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valdomarx · 3 years

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time enough for counting (when the dealing's done)

McShep + Vegas fix-it, requested by @beautifulmonster. 2k, rated M.

Bad beat

John had always known it would end like this.

Well, the space aliens and the shady government organization had been a surprise. But the bleeding out, alone in the desert - yeah, that was always how he was going to go.

There’s a kind of dark satisfaction in seeing the world turn out exactly as shitty and brutal as you knew it would be. Called it.

His moment of sick vindication is interrupted, though, by a figure standing over him and peering down with cursory interest.

Sharp black suit, spotless even in the heat and the muck. Hands in pockets, head quirked in something that might be amusement. “Should have known you’d pull a stunt like this,” it says, and John would smirk at playing to type but the blood loss pulls him under.

Ante up

He wakes to pain. Vicious, lancing pain and the cloying smell of antiseptic and the beeping of monitors. He tries to sit up and his chest screams until he collapses back onto the bed.

Next to him, a slightly rumpled McKay is tapping furiously at a laptop. “Don’t go dying on me now, Sheppard,” he says without looking up. “I’ve got plans for you.”

Buy-in

The next time he wakes, the light has faded. It must be evening.

The hospital room - his own private room, he realizes - is nice. Far too nice for the local joint. Must be private. Must have cost someone a pretty penny. He would have told whoever it is to save their cash.

“You’re awake. Good.” McKay strides in, less rumpled now. Neat black suit back in perfect order. “I don’t have much time, so listen up.”

He tells John how they destroyed the Wraith target before he could get a message to his buddies in Pegasus. How this universe is safe, but the spacetime rift has sent that information echoing through other universes. How they’re putting together a team to visit these other universes; warn them, offer to help if they can.

How he’ll be leaving in a few hours to head up the program. How he thinks John might be able to help.

John blinks. His eyelids are sticky and his mouth is full of fluff.

“Why the hell would you bring this to me?”

McKay flashes him an enigmatic smile. “You did save the world. Maybe you’re more of a hero than you realize.”

On the flop

He gets unceremoniously booted out of the hospital a few days later, when it becomes obvious that he’s not going to die and whoever was bankrolling his stay isn’t any more.

His car is totaled. The money inside is gone. He’s got the clothes on his back, a mountain of debt, no job, and -

He sticks a hand into the pocket of his jacket. There’s something in there: a neat rectangle of card which reads, Doctor Rodney McKay, PhD PhD. Don’t call me, I’ll call you. There’s no phone number.

He heads for the nearest motel he can find, picks up two bottles of rotgut whiskey, and drinks until he manages to pass out amid the sounds of yelling and the scuttering of cockroaches.

Into the muck

Whatever the fuck else might be going on in the world, there is always the constant: 52 cards, 4 suits, the flick of the dealer’s wrist as he lays out your fortunes, the wins and the loses and the ones where you came oh so close.

He’s back at Mikey’s within a week, borrowing more to get out ahead of this debt, even though he knows that’s never going to work.

Maybe it’ll be different this time. Maybe he can win what he needs, pay off the people he has to, and use the rest to make a start somewhere other than here. Anywhere other than this desert full of chips and blood and corpses and filth.

It’s going to be a good night, he tells himself as he settles into a squeaky plastic chair at a low-roller table and looks around at his competition. Tourists and chumps, and he can take these guys no problem.

Pot-committed

He’s woken by a shrill ringing. His head feels like he’s stuck it in a cement mixer and his mouth tastes like cheap whiskey and puke. He rolls over, covers his ears with a ratty pillow, and ignores it.

The ringing continues. What the fuck? It’s a phone. It keeps ringing. He doesn’t own a phone.

Whoever the fuck is calling is still going, so with a groan he sits up and, bleary-eyed, looks for the phone. He finds it in his jacket pocket, and he’s almost certain it wasn’t there last night.

“Yeah?” he says as he answers it. “What do you want?”

“Sheppard,” a crisp, familiar voice says. “I’ve got a job for you.”

Sheppard closes his eyes. The last thing he needs right now is a world-ending crisis. “Can’t,” he says shortly. “I’ve got… business to attend to.”

McKay snorts. “Another fortune to lose at the poker table? I’m sure you do.” John can hear judgement radiating down the phone line. Then McKay sighs and softens. “Tell you what, meet me and hear me out, and I’ll see what I can do about clearing that off-the-books debt for you.”

That pings John’s bullshit meter, for sure, because that much money doesn’t get casually tossed around even in defense circles. But McKay gives him the address of a pancake place to meet for breakfast and what the hell, he does like pancakes.

Check in the dark

“We keep running into you,” McKay says, shoveling maple syrup-covered pancakes into his mouth with great enthusiasm. “Or, well, other versions of you. Practically every universe we’ve visited so far, you’re leading the team.”

John raises an eyebrow. Not much surprises him any more, but parallel realities strain even his credulity.

“It would be easier,” McKay continues, “if you were with us. You could help us explain. People trust you.”

John jerks back like McKay has slipped a knife between his ribs. McKay doesn’t seem to notice, or perhaps he does notice and is tactful or manipulative enough not to acknowledge it.

“Come work with me. We’d need to get you some -” he gestures with a fork, “- training, obviously. But you could be useful. You could do some good.”

John shifts in his seat. “I can’t just leave.”

McKay scowls at him. “Right, because you’ve got so many compelling reasons to stay.”

Gutshot

He ends up in some anonymous Air Force bunker in Colorado, of all places, and being around so much military life has his hackles rising. He’s deposited in a blank, windowless room with a desk covered in stacks of carefully redacted mission reports from the Stargate program which he reads voraciously because this is wild, this is unbelievable, but it’s also all true.

McKay finds him a few days later, lounging in the doorway as impeccable as ever. John is suddenly very aware of the fact he’s been sleeping in his clothes.

“Keeping busy?” McKay asks, voice dripping with condescension and something else John doesn’t want to put his finger on.

John nibbles the pen he’s holding as he considers how to answer that, and he notices the way McKay’s eyes flick to his mouth. Ahh. Interesting.

“Staying out of trouble, at least,” he drawls, letting his posture slacken so he’s lounging against the back of the chair and his knees are spread wide. It’s been a while but he knows how to play this game.

McKay walks around to his side of the desk, each step measured and precise. Not too fast, no sudden movements, a predator lining up for the kill. John tilts his head back and bares his neck, because he knows how to play the role of prey. McKay perches on the edge of the desk between his legs, looks down his nose, and says, “Somehow I doubt that.”

“I can behave.” He looks up from under his lashes. It’s not exactly subtle, but fuck it, they’re way past that by now. “When properly motivated.”

McKay leans in, all sharp smiles and gleaming edges, and John shudders. McKay notices and the sharp edges of his smile glistens.

“I know you can, Sheppard,” McKay says in a low voice that has the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. “I told you before. I know everything about you.”

Damn the man, John thinks, and then McKay winds his fingers into John's hair and yanks him in for a hot, messy kiss and John stops thinking altogether.

Afterwards, as he makes vain attempts to pull up his shirt collar to hide the bite marks and to wipe the come stains off the classified military files, John reflects that he may truly be in over his head this time.

Under the gun

A stack of paperwork drops onto his desk with a dull thud. He looks up to find the scowling face of Major Davis.

“Consultant,” Davis says, chilly as ice. “That’s what the Pentagon is willing to offer. You’ll get a salary and accommodation, and in return you’ll help Doctor McKay with his research while he’s on Earth.”

John opens his mouth, though whether it’s to say thank you, to tell Davis to go fuck himself, or to ask for more money, he isn’t sure. Davis holds up a hand to stop him before he can find out.

“I advised against it, given your record. But McKay is a real pain in the ass when he wants to be. So this is what’s on the table. Take it or leave it.”

Tell

McKay’s brow is furrowed and he’s fiddling with some piece of machinery (probably alien, John thinks, and it seems that sort of thing is part of his life now). It blinks to life for a moment before the lights on the top fade away, and McKay swears and bangs it on the table.

“Hey, easy, Chewie,” John chides.

McKay’s eyes narrow. “I thought you said you didn’t like science fiction.”

“Star Wars isn’t science fiction. It’s science fantasy.”

McKay actually smiles at that, something joyous leaping up in the corners of his mouth.

“Knew you were a nerd,” McKay says under his breath, and John punches him playfully in the shoulder. He’s defending his honor, or something.

McKay ducks his head, and a blush creeps up the back of his neck.

Ace high

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” McKay looks even smugger than usual.

“Yeah?” John slips a leer into the syllable.

But McKay just rolls his eyes. “Not like that. Come on, there’s something I want you to see.”

He leads him down through the base to a lower level, through endless security checks and into a dark hanger. There’s some technology they’ve acquired from an off-world source, he explains, deliberately vague. He’s trying to make some modifications to it, and he thinks John can help with testing.

John has learned to expect the unexpected in this place, but when the lights of the hanger flicker on his breath still catches. It illuminates a ship unlike anything he’s seen before: slick and cylindrical, rear hatch open to show seats and consoles inside.

“It’s fitted with inertial dampers, weapons, a shield,” McKay says breezily. “Oh, and you’ll like this.” He flicks a button on a control and the ship disappears in a haze like hot air. “It’s got a cloak too.”

It’s like something out of a movie, and John is struck speechless. He follows wide-eyed as McKay decloaks the ship to lead them inside and gestures for him to sit.

And woah, the moment he sits the chair glows and a holographic interface springs up in front of him, and he can feel the ship in his mind. He reaches out with a thought and - ping - the display shows a schematic of the hanger.

“Knew you’d be a natural,” McKay says, managing to sound both condescending and delighted. “Want to take her for a spin?”

Yes, everything in him screams, but he thinks about flames and smoke and the shrill, piercing whine of a tail rotor failing, and he grits his teeth against it and says, “I don’t fly any more,” instead.

McKay gives him a long, cool look.

“We’ll start small,” McKay says, all business, and it’s so easy to relax and follow his lead. “I need you to activate the inertial dampeners while I adjust the shield field strength.”

Okay. Okay. He can do that.

The ship whirs to life.

Short stack

John stares at the blank white walls of his apartment.

It’s better than most places he’s lived in. No roaches, for a start, and it’s clean and has its own kitchen.

But it’s infuriatingly bland, and Colorado is infuriatingly empty, and there’s not so much as a slot machine within an hour’s drive and he is climbing the walls here.

McKay has disappeared on one of those weeks-long missions he can’t or won’t tell John about, and there’s a restless itching under his skin that’s urging him to drink or gamble or fuck or something, and this whole planet seems too small and too constrictive but he doesn’t want to climb under a blanket of booze and drain it all away.

He wants more.

On the river

“Modifications are done,” McKay announces. “Shall we test her out?”

The we makes something squirm in John’s gut but he dismisses it with a lazy, “It’s your alien spaceship.”

McKay looks for a moment like he’s going to say something, but then he pulls out a radio and talks into that instead. “This is Gate Ship One, ready for initial shield test burst.”

“Gate Ship One?” John scoffs. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

“It’s a ship that goes through the gate,” McKay pouts, and damn, that’s kind of cute. “Why, what would your suggestion be?”

John tilts his head. He’s seen footage of the ship traveling through the stargate, leaping through the event horizon and leaving barely a ripple in its wake. “Seems more like a puddle jumper to me.”

“You have the soul of a poet,” McKay says acerbically.

And damn if that’s not kind of cute too.

Dealer’s choice

“Come with me,” McKay says, and John is ready to say yes before he’s even finished speaking. “To Pegasus. To Atlantis. I need to get back there, and I’m sure we can find a way to make you useful.” A little smirk at the end there.

“I don’t know how the Pentagon is going to feel about that,” John says, deliberately languid to hide the way his heart is pounding in his chest. Escape, adventure, somewhere new, somewhere he could be a new person, and he wants it so much it aches.

“Eh, fuck them. They can’t say no to me.”

“Okay,” he shrugs. “Not like I’ve got anything better to do here.”

McKay gives him a look that shoots straight through his defenses and down to his sticky innards. “Yeah, okay,” he says, and it’s soft in a way that makes the ache in John’s chest twist into a deep burn.

All in

The jumper hovers in the air in front of the stargate.

“Nervous?” McKay asks, carefully casual, like he doesn’t already know the answer.

John hums. The inside of the jumper feels as much like home as any place he knows. What’s another galaxy to a man with no ties?

“You’re going to love it there,” McKay says with a smile he can’t hide. He dials up the gate and it engages with a tremendous whoosh and a burst of brilliant blue light.

Here goes nothing, he thinks as McKay deploys the drive pods and fires up the engines. One last new start.

#mcshep #stargate atlantis #my writing #beautifulmonster #love!! this verse!!!#someone give vegas john a warm blanket and some love i beg you

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army-author · 3 years

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(fic alert) all this stigma

➝ COMING 26/03/2021 18:00 GMT

➝ summary: your relationship with taehyung was supposed to stay strictly casual. yet, when you find yourself pregnant with his child, the walls you built up come crashing down around you. kim taehyung’s affluent family are strict and traditional, willing to do anything to cover up the indiscretions of their son, even if it means forcing him into marriage...

➝ pairing: heir taehyung x female reader

➝ genre: heavy angst, arranged marriage au

➝ warnings: profanity; lots of talk about losing virginity

[PREVIEW BELOW]

[Six years ago]

Your eyes are caught on Taehyung.

In Anise’s dorm room, with the scent of alcohol heavy in the air, all you can focus on is the man standing across from you. Anise had invited him over in the hopes of introducing you to some more people. As she said - “You need to put yourself out there more!”

You knew she was right. You’d spent the first term crammed in your dorm, studying, barely talking with anyone. In the middle of a corridor of dormitories, surrounded by hundreds of other students, you had felt inexplicably lonely. Part of your reasoning for becoming a hermit in your dorm room were the warnings you had received before you left for university. Your school had been very religious, shoving morals down your throat as you got ready to venture out into the real world. The world will try to corrupt you. They’ll try to entice you. Do not let yourself fall into temptation.

You were certainly slipping into temptation now as you looked at Taehyung. A unique curiosity pierced your heart as you watched him from across the room. Perhaps it was the spark in his black eyes that intrigued you. Perhaps it was the cut of his jaw. Perhaps it was the defined collar bone that suggested itself just above the white of his t-shirt. Whatever it was – it had clutched at your stomach with iron teeth as soon as he walked into the room.

Your mother had also warned you of the dangers of the world when you left home. “Some boys will try to entice you,” she had said. She was keen on the idea of remaining virtuous and pure – repeating all the ideas you had heard regurgitated at school assembly each week.

Perhaps that was why, after all this time, you were so desperate to go against her guidance.

Anise had decided that it was her mission to help you lose your virginity, and had taken it upon herself to introduce you to all her male friends.

You are all too happy to let her guide you through the murky uncertainty of hook-ups. Being so inexperienced yourself, you need all the help you can get.

But now, faced with the prospect of Taehyung, stood a couple of feet away from you, the idea of going over and striking up a conversation with him terrifies you. Everything about him radiates a confident sensuality. On top of that, you had heard rumours that his family was extremely wealthy – a far cry from your rural upbringing.

Gripping the ice cold beer bottle that Anise pushed into your hand earlier, you take a swig, hoping for a boost of confidence. With a deep breath, you walk over to Taehyung. “Hi,” you say by way of introduction. Not the most unique start to a conversation.

He turns his gaze to you, and up close, you are struck by how devastating his stare can be – dark eyes swirling with a galaxy of golden speckles, radiating light as he offers you a smile. “Hello. You’re Anise’s friend, right?”

You nod, “Yep. That’s me.”

His smile widens. With that smile, you begin to loosen up, slightly less intimidated at the prospect of speaking with such a beautiful man. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says, “I’m Taehyung.”

“I know,” you say, “Anise speaks about you a lot.” As soon as these words leave your lips, your cheeks heat with a desperate blush.

“Oh yeah?” Taehyung raises his eyebrows. There’s a smile in his voice, “What does she speak about?”

You swallow. You’ve backed yourself into a corner now. Despite all the advice Anise had tried to give, you were still your own awkward self, completely innocent to the secret art of flirting. Taking another sip of beer to soften the blow of your next words, you resign yourself to the truth. “Anise has decided that she needs to help me loose my virginity, so… she’s introducing me to all her male friends.” You can feel that your cheeks are hot with a flush, eyes stinging with embarrassment, “I… don’t know why I told you that...”

Taehyung simply laughs, “So that’s her deal, huh? I’m just some meat for you to hop on?” He quirks you a smile with raised brows; his heated gaze is enough to melt you down to a puddle.

“No, I didn’t mean...” you stammer.

“Relax,” he gives you a light tap on the arm, “I’m kidding.”

“Oh,” you swallow, the aftertaste of beer suddenly turning bitter. You get the sense you’ve fucked up any chance you had of establishing a relationship with Taehyung. Humiliated, you take another swig from your beer bottle.

“So,” Taehyung says, “You actually planning on losing your virginity tonight?”

You almost choke. Gasping for air, you wipe beer from your lips, “Excuse me?”

He laughs, “God, your face is hilarious!”

You stammer, as your cheeks only get hotter, “I wasn’t expecting you to… I mean… I didn’t think...”

His dark eyes watch carefully. The spark in those swimming irises still intrigues you, yanking you back against your better judgement.

“Did Anise decide that you needed to loose your virginity, or was that your decision?” Taehyung asks.

You shrug, “I think it’s a bit of both. I mean... I wouldn’t mind losing it. I hate the label sticking to me. I’m not a prude or anything. I guess a part of me feels like I’m missing out on something. I see all those sex scenes in TV and movies, and it feels as plausible as a scene about magic or aliens. It’s just so far removed from anything I’ve experienced.” You laugh at yourself, “I’m just rambling now. God, I’m so embarrassing!”

Taehyung takes another sip of his beer, “No, it’s not embarrassing. I felt the same way before I lost my virginity. Before, I just couldn’t stop thinking about sex, and when I finally did it, it was like: “Oh. So that’s it, huh?” And then I just got on with my life without it ruling over me. I mean, don’t get me wrong. It felt really nice. But experiencing it for myself I realised that it’s not as big a deal as people would have you think.”

You nod, silent. You can barely believe you’re even having this conversation. Held in Taehyung’s gaze, the whole encounter feels like it’s happening in a dream. Maybe it’s just the alcohol getting to your head.

Your thoughts are interrupted when Anise comes back, phone in hand, saying, “We should take a photo!” You’re jostled around, sandwiched between friends. You loose track of Taehyung, as Yoongi, another of Anise’s friends, ends up squished next to you, with Anise on your other side. Smiling at the camera, which is held by a boy you don’t recognise, there’s a flash. The memory is preserved forever.

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skywardscroll · 3 years

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of cats and curiosity | kaeya

✧ word count: 1.3k

✧ summary: does kaeya really hate his brother so much that he would become a regular at the cat’s tail? or is he up to something more?

✧ warnings: mentions of alcohol.

✧ a/n: here it is! i think this one is pretty cute, ngl.

When Kaeya stepped through the doors of the Cat’s Tail, you were unsure of his reasons for being there.

Sure, the rivalry between himself and his brother, Diluc, was infamous in Mondstadt, but visiting his brothers’ competing tavern was an undeniably petty move in your eyes; something so insignificant that you imagined it would hardly upset Diluc at all. Nevertheless, you were quick to tell Diona to attend to him, as you happened to be busy making another man’s drink (or fixing it, really. Diona had purposefully skipped out on the alcohol. Again.)

You recalled seeing him walk in that afternoon, but never seeing him leave. When it was closing time, he was just… gone. You didn’t think any more of him until he came in the next day.

Now, here’s a burning truth: The Cat’s Tail just isn’t as good as the Angel’s Share. You loved where you worked (mainly because it was a tavern… and one that was devoted to cute cats!), but you knew that your workplace only really thrived off those who either had been banned from the Angel’s Share for whatever reason, and those who found it appealing to be ‘different’ and get drunk somewhere ‘exclusive.’ There was nothing inherently special about the Cat’s Tail, but the latter of your regulars pretended like it was so they, themselves, would feel special. Whatever reason brought in money, you eventually concluded, was good enough for you.

Kaeya, or at least your perception of him, fit into neither of the criteria. Unless Kaeya had really made Diluc angry, he had yet to be forbidden from entering the Angel’s Share. In fact, you had even seen him and Rosaria there the night before, while you were walking home. And then, even if he were banned from his brother’s tavern, you certainly would have heard about it from Diona, as she loved to revel in any bad publicity the contending tavern sometimes mustered up. But you hadn’t heard a thing. And you knew that he had enough confidence to feel special wherever he was or whoever he was with, so it certainly wasn’t that.

So Kaeya came again, and again. Always slinking off at some point before closing time. Furthermore, he always sat in the same seat, and constantly ordered a Sweet Flower Sangria (which you knew he wasn’t drinking for the alcohol because, again, Diona was the one making his drinks.) And even when you didn’t seehim leave, you knew he did thirty minutes before closing because you wouldn’t feel his gaze upon you anymore.

A week into his nightly visits, you decided that you were done wondering. Your curiosity had always been something that had sway over you. Sometimes, it clouded your judgement and made you… Well, Diona always called you nosy. You’d argue that curiosity? Nosiness? It was the same difference.

“Diona?” You called to the young girl, watching the elusive Kaeya sit in his spot once again. That night had been slower than most, which you weren’t going to complain about. However, it made him stand out more amongst the other regulars, who were anxiously waiting for more of Diona’s concoctions.

“I’m on it!”

“Wait! There’s a new customer over there.” You stop her before she can make her way to Kaeya. You miss the way his eyebrow raises in amusement. “In the far corner of the tavern.” You point to a man wearing tattered clothes and who was digging through his dirty rucksack. He’d certainly been there before, albeit a long time ago, but you needed a distraction.

“Are you sure he’s new? He looks familiar.” Diona said with a skeptical tone in her voice. “You haven’t been drinking, have you?”

“What?” You immediately replied, “No. And no, he’s never been here before. Go show him how much better we are than the other tavern.” Pushing her from behind the bar with an encouraging smile, Diona walked off with a scowl on her face.

“She’s something, huh?” The smooth voice from the other side of the bar said. You turned to face Kaeya, who was playing with a coin on top of the pine bar top.

“Too smart for her own good sometimes.” You sigh, walking over to him. “What can I get you?”

The man hummed a little and you couldn’t help the upturn of the corner of your mouth. Didn’t he always get the same thing?

“Hmm… What do you recommend?”

Oh. Oh. It was hard to tell because his voice always carried the same sultry tone, but… He was certainly flirting with you, right?

You’re left with a couple options with no time to consider. You could be sarcastic and offer him the same thing as he’s gotten for the past week, but that would also mean admitting that you were paying attention to him and what he was ordering, while pretending that you didn’t pay him any mind before.

He’s looking at you with his blue eye and you panic because okay, maybe he is cute. And, maybe, you do hope he’s flirting with you.

“I like… Sangrias.”

It’s a lie. You hate Sangrias. But with him on your mind, and with how much you know he likes them, it’s what comes out.

“Me too.” He laughed, “Truthfully, I’m a little tired of wineless Sangrias.”

“Sorry about that… You know Diona, though. I’ll be sure to put wine in it.”

“Well, I should have had you making my drinks this whole time then, yeah?” He was quick to reply. You watched the smile on his face bloom into a grin when the blush creeps across your cheeks and nose. Wow… He has a really pretty smile. You realized at that moment that you would make him anything he wanted if he showed you that smile again.

Moments later (and after Diona came back complaining that the man she just finished serving smelled), you placed the drink in front of Kaeya, patiently waiting for him to tell you the verdict of your mixology.

“Mmm… Very good, Y/N.”

“Thank you.”

You watched him take another sip before placing it back down. Looking around the bar, you decided you could spare a few moments to finally acquire the information you’d been craving for a week.

“So, I have to ask—”

“Why do I come here instead of the Angel’s Share?”

A scoff of disbelief left your lips before you could stop it which caused a laugh to emerge once more from Kaeya. “It’s a good question, Y/N.”

“Sorry… I shouldn’t be so nosy.” You swallow the small lump of embarrassment in your throat and go to turn away.

“I come here to see you, of course.” Kaeya crossed his arms over his chest and leaned them against the edge of the bar. You’re blushing a tomato red now, and Diona is suddenly at your feet cleaning a pint glass and pretending to not eavesdrop. “In all fairness to my dear brother, you and Diona are more kind to me than him. And you… Well, you’re certainly more beautiful.”

“Kaeya…” You tried to speak, but the sudden flattery had truly left you without words. You hoped the smile on your face would let him know that the sentiments were well received. Sure, you knew of his flirtatious habits, but never did you think they were that easy to fall for.

