on you for a while. That’s what I meant when I said that I did like you. Giving up on you and getting a boyfriend is a kind of recent thing, so…you didn’t read anything wrong. It’s just that I’m with him now, so you and I can only be friends.” Tentatively, she peeked back at him. “I’m sorry things worked out like this.”

“Don’t be,” he gently urged, giving her a winning smile. “I’m okay. You’re such a good friend, Marinette, and I never want to lose that with you. Your friendship is really special to me.”

A cherry blossom blush spread across her cheeks, matching the soft smile moving on her lips. “Really?” she breathed.

“Really, really,” he chuckled. “You underestimate how precious friendship is for someone who grew up without it.”

“Oh, Adrien,” Marinette whispered, flattered even as her heart ached for him.

Unexpectedly, he winced. “Please don’t tell Chloé I said that. She’d throw the fit of the century, and I don’t want to hurt her. She is my friend…just…” He looked up at her, throwing himself on her mercy with pleading peridot eyes.

Marinette nodded, giving his arm a reassuring pat. “She won’t hear about it from me. I know you two have a complicated relationship.”

“Thank you.” He reached into the pastry bag and pulled out the other pain au chocolat, offering it to her while he took the pain au raisin for himself. “So…we’re okay?”

She took the pastry and nodded. “So long as you don’t hate me, I’m all for carrying on as if last night didn’t happen. I can’t stand it when things are awkward and tense with you.”

“Yeah, I was dying in the locker room earlier,” he admitted. “The thought of things going back to the way they were when we were fourteen and you couldn’t string two sentences together around me makes me just sick.”

She gave a snort of laughter, tapping her foot against his. “Those days are safely behind us; don’t worry.”

A tenable silence fell between them for nearly a minute as they worked on their respective pastries.

Hesitantly, Adrien broke it. “Marinette?”

“Hm?” She tipped her head interrogatively.

“There’s just one problem,” he sighed.

Her eyebrows pinched together, her eyes darting around his face, searching in confused apprehension.

He met her gaze with an expression of unwavering sincerity. “I’m genuinely crazy about you, and that’s not something I’m going to get over.”

Her lips parted in a soft gasp, but she had no words with which to reply.

He smiled sadly. “I’ve only been in love once before, and even though it’s been three years, I’m still not really over her. I know you probably don’t want to hear this, and I know I’m showing my hand, but I want to be honest with you. I love you at least as much as I did my first love, so I’m not anticipating moving on any time soon. Is that something you can live with, or have I completely ruined our friendship?”

He gritted his teeth and awaited the fall of the metaphorical axe. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hide his feelings from her, especially now that they were dating. He knew he was going to be a lovesick mess around her as Adrien. It was better to deal with the issue up front.

Meanwhile, Marinette’s heart was wavering hard, wondering if she’d made a mistake.

How did one tell Adrien Agreste no when he’d just confessed his love so prettily to her?

Chat Noir’s face flashed in her mind, his adoring eyes and soft smile…so caught up in her. It reignited her resolve to be faithful. Chat was more than worth this. She wanted to be with him.

Marinette reached out and took Adrien’s hand, promising, “First and foremost, I will always be your friend.”

He blew out a sigh of relief, smiling broadly as he squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”

She squeezed back, her heart fluttering as she was reminded how beautiful and sweet and earnest he was.

“I know that no means no, and I’m going to do my best to respect that, but you should know that I’m probably not going to give up hope,” he warned. “So, if I ever do or say anything that you don’t like or that makes you uncomfortable, please say something. I am not a socially adept individual, so please, please tell me if I ever cross a line. I don’t want to screw things up with you,” he stressed, eyes entreating.

“Well, we haven’t had any problems so far,” Marinette reasoned, even though she could feel the shift between them now that their feelings for one another were out in the open. Oddly enough, knowing where she stood with Adrien had only made her feel like they were on unsteady ground.

“But you’ll tell me?” Adrien pressed. “The moment I do something wrong.”

Marinette nodded. “I’ll tell you. And that goes both ways. You tell me if I do anything that makes you uncomfortable too.”

“Deal,” he agreed, holding out his little finger for a pinkie swear.

Chuckling, she wrapped her pinkie around his, promising, “Deal.”

“Now that that’s all settled, may I escort the princess to her classroom?” Adrien inquired, standing and giving Marinette a courtly bow.

She gave a snort of laughter but got up and took his proffered hand, her earlier bad mood finally lifting for good. “All right, but I need to stop by my locker first.”

After the requisite locker run, Marinette was delivered to her desk on Adrien’s arm, much to the astonishment of their whole class.

As Marinette took her seat, Adrien bowed once more. “Thank you for the honor of your companionship, Your Royal Highness.”

Marinette laughed, rolling her eyes and half-heartedly swatting at him. “You’re such a goof.”

Straightening up, Adrien grinned. “Anything to make you smile.”

He was treated to the added bonus of Marinette’s flustered blush before he turned on his heel and settled into his own desk in front of her.

Across the aisle, Chloé clicked her tongue. “Adri-chou, you have deplorable taste in women.”

He shrugged, pulling out his phone to type, “We have the same taste in women.”

Chloé hissed down at her screen before looking back up to hurtle a Medusa-esque glare at her oldest friend.

She was intercepted by Adrien holding out the Tom and Sabine’s bag.

“Want a pastry? Two chouquettes and a croissant left.” He smiled that smile that he knew no one could resist.

Her fury extinguished itself, but she didn’t let up on the act, snatching the bag away from him with a vicious snort. “Pastries make you fat.”

“You and I would still be gorgeous fat,” Adrien returned the volley easily.

Chloé thought for a minute.

“True,” she decided, digging in without reserve.

“…You still have rubbish taste in women,” she repeated after the pastries were dispatched, purely to save face.

The day passed in a rather uneventful fashion until the period before lunch. Miss Bustier was out for the week at a conference, so they had a substitute for Literature.

“Could the class representative help me pass out these worksheets?” the university-aged sub asked, looking around the room, trying to determine to whom she needed to direct her request.

Marinette stood, raising her hand. “That’s me, Madame. With pleasure.” She trotted up to the front and took the stack of worksheets from the teacher, dutifully distributing them to her classmates.

Chloé took hers with a disdainful sniff, but Adrien treated her to one of his trademark winks, making Marinette smile and laugh softly.

When she got to the very back of the classroom, she set Lila’s worksheet down on the desk without making eye contact or exchanging a word.

“I bet you think you’re so great because Adrien’s paying a little attention to you today,” Lila hissed so softly that Marinette barely heard over the teacher’s lecture.

“Hm?”

She’d been in the act of stepping down to the next tier of desks, so when she turned back at Lila’s words without thinking, she missed the step, catching the lip of it with her heel and torqueing her ankle.

She went down with a yelp, hitting her right shoulder and arm hard as she tried to shield her face from the edge of the lower platform coming up at her fast.

Adrien got to her first amidst gasps and calls of, “Marinette!” from their classmates, but Alya was a close second.

“Is she all right?” Rose cried in alarm, getting to her feet to peer down anxiously at her friend.

“I don’t see any blood,” Kim offered a preliminary report, scanning the area.

“Marinette, hey,” Adrien breathed, holding up his hands ineffectually to try to help as Marinette pushed herself up to sitting with a sharp intake of breath, eyes screwed closed in pain.

“Where’s it hurt?” Alya demanded as she crouched beside Adrien, looking over his shoulder in the cramped aisle. “Are you okay? Is it broken?”

“I’ll call the nurse!” the substitute teacher announced, flustered, trying to recall what the protocol was for an accident. “Or maybe an ambulance? The principal. I’ll call the principal.”

“Adrien, do you want me to call my doctor?” Chloé offered, pulling out her phone.

Lila rolled her eyes. “I’m sure she’s fine. Marinette trips all the time, don’t you, Marinette?”