“Gross!” Diona said from under the bar.

“Diona!” You groaned, pushing her away from the conversation. “Sorry… That was very sweet of you to say.”

“I mean it, Y/N.” He said to you softly. It must’ve been a trick to pull you in closer to him so you could understand his words. It worked; you lean in closer and closer. It would’ve been embarrassing if he wasn’t so… alluring. Because, suddenly, you weren’t at the Cat’s Tail anymore. You were somewhere else; in some nearby universe where all that existed was you and Kaeya.

“Would you like to get a drink sometime? When you’re not serving, that is?”

A sigh escaped from you as you smiled even wider. “Please?” You mumbled back, so close to his face that you could just lean in…

“Not while I’m here!” Diona pleaded, placing her small (slightly sticky?) hands in between your faces. You groaned again, picking her up and off the bar.

“Diona!”

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reverielix · 3 years

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hellooo, since i am very into astrology as well, i’d love if you could do a lee know as boyfriend based on his chart^^ i know we still don’t know about his venus sign (if libra or scorpio), so just choose which one you think suits him best, thank you in advance!

Ooo this sounds fun👀💕

First of all, I’m pretty convinced he’s a Gemini rising (8pm), which means he has a Scorpio Venus. His voice (2nd house) sounds more like Cancer (calming, rather comforting, not very high) than Sagittarius-like (high-pitched, loud, mood-maker) and he just gives me Gemini vibes haha He gives off a playful appearance more than an intense aura (though his glares send Hyunjin running, I think that’s more his inner Scorpio stellium coming through). If he’s a Gemini rising, his chart ruler would be in Scorpio, which could give him that more round face, and in the 6th house, which could give him a youthful appearance paired with those eyes🥰. Lastly, his rising’s decan would be Libra, which could also contribute to a rather round face than the typical Gemini rising’s rather slim appearance (+ Libra rules the butt lol and we all know Minho‘s shameless liking toward the members’ butts haha) He’s also pretty outgoing and chatty, which his mc in Aquarius and Gemini rising can also point at. I do want to point out that guessing any celebrity’s placements is like trying to guess their mc persona chart’s placements because their image is very controlled and what they do is extremely calculated/regulated.

So now that we’ve settled that, let’s get started!!💫

⇢ confession/beginning stages

I feel like he would be really flirty and straightforward because of his rising and Mercury as well as his Venus. His flirting style is versatile and adaptable to the person (Moon in Sagittarius in the 7th house, Gemini rising), and at first he’d try to keep it less intense, smile/smirk a little (his smile also contributes to my tendency to view him as a Gemini rising rather than a Scorpio rising😌).

When he’s gotten more comfortable around the other person and they seemingly are comfortable around him as well, he’d start letting his intense aura and Scorpio stellium come to shine as he’d enjoy making the other person feel flustered, though his Scorpio Venus suggests that he’d love for somebody to do that with him as well, seeing as his Sun-Venus conjunction doesn’t only indicate confidence, but also that he’s attracted to people who are similar to him.

His confession would be overall heartfelt, genuine, romantic and intense. His way with words (moon in 7th since he’s talking about his emotions here, Gemini rising, well aspected Mercury) would allow him to talk without stuttering too much or at all, though I can see him being nervous (his emotions are strong, and when he loves, he LOVES).

⇢ overall behavior in relationship

Once he finds himself in a relationship with somebody, he’d be pretty dedicated and loyal, which he’d expect from his partner as well. Other than Jeongin for instance, he wouldn’t be really big on personal space, instead he would be keen on skin ship and always want to touch his s/o’s butt 🤭.

His Venus lies in opposition to his Saturn in Taurus (no orb), which suggests feelings of insecurity and unworthiness which stems from criticism by authority figures and lack of affection (especially from a father or father-figure). Here, the planet of relays and restrictions can indicate a late recognition of that he deserves happiness instead of pity and love instead of loneliness (this aspect also indicates a feeling of unworthiness of financial success, so he may feel like he doesn’t deserve his place as an idol). Loving himself can thereby be a challenging road that he for a long time didn’t even know he had to take. This can result in insecurities being projected onto the other person or a detachment from his s/o as he is scared to show them all of him out of fear of rejection or not being accepted. Just like with all Saturn aspects, with hard work and age comes a great deal of contentment and what he’s understood he deserves (money and love in regards to Venus and Saturn).

Meanwhile, Neptune is in a square with Venus, (1° orb) which points out a deception and inability to draw a clear line between judgement and his gut feeling. In this case, he can take things his s/o says very personally, though he might act as if nothing’s wrong (Scorpio stellium,...). People with this aspect typically dream to escape reality as well as are languid and messy (missing/coming late to dates although he’s strongly dedicated to the relationship, he may just forget or feel secretly hurt about something that wasn’t really offensive but he made out to be). This sensitivity toward what others say feeds into the Saturn-Venus aspect and a feeling of inadequacy and dishonorability. Overall, his Venus (love style, behavior in relationships, desires, attraction) is badly aspected in his chart, though his s/o and their personality is a key-point to look at in any relationship.

As a boyfriend in general, Minho may be extremely emotionally invested, possessive, devoted and sharing. Once he’s with someone, he gives himself to that person. Additionally, his Venus in the 5th along with his Sun in the 5th and conjunct his Venus suggest a very present and, again, dedicated lover who loves with his whole heart and all he’s got (meanwhile he makes an effort to look especially detached and funny/playful in public or in front of cameras, which, among other placements, his mc in Aquarius hints at). Lastly he may be excellent at boosting his partner’s confidence, yet may also need validation back. (Can I just say that his Sun and Venus in the 5th make his chart the one of a born performer, which obviously shows + his love for art shows here as well🤓��.)

⇢ dates

His Scorpio Venus in the 5th makes me think of spontaneous, grand-gesture dates that take place where he’s granted privacy with his s/o and everything’s only about the two. He may wants to move around, like go to an abandoned park where the grass is a little too high and play games/teach them a dance before they watch the stars when the night comes🥺💫. I can see him being very romantic and bold, so he may just sneak kisses here and there (5th house suggests spontaneity and the thrill of surprises). Here are brief moments of how I imagine a date with him:

“I’m bored. Let’s go somewhere.”

he walks toward his room’s red oak panel door

“Where do you want to go?”

your naked feet follow his to the cold stone floor behind the door

“Let’s decide on the way.”

over pine trees and bushes his reflection distracts you

eyes are narrowed when he’s concentrated, wrinkles adorn his cheeks

“5 minutes.”

“Huh?” you turn your head

“I’ve figured out a place, we’re only gonna need another 5 minutes.”

“Want a kiss? Come and get it then!”

he trips over dandelions and grass, smug-smiling, and doesn’t slow down

your feet stomp the grass, your determination takes over

after two breaks of resting your arms on your thighs, he gives in, lets you win

“I did that on purpose.”

“I don’t care.”

right legs cross the lefts and knees buckle while arms swing up, fingers fold out and eyebrows are raised

dancing is way harder than it looks, you’ve just figured

behind gracious twirls hide strength and control, something the slippery lawn hampers

“No, the feet need to be pointed in a different angle.” Minho held his hands out flat.

amidst your ambition to strech your arm “elegantly”, sunset hugs your silhouettes around the shadows

distant stars create a pattern in everless darkness, the waning gibbous moon sheds light

“Do you ever think of death?” your eyes dart the distance

“Like how? Don’t we all?” his trace the sharp shadow of your nose cast on your cheek

“We’re just such a small fragment of the universe. Gone before it even noticed us.”

“No, I believe we’re here for a reason. I think we have a big presence in the universe. Life is so magical, and so is death. It scares most, because it’s unpredictable. But so is tomorrow.”

Existential conversation with Minho™️

⇢ kisses

Ooooooo his s/o is in for something😳 The Scorpio stellium and 5th house Sun conjunct Venus suggests passion and bold, unexpected actions. He doesn’t just kiss for fun. If he kisses, he KISSES. The Virgo Mars also adds a feeling of security. I can see how he likes “crossing lines” and being bold, though it feels comfortable and safe. A lil types of kisses list...

obvi the passing food one lol

a sudden one that takes the other’s breath away

one in which he holds the other’s waist/cups their cheeks and forgets about everything around him

salty ones after a reunion or fight

one in which breaths are shared

a combination of kisses he thought of the night before when he couldn’t sleep (very unusual, but if anyone can pull it off with confidence, it’s Minho)

It was so much fun making this haha💞 hope u like it!🌫

#astrology ask #Minho #lee know #stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfic #stray kids astrology #astrology #Minho boyfriend #skz boyfriend au #skz scenarios #synastry

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luxekook · 4 years

Text

chapter two.

⇥ pairing: namjoon x reader; eventual bts/ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 2.3k

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, chaotic namjoon, power tools, hints of poly relationships, overall pretty smut free (who AM i???)

Chapter Two

Habitat for Humanity Worksite – 9:26am

When I signed up to volunteer Saturday morning of syllabus week, I should have known I would end up regretting it. I almost punted my alarm clock out of the apartment window this morning, but instead settled a slightly more civil action – punching the shit out of the ‘off’ button.

Don’t get me wrong: I love volunteering. It’s been part of my routine since sophomore year when I was recruited for the all-women’s service society on campus – the Alphites. As a society, us Alphites volunteer around campus and in our local community each week. There’s something about doing service together that really creates bonds, and the girls in the society have quickly become some of my closest friends.

We sign up to volunteer for a variety of different service projects each week, and Habitat is my current favorite project to sign up for. As a nonprofit organization, Habitat for Humanity helps families build and improve places to call home. Currently, our regional Habitat is working on building a house from the ground up for a local family in need.

Disclaimer: I am in no way, shape, or form a very ‘handy’ person. Luckily for me, there are always a couple volunteers with construction or engineering backgrounds who are willing to teach other volunteers with less experience – or none, like me.

Since beginning to volunteer at the site last year, I have learned how to use a power saw, how to fasten siding, and how to mix, pour and level cement. It’s definitely empowering to learn new skills and also to see how my handiwork contributes to someone’s future home. I also feel lowkey badass when I get to use the power drill for anything.

Pulling up to the worksite, I clutch my cherished 24oz. Wawa coffee. I finally feel somewhat human as I park my beat-up Jeep Wrangler and hop out to meet the other volunteers for our task assignments.

The site leader Eddie – a burly retiree with a background in construction management – greets me with a huge grin, “(y/n)-doll, we missed you this summer! I can’t believe you abandoned us during the hottest months of the year.”

I roll my eyes, smiling at his teasing. Eddie’s like a teddy bear disguised as a grizzly – all rough edges and a heart of gold. “Missed you, too, Eddie.”

“Look at our progress now,” he continues, “Pretty impressive, yeah?” Nodding, I greet some regular volunteers I recognize as Eddie leads me around the house. He proceeds to show me what they had done over the summer in my absence – and they had done a lot. The house now had its full foundation and wooden framing with most of the doors and windows installed.

As we walk back to the front of the house to the main area, I sip my coffee and turn to Eddie, “So, what can I work on today, fearless leader?”

Letting out a patented ‘Eddie belly-laugh’, he replies, “I know you worked on the siding at our last site so I'm gonna have you work on where we started the siding on the right side of the house.”

Sweet, I could work with that. “Aye, aye, captain,” I respond with a lazy salute of my coffee cup. Before I can turn to start towards the scaffolding to begin, Eddie stops me.

“Oh, one more thing. I’m gonna need you to orient our new volunteer and let him shadow you today. Kid’s from the same school as you, I think… Mandatory service. Anyway, he should be here any minute.”

Shit, I know what ‘mandatory service’ means. It’s the first form of disciplinary action that the college issues and is usually the only form of disciplinary action for our athletes or for Greek life – a fact I actively resent. During my time in the Alphites, I have had to deal with some of these ‘mandatory service’ characters and they’ve never been much fun to be around.

“Ah, that’s probably him now,” Eddie startles me out of my thoughts of dread and doom as a black gleaming Tesla practically purrs down the block, swinging into the spot next to my Wrangler. Scowling, I cross my arms as I survey the stark contrast between this person’s shiny-ass luxury car and my dirty-ass well-loved Jeep.

The Tesla door opens. A Timberland booted foot emerges followed by a thick leg encased in light jeans, a tanned well-muscled arm…

No. Nope, it couldn’t be— Please, not today, Satan.

He stands with his back to us now, stretching out his large body. In only a cutoff t-shirt, his rippling back muscles might be enough to send me into an early grave.

I sigh in bitter defeat of the inevitable. Seriously, the fucking universe must have it out for me because I can’t seem to shake this stupid fucking fraternity.

As if the boy feels my eyes on him, he turns. His eyes immediately clash with mine as he slams his car door, clicking the lock over his shoulder. Those eyes – golden brown beneath dark brows and a wave of bleached blonde hair. Their focus is absolute – hard – as he strolls towards us. It’s almost as if he knows the maddening effect that he has on me.

I think Eddie is speaking, but my senses are on lockdown, his words muted. My thighs tighten as my pulse picks up. Get a fucking grip, (y/n). I can’t let him know that just one look from him has me thirsty and oxygen-deprived. I can’t look away – that would be succumbing to weakness.

Instead, I hold his heated gaze as best I can as his confident gait brings him closer. God, he’s got to be at least 6 foot...

The goddamn president of BTS Kim Namjoon is getting closer and I can’t help running my eyes over him.

His thighs flex and shift beneath his jeans with every calculated step. His abs are apparent under his tight cutoff shirt emblazoned with his fraternity letters.

Namjoon stops in front of us, hands stuffed into his back pockets, biceps flexing. “Nice to finally meet you, Eddie,” Namjoon takes his eyes off me long enough to greet Eddie and shake his hand, but then they’re right back on me, “Hi, (y/n).”

He drags out my name in a such a sinful way that even old Eddie does a slight doubletake. Clearing his throat unnecessarily loudly, Eddie booms, “You two know each other?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Our differing replies sound at the same time.

“Yes,” Namjoon repeats, lips turning up in an infuriating smile, “We have several mutual friends that she’s met a couple times now. Want me to jog your memory? I’d be more than happy to do so.”

Eddie takes one look at my face and hustles off, mumbling something about support beams. I guess my inner thoughts of ‘kill, maim, slaughter’ could easily be read from my facial expression.

Namjoon opens his mouth to speak again, but I’m faster, “Listen, Kim, I don’t know who you think you are, and, quite frankly, I don’t care. What I do care about is this house and these people working on it. Don’t fuck this up for me, okay? Let’s just get through today and then you can go back to ordering around your brothers and causing general mayhem.”

I’m feeling pretty proud of my little soliloquy until I realize he’s still smiling with those blasted dimples out in full display. No, his smile has grown even wider now as he simply answers, “The semester.”

My nose crinkles in confusion, “What?”

“The semester,” he repeats, “I’m assigned here every Saturday for the rest of the semester.”

I stare at him.

He smirks back.

I stare.

His smirk begins to fade, “Uh, did you hear me?”

I stare.

“Okay, you’re creeping me out now, (y/n),” Namjoon waves his giant paw of a hand in front of my face, “How many fingers?”

I break out of my trance of denial and hiss, “What did you do? Double homicide? Serial arson? Oh my god, you were the one who blew up the science lab!”

His hand covers my mouth – it’s rough and warm and entirely disarming.

“You have quite the imagination, jagi. I’ll keep that in mind,” Namjoon chuckles, “To answer your question, I did none of the above. Now, answer a couple questions of mine: what did you do to get here and – more importantly – why did you distract Jungkook from doing his fucking job on Monday?”

I glare in response, waiting for him to remove his hand from my mouth. He takes too long, and I lick his palm. It works. He removes his hand, but from the look on his face it seems like he liked my tongue on his skin entirely too much.

Thankfully, Eddie chooses the perfect moment to yell across the site, “What are you doing just standing there, (y/n)-doll? I don’t pay you to just loiter around all day!”

“You don’t pay me at all!” I yell back, already moving towards the trailer with all the supplies to get started. Namjoon follows.

“(y/n)-doll?” his eyebrows are raised as I hand him a pair of the biggest gloves I could find, “What’s up with that?”

Taking a pair of smaller gloves for myself, I turn to look for some hammers and nails as I respond, “I’ve been here a while. He’s like my honorary grandfather at this point.”

I spot the hammers and nails tucked away on the highest corner shelf and I huff. Namjoon follows my gaze, “Need a strong, intelligent, tall young man to grab those for you?”

He’s impossible, but for some reason it draws a small smile to my face, “Yes, that’d be great.”

The smile I receive in response is so bright I wonder if it could make flowers grow, “Okay, but only if answer my questions, (y/n).”

I shrug, trying not to notice how his cutoff shirt rises as he stretches to reach the upper shelf. I catch a sudden glimpse of his abs, and I praise every god out there that hot weather can be blamed for my sudden onset of sweat.

Clearing my throat, I laugh lightly, “Fine, first of all, I didn’t ‘distract’ Jeon. I just had a temporary lapse in judgement. Besides, he came to me all on his own.” His back muscles tense up at my words, but I continue, “And second of all, there’s no juicy story of how I got here. I just volunteer here every Saturday for the Alphites.”

The sound of a hammer hitting the floor startles me as he whirls around, “You’re an Alphite?”

Namjoon’s tone is one of disbelief and it’s a tone I do not appreciate, “Yes, why is that so hard to believe?” My arms cross defensively, “I’ve been a sister since my sophomore year...”

I trail off. He’s still gawking at me ridiculously. Narrowing my eyes, I stride across the trailer and grab his chin, closing his mouth for him, “Watch out, Kim, you’re gonna catch flies.”

Spinning on my heels, I sashay out of the trailer, nose held high in the air and satisfaction held even higher. He’ll catch up. After all, he’s basically supposed to be my bitch today.

I climb up the scaffolding next to the house’s right side and assess the siding work that has already been started. It looks pretty solid and level. I should have no issue with continuing without having to make any initial corrections.

The sound of a bucket of nails hitting the top platform I’m sitting on alerts me of Namjoon’s impending presence. Saving the bucket from teetering over the edge – a safety hazard for sure – I watch amusedly as Namjoon struggles stay upright and climb up to where I am on the scaffolding. Finally, he plops down next to me – entirely too close. I can feel his stare on my skin as I steadfastly ignore him.

“Hey, jagi,” he pokes my arm, “(y/n), listen, you just caught me off guard. I mean, you don’t seem like the type to be an Alphite – that’s all.”

Fury curls up inside me for the umpteenth time that morning, as I turn to face Namjoon with a sickly-sweet smile that has him flinching back, “Then do tell, Namjoon, what type I seem to be?”

I pick up the hammer closest to me and dip a hand into the nail bucket. The sooner this siding got done, the sooner I could haul ass out of here.

“I feel like that’s a trick question,” Namjoon sighs, rubbing a hand over his chin, “I didn’t mean anything bad by it, okay? I guess I just have always thought that your society was a bunch of mom-types—”

I cut him off with a swing of my hammer in the air, “What’s wrong with mom-types, you uncultured swine? And is serving your community really such a ‘mom’ thing to do? I’m sorry. I must have missed that memo. Here I was thinking that it was public service but go off I guess.”

He blinks, “Did you just call me an ‘uncultured swine’?”

I sniff in indignation, “Get with the times, Kim. I just roasted your ass. Now hand me that piece of siding and make yourself useful.”

“You’re so weird,” Namjoon mutters, sliding my request over to me.

“So what?” I shrug, “All the best people are weird. Now, do me a solid and explain to me why you and your ‘brothers’ keep suspiciously popping up everywhere I go.”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” he grins, “We’re interested.”

“What does that even mean? That you’re interested?” I wrack my brain, “As in all seven of you fuckers?”

“It means, jagi,” Namjoon pauses, leaning closer, “It means that we’re going to date the shit out of you.”

a/n: i love namjoon. that is all.

taglist (message me to be added):

@catsandstrawberries @h5naaa @meowmeowyoongles @leftflowerprunedonut @rjsmochii @athletes-of-god @karissassirak @weallhavesecretsinthebestway @cvbachacbitch @bewitch3dforivar @honeyspillings @xxonyxpearlxx @valiantcollectorofsandwiches @fivesecondsofsarang

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tirorah · 3 years

Text

Road to Berlin – The Strike Witches Magnum Opus?

Hello! It’s been a long time. I don’t plan on returning to Tumblr long-term—it simply stole away too much of my time and energy, and I had to do what was best for myself. However, I thought I’d pop in for a very special message.

You see, Strike Witches’ third season, Road to Berlin, has now reached its halfway point. And I need you to watch it.

“Strike Witches?!” I hear you say. “That weird show about girls with no pants that you’re obsessed with for some reason?”

Yes, exactly! Hold on, don’t run away yet! Sit with me for a spell and allow me to explain my boundless love for this silly, emotionally gripping show. Allow me to tell you why it might affect you in the same way, and why Road to Berlin may be the best offering yet.

Welcome to the 501st Joint Fighter Wing

If you’ve heard of this anime, you’ve undoubtedly heard of (or witnessed) its rather infamous claim to fame: a group of teenage soldiers fighting strange creatures in an Alternate Universe World War 2 Europe, flying around with guns and magic-fueled leg machines, and none of them are wearing any decent trousers.

That takes some getting used to, doesn’t it? I’m not going to deny that. But while Strike Witches’ rather peculiar design decisions are inescapable, there’s one thing you need to take into account: Season 1 aired all the way back in 2008. And over those thirteen years, it’s evolved into an experience unlike anything its roots would suggest.

Strike Witches has always been a strange beast. It has a large cast and divides its activities evenly between (light) war drama and slice-of-life shenanigans. And there’s fanservice, lots and lots of it! But the show’s emphasis on risqué camera work, and how that camera work is handled, highly depends on which entry you’re watching.

You see, Strike Witches is strangely ambitious. It could’ve easily taken its bizarre concept and pushed that to its limits, bringing in as much fanservice as possible and playing a simple story in the background as window dressing. But it was never satisfied with just that. Even early on in Season 1, the show deals with heavier themes like pressure, trauma and loss.

And then there are the characters, the undisputed stars of the show. Twelve strong and all with different backgrounds and personal quirks, they may at first seem like TV Tropes come to life. And certainly, sometimes they are. However, as the series progressed, things started to change. Even Season 2, arguably the lightest and silliest of all entries, featured material that built on character development and character growth earned in its predecessor.

With the movie and a trio of OVAs to round out the cast a bit more, the stage was set for Road to Berlin.

The Difficult Road Ahead

When this season was first announced back in 2018, two things stood out to me. First of all, the key visual and promotional video released along with the announcement were much more similar in style to the movies and the OVAs, featuring serious-looking characters and stormy clouds. Secondly, for the first time in Strike Witches history, an entry received a subtitle. Yes, the OVAs were named Operation Victory Arrow, but that was merely wordplay to spell out “OVA.” It wasn’t wholly serious.

Road to Berlin, however, is deadly serious.

Let’s start with an overall theme. The vaunted 501st Joint Fighter Wing has had some major victories, but much of the continent is still under occupation by the Neuroi. The Hive over Berlin is the Wing’s new target, but the journey there is fraught with obstacles. Plans are thwarted and delayed by Neuroi more powerful and far craftier than their 2008 counterparts.

And as the opening song tells us: “We all have flaws.” The Road to Berlin isn’t an entirely literal road; it’s also a metaphorical one. The push to Berlin is their hardest battle yet. Victory can only be achieved if the characters face and overcome their weaknesses. But they’re not alone.

Friendship Is Power

As the characters have long since been established, there’s greater room for growth not just in one character, but also in how that character interacts with others. Road to Berlin chose the best possible route and decided to emphasize character dynamics. Episodes don’t focus on a single character anymore; they focus on relationships, and those relationships are at their peak here.

There’s a newfound maturity to the writing in Road to Berlin, a gentle touch that allows the characters to breathe and be more than their foremost traits. You get a sense that the characters have grown from their experiences; they feel different, more well-rounded, but they still behave exactly as they should. This is difficult to get right, and while I’m sure there might be a few eyebrow-raising moments here and there, the overall result is a cast that continues to improve every week.

Chekhov’s Gun

Underpinning the character work is a highly intriguing execution. Road to Berlin delivers subtle setups and satisfying payoffs in every episode. The pacing is also seriously tight. No moment is left unused, every opportunity for additional development is taken. Even the script itself doesn’t like to waste time; it explains things here and there, but it rightly assumes you know who the characters are and what everything means, so it doesn’t bother with many unnecessary lines.

On top of all that, this season is reaching new heights in confidence and sheer audacity, and it uses that to deliver something truly special. There are interactions here that I never could’ve imagined, twists that genuinely caught me off-guard, moments where I had to sit back and digest what I’d just witnessed.