“She is not fine,” Alya snapped at the same time Adrien shot Lila a look that promised to end her.

Lila wilted and shut up.

Adrien’s attention was instantly back on his injured girlfriend. “Marinette, do you want Chloé to call her doctor? Where’s the pain? How bad is it?”

“No,” Marinette finally managed through gritted teeth. “…I’m fine. …Just a rough landing.”

“Can you get up?” Adrien coached, resting a hand at the small of her back where he was certain she wasn’t injured.

“Maybe. I twisted my ankle,” she reported, wincing as she maneuvered so that her right leg was no longer folded underneath her.

She straightened her leg and hissed as she tried to circle her ankle.

“Maybe don’t do that,” Nino suggested from where he stood behind Alya.

“It doesn’t look broken,” Ivan offered, drawing on his past experiences with broken arms.

“It’s swelling, though,” Alya observed.

“It probably just needs to be wrapped and iced,” Marinette decided as the sharpness of the pain began to recede. “I’ll just go to the nurse’s office. No need for an ambulance, but thanks for offering to call your doctor, Chloé.”

Chloé snorted, crossing her arms and looking away. “It’s not like I did it for you or anything.”

Adrien looked back over his shoulder with a grateful smile. “Thank you, Chloé. That was really great of you.”

“I am very magnanimous,” Chloé preened, giving her ponytail a flip.

“Very!” Sabrina cheered. “You’re so generous, Chloé!”

“Think you can stand?” Adrien held out a hand to help Marinette up.

It was a bit of a production, getting her to her feet, and, once she was there, they quickly discovered that she couldn’t put her full weight on her right foot to stand, let alone walk.

“Here. Put your arms around my neck,” Adrien instructed.

Marinette startled and nearly fell over. “W-What?!”

Adrien’s hands went to her hips to steady her. “Sorry. I’m going to carry you to the nurse’s office. Would you please put your arms around my neck?”

“O-Oh,” Marinette mumbled, complying with his request with a blush and averted eyes. “Thanks, Adrien…. Sorry.”

“No need for apologies,” he assured, gingerly scooping her up into a bridal carry.

Nino got the classroom door for them, and Adrien waited until it was closed behind them to whisper, “I’m more than happy to play your knight in shining armor, Princess.”

Marinette tensed, causing Adrien to immediately backpedal. “I am so sorry. Did I make things weird?”

“…No,” Marinette murmured into his chest. “I don’t mind the flirting. It’s fine. It’s fun. So long as we both know that things between us have to stay platonic, it doesn’t hurt anything. Plenty of friends flirt like that just for fun or to be silly. It’s just…‘Princess’ is what my boyfriend calls me…so it feels wrong for you to call me that too.”

Adrien hummed thoughtfully as he made his way over to the stairs and carefully began his descent. “…How about ‘Ohime-sama’?”

Marinette scrunched up her nose and brow in a frown. “What’s that mean?”

“It’s Japanese,” he explained haltingly, trying to keep his breath. It was a lot harder when he wasn’t transformed. ��It’s pretty much the same as calling you ‘Princess’….without technically stealing your boyfriend’s nickname…. Is that fair?”

She considered this for a moment before nodding. “That’s fair. …It’s funny that you both came up with the same thing, though, don’t you think?”

How he wished he could just tell her.

He’d have to talk to Ladybug. Surely, they could make exceptions now that they were older and one of them was entering into what Adrien hoped would be a serious, long-term relationship. If Marinette deigned to marry him, Adrien couldn’t be running off in the middle of the night, leaving his wife and children during graveyard shift akuma attacks. Telling Marinette was just practical at this point, and Ladybug was bound to see sense.

For the time being, Adrien replied with a chuckle. “Maybe he and I are a lot alike.”

Marinette opened her mouth to assure him that they weren’t, but then realized that he was right. If she took them at face value, Chat Noir and Adrien Agreste’s public personas were decidedly different, but if she considered them as she had gotten to know them over the years…the two young men she adored were remarkably similar in all the ways that really counted.

“Yeah,” she answered quietly. “You are, really. The real yous are.”

Adrien’s heart fluttered.

He hoped she couldn’t hear it, or, if she could, that she just attributed it to the fact that he was currently in the middle of carrying her across the school to the nurse’s office off the side of the gym.

Adrien decided to steer the conversation away from flirty discussions of nicknames and boyfriends and ways in which Adrien and Chat Noir were similar. “Hey. Did she push you?”

“Hm?” Marinette lifted her head from his chest. “Did who push me?”

“Lila,” Adrien clarified with a bit of a growl. “Did she make you trip?”

“Oh.” Marinette looked away with a blush and a sigh. “No. Not intentionally. That was all me.”

“‘Not intentionally’?” Adrien probed.

Marinette shook her head. “She whispered something catty about you paying attention to me or something. I didn’t really hear, so I started to turn back to ask her what she’d said, but I was in the middle of going down the steps, so… You know me: graceful as a gazelle. I just lost my footing and faceplanted. She may have meant to hurt my pride or something, but she didn’t intend for me to physically get hurt.”

She could feel Adrien’s muscles relax somewhat, even as they remained taut enough to support her.

“Oh,” he breathed. “Okay then.”

“Why?” she inquired curiously. “What would you have done if she had tripped me?”

“Scratched her eyes out,” Adrien snorted, coming up in front of the nurse’s office door and cautiously maneuvering to work the knob without jostling Marinette too much.

Marinette couldn’t help but chuckle. “My hero. You could definitely take her in a cat fight.”

“Cat fights are my specialty,” he snickered. “Chloé taught me everything I know.”

Marinette laughed a little harder as Adrien opened the door and awkwardly walked them inside.

“I’m glad you’re laughing,” Adrien remarked quietly, voice warm with relief. “It makes me think you’re not hurt that badly.” He shut the door behind them with some difficulty.

“I’m okay, Adrien,” Marinette assured. “…but thanks for worrying about me.”

“Sure thing.” He held back the urge to kiss the side of her head.

“It doesn’t look like anyone’s here,” Marinette observed with a sigh of disappointment, breaking Adrien out of his distraction.

“Madame Danville must have gone to lunch already.” Adrien spotted a chair over by the medicine cabinets and began walking towards it. “Here. Let’s get you settled, and then we’ll figure something out.”

With Marinette’s okay, Adrien helped to ease her down into the chair.

He unlocked his phone and handed it to her. “Could you call Chloé and have her get someone to track down Madame Danville? I’m going to see if I can scrounge up something to wrap your ankle with. The least I can do is preform first aid while we wait for the professionals.” He went over to the cabinets and drawers and began his search.

“You know first aid?” Marinette inquired in surprise as she navigated his favourite contacts menu.

Adrien quickly located the bandages and knelt down in front of Marinette to begin wrapping her ankle. “Don’t sound so astonished,” he chuckled as he delicately slipped off her ballet flat and no-show sock. “With the akuma attacks sometimes getting a little intense, Nathalie and I convinced my father that I should at least know the basics.”

“All right,” Marinette hummed, intrigued. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Adrien began to wrap as Marinette talked to Chloé.

After several passes with the bandages, he looked up with a frown. “Am I hurting you?”

Marinette shook her head. “Thanks, Chloé.”

Adrien’s eyes narrowed. “You keep squirming.”

“It tickles,” she whined, setting his phone down on the countertop next to them.

He did his best to hold in a chuckle. “Oh, is that all?”

“I’m really ticklish.” She crossed her arms in a pout.

He kept smiling. “So long as I’m not hurting you.”

“You’re not,” she assured with a sigh. “…Thank you. For all of this.”

“My pleasure.” He tucked the end of the bandage under and scooted back a bit to survey his work.

“I’m impressed,” Marinette chuckled. “You really do know first aid after all.”

He shrugged, pushing himself up to his feet and going back to the cabinets. “Thank you. I strive for perfection.”

“What are you doing now?” She watched him curiously as he went through the drawers and overhead cabinets again.