Not a single episode has been predictable thus far; I’ve had more surprises than I can count. In fact, before I started watching I made a bingo card on a whim, filling it with trends and running gags I’d spotted over the course of the series. Some of those bingo spaces have already been proven wrong, and others are in question. Road to Berlin has done such a spectacular job at simultaneously defying and exceeding my expectations that I honestly have no idea where this journey will take me.

The Fault in Our Stars

Okay, hold up, stop the hype train! I admit, I’m a massive sucker for Strike Witches. One could say this somewhat clouds my judgement. Shocking, I know. So, to make this enthusiastic recommendation fairer, let’s dig into something that I hope to see an improvement on.

There is some terrible imbalance in screen time going on here. I know I said earlier that the cast is great, and it is amazing, but some characters have definitely been favored over others. Yoshika is the main character, of course, so it’s not unreasonable for her to have a large role. Similarly, characters like Minna, Gertrud and Shirley have more experience and higher ranks than the others, which means they have an easier time fitting into scenes.

So, who’s gotten the short end of the stick?

Let’s start with Lynne. She hasn’t had as much of a presence as I’d hoped. The primary reason for this is Shizuka, who’s taken up the role of newbie to the squadron and is often paired with Yoshika because they’re working together. As each episode focuses on the relationships between a select few characters at a time, the others are often relegated to minor roles, and poor Lynne hasn’t had an episode to highlight her yet. I’m sure her moment will come eventually.

I don’t know if the same thing applies to Minna. She’s mostly stuck behind her desk again, it seems, and while she’s definitely had some scenes, her role as Wing Commander hasn’t allowed her as much wiggle room as some of the others. What I want to see from Minna is more time to be a nurturing mom to her girls. The thing is, I’m not sure how they’d accomplish a Minna-centric episode. I suppose they could pair her up with Mio, but even then, I’m uncertain where to take her. It seems redundant to have her be worried out of her mind over Mio again, and she seems to be keeping it together pretty well so far anyway.

In a trend so merciless it’s almost comical, Sanya and Eila seem forever doomed to the peanut gallery. They started out with few lines and have pretty much remained in the background since. Of course, a big factor to it all is their role as the night patrol, which naturally separates their activities from everyone else’s. It’s my current prediction that their relationship is next in line to be showcased. The quality of that episode will likely hinge on how their personalities are tuned, but there’s potential for something great.

And most shocking of all, Mio—She Who Has Practiced Plot Armor Ten Thousand Times—has had the most infinitesimal role of all. I’m of two minds on this. It appears that Road to Berlin has realized that having Mio fly into battle without a shield or Striker Unit is silly, and this is good. On the other hand, Mio is an iconic and beloved character. She deserves some screen time as long as she doesn’t overshadow the others. For now, she seems to be relegated to strategizing and logistics, although I have a hunch that a way to circumvent her newfound vulnerability has already been set up. Time will tell if this ends up being utilized.

Journey’s End

In closing, Road to Berlin highlights the best of what Strike Witches has to offer. It’s striding boldly forward, eager to dazzle us with its animation and audio, grinning as it challenges our preconceptions about where its characters can go and what they can do.

The path to this greatness can be tough. Watching Strike Witches means accepting a number of strange concepts, which can give quite a few viewers a rough start with the series. However, if you made it all the way here and haven’t given Strike Witches a try yet, I sincerely implore you to make the attempt. If you allow the characters to sweep you off your feet, then Road to Berlin could be the apex of a most satisfying viewing experience.

Especially if its second half is as impressive as the first. I, personally, have high hopes. There’s no sky this show can’t conquer.

#strike witches #road to berlin #anime #yes I made a bingo card in Excel #I'm a passionate fangirl with ample Microsoft experience #oh right #I should point out that I changed my name from NeandaFFnet to TirOrah #as I don't use that old handle anymore #sorry for any confusion caused

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celestialflamesme · 3 years

Text

| THE GUM CONUNDRUM | A Stashi One-shot | Fairy Tail Next Generation |

Ship: Storm Fullbuster x Nashi Dragneel

It was a normal, uneventful day in the magical town of Magnolia.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S OUT OF STOCK?!"

"SIR, YOUR CLOTHES!!"

Well, almost.

Storm huffed, exiting the grocery store (Why even call it grocery store if it didn't have the goddamn essentials?) just as Gale yelled "Pick the pace, prick! I have a book to get to!"

He rolled his eyes, "Gee, talk about priorities."

Gale sauntered forward, crimson eyes unimpressed. "Less talk, more walk."

The Demon-slayer frowned at him. "Go right ahead, I need to find another store for my damn gum!"

"Yeah no, Team Storm needs the goddamn leader to sign off the register or it's invalid," He shot him a dirty look, "Which one of you oafs decided on that rule again?"

"Hey, it's a good rule! Especially since the pyrofreak gets motion sick and takes like an hour to recover. Win-win!" Storm rubbed his hands evilly.

The archive mage deadpanned, "Right."

"Moodkill."

Storm scanned the street for any signs of that familiar blue vending machine but to no avail.

What the heck?! Wasn't it supposed to be an icon? Disrespect is what it was. Storm himself featured in their advert a few months ago and it sold quite a few million copies. (Nashi still glared at him whenever he brought that up. She'd received quite a few threats and demands to lay off the Ice Demon Slayer back then. Mira was thrilled. She however, was not.)

"Uh, Storm. You might want to get a look at this."

He waved a sheet of paper, his face a little too smug for the news to be good. The raven head squinted at him and proceeded to snatch it.

There, in bold black letters, was the title of his nightmare track.

FIORE GUM BANNED

"Fiore gum has now been officially banned after research suggested the carcinogen vinyl acetate was present in staggering amounts-"

Storm Fullbuster was a simple man, he had only 3 basic needs: Food, a roof over his head and Fiore gum (Bah, who needs clothes?) One pack per day, was that so hard a request?

"Well, considering the serious health violations here, it seems logical to ban it before it's released worldwide. Isn't that in like a month?"

He glared at the Archive mage, "Not helping, Gale."

"I wasn't exactly trying to," Storm flipped the bird at him for that, "But what exactly was it that you said before? Ah, priorities. Sweet, sweet irony."

Right now the ice mage had the urge to rip him a new one. Nothing would be sweeter. Ugh, Nashi was never going to let this go, was she? She'd smirk at him, bite that annoying little lip of hers, and say "Serves you right, Frostbite, for all the shit I went through. Cheers." And go celebrate while he was out there, maybe in prison-

"Dude, clothes."

"Fuck em, we have no time! We have to stock up on gum!" He jumped forth, causing an old lady passing by to shriek and swing her cane threateningly. Again, it was his Constitutional right to get the choice to wear (or not wear) whatever he wanted to! Talk about judgemental!

He could already feel the uncomfortable sweat on his brow. Damn withdrawal symptoms. He'd gone through this hell once before (When his mom decided to ground him the hard way for destroying a town) and was NOT going to go through that again. Nope.

"New mission: We find a pack of Fiore gum or die trying!" He pumped his fist in the air. "ALL ABOARD!"

"Oh bother," Gale grumbled.

...........

One rabid Chihuahua (those things were nasty, how the hell did people own them willingly?!) and an armada of Rune Knights later, the duo gave up.

"FINE! IF THE UNIVERSE WANTS TO PLAY DIRTY, I WILL NOT ENGAGE! NOPE! I'M GOING BACK!"

Gale huffed, "If only you were struck with this realisation 3 hours ago, I'd be at home. Content. Free. With no fear of a goddamn puppy pouncing at me from any corner." They collectively shuddered.

"And that kids, is how you cartwheel!" Nashi's giggle followed from in front of the guild quarters.

Typical, she'd be here having the time of her life while he suffered.

Okay, that was mean of him. It wasn't as if she truly had anything against him. He just loved messing with her. She was nice when she wanted to be.

"ETHAN! NOT THERE-"

Bang. Crash. Screech. The notorious triplet's head popped out of the trash pile near them, covered in grime. Nashi grimaced through her hands (God, her annoying nose was all scrunched up! Don't even start with her damn eyes!)

She sighed, pulling him out with one hand. "Your mom is gonna skin you alive, you know that, right?" The 7-year old shrugged in response and his relatively well-mannered brother Elijah facepalmed. How they were even related was beyond any of their understanding.

She ushered them in, and turned back to hoist herself on one of the railings upfront and swing her legs.

Oh, look at that, Gale left already.

He strode forth with a smirk that he knew she detested from her very being and tapped her shoulder, despite the fact that he knew she sniffed him a mile away.

She narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"Nothing." He smirked again.

She rolled her eyes and continued to- chew?

He raised an eyebrow, "Whatcha eating, dumbass?"

Which is when she proceeded to pop a bubble at his face. Oh no.

She grinned at him like the cat that got the cream, "Not that it's any of your business." Pop. "But it's Fiore gum."

3 hours. He could feel the sweat and his fingers twitched impatiently. "Oh."

There were two ways he could play this.

Way one. Ask the dragon nicely. She was usually extra generous with her friends. It's not like she even liked gum.

"Mind if I borrow a piece?"

She blinked. "Uh, I mean, sure."

He couldn't help but smile as she fiddled with her pockets taking out papers and wrappers of all shapes and sizes. Despite all their banter, and her one sided hatred, Storm knew he like-liked the Fire Dragonslayer the second she punched him in preschool for being 'stupid'.

And now?

With her hair set back, and her bangs framing loosely in that annoying way she liked because it made her look 'Nashi', and her cute *cough* annoying *cough* lip that she was nibbling on, and her chocolate brown eyes-

Okay, she just said something. Abort!! Mission!! Abort!!

"Yes?" he blinked. God, was he pathetic or what?

"I saidddd," she drawled, "I have only one piece left." She twirled it around her slender fingers. Damn seductress. "And I really do like this flavour, so-" Without a word of warning, she popped it in her mouth.

She popped it in her mouth.

She popped-

SHE POPPED IT IN HER MOUTH?!

"Did you just eat it in front of me?" He gaped at her.

Her hazel eyes narrowed, "Uh, yes? Sorry bub."

Okay, Storm Fullbuster did not fight a possibly rabid Chihuahua, escape a bunch of Rune Knights and climb a wall just to be defeated this easily. This was another way the universe wanted him to prove his worth.

Oh, only for you Fiore gum.

Way two, here I come.

And then he kissed her.

..........

Okay, so he might have lied. Maybe he was kind of looking for a reason to kiss the pinkette too. And damnnnnnn, did he not regret it.

Papers rustled in the wind from when she'd dropped them in shock. He cradled her face tenderly, keeping his eyes open to admire her flushed face and half lidded eyes (And also to make sure he'd be ready when she decided to sucker punch him) and lightly sucked on her lower lip.

Oh fuck, she just moaned. He counted his blessings and maybe her freckles too as his tongue nudged her own and they fought for dominance. She tasted like cinnamon and apple and strawberry. (Was this how the forbidden fruit tasted like? If so, he'd dive headfirst into that pile of- was it apples? Not strawberries? Strawberries...)

Her hands were now gripping his forearms. He grinned into the kiss, aware of the effect he now had on the pinkette. Hopefully his. If she'd like.

Back!! To!! Mission!!

Right! He swiped the gum from her and broke the kiss, pausing for a few seconds as she struggled to catch her breath (Hoe!! He!! Finally!! Did!! That!!) He stroked her lip gently with his thumb, making her breath hitch. She still hadn't opened her eyes.

Time for the quick getaway. "OKAY! BUH-BYE BABE!" He kissed her forehead and rushed in the guildhall like a man possessed.

He actually did it! Fuck yes! Also Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Wait, why wasn't she chasing him?

He paused and turned to face the door. His guildmates stared at him curiously.

One second. Two.

"STORM FULLBUSTER, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!!" She bellowed out, and he winced, sending a prayer above as he ran, once again.

.............

#stashi #storm fullbuster #nashi dragneel #gale redfox #nalu #gruvia #bixanna #gajevy #fairy tail #next generation #nashi x storm #nasha x greige

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jj-ktae · 4 years

Text

·9· Omniscient - Prompt Game -

Title : Omniscient Pairing : Park Jinyoung x Fem!Reader Genre : Ennemies to lovers, fluff, angst. Words : 2588 Summary : Jinyoung has always been here, aware and knowing of everything about you. You can’t stand his pettiness and judgemental stare but when you hear about him moving abroad, you agree to work for his uncle’s company. You don’t expect him to come back and make your life miserable again.

Prompt :

11. “Oh, how I wonder why you’re so annoying yet so attractive.” 32. “Then just kiss me…”

Omniscient

He is back.

Out of everyone you don’t wish to see, the worst of them is before you. He makes you take a deep breath and close your eyes, doing your best not to burst out in tears because of course it could only be him.

Why the fuck did you accept the job at his uncle’s company?

You seriously thought this wouldn’t happen. Jinyoung had a big mouth about ambition and leaving this hell-hole he called home. He used to laugh evilly at your mediocre grades, his eyes looking at you with pure disgust as he muttered how hard life was going to be if you kept doing so poorly.

You would shove him away every single time, chirping insults and making him laugh harder.

Oh, Jinyoung loved riling you up.

Your office turns smaller than it is as you consume the oxygen faster than intended. The memories are way more infuriating than saddening. You feel like you were bullied, hated.

Jinyoung was always behind you, whenever you failed or succeeded. He started as playful and petty, with witty words and knowing smiles. You thought nothing of it, too focused on your personal issues to deal with that little spoiled bitch.

He never crossed the line and simply worked on making you feel miserable without succeeding. Today though, he went too far. Maybe it’s not him who decided to take the position as the editorial director but in the end, it’s Park Jinyoung making feel like crap. As always.

A knock on your opened door makes you look at it, sighing in defeat as a smiling Jinyoung appears, waving softly.

“I refused to believe it when I heard you were working here.” He muses, walking deeper into your office.

You don’t answer, eyes transfixed on him as you nod in defeat. What can you say? Anger pleases him, crying would result in him mocking you and complaining is useless as he is the big boss’ nephew.

You are screwed and even finding a job somewhere else would probably be a big fail. Jinyoung would never write a recommendation letter and would rather torment you for the sake of entertainment.

You see him stop in front of your office, blinking. “Are you okay? Shocked to see me?” he smiles but it’s not genuine. You know Jinyoung, you’ve seen enough of his face to know he has amazing acting skills.

“I don’t want to talk to you. I hate that you’re always somewhere in my life, working hard to make it miserable. Stop with the fake smile, no one’s here.” You try to be as collected as you can, getting up and grabbing folders.

Jinyoung doesn’t seem to enjoy the way you talk to him and crosses his arms over his chest. “Wow, I was ready to be real nice, but I guess you’re asking for more.”

You snort, turning around and stopping, “Whatever you say, Jinyoungie.” Your fake smile turns into a glare before you walk away.

Jinyoung acts exactly the way you predicted. He gives you a huge amount of work, makes you stay way longer than the others and is never satisfied with whatever you do.

He sends long emails with whatever needs to be changed, let it be in the week-end or during the night.

He lets you have a break only when he feels like it, which results in you barely getting any rest. Your colleagues seem to have it easier and even get along with Jinyoung, who smiles sweetly at every secretary and shakes everyone’s hand. He buys lunch for everyone and more often than not you reject the invitation, earning a smirk.

It’s at the end of the second month since he arrived that you decide to take the matter into your hands. You start looking around for another job, between heavy folders thrown onto your desk and endless emails.

And it pays. You get one interview. They don’t need a recommendation letter; they don’t even seem to care about who is supervising your work and oh god you might finally be able to escape that bastard.

The interview goes well, so well that you receive an email, a week later. You don’t get the job.

It doesn’t explain why, but there’s a line about your current company and you don’t even need to read it fully to understand a certain someone sabotaged your plan, again.

“So, you’re looking for another job?” The annoying voice stops you at the worst moment, your eyes leaving the screen. “Thank god I know Jackson enough, he looked very interested in hiring you.”

He is almost mad, like you’re married and he caught you flirting with another man.

“Don’t be jealous, that manager was too sweet to even compete with you. You’re still the number one bastard in my heart.” You ignore his presence once more, opening another folder to continue your job.

You hear a sigh, followed by a hand on your office, “I’m sweet when people deserve my sweetness. You obviously don’t.”

“Oh and I’m so damn sad not to be worthy of your kindness…” You fake obviously, rolling your eyes and typing on your keyboard in hope he’d leave.

But Jinyoung doesn’t leave. He laughs, even. “Wow, you really do hate me.” He seems bewildered.

You finally look up, frowning. “And you don’t? You’re hating me so much that you’d go as far as destroy my future, just like you did with my past. Oh, and let’s not talk about how you’re a pain in the ass in my present, too.” You shake your head, “You know what, let’s not fight. You like it too much when I get mad. I’ll just resign and fly the country.”

“Sounds a bit drastic to me.”

You get up so fast that Jinyoung almost takes a step back. “Stop it. Stop talking to me. Just be a bastard like you always do until I leave.”

“You know, I never pictured us ending up that way.” Jinyoung says, hands now into his pockets.

Your eyebrows raise and you turn around, shocked. “And whose fault is that? What did I ever do to you? I’ve been minding my own business since we were 6 and you put glue into my hair and told everyone I was the one who did this to myself. Shall I go on and list everything?”

“And you said nothing. The day after, with your hair messy and bloodshot eyes you entered the classroom and didn’t even take revenge. You ignored me.” Jinyoung states.

You make a face, disturbed to the point of crying but fighting the tears away. “What is your point?”

“Why did you always avoid the fight? I want to hate you so bad but you don’t give me any reason to. You just hate me to the point of leaving. Why don’t you just slap the shit out of me instead?” He tries to explain, making no sense at all.

“Why the fuck did you even want to hate me?” Jinyoung can’t be serious, he can’t be saying he was actually doing all this on purpose so that you would hate him and fight back?

Jinyoung sighs, eyes closing slowly. “You seriously don’t know why I would always be around you all the damn time? You can’t be this oblivious.”

“Oblivious of what? You were – and still are- a little shit. What did I possibly miss?”

Jinyoung laughs, loudly. His hand appears before his lips, hiding his teeth. “Jeez, you insult me more than you call my name.”

“That’s not funny.” You snarl, teeth gritted.

“You annoyed me. You annoyed me because you were flawless. Oh look, Y/N brought cookies! Oh my, her dress is so pretty! Look at her face, she has such cute dimples.”

You open your mouth, now completely lost. “What, you wanted to be popular? You were jealous? That’s ridiculous, you’re being ridiculous.”

“Shut up, it had nothing to do with popularity.” Jinyoung cuts, frowning, “Oh, how I wonder why you’re so annoying yet so attractive.” He spills, running a hand through his hair and stopping when his eyes find yours. 

“What did you just say? Are you a psychopath or something?” You ask quietly, now a little bit concerned because Jinyoung just said you were attractive.

If you’re being honest, he is good-looking. He didn’t change that much but looks more built and adult now. Too bad he is a complete asshole.

Jinyoung looks at with that same judgemental face, the one you hate so much, “When I first saw you, I came back home and told my mom I had found the prettiest girl in the universe. She made fun of me and said I still had time to explore the universe but I refused to changed my mind. You were too nice to me at first but then I discovered you were nice to everyone. You also had a crush on Jaebum because he would give you apples? I mean come on, apples?” He doesn’t know why he spills everything. Maybe it’s the thought of you leaving that makes him explain why he had been to adamant to make you feel like shit.

“So I decided to stop looking at you. The six years-old me tried everything but you followed me, you were in the same class the year after and I couldn’t do nothing but stare at you. I couldn’t stop thinking about the prettiest girl in the universe because I’m a fool.”

“I don’t understand a thing you’re saying, Jinyoung.” You try, sitting back in your chair slowly.

The way you finally call his name makes him open his mouth, mad at the effect it still has over him.

His tongue hits the inside of his cheeks briefly. “I thought it would be easier if you were to hate me. If it came from you, then I’d have no choice but to move on, right? So I started being a little bastard. I put glue in your hair even though I didn’t want to and told everyone you were playing with it acting like it was bleach. I went back home that day and I cried so freaking hard. I was hating myself and I could barely sleep thinking about how mad you’d be. But you said nothing. You threw me a dirty look and grabbed yet another apple handed by Jaebum to make you feel better.”

“Wait, why do I feel like it’s my fault again? Couldn’t you confess like a normal kid? Did you have to bully me through school?” He must be crazy, there’s no other way he is standing here and explaining he had been acting this way because he was in love with you.

Jinyoung sighs. “I’d hardly call that bullying. Why do you think I turned on the lights at Mark’s party while that bastard from the football team was harassing you? Who do you think made you sit on mud so that it would cover the-”

“-the bloodstains on my jeans because of my perio- Wait, you saw that?” You finish the sentence, shocked and now embarrassed.

“I saw everything. I noticed everything, from the way you were trying to control yourself so you wouldn’t beat the shit out of me, to how you’d cry sometimes, thinking I was hating you for free. I had no idea you were working for my uncle. I had no idea where you were and I was convincing me it was fine because even though you never fought back, I was pretty sure you were hating me. It didn’t make me feel better, though.”

“Why?” You dare to ask, you’re not sure you want to know why, but things took a weird turn and you suddenly need answers.

Jinyoung looks up, his face overly serious and eyes deep with something you had never seen in his eyes. “Because even though I succeeded, even though you hate me and I can finally move on, all I can see is the prettiest girl in the universe, every time you’re in front of me.”

He makes you blush uncontrollably, the words going out quicker than intended. “Hold on, it’s too much information. I feel like I was lied to all these years.” Your elbows find your office so you can rest your head into your palms. “You’re telling me you’re still in love with me? I- I just don’t get why you never conf-

“Confessed?” Jinyoung laughs again, earning your attention back. “Would you have believed me? Do you even believe me now?” he tries, almost hopeful.

“I’m not sure I do. You’ve always been a great actor, just like when you told me the math test was cancelled and I believed you and failed big time.” You explain, almost pouting.

Jinyoung smiles, his eyes turning into crescents. “You’re just awfully gullible.”

You shake your head, almost hurt by the fact that he’d make this up just to embarrass you. “This is exactly why I hate you, Jinyoung. Even now, you’re playing with me.”

He is quick to raise two defensive hands in front of him. “I mean it! You are gullible but that doesn’t change how I feel!”

“And what do I do with that information? Even if it’s true what do you expect me to do?” You get up rapidly, sending your hair against the wall.

Jinyoung seems helpless and for the first time in your whole life, you see a bit a weakness within his annoying overconfidence. “It is true. I don’t except you to do anything about it. I just told you because you said you’d leave. If you want me to stop talking to you, I will, only if you believe me and take this seriously.”

“I’m not going to listen to your bullshit, you’re probably recording this and you’ll send it to everyone within the next hour to embarrass me. It’s not going to work.” You conclude, ready to leave your office and hide somewhere else.

Jinyoung grabs your arm before you can escape. “How do you want me to prove it to you?”

“You don’t love me Jinyoung. If you did, I wouldn’t have ended up crying because of you. This is not love, this is cruelty.”

Jinyoung cracks his neck, slowly. “I said, how do you want me to prove it to you?”

“Then kiss me.”

He freezes, his hand letting your arm go instantly. “What?” Jinyoung says shakily, his voice quivering with anticipation in spite of the situation.

“Go ahead. If you really do love me, you must be dying to kiss me –oomf”

You can’t believe it. Is Park Jinyoung kissing you? The guy who has been making fun of you for as long as you can remember? That little piece of shit?

And damn he seems to be enjoying himself. You can feel it from the way he grabbed your face and how close his body his. He takes his time feeling you with his mouth and even sighs when you automatically kiss him back.

It is pleasing. Kissing Park Jinyoung is pleasing. Who would have thought. The guy spitting venom all day long does taste rather sweet.

He parts from you with difficulty, breath raged and eyes closed in an attempt to keep control. His body doesn’t leave your side, just like his hands, glued to your scalp and waist.

After a while, he chuckles, his baby face back and pettiness out the window.

“I can’t believe I kissed the prettiest girl in the universe…”

He looks ecstatic.

#prompt game #wow i feel like these were requested 10 years ago lol #i'm late sorry #jinyoung scenarios #jinyoung scenario #jinyoung x you #jinyoung x reader #park jinyoung scenario #park jinyoung x reader #got7 #got7 jinyoung #jinyoung got7 #park jinyoung got7 #got7 park jinyoung #got7 scenarios #got7 x reader #got7 x you #jinyoung fanfic

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puckinghell · 4 years

Text

Let It Snow | William Nylander

Summary Request:

alternatively, our flights get cancel and we’re two strangers who rent the last available car together (it might be a little dangerous but we’re living on the edge)

and

we always carpool home for the holidays from college but a storm hit and now we’re taking the last room at the local b&b

and

we don’t know each other that well but i found out that you’ve never been sledding skating and feel like it’s my personal mission to change that

Words: 10k (I’m SORRY) Note: So, a few things: I wrote most of this when I was either drunk or sick, so excuse any grammar/spelling mistakes. Second of all, you guys wanted one long thing instead of parts, so here’s 10k of word vomit. Third of all, this is cliche central, and I’m not even sorry. And lastly, I know Will’s family doesn’t live in Calgary anymore but I very well couldn’t have them drive to Sweden.