“Looking for…an ice pack,” he finished as he drew out a small, white refillable ice bag with a blue clamp on the end. “This will help with the swelling and pain,” he explained as he went over to the mini fridge on the other side of the counter and got some ice out of the freeze portion.

He paused in front of her, trying to think of the best way to set things up. “We should probably also elevate your ankle. That will help with swelling too.”

“You really do know what you’re talking about,” Marinette observed, pleasantly surprised.

“I told you I did, didn’t I?” Adrien chuckled as he went to fetch another chair, picking it up and setting it down in front of her so that she could prop her foot up on the seat. He laid the ice pack down across her ankle. “Technically, they say you should elevate the injury above your heart, but I don’t know how we would…” He frowned. “…unless…You’re pretty flexible, right?”

She raised an eyebrow uncertainly. “Yeah. Why?”

“Feel free to say no, but…if I sat down in the chair in front of you, and you kind of slouched, you could rest your foot up on my shoulder. Is that a weird idea?” He grimaced, hoping she would be kind in her rejection.

She laughed affably, a smile spreading across her lips. “I mean, yeah. It’s a weird idea, but if elevating my ankle above my heart is going to help reduce swelling, I’m down to try it out. I’d like to heal up as fast as possible.”

Adrien nodded. “Right. Okay, then. Let’s…” Carefully, he raised Marinette’s right leg, sliding into the chair in front of her and gently setting the ankle down on his shoulder, adjusting the ice pack to its new position.

Marinette slid down a bit in her seat and propped her other leg up on the arm of Adrien’s chair.

“Are you comfortable enough?” Adrien asked attentively.

Marinette shrugged and smiled. “Not bad. You?”

“Not bad,” he echoed. “How’s the pain?”

She fluttered her hand in a “so-so” motion. “It’s tapering off for now. I’m sure it will still hurt to walk on later, but I’ll take some painkillers and soldier through it. I have some in my purse.”

Her eyes suddenly widened in terror. “I left my purse in the classroom!”

Adrien blinked, not understanding why the realization demanded this level of intensity. “I’m sure Alya has it.” He tried to be comforting as he motioned to his phone on the counter next to her. “If you want, you can text her to bring it to you during lunch. Class should be wrapping up in about thirty minutes.”

Observing that this did nothing to reassure his girlfriend, he offered, “Or I could go get it for you?”

Her face lit up. “Would you? Please?”

“Yeah. Absolutely.” He carefully extracted himself and set out on his mission, coming back with both of their belongings.

“Here we go.” He handed her her purse before getting back into position as her footrest.

“I’m sorry,” she replied meekly, eyes averted. “I know it’s silly, but I just feel so anxious without it.”

“No worries,” he assured. “I have things like that too that I need to have with me or I feel uneasy.”

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. “You do?”

He nodded, raising his hips so that he could pull the lucky charm she had given him three years previously out of his pocket. With a sheepish smile, he held it up. “Remember this?”

She gasped. “You don’t still have that.”

“Oh, but I do,” he chuckled, slipping it back into his pocket. “Is that weird?”

She shook her head. “I still have mine too. I have a black cat plushie sitting on my desk by my computer monitor, and the charm bracelet is sitting on top like a flower crown. I look at it every day.”

“Oh,” Adrien breathed. He had seen it on the many occasions Chat Noir and Adrien had visited Marinette’s room, but he’d thought that it had been set down and left there, forgotten, swallowed up in the milieu of the chaos that often was her desk. He’d thought that she’d stopped seeing it like he’d long ago stopped seeing the many games and books and CDs on his shelves.

It was really nice to learn that something he had given her was still important.

“Is there anything else you have to have with you to keep you from feeling anxious?” Marinette wondered, her oceanic eyes catching his.

He smiled sheepishly. “It’s not something I have to have with me, but…my mother’s picture. I have to say goodnight to it or I can’t sleep. A couple times after a late-night shoot, I’ve come staggering in and have almost fallen asleep while getting ready for bed, so I’ve forgotten to say goodnight to Maman, but, then, once I get in bed, I’m suddenly uneasy and can’t fall asleep. I have to get out of bed and go say goodnight to her before I can fall asleep. Is that weird?” His brow crinkled as he tried to laugh at himself. “I mean, I know I have mommy issues, but…”

“It’s not weird,” Marinette answered firmly, banishing his doubts. “It’s sweet. Your relationship with your mom is really sweet, Adrien. She’s important to you, so it’s not weird for you to keep parts of her alive like that. It’s normal…like my mom burning incense for family members on birthdays and holidays and death anniversaries. It’s good for you to stay connected to your mom in little ways like that.”

It took a minute for her words to process, but when they did, a shy smile slowly broke out on his lips. “Thank you, Marinette. That means a lot to me.”

She shrugged, returning his smile with a soft one of her own. “Glad I could help.”

The conversation lulled for a few minutes before drifting into a discussion of Marinette’s latest project for Jagged Stone.

“You are so amazing,” Adrien gushed. “I am seriously such a fanboy. Everything you make is wonderful.”

Marinette snorted in laughter. “I’m not that good. I do mess up from time to time. Everyone does.”

“But the way you recover from failure is amazing,” Adrien stressed. “And I’m sure you’re going to work the kinks out of Jagged’s outfit specifications for the festival and produce a killer illustration for his next album. I have complete faith in you, Marinette.”

“I wish I did too,” she sighed. “But thank you. I really appreciate the encouragement. I needed that.”

“Any time,” he assured. “Speaking of time, I think we’ve had your ankle on ice for about twenty minutes. We should probably take it off for a bit. We’ll put it back on later.”

Marinette nodded, trusting that he knew what he was talking about. “Sounds good.”

He took off the ice pad and handed it to her for her to put up on the counter.

She bit her lip. “How’s it looking? Can you tell with the bandages on?”

“Meh,” he reported. “I mean, I can tell that it’s swollen, but it’s not too bad from what I can see. How’s the pain?”

“Meh,” she sighed. “It’s a dull pain, not sharp like when I first twisted it. I think I’ll live.”

“That’s a relief,” Adrien chuckled. “I’d be heartbroken all over again if you died of a twisted ankle.”

Marinette rolled her eyes and snorted. “I’d die again of embarrassment if I died of a twisted ankle.”

“You know…” Adrien eyed the ankle resting on his shoulder thoughtfully. “When I was little and scrapped a knee or an elbow or a palm or something, my mother used to do this thing, and it made it feel better. It’s silly, but I think that’s the point. Wanna try?”

“Sure,” she agreed gamely. “What do we do?”

Adrien turned his head and tenderly pressed his lips to the bone of Marinette’s ankle, sending a jolt straight up her leg to the rest of her body. She could feel herself heating up.

“Now,” Adrien announced, “we take the pain…” He made a show of taking the “pain” to the side of Marinette’s ankle in his fist. “…and throw it away.” He mimed tossing it towards the trashcan by the door.

Marinette broke out in giggles, cheeks still red from the brush of his lips. “You’re right. That is really silly.”

“Did it make you feel better?” He looked at her with shining innocent eyes.

Her heart melted. “Tons.”

She loved it when he smiled.

#Adrienette #Adrinette #Marichat #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #MLB #Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Chat Noir #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Adrien Agreste #Kissing #Writing Prompt #Mikau's Writings #Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Galactica, Chapter 23 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: We know our posting schedule has gotten slower, but we hope you’re still enjoying the story. XOXO! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: The Galactica afterparty brought people together in many different ways.

This Chapter: NYFW comes to an end, and the team leaves for London, some more enthusiastically than others.

***

Ivy strolled through the courtyard at Bryant Park, on her way to deliver a charged battery pack to Raja before the Ralph Lauren show began, since Raja was as incapable of keeping her own alive as she was caring for the plants she continually adopted, all of that falling on Ivy - who fortunately didn’t mind, enjoying the relaxing tasks of caring for them as a break from the craziness of corporate life.