---

“I hate snow.”

It’s meant to be mumbled under your breath, for nobody to hear but you; you didn’t even really mean to say it out loud, but it kinda slipped.

You really hate snow.

The guy that’s sitting opposite you looks up. So far, he’s been engulfed in his phone, but now there’s an interested look on his face as he takes you in.

“Why?” he asks.

As if that’s a totally normal thing to ask a complete stranger in the middle or a crowded airport.

You shoot him a dirty look, take a sip of your coffee before answering him, your voice deadpan. “Have you looked around you?”

The guy looks, as if he actually hadn’t noticed before that the airport around him has been getting busier and busier, the people there more annoyed and miserable looking by the second.

“Oh,” he says.

Yeah, oh.

You huff and return your attention to the announcement board again, hoping the message is going to magically change.

It doesn’t. Flight delayed, it says.

“Are you going to Calgary too?” the guy asks.

Now it’s not really his fault: he hasn’t personally caused a huge snow storm to hit Toronto and he’s probably just trying to be nice, but you’re already in a bad mood.

So you snap: “No, I’m just sitting here for shits and giggles.”

“Never mind,” the guy mutters, and his eyes fix on his phone again.

Great, now you feel like shit about that.

However, the universe needs to give you a break. This has literally been the worst week of your life and it’s only Thursday: the only thing that has pulled you through so far is knowing you’re going to see your dad, and now it’s looking like that might be going up in flames.

“Excuse me, may I please have your attention,” a voice sounds over the speaker at your gate, and you perk up in your seat. “We regret to inform you that, due to the upcoming snow storm, all air traffic in this area has been cancelled until further notice. Your flight will not depart today. For more information, you may contact the information desk.”

“Fuck.”

The guy opposite you raises an eyebrow. “If you don’t want people to start a conversation with you, you might want to stop talking to yourself.”

He stands up leisurely, as if the cancelled flight is no bother to him at all, and grabs his suitcase. He points to the board, where it now says Flight cancelled instead of Flight delayed – fucking fantastic – and motions at it, as if to say “what can you do”.

“How are you so chill about this?” It’s more that you’re wondering out loud than actually wanting an answer, but of course the guy grabs the opportunity.

“Well, it’s still four days to Christmas, and Calgary isn’t on another continent. It sucks that there won’t be any flights anytime soon, but you can’t change the weather.” He smiles. “I actually love snow, personally. And a little snow has never stopped me before. So I’m gonna rent a car and drive to Calgary.”

You stare at him. “Drive? To Calgary? That’s insane.”

“I mean, not as insane as spending Christmas away from my family,” the guy reasons, and….

He might have a point. You could stay here, and be miserable alone, or you could drive to Calgary and spend time with your dad like you planned. You could be enjoyed your dad’s pancakes, drinking hot chocolate by the fire place watching Elf, within a mere 40 hours, if you put the gas pedal down.

It’s, objectively, insane.

“I’m gonna rent a car too.”

“Great,” the guy says, jovially. “We can walk together then!”

And that was not really your plan, but to be fair, you don’t really know where you’re supposed to go to rent a car and this guy is walking as if he does this every day, so you dutifully follow him.

You take this time to look him over; he looks funny, in sweatpants with white sneakers – in the snow! - and a hoodie with a coat. He has a beanie on and there’s a few blond streaks of hair escaping from under it. He’s wearing thick black framed glasses. The suitcase he has with him has the Gucci logo on it, and you find yourself wondering if it’s real.

The guy is dressed like he’s either super rich but doesn’t care, or is slightly blind and got a 13 year old high school boy to pick out his clothing at a weird second hand shop.

“What’s your name?” the guy asks, and you frown.

“Why do you care? I wasn’t aware we were going to become best friends in the time it takes to walk to the rental car booth.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says, remaining completely unbothered as if you didn’t just snap at him. “I’m Will.” He glances over at you, seemingly amused. “It’s just a cancelled plane, you know. Not the end of the world.”

“It’s not just about the plane.” You almost tell him about the week you’ve had, but you decide it’s not worth the trouble. After all, you’re just going to rent a car and then you’re going your separate ways, and you’ll never see him again.

That’s the plan, at least. But it wouldn’t be this time in your life if your plan didn’t get ruined.

“I’m sorry, miss, that was the last car we have available,” the woman behind the computer says, right after she’s handed Will some keys. “Everyone is trying to get outta here by car, now that the planes aren’t going.”

You nearly, nearly, start to cry.

“What do you mean the last car? Surely you have a car somewhere,” you beg. “Any car. A bike. I don’t care. I have to get to Calgary for Christmas, you don’t understand…”

“I understand,” the lady interrupts, the friendly facade sliding off her face. “Unfortunately, I cannot help you. Have a good day.”

Have a good day?

“Look, lady…”

You’re about to yell at her some more when you feel someone tap your shoulder. Of course, it’s Will, beaming down at you with the keys to your last option in his hand.

“Yelling at her won’t work, you know. It’s not gonna make you feel better or stop you from being in a mood.”

Something inside you snaps.

“In a mood? You wanna know why I’m in such a mood, Will? I’m in a mood because this Monday, I got told my residency at the hospital I work at might not be available to me next year, because they’re cutting personnel at the department. On Tuesday, I ran my legs out of my body for 15 hours before they told me that I shouldn’t come back after Christmas. On Wednesday, my boyfriend of almost a year broke up with me because he’s looking for different things in life, whatever the fuck that means. And the only, only thing I was looking forward to was seeing my dad again, and now this stupid snow has ruined that for me as well. So excuse my mood, but I will yell at whoever I want to!”

Will blinks at you, then raises an eyebrow. “Feel better?”

Slowly, you exhale through your nose. You do, actually, feel better, and Will seems to know that because he’s grinning.

“If you’re done yelling, I was gonna ask you…” he trails, “do you want a lift?”

---

Arguably, this is a bad idea. You don’t even know this guy. He could be literally anyone.

“You could be a serial killer,” you tell him, putting on your seatbelt and sinking into the passenger’s seat. “You could drive me out of the city, murder me, dismember my corpse and leave me in the woods.”

“Hmm,” Will hums, as he starts the car. “I could, but that would massively delay my arrival time.”

You kick up your feet on the dash and play with the radio; the only songs you’re getting are Christmas songs, and that’s just not the right mood. Of course, as soon as you settle on some station that’s not playing Christmas music, Will frowns.

“Do you hate Christmas? Cause if you’re the Grinch, I’m gonna have to kick you out now.”

You look out the window; Toronto traffic is bad as always and you’re standing still barely out of the airport.

“I’m not the Grinch. I just don’t love Christmas.”

“How?” Will exclaims. “Christmas is the best holiday of the year!”

“I prefer Halloween,” you say, and Will rolls his eyes.

“And I’m the serial killer.”

“Christmas is overrated. I don’t care for trees in my house, creating a mess, Christmas movies are cheesy, Christmas songs are objectively bad and everyone is just stressed around Christmas time, trying to find gifts and decorate and wear stupid sweaters and go to parties with people they don’t like.”

You don’t tell him that you also don’t like Christmas because when your mom left, she said she would send you a Christmas gift.

As if that made it okay for a mother to leave her 12 year old daughter behind.

“Grinch,” Will mutters under his breath. You reach out and smack his arm, and he yelps in surprise. “Hey, don’t hit the driver, we could crash!”

“We’re literally standing still.”

“I could accidentally press the gas!”

“Then you’d be an idiot!”

You sigh and drop your head against the headrest, staring out of the window at all the headlights surrounding you.

It’s gonna be a long trip.

For the first few hours of the drive, it turns out the not be the worst. First, you and Will talk about your families a little: he’s got four siblings and his parents are still “very grossly in love” (his words) and you tell him that you’ve got just your dad and grandma left.

You don’t tell him what happened with your mom and he doesn’t ask, which is probably good judgement from his side.

Most of the time, however, you nap and Will drives or you drive and Will sleeps; you both decided that you want to get to Calgary as fast as you can, and not stopping is the way to do that.

It feels like it’s been days, but in reality you’ve only been driving for about 8 hours when Will stretches beside you and yawns.

“We should stop for gas,” he says, “and get me at least two liters of coffee to inject into my veins.”

“Probably a bad idea,” you deadpan. “That volume of liquid into your system would probably kill you instantly, and if it didn’t, the caffeine would give you a heart attack. Also, if you have to pee in an hour I’ll kill you.”

Will grins. “No good outcome possible for me, then, huh?” He points out the window. “Gas station.”

While you’re driving down the lane, he turns to look at you.

“You’re a nurse,” he says, and you frown.

“Yeah, I told you that.”

“I know, but like, you’re an actual nurse. I didn’t think about what that meant. But that’s really cool.”

You sigh. “Well, yeah, but if I don’t find another residency I’m gonna be half a nurse. And that won’t pay the bills.”

“You’ll find one,” Will says, easily enough, as if it’s a mere fact, and for the first time since you got the news, you feel some of the anxiety in your stomach settle.

It’s probably strange, that the fact that this guy, who you have only spent one day with, can tell you it’s gonna be fine and you believe it.

Maybe it’s because he seems truly genuine in his conviction. Maybe it’s because you’re just that desperate.

“Coffee?” Will asks, and you shake yourself out of your thoughts.

“I’ll go get it, you fill the tank,” you say, because you really want to stretch your legs. You spend your time wandering the little shop, getting two large coffees and also a few snacks for the road – what else is there to do in a car but eat and nap – and when you finally reemerge, Will is talking to someone next to the car.

“So awesome to meet you, dude, huge fan,” the man says. You watch as Will scribbles something on a napkin with a pen.

“Anytime. Sorry I don’t have paper.” Will smiles at the man politely as he hands him the napkin.

“No problem!” The man seems very excited about the napkin, and as he walks back to his car, he looks at Will again over his shoulder and waves. Will waves back, then turns to you and makes grabby hands for the coffee.

“Gimme!”

“What was that?” you frown, holding the coffee out of his reach. “Who was that?”

“A guy,” Will deadpans, “and a napkin. Coffee, please?”

You don’t hand it to him but he somehow manages to snatch it out of your hands; he’s faster than you’d think he’d be, and he’s back in the car before you can ask again.

Luckily, he’s stuck with you in this car for a while.

“That wasn’t just a guy,” you say, stubbornly. “He was really excited to see you. Does he know you?”

“I don’t know him,” Will answers, and that’s about the best deflecting you’ve ever heard.

“Not what I asked.”

Will sighs. “Fine,” he grumbles. “Do you watch hockey?”

“Hockey?” you repeat dumbfoundedly. “Like, where people skate after a piece of rubber? No, why?”

“But you know hockey is a pretty big deal in the city, yeah?”

You don’t know why Will is pressing the issue; you’re more interested to find out who the man is, but Will seems very intent on this line of conversation, so you decide to let him get away with it for now.

“Yeah, my boyf… ex boyfriend is a big Maple Leafs fan.”

Will snorts, but before you can ask what he means by that, he points to your phone, that’s laying in your lap.

“Google Maple Leafs number 88.”

“Why, is he hot?” you tease, but you do as he says.

William Nylander, your screen tells you, and beside it is a picture of Will.

“Kinda,” Will says blankly.

You look at Will, and then at your screen. Then back at Will. “That’s you,” you bring out, and Will chuckles.

“Well, yes. Does that explain enough to you?”

And it does. You might not watch hockey – you don’t really watch sports anyway – but you know from your ex how big a deal it is to some people, and you can imagine what it must be like to be a Leafs player living in Toronto.

You also remember your ex screaming at the television screen.

“Rough season so far, huh?” you say. “That why you wanna go to Calgary so badly?”

Will smiles, but it doesn’t fully reach his eyes. “Yeah, kinda. I mean, new coach, new opportunity, I’m excited, it’s just…” He pauses, seems to ponder his answer. It doesn’t sound like a rehearsed media answer, when he finally speaks. “I really need that new start, but I need a little break to empty my mind a bit, first. Put it into perspective, I guess. My dad is really good at helping with that, and so is my brother. Alex plays in the NHL too, and my dad used to. It’s… They know what it’s like, but they’re not on my team, so they offer more of an outside view.”

“You can tell me?” you offer. “I don’t know shit about hockey, so I’ve got an outside view.”

Will is laughing, then, and his eyes are twinkling and the car feels strangely small, suddenly.

“What do you do when you suck at your job for a while, and everyone loses their faith in you, and then you get better but nobody believes in you anymore?”

For the heaviness of the question, his tone is light, and he’s tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in beat with the music, as if he asked about your holiday plans.

You think of your mom.

“When I was little, I used to patch up my dolls with plasters and tell my mom I wanted to be a nurse. She said I couldn’t because I fainted at the sight of blood.” You shrug. “You just have to show them, I guess.”

Will nods slowly, then breaks into a smile. “Did you really faint at the sight of blood?”

“Shut up,” you chide, and the mood is lifted. It’s getting dark outside and you know you’ll have to start napping soon if you wanna take over driving in two hours, but for now you’re perfectly happy listening to Will’s chatter and the soft rumble of the engine in the background, as the car speeds down the highway, getting a little closer to Calgary with every passing minute.

---

Your eyes flutter open to darkness around you, and the car sitting in the parking lot of a gas station.

You turn just enough to see Will: he’s behind the wheel, eyes closed, his mouth slightly agape as his head hangs back.

The car is surrounded by snow: white flurries of it floating down to the ground, hitting the car.

For a second, you wonder why you’re not cold. Then you catch sight of Will’s coat, draped over your legs and stomach. You can’t help but smile at it, and then you close your eyes again.

The situation feels safely serene and safe, and you might as well take advantage of that and get some more sleep.

---

When you wake up, it’s to the sound of Christmas music coming from the speakers, Willy’s voice singing along.

“Not the time for Christmas carols,” you groan, and Will laughs.

“It’s always time for Christmas carols, Y/N,” he chides. You hear rustling, and you finally open your eyes.

“I stopped for a few hours,” Will says, “just to get some sleep. But we’re up and running again.”

Ah, that explains the scene you woke up yesterday. You glance at the clock: 7am. The sun is slowly starting to rise.

“It’s too early for you to be this happy,” you grumble. You haven’t had any coffee yet and that means you’re really not in the mood to have Will radiating energy around you.

“How are you not this happy?” Will asks. “Look outside!”

Outside is the road, but you understand what he means. Everything is covered by a thick layer of snow.

“It’s… white,” you say, because that’s about as far as you’re getting.

“It’s beautiful!” Will’s eyes are lit up with excitement.

“You’re insane,” you state, because that has been proven by this exchange.

“No I’m not! Snow is amazing. It’s beautiful, and it’s fun. Everything gets better in winter.”

You crank up the heat in the car and rub the sleep out of your eyes.

“Everything does not get better in winter,” you frown. “First of all, it’s cold. Everything is slippery because of the frost, the snow turns to yellow mush within a few hours. You have to shovel the driveway.”

“Or you could build snowmen with it. You can go skating on the ponds. Have snowball fights.”

You snort. “Snowball fights? What are we, 12?”

Will’s eyes widen slightly. “You’re never too old for a good snowball fight.” His voice is fond as he continues. “I play in the snow with my younger siblings every winter when I’m home. That’s like, the best part of Christmas.”

And, well…

“I can kinda get that, in concept,” you say softly. “There was never really anyone to play with me, I guess.”

Will’s eyes are a little sad as he glances over at you, but he doesn’t say anything. You appreciate that: you’re not ready to share anything more and it’s like he senses that. Instead, he changes the subject.

“Hey, have you ever been skating?”

“Nope,” you say, and the grin Willy shoots you is a little wicked.

“We’re changing that today.”

---

What Will means, apparently, is that it’s a good idea when you’re halfway between Toronto and Calgary to stop in a small little town and find an ice rink.

“This is insane,” you protest. “We’re losing time!”

“We’ve got 48 hours til Christmas,” Will shrugs, “and only an 18 hour drive left. Come on, after this we’ll drive straight through. It’ll be fun.” His eyes are shining and you can literally feel the excitement buzzing off of him, and, well…

Skating did always seem like fun to you. When you were younger, you asked your dad to take you once, but renting skates costs money so it never happened. You remember the disappointment in your dad’s eyes as he had to tell you no, so you didn’t dare ask again.

“I’ll buy you hot chocolate after,” Will coaxes. You don’t understand why he wants to go that badly: he spends most of his days on the ice, anyway, surely he’d be happy for a break.

“Fine,” you grumble, and you can’t help but laugh at the smug look on Willy’s face as he pulls the car to the side of the road.

The rink is small and filled with people. There’s a lot of small children that are skating behind little chairs, and you can picture yourself being there too.

“I’m gonna be so much worse than them,” you whine, at the same moment one of the kids falls onto the ice. A woman helps the little girl up and she goes right back at it.

You don’t think you’re gonna be that brave.

“Oh, shush, I’m not gonna let you fall,” says Will, and you try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

This whole situation is so freaking cliche, and you are not going to fall for it.

You rent skates for you and Will brings his own, because of course he brought skates in his suitcase. You’re struggling with the laces on the bench next to the rink, mostly to stall for some time; your heart is beating fast in your throat and your hands are a little clammy.

“Need some help with those?” Will is sitting sideways on the bench, and he’s grinning at you amused while you struggle. Feeling a little bold, you swing your leg into his lap.

You can tell he wasn’t expecting it because his eyes widen slightly, but then the grin only broadens and he starts carefully lacing up your skates. You watch as his fingers work the laces expertly – it’s clear that he’s done this a million times before – and then, his hand curls around your ankle.

“Other one,” he orders, and you switch legs.

Finally, the skates are on and Will hops to his feet, extending his hand and helping you to your feet. You’re already wobbling and you’re not even on this ice yet.

“If I break my leg, I can’t drive,” you say, mostly because the thought pops into your head.

Will rolls his eyes. “You’re not gonna break your leg.”

“If I hit my head and have a concussion, I can’t drive either.”

“Y/N.” Will’s voice is firm enough that you look up at him. He’s frowning. “You’re not gonna break anything, or hit anything, or fall. If you really don’t want to do this, we can leave now, but if there’s any part of you that agrees that this could be kinda fun, I promise you I’ve got you.” His eyes are a little shiny as he adds: “Trust me?”

And it’s stupid, you know it is, because you barely know Will. You’re pretty sure you’d have found out if he truly was a serial killer or any other type of psycho, but you can’t be sure he’s not irresponsible – although he did pull over in the snow – or prove that he’s trustworthy in any way.

And yet…

“I trust you,” you say then, and the blinding smile that crosses Will’s face is worth the fear in your heart when you place your first foot on the ice.

You can feel it slipping right away, but Will literally hops on the ice next to you, two feet planted firmly on the slippery surface, and places his hands on your hips, steadying your waist. In a reflex, your hands curls around his biceps, and once again you are reminded that holy shit, he’s a professional athlete.

“Wow, easy,” Will hums. He slowly guides you further away from the door, and your other foot adds to your first, and then you’re gliding.

You can’t call it skating: Will is moving backwards and pulling you with him, but you’re not necessarily moving on your own.

The first round goes like that, and then you decide to be brave and start moving your feet.

To be fair, Will keeps his promise. He never leaves your side, his hand firmly on your lower back even when you do start skating yourself, ready to catch you whenever you stumble – which is a lot.

“I’m doing it,” you yelp excitedly, when he finally lets his hand hover a little away from you. “I’m skating!”

Will laughs. “Proud of you, babe.”

And it’s probably just something he says; he probably calls a lot of people babe, it probably means nothing, and yet…

“Help,” you manage to squeak, and then your arms are waving in the air and your feet are slipping from under you and you try to maintain your balance, but you can pinpoint the second it’s a lost cause.

For a split second you’re plummeting towards the ice, but then two arms are wrapped around your waist and you just kinda… hang there.

“Thanks,” you say dryly. You’re hanging in Will’s arms as he’s hysterically cackling out laughter above you. It takes him a few seconds to compose himself and pull you up.

“Majestic,” he giggles, and he tightens his grip on your waist when you slap him in the chest.

“Rude,” you grumble, but you can’t help the smile that’s tugging at the edges of your lips.

It’s weird, but suddenly you notice how close he is, and when his eyes travel to your lips the smile falls from his face and you can tell he noticed too.

You stare at him, and it’s like the air is charged with something; your heart is beating in your throat and you swear he’s moving closer.

Oh, you think, we’re gonna kiss.

Strangely enough, the thought doesn’t send panic to your throat the way it did when your ex kissed you the first time, the way it always has when someone kissed you. Instead, it’s like everything inside of you goes calm and quiet.

You want him to kiss you. And it’s a little scary how not scary that is.

You’re interrupted by a small voice.

“Mister Nylander?”

Will startles, yank back fast enough that you nearly tumble straight back down to the ice, but one firm hand on your waist keeps you standing. He turns around then, to face the little girl that spoke: she can’t be more than five years old and is wearing a helmet with a cage, holding a hockey stick in her hands and staring at Will with wide, starstruck eyes.

He bends down into a squat – on skates, literally, how – and smiles at the girl.

“Hi, yes, that’s me. You can call me Willy, though. What’s your name?”

“Amanda,” the girl beams. “Can I get your autograph, mister Willy?”

“Sure, kiddo,” Willy says. “How about I bring my friend here to the safety of the ground and I shoot some pucks with you, huh?”

Amanda looks like someone just offered her the entire world and everything in it. “Please,” she says, and Will quickly guides you towards the side of the rink.

“I won’t be long,” he promises, and he almost looks apologetic, which…

Which is ridiculous. Because you can tell that him just being here made that little girl’s day, and you think of the things you wanted as a little girl and the heroes you never got to meet, and…

“Take all the time in the world, please,” you say. “I’ll go get myself that hot chocolate.”

For two hours you sit at the side watching Will with the kids. Somehow after Amanda more and more kids appeared and now he’s created somewhat of an impromptu hockey team because they’re all playing and the adults cleared the rink.

It’s entertaining, to watch Will with the kids. He’s a good teacher, and you can see them hitting the net more and more as time passes on, and he clearly makes it fun: they’re all laughing and screaming and at one point, a few of them tackle Will to the ice, where he rolls around and pretends to be unable to get up, yet hops to his feet the second the kids get distracted.

It’s insane, how comfortably he moves around. Like, you knew this, because he’s a professional hockey player, of course he can skate, but you didn’t really think anything of it until you see it in action. He’s obviously not even trying to do anything fancy, and he’s probably not trying to be fast either, but he is, and he stops without problem and turns in any direction and even jumps over a puck, at some point.

You can’t lie. It’s kinda hot. But then, you’ve always had a thing for people who were clearly good at something.

For example, your ex was a really good painter. He was also really good at being a lying, cheating bastard.

Before you can go too far down that rabbit hole, there’s commotion on the rink, someone crying and then Will’s voice, too loud: “What happened?”

When you look up he’s kneeling in front of a little boy, who’s crying and staring at his hand.

You jump up, worrying, but Will has already lifted to kid in his arms and is skating towards you now, with big strides.

“He took a skate to the hand, we’re gonna need some bandages,” he says, and a parent yells something about getting a first aid kit while Will puts the kid on his lap on the bench. “Can you look at him?” he asks you, worry evident in his voice even though he’s clearly trying to remain calm. He’s a little pale, but you don’t have time to deal with that right now.

“Hey, buddy,” you coo at the kid, kneeling in front of him, placing your hand on Will’s knee to steady yourself. “What’s your name?”

“Tim,” the kid cries. “My hand hurts!”

“I know it does, Tim. But the good news is that we can fix it,” you promise him, examining the hand. It doesn’t look too bad: there’s a cut, but not deep enough to perforate anything more than flesh, so you’re not too worried.

The first aid kit arrives and so does Timmy’s dad, who doesn’t seem too bothered. “He falls all the time,” he says, “that’s what hockey is, isn’t it?” He preens at Will, who dutifully ignores him in order to talk to Timmy in a low voice.

You wrap up Timmy’s hand and tell him to take it easy for a few days, and then before you know it you’re in the car and Will is holding the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are turning white.

“Do you want me to drive?” you ask tentatively. There’s no answer, but Will isn’t turning on the car. “He’s gonna be okay, you know.” Silence. Another try. “It’s not your fault.”

“I just can’t believe,” Will starts, but he seems to choke on the last word and lets the sentence die, drops his head and inhales sharply. It takes a while, but finally he speaks, a little more composed. “I hate when parents tell their kids that hockey is about pain and sacrifice. It can be, sometimes, but it shouldn’t be, not for a little kid. It should be about fun, and learning skill, and being with teammates, and loving it. It shouldn’t be about falling and injuries.”

He sounds so frustrated that it tugs at your heart strings, and for a split second you allow yourself to wonder what Will was told by his dad, when he was a kid himself.

“He wasn’t even trying to soothe him,” Willy bites. “He was too busy fawning over the presence of a professional hockey player, and I don’t… I don’t wanna be the person these idiots believe I am.”

“And you’re not,” you blurt out. “Will, these kids had so much fun with you.”

Will smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I just… Me and my brother, we always had fun skating. My dad told us it was important to always have fun. But I’ve seen it happen to friends. They were so passionate about hockey, but their parents pushed them, wanted them to be better too quick and told them to suck it up when the skates hurt their feet and it just fizzled out, you know? Until one day it wasn’t any fun and they quit.”

“It’s a shame,” you echo. “But your dad…?”

“He was hard on us, sure.” Will shrugs, smiles for real this time. “Pushed us to be better. But he always made it fun.” He turns to you. “Your dad… He stood behind your dreams?”

You remember you told him your mom didn’t think you could be a nurse, and you laugh. “The blood thing, you mean? Yeah, he didn’t agree with my mom. He always told me I could be whatever I wanted to be, and if I decided I wanted to be something else, I could be that, too. He’s always been there for me.” You shrug. “I’m lucky to have him. My mom… She left when I was 12. And I…”

You stop, for a second, wondering if you’re really gonna tell this to a complete stranger. But the thing is, Will doesn’t feel like a complete stranger anymore. Talking to him feels more comfortable than talking to most of your friends, and you can tell he really cares about what you’re saying, and you just, you want to tell him, so you do.

“I don’t like Christmas because my mom left right before Christmas, and she said: ‘I might not see you for a while, honey, but I’ll send you a Christmas gift.’ She didn’t, and I never saw her again.”

When you glance at Will, he’s frowning, a deep crease edged into his forehead. “That’s messed up.”

“Yeah, but, it was a long time ago. I’m mostly over it, I just never learned to love Christmas the way most kids do, I guess. My dad tried to make it fun for me, but it was always the reminder, you know, that I didn’t have a mom and other kids did.” You laugh, a little bitterly. “And then this year my ex-boyfriend dumped me on the 16th. My mom left me on the 17th. So I guess December is just not a good month for me.”

“Your ex is an asshole.” Will says it with such force, gritting his teeth, that you can’t help but reach over and put your hand on his knee.

“It’s okay,” you muse, and the tension leaves Will’s shoulders as he carefully wraps your hand in his.

His hand is warm and a little rough and there’s something hammering in your chest, and you wonder how it’s possible that you met him two days ago and he’s already making you feel more than your ex-boyfriend ever had.

You guess you never really liked that guy as much as you told yourself you did.

“It’s not,” he says, but he doesn’t so upset anymore. “And if he was here, I’d punch him in the face. But I’m glad to see you didn’t let him hurt you too much.” Will grins. “And now you’ve been skating, so, like, fuck him.”

“Fuck him,” you echo, and Will starts the car.

18 hours to go. And then you’re in Calgary, and you’re gonna see your dad, and you’ll probably never see Will again.

For some reason that thought leaves a sinking feeling in your chest.

---

“Psst.” You groan as someone softly tugs your arm. You try to turn around, but there’s something digging in your back and you can’t quite get there. The tugging gets more persistent. “Hey, Y/N.”

“What?” you grumble, finally forcing yourself to open your eyes, and it’s only when you see Will’s face in front of you that you realize you’re not in your bed. You’re in a car, it’s pitch dark outside, and you’re standing in front of a lit up building.

“Snow storm is getting really, really bad,” Will says. “We have to stop for the night. It’s not safe to keep driving.”

You’re about to tell him to stop being such a baby, and you’ll drive, no problem, when you risk a glance out the window and see… nothing.

Literally, almost nothing. Just a big building, and some lights that could be from streetlights or UFOs, for all you know, because there’s a big blanket of white covering your sight. Snowflakes are streaming down in a curtain, and you can hear the wind howl around the car.

Okay, yeah, maybe it is unsafe to drive.

“Where are we?”

“Hotel,” Will says. “I checked, only hotel within 10 minutes of the highway. Pray that they have a room for us.”

He leaves you in the seat to wake up a bit more, and goes to get your luggage; he swings your bag over his shoulder and hauls his suitcase out of the trunk, and finally opens your door.

“Come on.”

You grab his hand and let him pull you out of the car, although you walk in front of him to enter the hotel. The woman behind the desk looks up as you open the door.

“Please close that behind you,” she says, friendly enough, “I swear if that cold comes in I might freeze, here.”

“Hi,” you say to her, “I know, it’s bad, right? We were hoping you have two rooms available for us, so we can escape the storm?”

The woman types something on her computer, then frowns. “I’m sorry, it’s very busy at the moment. Lots of people stopping in from the highway. I have one room left, if you’d like? Double bed.”

Oh, fuck. You’re not sure if you’ve quite wrapped your head around in, when Will chimes in next to you.

“Cool, we’ll take it.”

“We…” you start protesting, but Will raises an eyebrow and looks at you with so much attitude that it shuts you up.

“Would you rather freeze to death in a car?” he asks pointedly. “I’ll take the couch or the floor, or whatever, chill. I promise I won’t murder you in your sleep.”

Getting murdered is not what you’re worried about, to be honest. You’re worried that sharing a hotel room with Will is just gonna make these feelings in the pit of your stomach worse.

But there’s not really another option.

“Fine. We’ll take it.”

“You know,” Will chirps, when you’ve got the keycard and he’s taking the luggage up the stairs, “there’s a lot of girls that would kill to be forced to share a room with me.”

“That’s because they’ve only looked at your face, and don’t know your personality,” you drawl, and you know you’ve made a mistake when Will’s face lights up.

“You think I’ve got a pretty face?”

“Not what I said,” you answer quickly; too quickly, because Will is looking way too smug as he takes the keycard out of your hand and opens the hotel room door.

The room itself is nothing special. It’s small, but the bed looks comfortable and it’s warm, so you’ll take it.

“Shotgun on the bathroom,” you say as soon as you get in, and Will rolls his eyes but dutifully flops on the bed and starts typing on his phone while you find your toothbrush and disappear to the bathroom.

When you walk out, Will is laying sprawled over the bed, although he’s luckily still on top of the duvets. His hoodie has ridden up a bit and his sweatpants are – dangerously – low on his hips, so there’s a strip of skin showing.

Your mouth goes funnily dry, all of a sudden.

The thing is. You might not have wanted to be stuck in a hotel room with a guy you met at the airport only 2 days prior, but if it had to happen, Will is not a bad guy to be stuck with. He’s, objectively, very hot – you’re not blind – and he’s funny, and easy to talk to, and he’s been nothing but nice, even when you were a teeny tiny bit rude to him at the airport.

Did you mention he’s very hot?

“I’m gonna shower,” he says, jumping up from the bed.

While he’s doing that, you lay in bed and scroll through Instagram on your phone. Maybe you stalk Will on Instagram, only for a little bit, and you find a picture of him with his siblings that’s so cute it has you smiling at your phone.

“What are you smiling at?” Will’s voice surprises you so much that you drop your phone on your face with a yelp, and the sound of his laughter rings in your ears as you bury your red hot face into the pillow.

You hadn’t even heard him open the bathroom door again. Luckily, you don’t think he saw, but you lock your phone just in case.

Then, you look up, and if you thought you couldn’t be any redder in the face, boy were you wrong.

Because Will is wearing boxers, and nothing else. Now, you think to yourself, as you glance at him before shamefully returning your gaze to your hands, if you had a body like that, maybe you’d be more keen on showing it off too, but…

“You’re gonna be cold,” you tell him, and you can hear, more than see, his eye roll as he says:

“Okay, mom.” Then, he opens the closet and takes another duvet out. “I’ll be fine, I have this.” He grins a little cheekily, as if he fully knows what he’s doing to you. “Normally I sleep naked, but…”

“But not today,” you squeak, and he’s laughing again.

Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of letting him know that he’s getting to you, you throw the second pillow at his head and then roll to your side.

“Goodnight, Will.”

“Goodnight,” he answers softly. You listen as he potters around the room; probably tries to get his ‘bed’ for tonight as comfortable as possible. Finally, the lights click off.

You can’t sleep. You know it the second the lights are off, and Will’s breathing evens out. Your mind is going a million miles per hour and there’s so many things that happened, that you’re going to have to overthink before you can sleep. What’s not helping, either, is the fact that Will keeps tossing and turning.

You’re starting to feel a bit bad. You’re in a bed that’s big enough for two – maybe even three, it’s that big – and Will is laying on a cold, hard floor, with just one duvet and a pillow.

Outside, the wind is howling, and you know if you looked out the window the entire world would be covered in white. The room is warm enough, but you picture how there must be a draft, so close to the floor, and suddenly you can’t take it anymore.

It’s selfish, to make him sleep on the floor all because you’re worried about wanting things you can’t have.

“This is stupid,” you say, sitting up. “You should just sleep in the bed.”

For a second, it’s quiet. When Will speaks, he sounds unsure. “Are you sure? I mean, the floor isn’t great, but I don’t mind, I promise, if you’d rather not…”

“Look, we don’t have to, like, cuddle, or anything.” You can feel yourself blush but in the darkness of the room, there’s no way Will can see, so you keep talking. “You stay on your side, I’ll stay on my side, and it’s basically the same distance as having you on the floor. Just, the floor is cold, and uncomfortable, and there’s no need to…”

“Okay,” Will cuts you off, and he jumps up, duvet in hand. He’s grinning as he slides into the bed, curling the duvet around himself. “You don’t have to convince me, I was just being a gentleman.”

You snort. “Don’t do it again, it freaks me out.”

“You drive tomorrow, then,” Will hums, and it already feels better, to hear his voice right next to you instead of from somewhere at your feet. He sounds better, too; lighter, and more comfortable. “Hey, Y/N?”

“Hmm?” you answer, finally closing your eyes.

“If I had to cross the country in a Kia during a snow storm with anyone from that airport, I’m glad it’s you.”

You think of what you were thinking before, and smile.

“Me too, Willy, me too.”

It’s quiet again, and Will’s breathing starts evening out. For some reason, you still can’t calm down: you try to match your breathing to his, but it’s too shallow and you can feel your heart beating in your chest.

“You’re fidgeting,” Will says then, his voice loud in the quiet room. Only then do you notice that you have been twisting the duvet between your fingers time and time again. Will goes to lay on his stomach and turns his head to you. “You okay? I can sleep on the f…”

“It’s not you,” you interrupt him. It is, of course, but not in the way he thinks.

“Okay,” Will says slowly. “Then what?” Before you can answer he reaches out and slowly wraps his hand around yours, causing your fingers to dis-attach from the duvet.

And, the thing is…

You could tell him to mind his business. You could tell him a lie, or something that’s kinda true but not the real reason.

Tomorrow, you’ll be in Calgary. On your dad’s couch, drinking hot chocolate. And Will is gonna be in his own house. And then after Christmas, you’re both flying back to Toronto, but you’re not stupid. Will is a famous, and really attractive, athlete. You just got out of another failed relationship. You’re not good at relationships, turn out; you don’t even know if you really believe in love, anymore, don’t know if you even think it’s worth it to try.

But right now, you’re here, and he’s here, and you swear you’re not imagining the way he looks at you, sometimes.

You’ve had to deal with cancelled planes, problems at work, a dumb ex boyfriend, and this stupid everlasting snow, ruining your life one day at a time. So, you might as well give yourself this one thing that you want.

“Or, it is you,” you say, and you can feel Will stiffen beside you. “But it’s not that I don’t want you in this bed with me. In fact, it’s kinda the opposite.”

You can feel your cheeks flush: you’re not good at this, don’t really know what to say.

But then Willy grins and suddenly he rolls around, his body now hovering over you as he pushes himself up on his forearms.

“So does that mean I finally get to kiss you?” he hums, and you answer by pressing your lips against his.

---

Hours later, you’re both naked, a mess of tangled limbs in sheets, and Will’s chest is rising and falling with every peaceful breath. You close your eyes and bury your face in his neck.

Outside, it snows, and it snows, and it snows.

---

You wish you could enjoy the next 10 hours.

First, you spend 2 hours getting showered and ready – it would’ve been a lot shorter if Will hadn’t slipped in the shower with you, so it’s his fault if you’re late – and then you have breakfast at the hotel while Will tells you more about his family.

His face lights up when he tell you which Christmas gifts he’s got for his siblings and it’s adorable.

Then, you drive. The final 6 hour drive, and it flies by so fast you would’ve believed it if someone said it was just 2. You drive the first few hours and then Will takes over for the last part, and you chat the whole way there.

At some point, Will starts singing along to Christmas songs, and you don’t even change the channel.

“Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow,” Will croons; you can’t help but laugh and then you’re both laughing and singing along at the top of your lungs.

You wish it never had to end.

“So,” says Will, “this is your street, huh?”

You decided he would drop you off and take care of returning the rental car, and you’re almost regretting that decision cause you would’ve liked those 20 extra minutes with him. However, you know that that is, objectively, insane, so you ignore the knives that are being ran through your heart when Will parks the car on the curb.

“Home, at last,” he says, softly. He’s not smiling anymore. “So, when we get back to Toronto, we should…”

“Don’t,” you interrupt softly. “We both know this is where it ends for us.”

At this, Will frowns. “It doesn’t have to.”

“Yes, it does.” You swallow heavily, try to get rid of the lump in your throat. It doesn’t feel right but it is, and you need to let it end here before you end up with hopes that will crash and burn and expectations that will never be met.

“What if I don’t want it to?” he asks quietly.

As much as Will might believe he wants to see you again – and you don’t doubt that he’s being truthful about that - it’s just not realistic.

People don’t meet the love of their life in an airport after a cancelled flight, don’t live together forever after long a cross-country drive, don’t live happily ever after after a snowed in hotel.

People do leave their husbands and kids the week before Christmas, they do cheat on you, they do break your heart.

Snow might make things seem more magical, but after all, it’s just frozen water.

“But I want that.”

Will’s face falls, his eyes sad and honest, but he nods slowly. “Okay,” he says. “Thanks for the drive, then.”

His voice is distant, now, cold and impersonal: you know you deserve it but it hurts, anyway, and you scurry out of the car, take your suitcase out of the trunk.

You’re standing next to the car, ready to walk down the driveway, when the window opens.

Will’s head pops out, and he sends you what you think is meant to be a smile. It’s not a real one, and he still mostly just looks sad, but he’s trying, you think.

“I know December is a hard month for you, but I truly do hope it’s gonna get better. Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

The window closes and the car drives off, and something inside of you breaks.

“Merry Christmas, Will,” you whisper with tears in your eyes. You could’ve stood there for hours, but the front door opens.

“Y/N?” your dad’s voice calls. “I’m so glad you made it, you won’t believe the snow we’ve had…”

---

There’s a blanket on your lap as well as Snuggles – your dad’s cat – and you’re drinking tea while Elf plays on the television.

Your dad has been talking excitedly all through dinner, but now it’s quiet as he watches the movie. He seems happy, light, and it soothes something inside of you.

Sometimes you worry about him.

It’s not until the end credits roll that your dad turns to you. “Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?” he asks tentatively, and that’s all that you need to hear in order to break into tears. “Oh, honey,” he sighs, then takes your hand in his. “What happened?”

You have no idea where to start.

“Dad,” you whisper, “do you think you can die from a broken heart?”

Your dad smiles sadly, shakes his head. “If you could, I would’ve been gone by now, probably,” he jokes, but it doesn’t land. “Is this about that boyfriend of yours?”

And, well, the funny thing is, you haven’t told your dad about the break up, but it doesn’t even matter. Your heart is broken and it has nothing to do with your ex.

So you tell him about Will. You tell him about how you almost weren’t here, tell him about cancelled planes and one lone rental car, about how he went from Will to William Nylander right back to Will, about coffee breaks and sleeping on the side of the road and skating and the little kid who hurt his hand, about snow storms and a hotel room with one bed – not about anything else from that night, though – and finally you tell him about goodbye.

When it’s all said and done, your dad frowns. “You keep saying it had to end. But honey, it sounds like you really like this guy.”

You do, oh God, you do.

“Why would it have to end?”

You don’t say anything, but as always, he knows exactly what you mean.

“Just because it ended for your mom and I doesn’t mean it always has to end, you know. Sometimes it’s worth to try.” He pats your hand. “I think you should call him.”

And that’s when it hits you. It doesn’t really matter if you’d wanna call him.

You don’t even have his phone number.

---

“Y/N! Patient in room 11!” your colleague yells. “I’m going to the kid in room 4 if you need me!”

You sigh and throw down your clipboard. You have no idea why the hospital is so busy; it’s December 28th, which promises a disaster on New Years Eve, which is usually your busiest day of the year.

Fireworks, man.

You’ve been on your feet for 9 hours but you don’t even really mind. Just the thrill of working in a new hospital has been keeping you going; it might have something to do with the fact that this hospital will let you finish your residency, too. They called you the day after Christmas.

Some might call it somewhat of a Christmas miracle.

“I’m on it,” you call back, then start making your way to room 11. You nearly bump into the doctor you’re working with today, and she halts you by putting a hand on your arm.

“Are you a Leafs fan?” she asks.

It might be the weirdest thing someone has randomly asked you; the conversations you have had with this woman have ranged from “can you get me some blood from the vomiting boy” and “in what room do I find the catheters” and now she’s asking you about your sports teams?

Your heart clenches tightly as you think of Will.

“Not really,” you answers. That seems to be the right answer because the doctor smiles and waves towards the room, telling you to enter. You’re still confused by the whole exchange when you walk into the room and nearly trip over your own feet.

“Oh,” Will says slowly, “that’s quite a coincidence.”

It’s like your tongue has grown two sizes; you can’t speak, can’t even begin to think of what words to say, when suddenly you notice something.

“What the hell happened to you?”

There’s blood all over the hand he’s clutching to his chest, and his face is white as a ghost. Next to him is an equally pale guy wearing a Leafs sweater, who is staring at you with wide eyes.

“Uhm, I fell,” Will says sheepishly. “Turns out snow is quite slippery.”

It hasn’t snowed in Toronto in days.

“He didn’t fall in the snow,” the guy next to him grumbles. “I tried to wrestle the remote out of his hand and he fell into the Christmas tree and sliced his hand open with an ornament.”

“And Kappy has just promised to clean everything up, right, Kap?” Will asks with a sly smirk. Some of the color is returning to his face, which is more than you can say for his friend Kappy.

“Okay, well, let me have a look,” you mutter, and you gather some of your supplies before sitting next to the bed.

If you try very hard to avoid Will’s eyes and focus completely on the gash on his hand, that’s between you and the hospital room.

“So, first aid, huh?” Will asks. “Found a new job? Told you.” He sounds stupidly smug, so you raise your eyebrow and press the gauze to the wound. He inhales sharply. “That’s mean.”

“I’m trying to clean it,” you tell him sternly. “Sit still. God, Timmy was a better patient.”

“Hey,” Will protests, offended. “I’m a perfect patient.”

When you see how deep the wound is, you wonder how it’s possible that Will is still so chatty, and you also feel a little nauseous; it’s always different when it’s someone you care about.

“I’m gonna go get doctor Summers,” you say, and your voice is a little unsteady.

You’re probably imagining the edge of disappointment to Will’s voice when he says: “Yeah, okay.”

While doctor Summers examines Will’s hand, his eyes are fixed on you, and you keep yours fixed on your shoes. There’s so much you want to say to him, so much you want to do, but this is not the time or the place and also you have no idea how to start a conversation like that.

You tune back into the here and now when you hear the word “surgery.”

“It’s not a real surgery,” doctor Summers says, “I just think we need to set a bone and we also need to stitch up the muscles.”

Will is a little pale again as he nods.

You get send away to prepare the necessities for the procedure and when you come back, Will’s friend is gone.

“He’s gonna pick me up when I’m done,” says Will, who sees you looking. “Are you gonna… Are you gonna be here, while she does it?”

“Nope,” you answer, and this time you’re definitely not imagining the way his face falls. “Are you gonna get in trouble with the team for this?”

Will pulls a face. “I’ll probably get a stern talking to from Kyle.” When he sees your expression, he laughs. “My boss.” He sighs, looks out the window.

It’s started snowing, again, because apparently the universe loves taunting you.

“You know what the worst thing is? I ruined my tree.”

“That’s definitely not the worst part,” you roll your eyes. “It’s after Christmas, you should’ve probably taken it down anyway.”

“I couldn’t take it down yet,” says Will, his face completely serious, “there’s still one Christmas miracle I’m waiting for.”

He’s staring at you intently and you can feel your heart beating in your throat.

There’s no way he means…

But what if there is?

You make a decision then, and when Will is getting his hand worked on in a different room you run to the cafeteria.

“Hey,” you yell at the lady behind the counter. “I’m gonna borrow this for a second!”

She looks at you like you’re a crazy person and you can’t blame her: you’re literally standing in your scrubs, screaming at her from the middle of the cafeteria after having just yanked a tiny Christmas tree from the table.

“Okay?” she yells back, and it sounds more like a question than a blessing, but you take it and run anyway.

Room 11 is still empty; although Will’s coat is still lying on the bed, so he must be coming back. You take the tiny tree and put it on the bed side table, plug it in.

There’s only about 10 lights in the tree, but when you flick off the big lights, it still looks pretty Christmassy.

And so, you wait.

To say you’re nervous would be an understatement; there’s every possibility in the world that Will has changed his mind since you last saw each other, and the last thing he wants is you confessing how much you like him in a hospital room after just having destroyed his hand, but you have to try.

Every time you think about bailing, you hear your dad’s voice in your head.

Sometimes it’s worth it to try.

This is one of those times.

“No strenuous activities, take it easy…” Finally you hear doctor Summers voice and you stand up.

The door opens tauntingly slowly, and there is Will. At first, his eyes widen as they catch the Christmas tree, and then his head swivels around and he sees you; a slow smile spreads across his face.

“A Christmas tree?” he asks.

“Well,” you smile, “you did say you wanted a Christmas miracle…”

“But you don’t like Christmas,” Will points out.

And that’s true, but…

You take a step closer and Will raises an eyebrow, questioning but not looking like he wants to run away.

“I don’t,” you admit. “I didn’t. But then something happened… Or, well, someone happened. And now I’m thinking that I might have to give Christmas a chance.” You’re standing right in front of Will, now, and he had all the time in the world to back off but he didn’t. Instead, he’s looking at you with an amused expression on his face, the corners of his mouth curled into a tentative smile.

“I think there might be a few things I have to give a chance,” you finish.

“God,” Will breathes. “I really hope you mean us.”

Instead of answering, you kiss him.

It feels somewhat familiar and yet as if you’ve never been kissed before: there’s fireworks in your stomach and everything feels warm and fuzzy, like nothing matters except for the feeling of Will’s lips on your lips, his chest pressed against yours.

“Y/N!” someone yells from the hallway, and you reluctantly pull away.

“I have to get back to work…”

“Okay,” Will whispers, pecks you cheek quickly. “But we’ll talk…”

“I’m done with work in an hour,” you interrupt.

Will nods. “I’ll tell Kappy he doesn’t have to pick me up.” He grins. “Unless you’d rather not drive in the snow?”

“Shut up,” you tell him, but it’s with nothing but fondness.

You’re already running to the hallway, ready to see the next patient, when you hear Will yell after you: “You said you hate snow!”

And that’s kinda true, but…

Sometimes, even if it messes up your plane, or gets you stuck in a snowstorm, or makes you fall on your ass…

You just have to let it snow.

#william nylander #toronto maple leafs #winter prompts #william nylander imagine #william nylander one shot #nhl fic #nhl imagine

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emisfritish · 4 years

Text

Our gift to the world - Episode 2

Pairing: Pang/Wave (The Gifted/The Gifted Graduation)

Summary: Episode codas of an established Pang/Wave in The Gifted Graduation.These can all be read as standalones, but they fit into the same canon-compliant universe. Episode 2 - Scene set at the end of the episode after the whole talk with Time.

Previous parts : Ep 1.