Most assistants as experienced as Ivy would be annoyed at doing this kind of menial delivery task, some probably even seeing it as demeaning, but Ivy was happy for the excuse to get out of the office and observe the colorful chaos of New York Fashion Week in person. Especially today, on the last day, when people from every walk of life seemed to converge in Bryant Park in a strange and glorious blend of humanity.

If Ivy was being honest with herself, she was quite the people watcher. She loved sitting back and collecting knowledge about others, not because she wanted to do anything with the information, but just to satisfy her own relentless curiosity, which was as much a part of her as the gap in her teeth.

She’d seen so much over the course of this week, so many things that she knew people probably had no idea she knew. She had watched her own boss quietly panic a few hours before the Galactica show, a look in her eyes that everyone else missed--people always assumed that Raja was 100% confident all the time, but Ivy knew better. She’d seen the way Pearl showed up every day looking more and more hungover, the young executive clearly going through something that she was desperately trying to party away. She’d noticed Violet at the party last night, slipping away with Sutan, one of her first glimpses ever into Violet’s personal life.

After dropping off the battery pack, Ivy took her time returning to the line of waiting taxis, taking in the eclectic group of people swarming around and she stopped to buy herself an iced coffee. She was leaning against the wall when she noticed someone staring at her. Ivy definitely recognized the other woman, a redhead with even brighter hair than her own, but she couldn’t place her, which made her feel slightly uncomfortable as the other didn’t look away, their eyes meeting across the courtyard. A fellow observer, she supposed.

Ivy smiled a little, deciding to take a chance on fate, and raised her hand to wave, and the other woman returning it with the brightest smile Ivy had ever seen.

***

“Remember to check with the hotel if they have washed the sheets correctly. You know I can’t tolerate perfume.”

“Yes Miss.” Violet nodded as she jotted down the last of what Fame had asked her. They were leaving the last show of the week, the sun going down as Fame walked towards her car.

“And what about Monday?”

“Your travel itinerary is printed, packed and ready to go. I even emailed it to Mr. Bertschy.”

“Good.” Fame looked at Violet, her sunglasses perched in her blonde hair, and for a moment, just a moment, it almost seemed like Fame was smiling.

“That’s all.”

***

Courtney swayed a bit to the music in the crowded club. It was Saturday: New York Fashion Week was officially over, and on Monday, her boss was flying to Europe for three weeks. Three amazing weeks where she wouldn’t have to run around like a maniac fetching coffee or jumping up in fear every time she heard footsteps or trying to read her mind while on the receiving end of a withering glare.

“Uh oh…”

“What?” Courtney asked, seeing Willam’s furrowed brow.

“Four o’clock. Someone better call the wedgie police, because...yikes.”

Courtney giggled, turning her gaze in the direction Willam gestured and then immediately covering her face.

“Oh god, that looks painful!”

“I bet she’s bleeding.”

Courtney laughed harder. She’d been having a surprisingly good time with Willam; in spite of her apprehension about him, it wasn’t awkward at all. She felt comfortable, almost like she was with one of her girlfriends. He was funny and charming and when she said she was thinking about going vegan, didn’t make an annoyed face. He simply took out his phone and searched for the best vegan restaurants in the neighborhood.

He’d treated her to a pretty good dinner, where he’d again listened kindly while she vented about work, and then they’d made the short walk to the club, where Sólseturstríðsmenn was about to perform.

The best thing about Willam so far, though, was that he was such a perfect gentleman. He wasn’t trying to get her drunk, or getting handsy like most guys. He was treating her like a person, which Courtney supposed shouldn’t have been such a brand new experience on a date, but here she was.

“So, I know you said that you’re a lightweight, but I’m gonna grab another drink. You want one?”

“Um...yeah, okay,” Courtney said with a smile. “Why not?”

As he headed towards the bar, Courtney watched him closely, trying to gauge her attraction. As different as he was from the boys she’d dated in the past, there was something oddly compelling about him. She found her eyes drifting down to his ass--which wasn’t flat like most guys, but rounded, almost peachy, and Courtney wondered what it would feel like to just grab ahold of it. She looked away quickly, her cheeks growing hot.

She wondered if he would try to kiss her tonight. She didn’t love the idea of a beard against her face, but he did have full, soft lips, and maybe it would be nice. Maybe she did like Willam. Wouldn’t it be crazy to date a boy who didn’t make her sigh with irritation when his name came up on the caller ID?

When he returned with the drinks, she accepted hers gratefully and beamed up at him.

“What?” he asked, those pretty blue eyes looking at her with amused curiosity.

“I was just thinking about what a good time I’m having,” said Courtney.

“Why do you sound so surprised?” he laughed. “I’m a very fucking good time.”

Courtney gave a cute shrug, then giggled, taking his arm and leaning a head on his shoulder. Maybe she should have tried dating a guy who wasn’t an absolute dickhead much sooner.

***

“You’re such a brat,” Pearl laughed, sipping a beer as she watched Trixie stuff clothes into his suitcase, pouting the whole time.

He had really hoped to avoid Europe this year, or at least be able to cut his trip short. But instead, Fame had decided that it was important for the whole senior creative team to be there the entire time, to absorb the inspiration. As if he couldn't get all the inspiration he needed right here in New York.

Trixie looked up at Pearl with a scowl.

“Don’t you have your own packing to do?” he asked.

“It takes me exactly 4 minutes to pack,” Pearl told him, a smirk on her face. “When you’re this perfect, everything looks good together.”

“All black everything helps too.”

“I have whites.”

“Whatever.” Trixie rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know why you’re pouting, man. It’s three weeks in Europe, paid for by the company. Partying on someone else’s dime.” Pearl flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “It’s the dream.”

“I don’t like partying.”

“You used to like partying,” Pearl said, adding, “You used to be cool.”

“Well, I guess I’m just not cool anymore!” Trixie snapped, just as Katya appeared in the doorway.

“Of course you’re cool, baby,” she cooed. “The coolest cat in the joint.”

Pearl burst out laughing, and Trixie crossed his arms.

“Are you mocking me now, too?”

“Nooo, never!” Katya dropped down to her knees beside him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “And just to show you how great I think you are, I’m making a special lunch just for you.”

“Oh yeah?” Trixie asked, suddenly interested.

“Uh huh…” Katya rubbed his back. “Now, I’ve never tasted this regional delicacy myself, but I have it on good authority that it’s one of your very favorites. It’s called ‘Tater Tot Hotdish.’”

“What? Tater Tot Hotdish? Seriously?” Trixie clapped his hands excitedly.

“Yes, baby, and I made enough for you to take a big old portion with you on the place tomorrow.”

“God, you’re the absolute best,” Trixie said, taking Katya’s face in his hands and laying a kiss on her. “I’m gonna miss you so much.”

“Aww, I’ll miss you too, along with the goods.” Katya squeezed his ass, giggling.

Trixie pulled back to study her face. She seemed normal, but he’d noticed her getting up early lately, meeting one of her friends from rehab in the mornings before work. They’d been together long enough for him to know that these things came in cycles, and getting some extra support was nothing to panic over, but with both him and Pearl leaving town at the same time, he couldn’t help but worry.

“Are you gonna be okay while we’re gone? Really?”

“Of course I am, sugarbutt.” Katya gave him one of her signature 1000-watt smiles. “Now, excuse me, I need to go check on your tots.”

He watched her go, still not entirely convinced. Maybe it would be a good idea for someone to check on her while he was away. Someone responsible and trustworthy...

***

Violet saw her work phone vibrate out of the corner of her eye, her screen lighting up. She tried to read it, tried to make out who had contacted her, when she was pulled out of her thoughts.

“Am I not entertaining enough?”

Violet turned to look, Sutan’s warm voice loud and clear, a smirk on his lips. They were eating breakfast at a cafe near his apartment, a plate of half eaten avocado on rye in front of her, while Sutan had opted for waffles and scrambled eggs.