Next parts : Ep.3 / Ep.4 / Ep.5 / Ep.6 / Ep. 7 / Ep. 8

Series on Ao3

Notes : Okay, and that’s the coda for episode 2 ! Enjoy this weird mix of angst and fluff, all into one fic.

Later in the evening, once The Gifted students have answered all of Time’s questions and after Wave’s continuous monitoring of school cameras to make sure that the group of Anti-Gifted students were found and picked up by school staff for what they hope will be severe disciplinary actions, Pang finds himself back in his bedroom, sitting on his bed.

Today has been exhausting, he thinks to himself, as he lets his head fall backwards until it hits gently against the wall behind him and closes his eyes, trying to hold off the migraine he can feel building within him. The evening definitely hadn’t gone down like they planned, and although the mission had been a success and no one had gotten hurt in the end, Pang still feels uneasy with how close a call it had been, and the many thoughts and questions still plaguing him.

First, this was all his fault. Sure, he disagrees with everything the Anti-Gifted stand for right now and he hates the way they go at things, but he’d also been the one to bring them into the fold, to impress upon the other Gifted students that it was a good idea. Blinded by his ideals, he inadvertently created them, and every single action they do now indirectly falls back on him.

Which leads him to the second thought that is currently so imposing it almost paralyzes him in fear… Was he repeating the same mistake with Time ?

Sure, Time looks like his heart in his the right place and he only wants to help make things better too, but that’s exactly what Pang thought when he first introduced the non-gifted students to his friends, and one only has to look at the situation today to see how bad that particular decision had been.

Pang hates the idea of potentially putting even more people in danger by bringing Time into the fold. The idea that the decision he took by not forcing Time to forget everything that’s happened recently could ultimately harm his friends, could harm Wave… he doesn’t think that’s something he could live with. Not again.

“I can hear you overthinking things from all the way over here,” a voice suddenly cuts into his thoughts.

“You don’t read mind, that’s not what your gift is,” Pang says as he lifts his head to look towards his boyfriend who is currently leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom, studying him.

“Trust me, I don’t need it to be my gift to be able to read you like an open book right now,” the other boy answers, before he pushes his way forward to make his way into the bedroom.

“Move over,” he orders once he reaches the bed, prompting Pang to scoot to the side to leave enough room for Wave to sit next to him, which he does instantly. The immediate comfort coming from the warmth of their sides being pressed loosens Pang’s shoulders a bit.

Neither of them say anything for a couple minutes, and Pang can feel Wave’s stare burning into the side of his face, his boyfriend studying him intently before he finally breaks the silence.

“Are you okay ?”

Wave’s voice when he asks the question is low and soft, in a way it so rarely is, and even in the midst of everything going on, Pang takes a second to appreciate that he’s one that gets to see this Wave, and appreciate this softer side of him.

He shrugs in answer, not quite knowing how to put all of his feelings into words, and Wave nods back, as if that reaction was to be expected.

“Talking about her never gets easier,” Wave confesses, looking away from Pang to look at the cupboard sitting in front of the bed, where they both know a picture of Ohm, Pang and Namtarn is hidden from view, safely taped on the inside of the door.

Namtarn.

His discussion with Time and the rehashing of the past has left a sour taste in his mouth, and even after all these months, talking about her and what she’s been through never gets easier. The fact that most of the school seem to think that him and his friends are to blame for hurting her, for hurting one of their own… well, that just makes it even more painful.

Of course Wave would know that Pang’s head has been filled with memories and thoughts about her ever since his talk with Time earlier. If anyone outside of him and Ohm understands the feelings of loss, it would be Wave. Both because he loved her as much as Pang himself did, and because he feels the same sense of guilt at what happened to her.

They rarely talk about it, but the fact that they were the ones to ask her to go back into the room where they knew a bomb was, the room where she got hurt, is something they’ll both have to live with for the rest of their lives. In that way, no one understands him the same way Wave does.

“She’s okay by the way,” Wave says, pressing his thigh a little closer to Pang’s, his own version of physical comfort.

“You texted her ?” Pang asks his boyfriend hopefully, turning towards him, and he sees Wave nod in answer.

Because they were paranoïd about their phones being tapped and about people finding out Pang had regained his memories, they’ve set a rule that Pang isn’t allowed to contact her directly, not unless he was sending a message through Wave’s secure phone, for both of their safety.

And of course Wave, knowing Pang the way he does, he would have known the only way to ease Pang’s mind a little tonight would be to hear from their friend. Trust his boyfriend to cut right to the root of the issue and find a pragmatic way to fix it.

“You can text her later, if you want. She said she likes her new school, and that she’s met some nice people,” Wave continues, and a little bit of the sadness that had been weighing on Pang for the last hour chips away at the words.

“Of course, I’m fairly certain they’ll never hold a candle to us, but you can’t have everything. Not everyone is as great as I am,” Wave says with a cocky smirk, and Pang can’t hold the small snort that escapes him in the face of his boyfriend’s arrogance.

“Thank you,” he says after a second, appreciating the fact that Wave took the time to reach out to her to ease both of their minds, which causes Wave to shrug in response.

“Well, this night certainly turned out differently than I expected.”

There’s no judgement in the words, but Pang still feels guilt and doubt swim at the bottom of his stomach.

“Do you think I made a mistake telling him all of this instead of forcing him to forget and stay away from us ?” he finally asks the question that has been lingering on his mind all night.

Wave stays silent for a couple seconds, thinking over his answer, before he turns towards Pang and shrugs again.

“I think you did what you thought was right,” he ends up answering.

“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t a mistake though.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Wave tells him, direct as ever. “It doesn’t mean it was a mistake either though.”

“If you were me, you would have used my gift to make him forget,” Pang affirms, knowing his boyfriend enough to know it to be the truth.

“I would have,” he answers back, not denying the words. “But I’m not you.”

Simple as that.

Because he’s right, it is an answer. In many ways, Wave and him are nothing alike and have very different ways of solving problems, but that was also their strength. That was why they worked so well together to begin with, both when it came to shutting down a corrupt system, and in their personal relationship.

“I know you think I’m an idiot for trusting him,” Pang continues, and Wave turns towards him and frowns.

“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” he replies, and Pang raises an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Okay, I think you’re an idiot sometimes,” he amends, which makes Pang smile, very used to being an idiot on many subjects when compared with his math and technology genius of a boyfriend. “But I don’t think it’s the case right now.”

Pang nods at his words, thinking them over. If there’s one thing he could trust Wave with, it was brutal honesty, even when it came to things Pang didn’t necessarily want to hear. Knowing that Wave doesn’t think him trusting Time was totally stupid eases his mind a little.

“It’s just… I truly think he could help,” Pang explains. “I know you think he’s a liability.”

“Oh, he definitely is a liability,” Wave cuts him off. “He’s a naïve idiot, he believes what everyone tells him too easily, and we can’t predict where he’ll go and what he’ll do, which makes him dangerous. But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand why you wouldn’t use your gift on him.”

Of course. Wave is the only one in their group who knows just how scared Pang is of one day turning into someone he doesn’t recognize anymore. Of one day being so power hungry with his ability to control people, that he becomes just like the director, if not worse.

“Plus… he may turn out to be more useful than I initially thought he would be,” Wave continues, and Pang feels another weight being lifted off of his shoulders.

“So you don’t blame me for not forcing him away ?” Pang asks in a small voice, and Wave turns towards him again.

“How could I blame you when you being this way is precisely the reason I lo…” he stops mid-sentence and swallows nervously, which makes Pang smile, before he nudges his shoulder against his boyfriend’s.

He knows Wave won’t finish the sentence, the words being difficult enough for him that he very rarely says them out loud. It doesn’t make it any less true though, and Pang doesn’t need to hear the words to know that he means them with every fiber of his being.

Seeing the way Wave has changed and opened up since they got together, the way he’s sometimes softer and kinder, while remaining the same Wave that drove him absolutely insane last year, is enough proof for Pang to know exactly how his boyfriend feels.

“My boyfriend is a softie, I got used to it,” Wave ends up saying with a shrug instead of the words that had started to come out.

Pang turns towards him and smiles brightly, which he didn’t think would be possible after the evening they’ve had.

“You convinced him to trust me tonight,” Pang reminds him, remembering the words Wave told Time earlier and how they warmed his heart.

Trust isn’t an easy thing for Wave to give away, not after everything he’s been through when he was younger. So for him to choose to put his trust in Pang, over and over again… let’s just say the significance isn’t lost on him.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” Wave says dismissively with a roll of his eyes, which causes Pang to snort again.

God, his boyfriend could be so dramatic when he was trying to keep up his cold front.

“I trusted you, and it turned out pretty well for me,” he continues his thought, prompting Pang to turn towards him, fake outrage written all over his face even as the words warm his heart again.

“Pretty well ? Pretty well ? I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you, don’t even try to pretend otherwise,” he teases him, only to stop when Wave turns towards him and looks at him seriously.

“You are,” he says simply, and Pang feels his breath catch in his throat at the words.

Before he has the time to say anything in response, a grin lights up Wave’s face.

“What is that Mr.Sermrittirong ? Is that you blushing I’m seeing right in front of my eyes ? What, the king of cheesy lines himself can’t take a little flirting ? I guess I win again,” Wave teases back, cocky smirk in place.

God, Pang had clearly been a terrible influence on him if this is what Wave uses his newly found confidence in their relationship to do.

“Are you seriously trying to win at flirting ?” he asks deadpan, which only causes Wave to laugh.

“Oh, I’m not just trying. I think I’m succeeding. Quite easily actually.”

It’s funny how things change, Pang thinks to himself. How Wave, of all people, had managed to steal his heart when Pang was expecting it the least, and how easily they fit together.

This boy that can go from being cold and calculating, to cocky, flirty and yet sweet the very next minute. This boy that can be so very arrogant, and yet so insecure at the same time, always keeping Pang on his toes.

Yet, as Pang looks at his boyfriend now and sees the cocky grin the boy is wearing, he can remember that particular expression from the very first day he met Wave, and the predominant thought in his mind right now, is a very familiar one. He would like nothing more than for Wave to shut up.

Some things do change, but others remain exactly the same. He just has way more enjoyable ways of shutting Wave up now, which he puts to use right this second, pushing forward to kiss Wave and get him to stop talking for a while.

“Maybe everything with Time will turn out okay and he won’t cause any issues,” Pang ends up saying wistfully a while later, after shutting up Wave for a few good minutes.

“Oh, he’ll definitely cause us trouble. Mark my words,” he boyfriend negates the thought, and Pang turns towards him.

“And even knowing that, you don’t blame me for not using my gift on him ?”

Wave bumps their foreheads together before reaching forward to grab Pang’s hand in his.

“I trust your judgement,” he ends up saying, causing Pang’s heart to beat double time in his chest, before he looks up at his boyfriend gratefully.

“Besides… I kind of have a thing for naïve idiots anyway.”

#pang x wave #PangWave #the gifted graduation #tgg #the gifted #the gifted graduation the series #tgg the series #emi's writing #our gift to the world

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fiction-in-my-blood · 3 years

Text

Switching Sides: Part 1 (HLITF)

Annnddd I have a new series even though I haven’t finished any of my others yet. Heh heh. Although, this is like a year and a half in the making 😅 Also, I wanna thank @theshove for being my proofreader and basically editor haha. Check out her kbtbb fic cos it’s super good!!

Premise: Growing up in a life of crime in a Japanese mafia, Atsuko Motomori has seen enough injustice to last her a lifetime. To try and give back to the universe her family has taken so much from, she dreams of being a detective from a young age. Her twin, sharing her disgust for her father and many uncles, just wants an ordinary life away from the crime, paing and suffering. Instead, she wants to be in the spotlight with the soft notes she makes with her cello. In their escape of 2015, on their coming of age birthday, they must split ways, never to be together ever again. If one was found, they didn't want the other dragged down with them. Atsuko, having changed her name and appearance as best she can without a scalpel, sets off to start her life of car chases and arrests.

Four years in a seemingly dead-end police station in the middle of nowhere, being passed over time after time for promotion, Atsuko finally gets a shot at her dream, having been sent to an academy for the best candidates in the country by her boss who had always kept an eye out for her. After discovering her boss may have made her bite off more than she could chew, Atsuko must become the slave of a dominating instructor!? Who so just happens to be the captain of the most famous police unit in Japan? Not to mention a total knockout! Will Atsuko finally achieve her dream? Or will her new instructor put her through the wringer?

Warnings: None for this chapter, but fair warning this fic does get pretty dark. It’s also a VERY slow burn.

~~~~~~~

The loud rattling of the subway was silenced ever so slightly by the soft beat emitting from my earbuds. Looking around the carriage, I spotted an advertisement for a famous orchestra and their tour dates. She's gotten so far, I thought to myself, looking at the edgy, green-haired woman standing with the composer and a few other famous instrumentalists within the group. We had the same features, same voice and same upbringing, but on paper, we were from completely different worlds.

Fighting back the lonely feeling crawling up my spine, I averted my gaze to the people on the train carriage. Across from me was a man: tall, like every other member of the opposite sex compared to me, dressed in casual clothes for a young person. And he didn't stand out in a crowd. But he had a certain look. I recognised it from all the bad people and high stake criminals that frequented my home as a child. I eyed him closely before approaching him.

"Sir, what do you think you're doing?" I glared down at the hand slipping out of the pocket of the man standing in front of the suspicious character. Everyone in the area swivelled around in surprise at my judgemental tone. "You shouldn't steal, y' know. It doesn't set you in a good light." I frowned, the older man ensuring his wallet really was taken.

After exclaiming that it had been, the seemingly normal guy whipped out a pocket knife. Everyone jumped back, except for me, as the thief waved the blade around. "Don't be dramatic. Put the weapon down." I sighed out in boredom before he could lunge at me. I grabbed his wrist as it passed me and twisted my body into his, slapping the knife out of his hand and elbowing him in the face.

Falling back in painful anguish, I ignored the wails of the man to pick up his small blade. When I turned around again, having slid the blade back into the handle, a long-legged man was kneeling down to pull the thief to his feet. Before I could say anything, I saw the silver shine of handcuffs clicked around the thief's wrists. Is he a police officer? I pulled a quizzical expression as the silent man turned to me. He didn't look like much of a city policeman, not like the ones I had seen growing up. His black hair reached the bottom of his neck, not to mention scruffy like a teenage boy's. The only thing that set him apart from the police I used to see visiting my childhood home was the fact he was actually arresting the criminal.

"The public shouldn't endanger themselves." An angry expression soon took over the blank one I saw moments ago.

"Oh, err... Okay?" Thrown off by his handsome appearance, I didn't know how to respond and completely forgot I was also a cop.

Then, I saw the blood trickling down the criminal's face and my eyes grew wide when I noticed my instincts, forced upon me since I was able to walk, took over. "If you're nervous, you shouldn't do such dangerous things." He frowned at my face, twisted up in cringing embarrassment, as I was annoyed at myself for causing a scene. I had lasted this long in a small town of Nagano, being a patrol officer, and not drawn this much attention to myself before. Having this opportunity of becoming a detective, thanks to my boss sending me to a new institute for training officers like me, I had become a bit more ambitious.

"Was he acting alone?" Another tall, nicely dressed and stoic faced man appeared, only he was wearing glasses, and looked at the cuffed man being held by his acquaintance.

"Yeah. Watching his technique, I'd say it's habitual." The suited man replied, losing his look of annoyance at me. They were probably colleagues, they both had the air of lawmen, and they were the only few on the train that was still wearing blazers on a hot day like today. I wonder if they're on an investigation?

The man in glasses, who had most recently appeared, then turned to me. "Any injuries?" With his question, I was quickly pulled back to reality.

"Nope. All good." I smiled, ignoring the earlier comment from the man holding the thief I apprehended.

"It's admirable that you don't overlook crime, but please do not get involved." The smarter looking man furrowed his eyebrows, making his expression look even sterner. "It's more important that you do not get injured." His face quickly eased at the caring comment, his frown replaced with a flat smile.

Growing up, whenever I had accidentally injured myself in the hazardous place I called home, the men in my life would only get angered by my whining. When I joined the police academy, I had to show how strong I was or I'd fall so far behind the male-majority class that I'd get tossed from the class. Thrown off from being shown concern, I hastily lowered my head thankfully at the detective with a hidden badge.

However, I felt like I needed to make them aware that I, too, was an officer of the law. But, before I could, another one approached the one with glasses.

"You collected their garbage?" A moodily-faced man, with long, neat hair and a sloppily tightened purple tie, frowned.

"He brandished a knife on the train. I had no choice." The kind detective's expression froze over once again as he confronted his colleague.

"You could have left that thief to Little Miss Justice here." The new character glanced dismissively at me, which made me raise an eyebrow. He, on the other hand, was like the detectives I saw growing up.

"So that way your scandal isn't the only thing getting attention." The man with glasses took a jab at his associate, but it only made the other man smirk. Or was it more like an irritated grin?

"I don't want to hear anything about a scandal. That's just a lie." As I watched the two bicker, I couldn't help but wonder if they got along well enough to be able to work together.

When the train finally stopped, the moody man disembarked and the ones who helped me hauled the handcuffed man off. I watched the backs of the men who quietly discussed something between themselves until I realised it was my stop. As I ran through the closing doors, I sighed in relief that I didn't make myself late on my first day. With that rush of adrenaline, I forgot about the eventful morning that seemed to whiz by.

~~~~~~

"Wow." I gaped at the grand, white building in front of me. It was wide. The main building in the centre was four stories compared to the three-storied buildings that led off it. I could tell thanks to the rows of windows. On top was a clocktower that also had one set of windows in each of the two floors it contained. The massive archway that led into the main building made the scene look like a western college in a teen movie. Pink sakura trees lined up either side of the pathway towards the academy.

So, this is the new police academy... Amazing! A smile spread over my face as I watched the beauty of the new building unfold before me. The reason for being on that train this morning was for this school. As a girl who grew up dreaming of being a detective, I never got my opportunity to get the promotion the usual way. There were always men that got there before me. After three years of striving for excellence and finally giving up hope, my boss eventually gave me my chance by enrolling me at this academy. One built to promote officers to detectives.

I've heard the details are limited to very few officers but... My fears of all my hard work not paying off made me nervous. How did my boss know about this place? The reason it was built in private is that they'd likely get hundreds, if not thousands, of applicants within the first week! Then I never would have gotten in. There'd always be men that were ‘better’ than me.

I continued along the well-maintained path as I thought about how lucky I was to be attending such a prestigious and, not to mention, beautiful school. As I walked through the campus, I spotted a dojo to my left.

Wonder if anything's going on in there? Having grown up needing to defend myself, I trained in judo and karate, so I decided to take a look out of curiosity. It should be fine. My instructors didn't mind it when I snooped around, I thought to myself, overlooking the fact that I was the daughter of a major mafia boss and if the instructor did reprimand me, he'd lose a finger.

I was awed by the interior, watching the expansive ceiling go further than I expected it to. Looking around, I spotted a man wearing a kendo gi, robes used when performing the art, and meditating in the rays of the sunlight that filtered through the gridded window. I recognised them from what my sister practised in our youth.

He seems young, but could he be the instructor? His eyes were shut, but his expression looked kind. His long, tied-back hair was very feminine looking for a man with such youthful features. The guard he had wrapped around his torso was black compared to the blue robes he had on underneath.

Enthralled by his quiet, mysterious atmosphere, it surprised me when he opened his eyes. As a kid, I had never seen anyone let their guard down like that. To sit in a room, all alone with their eyes closed as they listened to their innermost thoughts: the concept made my nerves arise. But now, face to face with someone I had been snooping on, my heart raced. His penetrating gaze froze me over, stopping me from moving to look less inconspicuous.

Awkwardly not removing his eyes from mine, the light brown-haired man smiled softly at me. Having grown up around mostly men, I was no stranger to the variety of the male appearance. But, I had never seen a man so beautiful before. The new fantasy before me forced me to keep my mouth shut.

"Are you a new student? Reception is in that building." Hearing words come out of his mouth, I jumped back to reality. I quickly realised I was staring intensely at him and my face flushed brightly. I mentally recoiled at that embarrassing display as I thanked him.

Entering without permission and probably creeping him out... What is wrong with me?

"Good luck." His face lit up in a radiant smile. I bowed deeply to show my gratitude and ran off towards the main building.

~~~~~~

Along a glass-walled corridor, I searched for a locker room to change into the uniform the admin office had given me. I spotted one and pushed the door open, only to find myself looking at the backs of several naked men. Before anyone spotted me being a perv, I closed the door and pulled the school map out. Not seeing a distinction between the locker rooms, I called over a man in uniform.

"There's only one. But the shower room should be empty..." With an uneasy eye, the man directed me to the place where I could change. I thanked him, although I was suspicious. There wasn't a women's locker room, but there was a women's shower room? The only reason I could think of for them to think that was okay was that there were so few of us. They likely thought it was fine for us to change in the same area.

Typical. I sighed, heading for the shower room in the back, deciding to check the details later.

As I walked through the door, I was affronted with a man fixing the towel around his waist. Body still wet, I assumed he had just taken a shower.

Annoyed and embarrassed that I had put myself in another embarrassing situation for the second or third time today, I sighed out my apology. "I was told the showers would be empty." I tried to make him understand why I was still standing in the doorway, showing a small smile to help him know I wasn't some crazy girl off the street.

"Yeah, it doesn't get much emptier than this." He chuckled, seemingly not having a problem with my intrusion. My brows furrowed, confused about what the man outside had told me.

"This is the men's shower room, right? So the women's is..?" I trailed off, letting him finish my statement.

"There are no facilities at the school for girls... Except for the women's toilets, I think?" He answered without an expression change, something I quickly noticed hadn't happened since I entered.

Now allowing myself to look at him, his body was in perfect shape. Although his body was of an exceedingly fit man, his blond, bowl haircut made him look younger than I'm sure he is.

"You're kidding?" I slouched, my hope for the progressive police force dulled in a matter of minutes.

"There are only two girls this year. You and one other." He looked into the distance to think about the math. "They can't prepare facilities for so few of you." The bluntness of his statement didn't help my mood as I quickly became deflated. "Well, if you're worried, we could arrange for special times or something?" Noticing my defeat, the man gazed blankly again. "I'll be out soon, just wait a moment." Suddenly, he showed me an encouraging smile.

"Thanks." I smiled back, appreciative that he would give me my space. It was the first day for all of us, so I'm sure he understood my nervousness. Abruptly, he starts changing, right in front of me. I hurried to look away, but he didn't seem to care either way.

"Alright, don't forget to hang up the key..." Throwing the key he had left on one of the sinks, I caught it in a hurry, not wanting to look like a fool for not catching it.

"Sorry for rushing you." I gleefully showed him I’d caught the keys as he began to walk towards the door. As he approached, he closed the distance between us.

"No worries." His expression quickly turned mischievous. "Besides, I don't mind naughty girls like you." His tone was serious as he whispered in my ear, which is what threw me off.

"Naughty?" I shrieked without thinking, maybe reacting more than I should have.

"Don't be so loud. They'll hear you out there." He smirked at my reaction and I grew angry.

"Look, I'm not looking to get into anything here. I'm here to become a detective, I just wanna do that. So keep the harassment to a minimum, alright?" Trying to keep calm and not make a fool of myself, I didn't let his handsome features get the better of me. His expression went blank again. He looked me up and down, and then let out a short chuckle. Then, he left as I tried to cover up my panic.

You're not here to mess around, Atsuko! If you flirt with one guy, they'll think you're a bimbo! I told myself after I began to regret turning him down. Showering like a madman to get to the ceremony in time, I changed before running to the gymnasium.

~~~~~~

"So, it looks like it's just you and me." I laughed with a sigh, having met the only other female student at the academy in the gym.

"Hey, I'm just glad I'm not alone and have you here, Atsuko." She sighed in relief as we stood in the bustling hall. It was full of skyscraping men in the same blue uniforms as us.

"Me too! I was a little surprised when you hugged me, though." I laughed uneasily, not wanting to offend her over-friendly attitude. She was a cheery girl with short, brown hair and hadn't stopped smiling since we met.

"I was just happy to see another girl for the first time since school started." Naruko Sasaki sat beside me in the plastic, foldable chairs. She's my age, which I'm thankful for. I struggle to not feel intimidated by those older than me. And I think my pride would take a hit if some young probie was admitted into the school. Although, Naruko did act a little childishly.

"It's only people chosen from the force... I guess it's unavoidable that they're all men." Naruko sighed after inspecting the testosterone-heavy room.

"Chosen? So it's not a lottery?" I turned to her, surprised to hear that. Coming from a small, boring town, I was surprised that I would be selected for such a prestigious opportunity.

"It might be a lottery in the end, but only people with connections qualify, right?" Clueless to my surprise, the girl just smiled. I quietly agreed with her, trying to think of any connections I would have to get me here. I didn't have the same name as I did in my childhood, so any crooked cops that worked under my dad wouldn't be able to track me down.

"It's called a police academy, but it's meant to train elite public safety detectives." Naruko continued explaining the school to me. I yelled out in surprise. I really had no clue what I was getting myself into when my boss threw this assignment on my plate. The Public Safety Division is an elite group within the National Police Academy. Honestly, I would have been happy to become a homicide or narcotics detective. I never thought, coming here, I would be trained to deal with terrorism or anything with that degree of danger.

"Uhh, Atsuko... Did you apply without knowing anything?" Naruko finally caught on to my confusion as she showed her own astonished expression.

"My superior told me I could become a detective if I graduate..." To be honest, It was my fault I was in this mess. I hardly asked any questions before jumping at the offer.

As I circled further into my confusion spiral, the ceremony began. The Director gave a strong, hardened greeting, then the instructors took to the stage. There, I saw all the men I had run-ins with walk up onto the stage.

"They're all so young... I thought they'd be retirement-aged..." Naruko whispered to me, excited shock written all over her face. I, on the other hand, couldn't hear anything she was saying. "And they're all so handsome in their uniforms." She squealed as quietly as possible as the Director continued. I tried to quieten her before she drew too much attention.

I struggled to keep my jaw from dropping, fear of embarrassing myself in front of all my new teachers taking over my thoughts. Surely, hopefully, they don't remember me?

Around us, I heard our classmates also gossiping about the instructors. One I heard questioned how good they could possibly be, only being a little older than us.

Stepping up to the microphone, I saw the moody man from this morning. "My name is Hyogo Kaga, Public Safety Captain." He announced, and I felt my insides crumble.

He called me Little Miss Justice... I'm going to be a laughing-stock. I slid down in my chair, wanting the world to swallow me whole. I didn't have the guts to tell them I was a cop. If they recognise me, they're going to think I'm a rookie or completely inept.

"We'll be instructing you while we perform our everyday duties as officers. We can't afford to waste our time on spoiled brats." His bluntness silenced the room of anyone that might still be gossiping. "If you have no potential, we will drop you. That is all." With that statement, which I felt was personally directed at me, I went into a state of existential crisis. I didn't even know what the academy was training us for, which showed how good of a detective I would be. I so badly wanted not to be the first out, but surely I would be one of the dropouts. I had no connections and very little detective training. The most of an official investigation I’d seeb was when I was given scut jobs the real detectives didn't want to do. Let's just say I’d been in far too many dumpsters than a human being should’ve been in.

"Terrible way of speaking, but he's still handsome!" As Naruko continued to whisper to me, I got to learn what kind of girl she was. It would be difficult for her to focus here. Over the silence Captain Kaga had created, I heard another classmate explain how he was the most skilled person in Public Safety. Then, the man he was talking to began to argue that "Ishigami" was the one who couldn't be matched and would easily beat Kaga in a fight.

After the Captain, the man with glasses stepped forward. That must be Ishigami, I thought, remembering how un-scary he seemed on the train this morning. The man announced he was, in fact, Ishigami, and that he was a Captain as well. "This school will produce excellent officers. I want you all aiming to create a force that can take down terrorism and foreign crime." His ambitions for the students threw me another punch to the gut, until I remembered what the school was built for.

When Captain Ishigami stepped down, the messy-haired man approached the mic. "I'm Goto. Member of Ishigami's Team." The man was as blunt and as harsh as he had been this morning. "My rank is Lieutenant. Thank you." And like that, he was gone, replaced with the long-haired man I had found in the dojo.

"Hehe, what a short greeting. That's so like Goto," Now in a police uniform, the beauty introduced himself while I tried to ignore Naruko jittering at all the hot guys that had been on the stage so far. "Nice to meet you, I'm Shusuke Soma, also a member of Ishigami's Team. My rank is First Lieutenant. I hope to grow alongside all of you. Thank you." He smiled in the same gentle, pleasant way he had when I’d met him, which only made it harder to listen to their speeches without wanting to destroy myself. Naruko announced that the 1st Lieutenant was her type and I quickly prayed that she would shut up before she was caught and got us both in trouble for gossiping and made fools of.

Appearing after Soma was the man I saw in the shower room. I did not accuse an instructor of trying to harass me, please, God, tell me I didn't. I slid further down my chair, the heavy weight of my actions pushing me down.

"I'm Ayumu Shinonome of Kaga's Team. My rank is Lieutenant." And, of course he had to be a lieutenant, not some rookie who was there to step in for some retiree on sick leave. "Feel free to call me Ayumu. Thanks." He smiled before the gossiping started again.

"Shinonome is a genius and the youngest officer to ever be selected for the top squad." Naruko and I were awed at overhearing that fact, although for different reasons.

He must think I'm incompetent for standing around in the shower room while he changed. I sighed to myself as Naruko categorized our instructors into who would be the easiest to get along with. Our classmates also vocalised their prayers of not being taught by the Captains of the unit. However, I heard one voice that helped me refocus my reasons for being here. "But only the best become instructors at this school. They're all super-elite. Don't you want to train under the greats?"

~~~~~~

After all the daily and special instructors had been introduced, (there were only 20), a supervisor stepped up to the platform, announcing that the ceremony was over. "New students, change into suits and report to the Monitor Room." Everyone the instruction was directed to stood in unison, all either eager to get to work or scared of being reprimanded.

"I wonder what we do in this so-called Monitor Room?" Naruko thought aloud as we shuffled out of the hall within the masses of men. "Ah, I forgot my map. I'll be there after I go get it." She showed me a clumsy smile as we parted ways, me telling her I was going to change, as instructed.

As I approached the doorway, I ran into Captain Ishigami. Avoid eye contact. If I can't see you, you can't see me, I thought to myself, trying to not look at the floor or in his general direction. However, maybe by some sort of telepathy, the captain began walking towards me. I tried to inconspicuously navigate my way through the masses and out of his way, but the boys wouldn't part. I frowned up at the back of the person that was blocking me as the instructor stopped in front of me.

"Captain! Great speech up there, sir!" Trying to play it off like I wouldn't know what he was approaching me for, I smiled to try and distract him.

"You are an officer?" His gaze turned serious, just like it had before he had started talking to me this morning, as he pushed his glasses further up his nose. "I thought I had no choice with there being only innocent people around..." He trailed off, referring to his team's interference. If it were anyone else, I would have explained that he didn't have to step in. But, by his tone, I could see I was on thin ice as it was.

"But the story changes if you're an officer. Dragging the public into a dangerous situation like that is an embarrassment." He frowned, gritting his teeth as if it was going to help him hold back.

You have no idea, I thought to myself, feeling the eyes of every person in the room watching eagerly for the first student to be kicked out of the school. I bowed in apology, thinking it best to not retaliate with how I had handled the situation.

"A passenger could have been taken hostage. Did you consider that?" He continued to frown down at me.

"That's why I disarmed him." I let the words slip without thinking, my heart racing the second I realised what I had said. I couldn't look him in the eye as I asked myself if I had just done what I had done.

"Ah, so that was you this morning." The instructor I had met in the shower room approached the situation as I felt myself turn to stone. Ishigami hadn't responded yet and I couldn't tell if it was because he had never met anyone stupid enough to talk back to him or if he was just too ticked off to respond calmly.

"You better make sure Kaga doesn't run into you, the perp we were tailing got away during that mess." Ayumu Shinonome laughed at the inconvenience.

"I wasn't aware I hindered an investigation. I'm so sorry." I gasped, bowing again as I wished I could re-do this day. It would have been better if I was hit by the train.

"Hmm, don't just apologise with your mouth..." Instructor Shinonome's tone was surprisingly stern. "I want you to take responsibility... But that was my fault too." His face was suddenly in front of mine, him having closed the distance once again.

"Responsibility?" I question, trying not to be affected by his forwardness as I took a step back. Thankfully, Ishigami stepped in between us.

"That can wait for later. Hurry up and change, then get to the Monitor Room." Either misinterpreting what Ayumu had said or wanting me to get out of his sight, the Captain allowed me to leave with all my body parts intact.

~~~~~~

In the Monitor Room, the small amount of new students looked around in awe of all the technology covering the surfaces. There was a long wall of monitors that I'm sure gave the room its name.

"Our first round of training will begin now." Ishigami caused confusion within the small crowd of students and the air grew thick with tension.

"But I thought today was just orientation?" Naruko sulked, joining in on the bewildered complaining of our classmates.

"Anyone who can't make it through this training will receive a special punishment. So look forward to it, scum." Captain Kaga smirked down at all of us. As the rest fretted over the punishment the losers could receive, I was caught on what he had called us.

"Scum?" I sighed, wondering what need he had to belittle us like that.

"Additionally, we'd like to reward those with excellent results. So please do your best." Instructor Soma, the man I saw in the dojo, seemed more joyful than the rest of his team. "Especially those who want to get ahead." Reminding us all that this school was a race that we were all competing in to become the best detectives for the Public Safety Division, Soma sounded more easy-going than the statement was. As I looked around at all the faces of classmates lighting up at the notion of progressing, I realised how career-driven they must be. They were aiming for the top.

"This is training for undercover investigations and will be done with an instructor," Ishigami spoke up again. The idea made my heart rate with excitement. Going undercover was like something out of a movie and a perfect occasion for me to show how ‘ordinary’ I can be. I had been living out of the spotlight for four years now; I would be able to continue in the shadows.

"You will be going undercover to a location designated by the instructor. This time we'll let you decide which instructor you'll pair with in order of ranking. Number one is..." Looking down at the clipboard in his hands, Ishigami's brows frowned at the name listed as the best performer in this class.

"...Atsuko Motomori." Announcing the name I had taken as my own after leaving my family, I was shocked to hear it. Even Naruko seemed confounded.

"That's amazing!" Probably thinking she had made a great friend to learn from, I quickly grew worried that my boss back in Nagano had altered my resume to make me look more appealing. I had been working in a small town, doing the most basic police work for three long years. There was no way I could hold a candle to half the people here.

Knowing about my earlier failure of not being able to look away from injustice, Ishigami stared at me in disbelief. Beside him, Shinonome bore a strangely knowing smile on his face. Looking around the room at the five instructors I had met standing before me, I couldn't help but freak out. I had the chance to work with anyone I liked and learn the years of high-stake experience they had collated.

"Motomori, who will you partner with?" Ishigami closed the book of names and held it under his arm, keeping a close eye on how I was reacting. Letting my eyes meet each one of the detectives' before me, I took in a deep breath to calm my nerves.

#her love in the force #hlitf #hlitf goto #hlitf kaga #hlitf ishigami #hlitf shinonome #hlitf shusuke #hlitf soma #hlitf hyogo #hlitf seiji #hlitf hideki #hlitf ayumu #oc #ooc #crime #mafia #mob

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banghyung · 5 years

Text

and they were roommates (s)

word count - 3k

warnings - parties, drinking, minimal drunken smut scenes, alcohol, fingering

member - Hongjoong of ATEEZ

request - “Can I request a tsundere Hongjoong (ATEEZ) angst/fluff.” and “Hey can you write smut with Hongjoong from ATEEZ?”

a/n - ok so i know that being turned on doesn’t sober you up, but let’s just pretend that in the world where you’re best friends with san and share an apartment with hongjoong that being turned on does in fact sober you up ok thanks :) ngl the angst is a little,,,, weird?? just because i knew i wanted the scene of them yelling at each other but when i went to go write it i realized that they didn’t really have much of a reason to yell at each other so i just kinda pulled something out of my ass. also,,, i know this was supposed to be posted monday but i went a little overboard with it since i was combining the two requests :))) p.s i have an interview in approx 10 hours,,, its about 5 am,,,,, and i havent slept yet soo wish me luck

You weren’t sure what you were signing up for when you agreed to share an apartment with a friend of a friend that you had never met until a few days before he moved in. What you were sure of, however, was that you were in desperate need of someone to split the rent with, and how bad could they be if you had mutual friends? You convinced yourself that, at worst, they would be messy, loud, and way too outgoing for your tastes - at best, clean, friendly, and just the right amount of social anxiety to spruce everything up. What you got? Kim Hongjoong.

“Come on,” your mutual friend, San, urged, “he can’t be that bad to live with.”

“It’s not that he’s bad to live with,” you explained, “I just don’t know how to take him.” San raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Oh come on, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Well, what do you mean? Do you not get along?”

“That’s the thing - I don’t know.”

“How do you… not know… if someone doesn’t like you,” San asked incredulously.

“He just,” you flailed your hands around, not quite sure how to word what you were trying to say.

“Oh yeah, no, I completely understand. He just,” San mocked, moving his hands in a similar fashion.

You glared at your friend, who laughed and continued to sip on the milkshake sitting in front of him. “He just, locks himself in his room constantly, which is fine I mean to each their own - but whenever I try and talk to him he either acts like I just bored him so much that he lost 5 years off of his lifespan or he just blinks at me like I’m speaking another language. I don’t think he dislikes me, and I don’t dislike him, but…”

“But you just don’t know how to take him.”

“Exactly!”

“I mean have you considered that what you’re saying is either so boring that you really are depleting his life force and/or saying something so stupid that he really does think you’re talking in another language?”

“Please, for the love of everything good in the universe, please remind me why I’m friends with you?”

“Because your life would be boring without me.” San winked. “But, I do have a class starting in, about 2 minutes ago so I better get going,” he said, getting up from his seat as if he has all the time in the world, “I’ll talk to you later, sweet cheeks.”

“Hope you don’t trip on your way!”

“I’ll do it just for you, honey bunches.” You smiled and rolled your eyes. Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you checked the time and noticed that you were almost late for your daily nap, an appointment you couldn’t afford to miss at this point in the semester. You quickly picked up your bag and began the trek home.

Walking into your apartment, you hung your keys on the rack and immediately ran to your room - not in fear of seeing your roommate, but in excitement of seeing your bed.

“Hello gorgeous,” you spoke as you flopped down onto your mattress, “I’ve missed you.”

“Do you normally talk to your bed like its your lover,” you heard a voice ask.

You whipped around, sitting up quickly as you realized who was standing in the doorway. Your mouth hung in an ‘o’ shape, starstruck by the fact that he was even talking to you, nonetheless how casual his statement was.

“I see I walked in on a very important milestone in your relationship, I’ll leave you to it, then,” Hongjoong said as he began to walk away.

You sat there for a few minutes after he walked away, your mind reeling. Months into your cohabitation and the first words he speaks to you are after hearing you gush over your bed. As expected, you though, I am an Idiot.

The commotion, or lack thereof, left you thoroughly confused. So confused that your nap time had come and passed, and you were still laying on your back, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out what you possibly could have done to make this man act so coldly towards you. Was it something you said when he first moved in? Were you too strict about cleanliness before even allowing him a chance to get settled? Did you unknowingly interrupt something that he was doing in his bedroom and he just held a secret grudge against you for it? Maybe he has a girlfriend and the fact that he’s rooming with you is causing problems with their relationship. Maybe San had hyped you up too much and Hongjoong found himself very disappointed in the person that he now has to live with until the end of the leasing contract. Maybe - you didn’t know. You were sure that you had given Hongjoong no reason to dislike you. Most of the cleaning that he did - he just did, without you having to ask him. The only words you’ve spoken to him are greetings when you see him around the flat or inquiring as to whether or not he would be going to some event held by your mutual friends, as far as you knew you were never harsh or short with him, but yet he looks at you like you’re some kind of alien species.

“Whatever,” you mumble to yourself. “Let him be this way, I could be a much worse roommate.” You finally rolled out of bed, the grumbling of your stomach the only thing keeping you from just calling it a night, and head into the kitchen. Of course, who else would you see but Mr. Judgemental, as you had decided to call him, sitting at the table with his nose buried in a book while he shovels cereal into his mouth.

Hongjoong looks up for just a second, long enough to make eye contact before looking back at his book. You steeled yourself, ready to be the cold, hard bitch you had just convinced yourself that you were. You opened your mouth, ready to start a fight, when instead you asked, “Are you going to that party San and Yunho are planning?” Hongjoong shrugged, not taking his eyes off of his book. “If you decide to go maybe we could carpool, or something. Ya know, saving the environment and all.”

“I’ll let you know,” he replied abruptly, quickly putting an end to the conversation.

“Alright,” you said awkwardly as you grab a box of cereal out of the cupboard. “Well, have a good night.” And with that you all but sprinted back into the safety of your room, only a box of cereal in hand.

Three days later and you were still rolling in self hatred over your multiple awkward encounters with Hongjoong. However, as the party that San and Yunho promised would be an “absolute rager” started in a little less than four hours, you were bound and determined to turn your luck around.

“What I need,” you said to yourself as you walked to your closet, “is a good fuck.”

You nodded to yourself, a small smile growing on your lips in anticipation of the possibilities that the night might hold. You moved over to your phone, pressing play on your favorite playlist and dancing across your room. The words of your favorite song fall out of your lips as you glide across the floor while, unbeknownst to you, your smile is mirrored on the face of your roommate as he stops shortly in front of your door and gazes upon your lightheartedness.

“You’re here,” San yells excitedly as you walk through the door, throwing his arms around you in a common drunk-San manner. Hongjoong had turned down your second offer of giving him a ride to the party, explaining that he wasn’t feeling up to the party scene, except in fewer words. You wrapped your arms around your best friend, telling him of your plan for the night.

San’s eyes lit up. “Alright then, we have work to do. Let’s go!” He grabbed your hand, pulling you to the dance floor, or the area where people seemed to be dancing. You looked warily at the people that were packed into the room, pressed against one another and spilling alcohol everywhere. “Oh stop worrying. Here, drink this.” San handed you his cup and you took a swig, your eyes watering as you struggled to swallow the disgusting liquid.

“Are you drinking straight vodka,” you asked, your throat on fire.

“No,” San yelled back, “it’s gay vodka! Have some more!”

You rolled your eyes despite the smile growing on your face, taking one more swig before handing the cup back to San. He downed the rest of the drink before grabbing your hand once more, pulling you into the throng of partygoers.

The amazing thing about parties is that reality is never quite what it seems - what feels like hours could be only minutes, and what feels like minutes have been hours. That’s how you feel when you unlock your phone for the first time since arriving and read the time: 2:38 AM. You groan inwardly, the night was escaping you and you had yet to find someone to give you what you needed. Thinking you weren’t drunk enough, you move towards the kitchen, getting into the hidden cabinet where San hides his favorite alcohol. Forgoing a cup, you pour the equivalent of at least 5 shots of vodka right down your throat and turn back to the crowd.

You weren’t sure when it started, but all you were aware of was someone’s lips drunkenly crashing into your own. You opened your eyes slightly, wondering if you had somehow made a grave mistake and wound up kissing San. The good news: you weren’t kissing San. The bad news: you definitely recognized the man who was feverishly kissing you, but you couldn’t place from where. Knowing you were too drunk to think properly, you threw yourself back into the kiss - wrapping your arms around the stranger’s neck and pulling him closer to you.

He pressed his body up against yours, pinning you to the wall as his hands moved to grab hold of your hips and pull them to his own. Your breath hitched as you felt his length against you, the anticipation of what was to come slowly pulling you out of your drunken stupor. His hands were desperate as they ran up your sides, and yours found themselves entangled in his hair.

As the kiss grew in intensity, you found yourself searching for some type of friction, and rolled your hips against his in your search. A strangled groan escaped him as he pushed you back against the wall, his lips moving to your neck and leaving wet kisses down your skin. You reached down, placing your hand against his growing bulge and stroking his length through his jeans.

Another broken groan escaped his mouth as he whispered in your ear, “Two can play at that game.” You felt his hands slide down the sides of your thighs before moving towards your heat. The man, whose identity you still were not sure of, pushed your skirt up onto your stomach, revealing the lacy underwear that you had worn for this exact occasion. He moved his head from the crook of your neck, where it had fallen as you continued to try and rub him through his jeans, as he looked down at you. “Delicious.”

Your eyes shot open at his words, and you quickly looked down at his jeans. Your hands flew to the button, desperate to rid him of the material when you felt his fingers gently ghost over you. You bit your lip in frustration as your eyes fluttered shut once more, and you heard the man laugh breathily. “I wish I could see you like this all the time,” he whispered in your ear as he lightly traced his fingers along your thighs, inching closer to where you were desperate to have him touch, but not getting close enough. “You look so adorable all desperate and worked up, I wouldn’t mind seeing this every day.”

Having enough of his teasing, your hand flew back to his hardened bulge, his pants unbuttoned but unmoved. You pushed his pants down his hips just enough to slip your hand into his boxers. He gasped loudly as you made contact with his throbbing member, and his fingers immediately pushed aside the barely-fabric of your panties and his thumb began rubbing circles onto your clit. Your eyes rolled back as he pushed a finger into you, his thumb never stopping. Your hand, which had started to haphazardly jerk him off, stuttered as your knees grew weak.

“If I knew it was this easy to get you wet I would have done this ages ago baby girl,” the man groaned, his voice hitching every few words due to your actions on his length. He pushed another finger into you, and a deep moan left your mouth. Your free hand wrapped around the man’s shoulders, pulling him closer to you.

“Do you like that?” You nodded quickly, biting your lip to keep endless moans from spilling out. “No, no, no. Let me hear you.” He moved his free hand up to your mouth and pulled your lip from between your teeth, before pressing his lips against yours. He began moving his hand faster to match your rhythm and he drank up every single noise you made.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight. Let’s just go home, hmm?”

It was then that you realized, you recognized that voice. Your eyes flew open as you went to confirm your suspicions and suddenly wished it was San that you were kissing. There, with his fingers still working magic inside of you, and your hand still jerking him off, was Kim Hongjoong.

To say that the next week was tense would be an understatement. I mean, you regained your bearings in your best friends bathroom with your hands down your roommate’s pants and his down yours. And you didn’t even get to orgasm! You both tried to avoid each other as much as possible - which wasn’t an unusual thing for the household, but now under much different circumstances.

It was going into the second week of avoidance when you finally lost your patience. You walked into the kitchen, wanting an actual meal after days of eating nothing but snacks in an effort to stay locked in your room as much as possible, and saw Hongjoong standing at the counter, preparing his own food. You quickly turned around, ready to head back to your room, when you changed your mind.

“No,” you said.

“No?” Hongjoong’s voice sounded utterly uninterested, but still teasing.

“No. This is my apartment, too. I’m not going to hide in my room until the lease is up just because you decided to shove your hands down my pants.” You turned and opened a cabinet, studying its contents.

“I did what?” Hongjoong turned towards you, looking at you like you were insane. “As far as I remember, I was just kissing you until you decided to start… to start rubbing on me!”

“Fuck you, I was drunk! I didn’t know what I was doing!”

“You think I wasn’t?”

“How the fuck should I know? I’m not your fucking nanny. And from the way you were moving I’m pretty sure you did know what the fuck you were doing.” After realizing what you just said, and pretty much admitting that Hongjoong was the source of the best fingering you had ever received, you felt your face heat up.

“I-” Hongjoong started, his mouth opening, and closing, as he struggled to find what to say in response. “I genuinely don’t even know how to respond to that.”

“Good, then just shut the fuck up!”

“I don’t know what kind of fucked up victim complex you have going on here, but like you said, I live here, too. I’m not going to put up with you yelling at me like I’m a child just because you’re frustrated that I could’ve given you the best orgasm of your life and you decided to freak out instead. Maybe you should go buy a vibrator or something, I hear their good for people who enjoy the sticks up their asses.”

“Speaking of asses,” you said, turning to face him. “You can kiss mine.”

“Fuck you. I will.”

“Fine.” You didn’t realize how close you had gotten, until you could feel his breath fan over your face. He looked down at you, not a sign of any emotion on his face, before grabbing your cheeks in his hands and pressing his lips against yours. You froze, unsure of how to react to the situation. After a few milliseconds of internal debate, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed back. Hongjoong pushed you against the counter, his arms wrapping around you and trying to bring you as close to his body as he possibly could. It was minutes before you finally broke apart, the need for air outweighing the feeling of the kiss.

“You know,” he whispered against your lips, “that was the stupidest fight I’ve ever had with anybody.”

You laughed airily before nodding your head in agreement. “You know, in the past 30 minutes you’ve spoken more to me than you have since you moved in. I really thought you hated me.”

He pulled his head away from you to look down at you incredulously. “I never hated you. Honestly, I’ve always thought you were so beautiful, from the day that San introduced us a couple days before I moved in. But you had a guy over the day after I moved in, so I took that as your way of saying that you wouldn’t want anything to do with me, and that I was just here to split the bills.”