“Of course.”

It had been Violet’s idea to meet up for breakfast before Sutan had to leave. She had meant to come over, had meant to spend more time with him, but the week had flown by, and suddenly it had passed without the two of them actually seeing each other.

“I just need-” Violet bit her lip and titled her phone, surprise hitting her when she saw that Trixie was the one who had texted. “Oh. I have to-”

“Lovely eyes-” Violet looked at him again, Sutan’s elbow leaning on the table, his fingers around a steaming hot cup of coffee. “What could possibly be more important than me?”

“Work.”

“Ow.” Sutan laughed, holding a hand to his heart, and Violet felt a surge of embarrassment crash over her.

“Sorry,” Violet hadn’t meant to be so blunt, hadn’t meant to dismiss him so harshly, “I didn’t-”

Her phone vibrated again, and Violet saw that she had gotten a second message from Trixie.

“I have to-”

“Ignore me if you must,” Sutan was clearly entertained by it, his tone teasing, “but know that I’m not usually treated like this Miss Chachki.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Violet opened the texts, quickly scanning them.

TRIXIE: Hi Violet. I was wondering if you could do me a favor? While I’m in Europe, do you mind checking in on Katya?

TRIXIE: Just once or twice if you have time.

Violet bit her lip. She considered Katya someone she liked, maybe even a friend if the blonde agreed, but she wasn’t sure and that she was close enough to check in on her, whatever that meant.

TRIXIE: You could bring her dinner? She likes chinese.

“So,” Sutan titled his head, his foot on tapping against her shin. “Is it important?”

Sutan’s voice was still warm, his tone still light, but Violet didn’t want to push him any further, didn’t want to risk him getting annoyed or tired. Violet flipped her phone, turning the screen to the table. “It’s not an emergency.”

“Good,” Sutan chuckled, and Violet felt her stomach do a flip, the man stupidly attractive when he was laughing, his dark eyes ones she swore she could drown in. “I was worried for a minute that Fame had remembered she was flying tomorrow.”

“Ah,” Violet hid a smile behind her teacup.

“I’m just happy that I’m on an entirely different flight.”

She had never seen Fame on a plane, but she had heard first hand experiences from senior staff who had been with her, and had even helped her prepare more than once.

“Speaking about phones though-” Sutan smirked.

“We weren’t-“

“I looked for you on Instagram.”

Violet raised an eyebrow, her food still forgotten on her plate. “Why?”

“Because I enjoy your company?” Sutan chuckled, and Violet realized that she was being unnecessarily harsh once again, but she didn’t like that Sutan had gone looking for information about her, her chest tightening. “I couldn’t find you, do you have a nickname or somethi-”

“I don’t have an account.”

“Violet,” Sutan leaned back in his chair, “Just because I wasn’t upset about the assistant thing doesn’t mean I’m okay with you lying.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Please.” Sutan rolled his eyes, actually sounding annoyed now. “Why wouldn’t you-“

“I don’t use social media.” Violet ran her fingers through her hair, looking directly at Sutan. “I don’t have time.”

She wasn’t lying. When everyone else had jumped on the social media train, Violet had been busy, so she had never gotten on Myspace or Twitter or Instagram or whatever else people had profiles on. When Violet applied to Parsons, she had even deactivated the Facebook her mom had made her make when she moved to New York, the decision almost making itself.

Her lack of social media was one of the reasons she became friends with Pearl, the blonde absolutely fascinated by the fact that the only way she could reach Violet was by email or text.

She wasn’t unaware of the online world, Pearl keeping her in the loop of trends, and she sometimes used the office computer to look at pugs on Youtube, but all in all, Violet simply wasn’t interested in creating her own content.

“Do you promise?”

Violet was happy with being anonymous, was very happy that she didn’t exist online, and she intended to keep it that way for as long as she possibly could.

“I promise,” Violet nodded, leaning over the table to give Sutan a quick, closed mouthed kiss.

***

“Darling,” Fame tightened her grip, the fabric of Patrick’s jacket between her fingers. The hustle and bustle of the airport was all around them, and Fame wished she could disappear. “Look at me.”

Fame huffed, turning her head and nuzzling further into Patrick’s neck.

“I know you’re upset-” Patrick ran a hand up her back.

To say that she was upset was an understatement. In fact, she was livid, anxiety and anger like a storm inside of her. She knew it wasn’t fair, knew she was being a child, but she didn’t want to fly without Patrick, didn’t want to risk her life without her husband at her side.

She had asked him to come along, had been ready to beg, but Patrick had work, had his own company to run, and it wasn’t fair of Fame to expect him to get on a transAtlantic flight with her, just so she didn’t have to do it alone.

“You’ll be fine.”

Fame sighed, the scent of Patrick filling her nose. They were waiting for Raja and Raven, Raja ready to take her hand and not let go until they touched down in London.

Fame knew that Raven hated it, but she could live with the stink eyes and Raven’s pouting if it meant that she had one of the few people she trusted by her side the entire time she was off the ground.

***

Courtney typed at lightning speed, adding the last three messages into Miss Fame’s phonesheet, then clicked back over to continue checking her emails.

Since most of the senior executives were on a plane to London, she had been expecting a chill morning, but it was the exact opposite: the phone was ringing off the hook: press requests for interviews and to borrow pieces of the collection, invitations, buyers, influencers. Not to mention the flurry of activity within the company to get the ready to wear versions of the Spring line into stores. Courtney could barely read one email before three more came in, she and Violet in constant communication as they made sure nothing slipped through the cracks.

The one saving grace was that apparently, it was tradition for things around the office to get much more casual while Fame and the others were away, and so she was wearing jeans, sneakers, and a cute Lululemon top.

The clothes were such a huge bonus that Courtney didn’t even mind that Violet had sent her to marketing three times: running up and down the stairs in sneakers was a hell of a lot nicer than doing it in heels.

Courtney was almost finished catching up on her emails when Violet stood up.

“I’m getting a cup of tea, do you want anything?”

Courtney looked up with a smile, thrilled that she and Violet were getting along so well today. Although the frenzied activity was a bit overwhelming for her, Violet seemed to thrive in it, and thus her patience had increased about two thousand percent.

“Um, I’ll take coconut water, if we have any. Thanks,” Courtney said, and Violet nodded, ducking into the kitchen.

The phone rang once again, and Courtney answered it, picking up her notepad and a pen. “Miss Fame’s office…”

“Hi, Bianca Del Rio for Fame.”

“I’m sorry, she’s unavailable right now, may I take a message?” Courtney asked sweetly. She couldn’t help wondering if Bianca might possibly recognize her voice, and found her cheeks coloring slightly at the thought.

“Oh shit. She’s on the plane to London now, huh?”

“Umm…” Courtney knew that she wasn’t supposed to reveal exactly where Fame was, but it was one of her closest friends, so maybe it would be okay. She settled on a slightly evasive, “...Possibly.”

Bianca laughed. “Very good work, Courtney. Protecting your boss’s privacy. I love it.”

“I do my best,” Courtney said, trying to suppress the grin she couldn’t seem to help whenever Bianca paid her a compliment. She wasn’t sure why, though, since Bianca obviously couldn’t see her, but even so… “Did you want to leave a message?”

“Nah...I’ll just text her,” Bianca said. “Bye, Courtney. Have a good day.”

“Bye, Bianca. You too.” Courtney hung up, just as Violet’s head appeared in the doorway, irritation all over her face.

“That better not have been Bianca Del Rio,” Violet said, a hand on her hip.

“Umm…”

“Courtney! We’ve been over this. You need to show people more respect. She’s the editor-in-chief of Marie-Claire, for god’s sake!”

“I know, but I…” Courtney trailed off, biting her lip. She wasn’t sure how to explain to Violet how wrong it would’ve felt to address Bianca as ‘Ms. Del Rio’ like she was supposed to. It was so stiff and formal, and their relationship felt much more casual than that. Courtney blushed, realizing that even the word ‘relationship’ was an overstatement. She was probably just being stupid, should probably just listen to Violet and shut up. “I’m sorry, I’ll remember next time.”

“You better,” Violet said. “Because if Miss Fame had heard that, she would’ve been livid.”

Courtney nodded, and Violet seemed satisfied with that, handing over the bottle of coconut water.

***

In the nearly four years that Ivy had worked for Raja, she’d lost count of the number of times people expressed amazement that the infamous “Dragon Lady” had managed to hold onto an assistant for so long.

In spite of Raja’s deserved reputation for being tough, Ivy felt immensely lucky to be working for her. For one thing, she was smart and insanely talented. And while she was by no means soft or low maintenance, Ivy always found her to be fair--even generous, when the situation warranted it. And the fact that she respected Ivy so much, often asking her for her opinions and consulting with her about important decisions, meant a lot--as did the trust she put in her to handle many things on her own. They had a system, and it worked for both of them.

But all that said, Ivy still enjoyed the few times a year when her boss was out of town. For one thing, it was nice to be more in control of her own schedule, and for another, it gave her the opportunity to work on one of her absolute favorite tasks: organizing the deep storage in one of their downstairs warehouses.

The styling closet next to Raja’s office was relatively easy to keep up with. Sure, it got a little messy at times, but if she stayed late or came in early every few weeks, she could manage. But the warehouse was another animal entirely. It often became the dumping ground for everything from design, referred to with nicknames like the Bermuda Triangle and the Couture Graveyard.

It was Ivy’s job to keep everything neat and labeled, and with how rare it was for her to get large amounts of time to handle it, this was no small feat. Right now, her task was to meticulously label and store every piece from the runway show, and to update her system to track the loans. She always felt a little bad about the cast-offs. In the past, they saved every garment, even the ones that were not approved, usually all smushed together in one extra-large garment bag--but this collection had about 10 times the amount of these little orphaned pieces as usual.

The three weeks of European Fashion Week were truly the greatest; all of senior management was gone, which meant that the support staff could wear whatever they wanted to the office. Ivy was personally dressed in something she would never get caught dead in with Raja in the office, but sneakers and jeans were perfect for dancing along to Taylor Swift and moving heavy boxes as she got down to the nitty gritty of cleaning the warehouse.

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is-that-another-soulmate-au · 4 years

Text

Wuko/Korrasami/OC insert soulmate eye color change AU

@mypureessence I'm gonna tag you because I know you like my Lee 😌

"Hey Lee! You did great out there tonight!" Lee let out a huff when she heard Tenko call to her. Spinning on her heel she turned to face him. "Not to mention this new over the shoulder dress! You were absolutely stunning, here's your pay for the night"

She took the cash handed to her and gave him a small sigh "thanks Tenko, say, did I get any tips?"

"Why? You building some new explosion on the outskirts?" Tenko gave a big grin

"Perhaps" she folded her arms

"You know Lee, you being a nonbender and all, I dont think you should keep messing with those explosions"

"A nonbender? Really you think I'm incapable of protecting myself against my own machines?" She huffed "whatever, did I get any tips or not?"

"You sure did, but its not alot" he handed her a small amount of cash compared to her pay.

"Hey, its better than nothing, alright, I'm getting changed, I'll see you next week alright?"

"You better be here, people love hearing a white fox sing"

Groaning she stormed off to her small dressing room where she changed out of the God awful tight dress and slip into more comfortable clothes. Fixing her hair up she paused, looking in the mirror at her own eyes, both a pale green. Wonder which parent that came from. She huffed and pushed the last Bobby pin in and left.

It was already getting dark so she had to hury. She clung to the flyer she had already deciphered a while ago, she was going to infiltrate the equalists tonight. She hopped on her bike and sped off. Not too long after she managed to find the spot and parked her bike before heading down the alleyway.

"Invitation?"

"Here" she held out the flyer.

"Come on in, the revelation is upon us my sister"

She nodded and stepped inside, immediately setting to work scouting the building for any way to halt the performance that Amon was about to do. She'd seen it before, only a week ago when she caught a scene outside her warehouse on the outskirts. She needed to stop this.

"To take a person's bending away... permanently" she heard the man say, glancing up she watched as four people were dragged onto stage. The first was a leader of a gang.

"See those machines" she heard a man whisper by chance as she passed him and a girl "their run by steam, get some escaping and you could whip up some cover while I free Bolin"

"Works for me"

"Me too." Lee whispered and grabbed hold of the girls wrist "Follow me, I can help" the girl gave a bit of hesitation but nodded and wished her friend good luck.

Leading the girl to the steam pipes she took hold of a valve "we need to turn these to the right as far as possible to let the steam escape"

Once they did that the steam started to escape but only a little "its not enough" the girl said in frustration

"Hey you!" A man shouted as he walked in

"Great, now we have company" Lee said with an eye twitch but stood up "is there a problem my brother?"

"What are you doing back here?"

"Uh... looking for the bathroom?" The girl said with a cheeky grin. What is she five?

"You wouldn't happen to know where one is my brother?" Lee backed up the excuse with a question in hopes to get him to believe it. But no use. The man attacked. Lee used the help of the girl to get the upperhand and smash the pipes, releasing the steam, which the girl bent with ease out of the room. Causing a panic and gaining them some cover.

The group managed to escape and the duo Lee used as help managed to get this Bolin guy. Fleeing, the girl and Lee ran into Bolin and this other guy taken out by a man with electric sticks.

Of course this girl she thought was just a warebender just used earthbending to get the upperhand and escape. Oh gods, this is the avatar, this is avatar Korra and the fireferrets Mako and Bolin.

"So.. whats your name? Mystery girl?" Bolin said from the jaws of Naga.

"Lee. And youre the fireferrets and avatar, thanks for the help getting rid of that rally."

"Well, uh, Lee, thank you for helping us save Bolin" Mako said with an awkward clearing of his throat.

"No problem, but uhm, I kind of left my bike near the area so I dont exactly have a way to get home.."

"Where is your home?" Bolin piped up

"On the outskirts of the city" Lee shrugged "Im normally not here this late but I had a thing to do y'know"

"Yeah..." Mako said in what seemed to be a cold tone as they managed to get to the pro bending arena "you can crash here for the night and head back home tomorrow"

Lee sighed "yeah, okay, sorry"

Once Korra left with Naga to Air Temple Island Bolin wrapped his arm around Lee's shoulder "sooo, Lee right? Is that short for something?"

"No. It's just Lee." She looked up at Bolin with a concerned expression before pushing him back and checking him over "are you alright? No scratches or bruises? Did you hit your head?"

Mako slowed her by gripping her shoulders and moving them inside "he's fine, quit mother henning him"

"I am not-! Okay, look I just watched him almost lose his bending okay? We barely managed to get out of that in one piece! I mean, you two were almost caught again because of mister zappy sticks!" She ranted while they made their way to the apartment "okay, look, we might not know eachother well, or even at all, but tonight we were a team in taking down that rally okay? So I'm allowed to be worried that a teammate might have gotten hurt!"

"Yeah, sure, teammate" Mako huffed when they made it to their living space.

"Whats your problem?" Lee stood infront of Mako with a irritated expression

"I dont have a problem" Mako said with a small crack in his voice

"Yes. You do. You've been huffy since we managed to escape. Why would you even offer to have me crash for the night if you have a problem with me?" Lee took a step closer and Mako took a step back

"Look, I dont have a problem with you, I just hardly know you okay? I'm letting you stay here to thank you for helping me save my brother, and thats all. I dont even know if I can trust you"

"Well, since you hardly know me, how about you ask some questions okay? That should get the ball rolling" Bolin raised his hand and Lee gave him a fond grin "Bolin sweetie you don't need to raise your hand but go ahead"

"Who are your parents?"

"Dont know, I was put up for adoption before I ever had the capability to remember anything"

"Where do you work?"

"Cold spikes bar as a singer"

"Ooo! You sing?" Bolin grinned

"Yeah, I do. But Im not about to sing for you right now." She folded her arms.

"Aww" Bolin pouted

"Why is your hair white?" Mako finally chipped in a question.

"Oh wow, that's personal"

"And the parents one wasnt?" Mako snipped

"I'm teasing Mako, my hair has always been white, I dont know why it is just like I dont know why my eyes are green or why the sky is blue." Lee gave a shrug

"Why were you at the rally in the first place and what did you plan to do if you didn't bump into us?"

"Well, I planned to blow the place up with some explosives but when I bumped into you guys it was definitely a much better option"

"You... were going to blow up the building?"

"Well yeah, but not with deadly bombs, smoke bombs and stink bombs mostly." She shrugged "Im an explosives expert so I know a thing or two about how to avoid hurting people with my babies, thats why I live on the outskirts, I have a warehouse where I test my new explosives so"

Bolin looked at Mako, then to Lee, then back to Mako "I like her, can we keep her?"

"She's not an animal Bolin you can't just pick her up and say 'can we keep her' like your adopting a pet" Mako scolded "but if she wants to stick around us for a while she can."

"I'd like that, but more than that, I'd like to sleep, so I'm gonna just crash down here, got a spare pillow?"

And so she slept in the corner of the room curled around a pillow and when morning rolled around Pabu woke her up just in time before Mako left for his job and before Bolin left to go train. Sitting up her back cracked a couple times and her stomach gave into a growl "hey Bolin, I dont suppose you could skip a bit of training and come with me to go grab something to eat?"

"Uh, we're kind of... broke" Bolin said with a shy

Lee gave a laugh while standing up "i didnt ask for you to pay, I just asked you to come with. I've got money enough for the both of us to eat my dear Bolin. Now do you think you could skip your training and come with me to grab something to eat?" With a growl escaping his stomach he gave a pair of sad puppy dog eyes and Lee cracked a laugh "alright, lets be off then"

And with that Lee was taking Bolin out to a small noodle shop to eat. While sitting in the booth laughing Bolin leaned on the table "so, is this a... y'know?"

"A what?" Lee said after swallowing a bite. The look on Bolin's face said it all and she gave a sigh "no Bolin, this is not a date. I dont exactly do dating okay? I'm too invested in my work to do dates and partners and the like"

"Well, what if you meet your soulmate?" Bolin pointed out

"Well, if I meet them, then we'll just see what happens. But Bolin, youre not my soulmate, you and I both know that, neither of our eyes changed"

"Yeah, and? Both out eyes are green!"

"Mine are a pale almost seafoam green and yours are a evergreen, it would be pretty obvious" she rested her chin on her hand and huffed "besides, why would you even go for me?"

"You saved me..."

"No, Korra and Mako saved you, I managed to assist in the matter. And while yes I would save you a hundred times over if I had to, I played only a minor role in the rescue mission"

"But you still played a part" Bolin pointed his fork at her "and even though you cant bend, you managed to help both my brother and my best friend save my tail back there.

Lee gave him a grin and a sigh she really is a nonbender to everyone huh? Guess she could stand to use her bending more "I guess your right"

By the time noon rolled around Bolin and Lee were back at the arena in one of the training rooms with Bolin practicing some punches with Lee behind the padding. "So.. Where's Mako work?"

"Uh... I dunno? I just found out he had a job this morning, but he said he should be home around 2 or so, you can ask him then-"

"Nah, I'm home early... why are you practicing with white fox over here?" Mako said with a grin "and I have a date tomorrow night"

"Get outta town!" Lee said excitedly "what's their name?"

"Her name is Asami" Mako said with a blushing face and a goofy grin

"Aw, just from the way you said her name Im sure she's lovely... by any chance did your eyes change?" Lee said with a lean towards him

"No? I mean most people settle without that here, yknow, most people are so busy you won't find your soulmate anytime soon"

"I guess you're right, hm, well, I hope you two enjoy your date"

And enjoy it he did, two days later when Lee visited in the morning to train with Bolin Mako revealed that Asami was Hiroshi Sato's daughter and he was sponsoring the team in the upcoming tournament. Which that news was paired nicely by noon with Korra letting them know there was a Gala being thrown in her name. That night Korra asked Lee to stay the night at Air temple Island just so she knew there was someone by her side.

And Lee was happy to oblige, though she hadn't realized that meant that she was going as Korra's plus one.

#the legend of korra #tlok oc #tlok korra #tlok #tlok asami #tlok mako #tlok bolin #i will die on my endless soulmate au hill #soulmate alternate universe #soulmates

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hannie-dul-set · 5 years

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things you can't hide. [boo seungkwan]

@bloatedboo asked: this was rlly hard to choose but seungkwan, sports!au (volleyball), fake dating, and #5~ take ur time love !

SUMARRY | seungkwan decides that you’re his best bet to get his annoying friends to finally fuck off PAIRING | boo seungkwan x reader GENRE/PROMPTS | fluff, college! au, sports! au (volleyball) + fake dating! au + "you have the emotional capacity of a brick" WARNINGS | swearing WORD COUNT | 2.1k

a/n: ksjqqkk i highly apologize for the lack of volleyball in this hhuhuhu i have zero (0) knowledge about sports but i hope you still like it!! editing allexandra: this is very old and very terrible please read at your own discretion JSHFJSDH

“stop worrying too much, it’s gonna be fine! everything’s gonna go exactly as planned,” seungkwan reassured while the both of you made your way towards the court.

“you’re the one who’s worrying, kwan,” you rolled your eyes, “i can’t believe i even agreed to this.”

around a week ago, the male hadgracefully interrupted your peaceful shift at the school’s cafe. apparently, his friends in the volleyball team (mainly kim mingyu) have been egging him about ‘finally removing the shackles of being single.’

“it’s not like i can’t get a girlfriend,” he scoffed, glaring at the iced americano before him. “it’s more like i just can’t be bothered. but lately, they’ve been the ones bothering me.”

you questioned the male as to why exactly he’s telling you these things. it’s not like the both of you were close, anyways. a few “hello’s” were shared in the hallway but besides that, nothing much.

“you see, dear y/n,” seungkwan slowly placed down his drink while letting out a sigh, his face practically screaming 'a weekend in hell would seem more tolerable’. “i don’t think i can fucking handle any more of their bullshit and pestering and you seem to be the perfect solution that i have.”

he went on about his 'ingenious’ plan of finally getting his friends off his tail— which basically just consisted of you pretending to be his fake girlfriend.

upon hearing this, you sternly declined. “im sorry, seungkwan. im afraid i wouldn’t be to help you in fooling your friends.”

“wait—!”

before you even managed to stand up, seungkwan slammed both of his hands on the woods table— deliberately catching the attention of not only you, but also the handful of students that were occupying the café, as well.

he stifled out a cough and went back to his seat, “let me finish.”

you sighed, “this better not be a waste of time,” seungkwan gave you a look of offense to which you rolled your eyes, “hurry up.”

the male pressed both of his palms together, letting out a deep exhale through his nose. he mumbled a low 'i hope i don’t fucking regret this’ before looking you sternly. (he hoped you hadn’t heard him, but guess what: you did.)

“be my fake girlfriend. in exchange, i’ll treat you to brunch every single day during our fake relationship. deal?”

is this guy really that desperate? you though to yourself. you spend a few moments of pondering silence until seungkwan interrupted.

“oh come on! you get to have free foodand commit a good deed— how hard is it to decide?”

a long sign escaped from your lips. it’s either the rational part of your brain decided to temporarily shut down, or he just seemed really pitiful. whatever it is, you agreed to help him. if that was the correct choice, you don’t know.

“oh my god, thank you so much, y/n! i swear, you just saved ten years of my lifespan.” you rolled your eyes, standing up with the male following behind you.

before you returned back to the staff room, you decided to ask seungkwan a question.

“one last thing, seungkwan,” he raised a brow, waiting for you to continue, “out of all the people, why’d you ask me to help you?”

he stayed silent for a while, formulating a proper response.

“y/n,” your eyes met his. you could feel your cheeks starting to heat up as he looked at you with such intensity. your breath hitching in your throat, anticipating on what he has to say.

“from the handful of conversations we’ve had before, i could conclude that you literally have the emotional capacity of a brick. therefore if we don’t seem convincing, we can blame in on your incapability to express human emotions! aren’t i a genius?”

you nearly slapped the man, but nevertheless you relented.

so that’s where the both of you are now— walking hand in hand to the volleyball court where his friends await your arrival.

“oh shush, we’re already almost there. no room for backing out, now,” you shot a glare at him, earning a smug smile from the male. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t nervous; acting isn’t exactly your strong suit.

you felt seungkwan squeeze your hand, “you don’t have to be afraid to tell me if you’re nervous. your face might not say it, but your incessant shaking does.”

“sorry,” you breathed, “i’ll be fine.”

“'fine’ my ass,” seungkwan scoffed, “it’s completely normal to show at least the tiniest bit of emotion sometimes, you know.”

“excuse you, i am more that capable of showing emotions— you just don’t deserve it.” you snide, the male chortling in response.

“seems like i do; i’ve never seen you this annoyed before,” he snickers. you could only groan as the both of you enter the court’s premises.

from afar, you could see five figures sitting around the benches. you can only recognize one of them; a kid name lee chan— whom you share sociology with. you assumed these guys are his friends.

seungkwan dragged you to a corner before you head to the group. he grabbed both of your shoulders, letting out a long breath, “alright, don’t forget— we met at a bookstore in town and found out that we both share the same school. we decided to hang out quite often and eventually grew feelings for each other—”

“then you asked me out four months ago at the same bookstore where we first met. i know, seungkwan. don’t worry, i’ve memorized all of it,” he let out a sigh of relief.

“good, good. if anything wrong happens—” a flash of fear shrouds seungkwan’s face, “let’s just hope not, yeah? i’d rather not think about the immense torment i’d end up having to go through if this fails,” he shuddered.

the both of you finally decided to make your way towards his friends. you could see the male’s nervous expression at the corner of your eyes. seeing that didn’t exactly make you feel any better.

“seungkwan!” you see the tallest of the bunch waving at the man beside you.

an exasperated sigh escaped seungkwan’s lips as you quickened your pace towards the group. you could sense the curious looks that each of the boys are giving you as you neared and it didn’t exactly make you feel comfortable. you bit the inside of your cheek when you finally reached them.

“y/n? i wasn’t aware you and seungkwan were close,” chan chin pointed at the male beside you, earning an offended look from him. “i also wasn’t aware that you were interested in volleyball. much less any sport, to be honest,” he shrugged.

you opened your mouth to give a response, but seungkwan beat you to it, “she’s just here to watch practice.” you could feel the nervousness in his voice and silently praying that the boys don’t notice it, as well.

“doesn’t answer anything, though—”

“were dating,” you deadpan.

it was silent. too silent for your liking. a surge of anxiousness started to creep into your brain and you started to have a meltdown. wait fuck was i not supposed to say that? you looked at the male beside you for assurance, but he didn’t seem to be faring any better.

yep, we’re fucked. definitely, absolutely, utterly—

“holy shit, kwannie, congratulations!”

wait what.

“man, i really thought you were gonna stay single for the rest of your life, kwan,” one of the boys (to which you later learned was seungcheol) proclaimed, trapping seungkwan in his arms. you could practically see his soul slowly descending back into his body.

you let out a sigh of relief. thank lord jesus, i didn’t fuck up.

after learning their names, the boys suddenly attacked the both of you with a torrent of questions— mostly consisting about your apparent relationship. (the one named jeonghan asked if you two have fucked yet, which earned him a bruise on his arm.)

thanks to seungkwan’s constant surprise quizzes, you managed to answer all of them. they all seemed to be convinced that you and seungkwan are indeed dating— except for one, that is.

“didn’t you say you were too busy for a relationship literally just a month ago?” jihoon, who had been quiet since you’ve arrived, asked.

“i— i wasn’t ready to tell you guys yet,” seungkwan responded, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. the shorter male only narrowed his eyes at him.

“don’t worry about it, seungkwan. i understand,” jeonghan leans back on the bench, “i wouldn’t want to tell this guy i have a girlfriend either, who knows what he’ll do,” he accusingly points at mingyu, who was innocently using his phone.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he furrowed his brows and pocketed the device. the two started to bicker and eventually, the rest of the boys joined in.

“you literally hooked up with minhee last time— who, in fact, has a boyfriend.”

"that was one time! and i didn’t even know that, she never told me!”

amidst the chaos, you felt someone tug on the sleeve of your shirt. you turn your head and see seungkwan giving you a small smile, “thanks a lot for agreeing to this. sorry that you have to witness their bullshit and i’ll apologize in advance since i’m pretty sure that there’ll be more to come.”

“it’s fine,” you muse, “they’re quite the entertainment, actually.”

“oh? is that a smile i see?” seungkwan teases. your cheeks flush a light pink, turning away from the male.

he gives you a playful smack, “hey, that’s not fair! let me see—”

before seungkwan could tease you any further, seungcheol decided to interrupt, “alright, kids, stop messing around. let’s head to practice— we’ve wasted enough time, already.”

a series of groans and whines erupted, but nevertheless, they all followed. the boys began to make their way to the center of the court while you stayed behind at the benches. you sat down and closed your eyes, letting out a long sigh. these guys were nice and all but they we’re pretty draining; you weren’t sure if you could keep up with them the next time seungkwan decides to bring you along.

in the middle of your peace and quiet, you could hear a pair of footsteps making their way towards you. you opened your eyes and saw seungkwan in front of you.

you raised a brow, “aren’t you supposed to start practice?”

“seungcheol can’t find his water bottle,” he takes a seat beside you, “i wonder why.”

you elbowed the male, eliciting a yelp from him, “ow! what was that for? if you’re thinking that i hid it then you’re wrong— it was jeonghan!”

the male gave you a pout and you stuck your tongue out in response.

“wow, you’re getting better at the whole emotions thing,” again, you elbowed him, “stop that! this is domestic abuse, i could sue you, you know!”

you could see seungcheol gesturing seungkwan to come back. it seems like he finally found his water bottle. seungkwan groaned as he begrudgingly stood up. before he left, he decided to tell you one more thing.

“hey, y/n. i know this whole relationship thing is fake but i really hope we like, enjoy each other’s company, y'know? i don’t want you to do this if you don’t want to.” he said.

“i wouldn’t have agreed in the first place if i wasn’t okay with it,” you explain, “i mean yeah, i was hesitant at first and mainly did it for the free food. but as we went along i um—”

seungkwan looked at you expectantly, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. you bit your lip and averted your eyes from him.

“i—i kind of like being with you,” a coat of red covers your cheeks as you uttered out each word. seungkwan couldn’t help but break out into a huge grin upon hearing you.

“no need to be shy, yn. the feeling’s mutual,” the male pats your head, causing you to glare at him, “yikes, we could work on your expressions though. you don’t glare at the guy you like being with.”

you tried to kick his foot but he managed to dodge. he let out a laugh at your failed attempt. lucky for him, seungcheol yelled at him to get back before you could try to abuse him any further.

“boo seungkwan! get your ass over here before i do it myself. you could hang out with your girlfriend later.”

“yes dad, i’m coming!”

you could hear a chorus of laughter coming from the rest of the boys. he gave you one last look before finally taking his leave.

“don't forget we have brunch tomorrow.” he said.

you look at him, lips forming into a smile.

“i won't.”

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