It was your turn to look up at Hongjoong with disbelief written in your eyes. “So you’re telling me this entire time I could’ve been having amazing orgasms and not feeling awkward in my own home if I would’ve just clarified that I wasn’t implying anything with that one night stand?”

“Well, the blame is partially mine, too. I was definitely being oversensitive, there was no reason for me to act the way I have these past couple of months. But-”

“But?”

“But, I’m not a ‘no strings attached’ kind of person.”

“What do you mean?”

“Either you get the annoying, clingy side of me along with the amazing orgasms, or none of it.”

“Well,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind that 2-for-1 deal.”

Hongjoong smiled down at you before picking you up and carrying you to your room. “Now,” he began, “how about I give you that fuck you’ve been needing?”

Your face immediately warmed. “You heard me?”

“Absolutely, it was adorable. Now, should we begin?”

#mine #request #banghyung.txt #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez angst #ateez fluff #hongjoong smut #hongjoong angst #hongjoong fluff #kpop smut #kpop angst #kpop imagine #hongjoong imagine #kim hongjoong #ateez #atz

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c-atm · 4 years

Text

Dere

Ok..Venom?"

"Marvel Venom..or Guilty Gear Venom?"

Steven looked at Connie quizzically, arching an eyebrow. He pursed his lips self-deliberation.

"Guilty."

"Yandere...Completely. He tried to kill Milia over Zato's dead body."

"Pssh! That's not how it went and you know it."

Connie wagged her finger while clicking her tongue. "Subtext Mister. Subtext...You don't believe it was just because Milia killed him now…"

"Venom didn’t try to kill Milia for Zato when he was alive. Doesn't sound yandere-ish to me, just complete and utter loyalty to Zato”

“Uh-huh, live in your denial Bisky...We all know the truth. All you need to do is play his story mode and read the ‘Night of Knives’ LN.”

It was another peaceful day in era-3. Within Steven’s home, Connie(Heart Berry) and Steven(Mister) were laying face up on his bed, enjoying the lazy sunday afternoon. Hands intertwined as they played a little game, where they named a character from any type of media and decided what type of 'Derek's they were. It was stupid, senseless, humorfilled fun and they enjoyed it so much.

Steven shrugged with a smug smirk. “I don’t agree but, since i’m such a nice guy, I’ll let you have that.”

“In other words you have no retort..” Connie shrugged with a smug chuckle. “But I'll take the W.” She pursed her lips in thought as she tried to come up with a character. “Wizemen.”

“From underneath the overpass?”

“Yuppers.”

Steven kissed his teeth before smirking. “Total tsun, you know this..We agreed on this when we reread the series. Especially with prophet Kyle...He was always one line away from the classic ‘baka’ line.”

Connie wavered her hand as she sucked in a breath. “I concur, but he did threaten lady Aqulia with live embalming more than once. That's more of the yandere side of the die.”

“But Aqulia was a damn psycho to begin with..She’s the yandere. He was just protective.”

“Oh yeah, no doubt. She actually made good on some of her threats.”

“Yeah, she’s completely nutso.”

Connie looked at Steven, his tone of voice was not mocking but almost appreciative. She raised an eyebrow.and hummed suspiciously, catching Steven attention. He arched his left eyebrow, seeing that impish glint in her black eyes.

“What’s up Heart Berry? You look like you’re scheming something.”

“I’m curious Mister,” She let out a playfully accusatory chuckle while poking his cheek. ”Name your top three fictional crushes.”

Steven's eyes widen at the sudden command. “What? Why?”

Connie kissed her teeth and rolled her eyes as she layed on her side. Her hand now teasing his chin whiskers. “Just trying to find something out. Now come on, out with it. What fictional person did you have the hots for?”

Steven narrowed his eyes before pointing at her. “ No judgement?”

“No, painful judgements..I still withhold my right to give opinions.”

Steven rubbed his chin before giving Conie forehead a kiss, making her smile just a bit. “Deal.”

Connie bounced her shoulder up and down waiting anxiously.

Steven shook his head before he listed the first three names to hit his mind.

“Rena Ryuga, Yuno gasai, Anna..”

Connie looked at him wide eyed before falling into gigge. “OH my stars..You have a yandere fetish!”

“You said no judgement!”

[[MORE]]

“I’m not ..PFFT!... I’m not.hahaha.” Connie took a deep breath trying to calm down..before breaking out again in laughter again. ”It’s so off-base Bisky! I can’t see the connect here...I thought you were more of a ‘dere-dere' fan with how schmaltzy you are.”

Steven kissed his teeth before smirking. He lifted his left index finger up and pursed his lips. “Look, I love all ‘dere’ types, ok..I don’t discriminate.”

Connie side-eyed at her Mister retort, Her lips held in tight accusations. “Off the top of that curly dome of yours came three yandere names..One of them being queen yandere herself. So don’t spit any lies about you being indiscrimative, when you obviously have a type.”

Seven chuckled as he shook his head. “No, no, not gonna admit to that.”

“It’s ok..You like crazy female characters, everyone has their types.” She reassured with an impish grin, her hands up in surrender, before placing her hands on top of her head. “But really...Yanderes? Where did this fetish come from?!” Connie laughed, still trying to keep her mirth low.

“Ok. First it’s not a fetish...It’s a preference and not even in my top three.” Steven corrected

“It’s a fetish, Bisky.” Connie retorted with a smirk.

“Second, Have you seen the people I grew up with...The people I was raised by, the women in my family. With the exception of Amethyst and Peridot, each and everyone of them have yandere-like tendencies. I was conditioned.”

Connie snorted at his playful puppy eyed look, tapping him in the chest giving him a jesterly captious look.

“Yeah sure, blame the gems for your type.”

“It’s true!.” Steven offered. “Think about it. Ruby and Sapphire are so crazy about each other, they decided to literally exist as one person to the end of time. Pearl did everything and anything out of love from my mother. Not to mentioned the whole ‘fight a fucking war’ in her name thing."

Connie arched her eyebrow in incredulity. "You believe Garnet is the perfect example of eternal love."

Steven smacked his chest, smirking at his Heart Berry ."And I'm not denying that...I'm saying Ruby and Sapphire would shatter for one another and could be obsessive when it comes to the other...Obsessive to the point of not being able to operate. Do I need to tell you about the baseball game again?"

Connie squinted her eyes and squeezed her lips tight letting out a small growl, before nodding in resignation. "Ok...You got that."

"Thank you...Do I need to explain Pearl?"

Connie let use a dry chuckle holding her hand up ."No need. I will take your word…"

"Again, thank you."

"Though it does bring up a question?"

"Which is?"

Connie sighed hands on her cheek. "Do I have yandere tendencies? Am I also a reason for your yandere fetish?"

She watched as Steven's face went blank and doe-eyed, before he snickered, chuckled and belly laugh. The sight of her Mister happiness made her heart warm and fueled her with pride, as it always did.

She pouted playfully, with her arms crossed. "Hey, it's a legitimate question."

Steven only laughed harder before sitting her across his hips. His hands on her own as he looked up at her. Still snickering, this time at her cute pout.

"I don't think you have yandere tendencies, though some of the things you’ve done are crazy..."

"Hey!"

He laughed as she slapped his stomach with a smile.

"Come on, tell me I'm wrong. Back talking the diamonds, taking on monsters, leaping from Lion to try to stab blue and again to belly flop on my snout just to give me a kiss…Actually now that I think about it.. You've got them. The aspects of yandere that I find attractive.”

Connie grinned in jest crossing her arms across her stomach. "Oh and what are those? the violent outburst, the obsessive behavior. "

“I mean, you are a little firecracker.”

Connie pointed at his smug smirking face, waving her index finger with a small blaze in her eye. “Boy, watch it or i’ll show you how yandere i can really be.”

“Promise?”

A teasing grin enveloped the woman's face. “You’re pushing it.” She shook her head, her nose flared a bit as she exhaled in jovial impatience.” So..Those aspects?”

He arched his eyebrow and he rubbed his chin. "Thoooose aspects."

"Yes! Speak or I'm taking your tongue."

"Then silence works in my favor."

Connie smirked impishly. "You would think so, but you don't know the reward for your compliance. Besides never said it would be with my own."

"Is there any other way?"

"I could always hold it between my thumb and index." She pressed the digits tips together a couple of times in demonstration.

"We both know you'd prefer an oral operation. So, Nehh! Ack!"

Connie watched with mild amusement at Steven's surprised squawk as she snatched and held his tongue with her left thumb and Index.

"Aspects."

"Well, I can't verily tell you with my tongue captive now, can I?" His words were muffled but still comprehensible. He wiggled his tongue after she released it, going through dramatic and exaggerated jaw exercises.

Connie kissed her teeth but couldn't help the smile on her face. "Oh come on! I didn't even hold it for a minute, Steven."

"My tongue is very sensitive, thank you." Steven retorted as he continued his antics.

"Big baby."

"Oh, ouch. My pride."

The two playfully and giggly sneered at each other, before Steven reached up to stroke her cheek.

“You’re sweet, protective, caring, dependable.”

Connie nodded as she slowly snuggled into his palm.“That’s the ‘Dere’ side.”

“Focus, cunning, calculative, dangerous,”

She gave him a playfully ‘dark’ grin. “That’s the ‘Yan’, I suppose, hehe.I”

“Seductive, amorous, bewitching.”

Connie pressed the tip of his nose with her index finger, before trailing it down to his lips, hovering it a millimeter a way. “See now, you’re trying to butter me up.” She gave him a chuckle before kissing his palm and giving him a half-lidded smile. “Continue though.”

Steven chortled at the gentle instruction. “You’re quite unpredictable at times,and quite commanding....Actually, you might be more Kamidere/ Mayadere mix.”

“Ok, You know...I’ll accept the Mayadere classification. That’s fine but, Kamidere? I’m not that brash and you’re just being a punk.” Connie retorted as she flipped his bottom lips a few times.

“EY! Kahanni Maheswaren, ‘Story of the lord of the universe’. Your name is the perfect title for a Kamidere manga. Really couldn’t blame you if you did have a bit of a complex.”

“Kiss your lord finger. Show the proper respect.”

Steven scoffed a laugh at the faux haughtiness of Connie's statement, the waving of her finger above his lips, and her cheshire smirk.

“Such a teasing lord I follow.” With a husky breath he complied thrice, getting a blushing giggle from her.

“Maybe, but I'm also very rewarding towards my most dutiful subjects.”

Steven arched an eyebrow before giving her hand another kiss “Really now, my little Teasedere.”

“Teasedere now, huh? First, I’m a yandere, then a kami/mayadere mix...Now i’m a teasedere.” She leaned down a bit closer. “Are you just listing off your ‘preferences’ now?”

“You wanted to know them and I only said you were a teasedere.”

“You stated I had aspects of the others.”

Steven shrugged. “They’re your sub-categories.”

“Sub-categories, he says!” Connie laughed at his smug jesterly look. “You are on top of your game today. Hitting me with zinger after zinger.” She nodded her head, clapping her hands together. “I respect that, Mister.” She chuckled again before sighing. “Making me sound like I'm a multi-class RPG character or something. Sub-categories..Cute.”

“It is my middle name after all.”

“Your third one right, Cutie-pie? ”

Steven slightly shivered at the seductive tone of his middle name through her lips.

“So.. What about you? Mr. Universe.” She bit her lip as she traced her index on his chest. “Where do you fall in the ‘Dere’ spectrum?”

“Come on. I’m so Conndere with sub in deredere and teasedere.”

“Conndere huh? Aren’t you being extra charming today.”

“Well…” Steven pulled her down a bit closer, a certain smile and glint in his eyes “Just being a dutiful follower.”

Connie teasing ran her thumb upon his bottom lip. “Trying to get a reward, Bisky?’

Steven nodded playfully before giving the thumb a kiss. “I think I deserve it.”

Connie gave him a quick peck before sitting back up. “Don’t you tell anyone I did this.”

Steven watched as she took a deep breath trying to ease the embarrassed blush on her face.

Connie closed her eyes, as she held her face in her hands slightly pushing up against her jaw. Both her pinky fingers and her left ring finger on her cheeks. Her right ring and both her middle fingers standing up. Her index fingers resting against her temples gently. She parted her lips slightly as she opened her eyes looking down giving him a lovestruck and slightly faraway look.

“ It’ll be alright Steven. Connie will protect you. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

Her voice was breathly laced in adoration, inflexibility and a bit of insane obsession. She watched as his face turned red as his breathing became haggard. She smiled gently with eyes still holding the same faraway look as she leaned down to his ear and whispered to him in the same tone.

“Your Heart Berry will always protect her Mister.” She heard him very quickly groan as he breathed through flared nostrils and bit his lip.

“I’ll love you and only you, forever Bisky.”

“TEASEDERE OF A MINX!”

“Uh-oh!”

Connie screamed out a laugh as Steven sat up, rolled over and pinned her under him.

“Was it too muuu-” She was interrupted by him nipping at her collarbone, causing her to sigh and moan through the laughter as her hands.found his upper back and stroke the back Of his curly haired skull; her knees squeezed against his sides keeping him in place.

“Told you...Hhmmh! It was a fetish.”

Her breathless teasing got him to break away from her neck. He rested her head against her and looked at her straight into her eyes before speaking very coolly and with a trace of authority.

“Tease me again.”

The unvocalize challenge was heard as loud as a blow horn.

““Feeeettttii-MMMM~MMM!” Her song of a taunt was cut short as he kissed her heatedly, His tongue twisting with as they held and pressed against each other, making her melt under him.

Needless to say, their game and discussion would be on hold for the time being.

#connie maheswaran #steven universe #connverse #steven and connie #older steven #older connie #steven universe fanfiction #connverse fanfic #flirty fighting #fighting flirty #one-shot #jambudsweek2020 #mister and heart berry #they're in love with each other though. baefriends #they're single but only mess with each other #Pre-character select #weebs discussing weeb things #Connie can be a yander when she wants to.#But they both are Teasedere to the the core

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itsomgitsgreenblogging · 4 years

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Pour Over Me: A Critical Role Fanfic

All of the props for this idea goes to the Essek Fanclub Server, where it was discussed that drow TANGO. Which, obviously, of course, leads to me writing a fic where Essek prepares the Mighty Nein for a formal ball. With all of the political intrigue and yearning that comes with that. I know about nothing about the tango, so, just bear with me lol.

Also Essek isn’t a traitor. I know that because I love him.

Enjoy!

Read on AO3

Preview:

"If you wouldn't mind?" Essek asked, offering his hand. Caleb took it after a single moment's hesitation. Without his levitation spell, Caleb was a few inches taller than him. Essek had to look up to meet his gaze, and the way it felt to see his blue eyes glinting at this angle from the lantern-light pulled at something low and deep inside of him. "I'll lead this time, and then next time I'll follow."

“Skysybil,” the Bright Queen called. Essek watched the ancient goblin hobble forward, her large knotted cane tapping in front of her. As always, she appeared tiny in the massive space of the Queen’s Cathedral. She was made somehow smaller by the pulsing light of the beacon. But part of that was most likely by the Bright Queen’s prudent design. If she were not larger than life, what would she be?

“Yes, my Queen?”

“Tell me, how do the preparations for the Day of Radiance fair?” the Bright Queen asked thoughtfully.

"The Clerics of the Luxon have prepared for the Mass and have readied the necessary components to temporarily take down the night, and release the light," Skysybil reported. "The Guilds have, as always, been preparing for the Parade of Lanterns. In terms of the Illumination Ball, the staff of the palace continue their work on schedule. The ballroom itself is almost complete."

"Good. Essek?"

"Yes, my Queen?" Essek asked stepping forward from his place and bowing his head in deference to her.

"Have the Mighty Nein invited to the Illumination Ball. I will place them on the list and have formal invitations drawn up, though I will entrust you to deliver them."

"Of course, your majesty," Essek said with a nod. "Should they be in need of any formal wear, shall I leave it to them, or should I place it in Royal or Theylss accounts?"

"Oh, please do supervise those choices and I'll have my finance advisor speak with you on it and give you a budget. I shall not have heroes of the Dynasty appearing in my ballroom in leather halters...again."

There was a rumble of chuckles, and Essek was about to step back into his shadows when another voice rose up from the crowd of courtiers and nobility.

"We will be inviting the Mighty Nein to the Illumination Ball?"

One of the other courtiers, an old stuffy fellow from Den Dwendalios asked the question. Escar was his name. A slippery individual, one of the types that Essek felt was best compared to a snake slipping through the cracks of a garden gate. He didn’t know why he was even one of the Bright Queen’s courtiers, though, Essek was sure the other courtiers would have something to say if he was uninvited to meetings. The other nobility liked him for the same reason they liked war, he kept them rich and comfortable.

"They were instrumental to the returning of our beacon, so we could have a more glorious Day of Radiance," the Bright Queen said, eyeing Escar with a certain displeasure that even Essek felt. The courtier bowed even deeper if it were possible.

"I meant no disrespect, your majesty. Only that they will not know our customs or our dances. Surely they would feel more comfortable at the festivities with the rest of the city," Escar said, steepling his fingers sounding oh so understanding and so very accommodating. What a joke, Essek thought.

"They may of course decline the invitation," the Bright Queen said, though of course everyone knew you did not decline an invitation from their queen. "But I believe that it is important to invite them."

"As my Queen commands, I shall see them fully prepared for the Ball," Essek promised, cutting in to conversation boldly. He leveled a smile at Escar that flashed his teeth. Escar's shoulders tensed, and he refused to look towards Essek. The Bright Queen’s lips quirked up in a small smile.

"I shall leave the issue in your capable hands," the Bright Queen said, acknowledging Essek once more.

"Thank you, your majesty," Essek said, and then returned to his spot at her side.

The rest of the meeting unfolded in a similar fashion as usual. Essek already had been briefed on most of the information but it was always good for a refresher. Movements of the Echo Knights and war efforts lost in the jumble of excited preparation for the Illumination Ball. If people weren't itching to fight a war, they were itching to party. He supposed the urge to galavant about in pretty evening attire and show off was universal, even he wasn't immune to it. He had ordered his own clothing and knew shoes two months ago.

How the Mighty Nein would respond to it? Essek had no idea. Interacting with them was often like interacting with a barrel of black powder with a candle in your hand and an oil lamp spilled on the floor. You never knew what would be the thing to set them off.

The thought was on his mind as he was caught by a troop of marauding courtiers after the meeting. Escar was leading the bunch, a characteristic scowl upon his face. They all stopped as he did, like a flock of perturbed birds awaiting the nearest excuse to take off into flight.

"Lord Shadowhand," Escar said, voice dripping with saccharin concern. "We cannot be seriously considering allowing a band of mercenaries to join us on such a momentous occasion?"

"Our Queen is the one who has decided. I know that you are not questioning her judgement," Essek asked, eyebrow raised, looking down at him from where he floated.

"Many of us are concerned that...personal attachments are getting in the way of clear-headed decision making," Escar said with his conniving sneer, motioning to the six or so nobles behind him.. "You are powerful and talented, but also young Shadowhand. It would be best for you not to take on more than you can handle."

"Thank you kindly for your consideration," Essek said with his best smile. "But I shall endeavor to do all my Queen commands me, for if she believed I am up to the challenge then certainly I am. That is why she chose me over your daughter, after all."

Escar's face when a delightful shade of maroon, his ears perked up at the challenge like an angry moorbounder sensing a challenge.

"You…!"

"Essek," Essek heard his Denmother call to him. The nobility froze. Escar’s face drained of the extraordinary color of his anger as he saw Lady Theylss in all of her glory. All of them bowed to her, and she smiled pleasantly. Essek, seeing an out when it was offered, smiled back at her.

"Forgive me, gentleman, I will have to take my leave," Essek said, bowing his head and then floating off to meet his Denmother. He offered his arm to her, and she took it. Even floating, she was still a whisper taller than he was.

"I believe I am owed some gratitude," his Denmother said, giving the group of courtiers a lovely smile before they began to walk the round about the courtyard.

"Thank you, Mother," Essek said. "You did truly save me back there."

"Hardly worth your time," his Denmother stated flippantly, watching servants who immediately paused in their work to bow or curtsy before her. Essek resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Of that I'm not so sure," Essek sighed unable to help the tiredness that crept into his voice. He realized his mistake a moment too late.

"You are sure," his Denmother said, voice cold, her fingers like cold iron upon his arm. "You have no room to be anything else. You are a Theylss, and a Theylss never bows to anyone. It would do you well to remember that simple lesson."

"Yes, of course," Essek said automatically, looking forward with his chin high. Because she was right of course. He was Essek Theylss and whoever Essek was had to be perfect. There was no room for error. He would accomplish everything because of course he was good enough to. He had to. He had no other choice.

"And you will of course show those no good upstarts what you are capable of," she stated, patting his arm in the charade of warmth, breaking into his thoughts as if she had placed them there. "If you need assistance I can always request your sister to come and help you."

Her tone was so sweet and cloying he was almost surprised her teeth didn't rot from her head. If you can't do it, we'll find someone who can, was the words carried beneath her sigh. If you aren't capable of doing this, you are worthless to me, is what she didn't say but Essek heard echoing in his ears. It had scared him, when he was young. But now, it was simply an inevitability.

"As always, I appreciate your thoughtfulness. But I believe it will be wholly unnecessary, I am capable of such a small task."

"Very well," she said simply, putting the issue to rest.

Essek, unfortunately, wasn't so sure.

----

Arriving at the Xhorhaus was an exercise in caution most days. Essek simply never knew what to expect when he arrived at their front doorstep. However, he wasn't expecting to nearly get run over by Fjord and Jester tumbling out of the door and spilling onto the cobblestone road. Essek stepped out of the way just in time, and flashed an apologetic look to the neighbors. As soon as they saw the chaos, the family quickly disappeared inside their home.

"Essek!" Jester gasped, sounding oh so delighted to see him. She waved her arms flailing about a green slime like substance. "We made sliiiiiime!"

"And Nott got it all over me!" Fjord grumbled indignantly, picking at his shirt unhappily. "This is almost as bad as the centipolt!"

"What is a centipolt?" Essek asked curiously.

"A thing that shoot centipedes real far," Jester said in her sing-songy tone, miming the action like a slingshot. "A kobold we knew invented it!"

"Did we really know him if he died thirty minutes later?" Fjord asked pensively.

"We met him in his prime!"

"Sure," Fjord said, not sounding convinced. He shook that off quickly. "Anyways, what are you doing here Essek? I'm assuming you aren't here for slime?"

"That I am not," Essek said, waving his hands in the somatic gesture of prestidigitation. With both Fjord and Jester now unslimed, he folded his hands before him. "I am here to discuss something of equal importance however. If you are all here, I would like a bit of your time."

"Of course!" Jester trilled, before she opened the door. Essek followed them both inside.

The house itself was a bit of a chaotic mess. But more in the way of how a place felt after coming back from a trip. Things were stacked haphazardly, hanging from any corner, half opened satchels were on the floor as well as a few splotches of the aforementioned slime. This was of course punctuated by the chiming of the bells by the door in a loud clanging noise. But it seemed more lived in every time he came to the home, and that filled him with a strange emotion that he couldn’t name.

"Essek is here!" Fjord called.

"Hello!" Caduceus said in his usual deep congenial voice. He was sitting next to Yasha with a mug in hand, who was flipping through a book. Though she didn't smile, her expression softened. Neither of them were slimed as it were, but looked oddly at ease despite the chaos around.

"Essek is here?" Beau asked, popping her head in from a different room. Currently she was toweling her hair, probably recovering from the slime incident. “Hey Essek. Caleb, Nott, get your asses up here!”

Nott and Caleb appeared next. Nott seemed generally unhappy as she batted her wet hair away with clawed fingers. Caleb on the other hand looked refreshed, a warm. His skin having taken on an attractive pink hue from the heat of their bath, his hair a darker shade. Essek forced himself to tear his gaze away from the curve of his neck, the way a stray droplet of water traced its way to his collarbone. He certainly did not think of how his skin would smell, or how wonderful it would be to brush his fingers through his hair.

“Good day,” Essek said with a nod of his head. In the pocket of his sleeve he produced the invitations and held them out to Jester, who was closest to him. With a certain level of flare and a twirl she distributed them to the Nein before cooing over her own. “I will not take too much of your time. I am here today to officially invite you all to the Illumination Ball, which will take place during the Day of Radiance two weeks and three days from now.”

“A ball?” Jester asked, delighted. She grabbed Caleb by the hands and began to spin with him before skipping one or two steps. “With dancing and socializing and pretty dresses!”

“Yes, that’s usually what a ball means,” Caleb said, with an endeared smile as he shook his head as if to relieve his dizziness. The motion was endearing, just as how almost everything he did was endearing. Or unfairly attractive. But it didn’t affect Essek obviously.

“That sounds so nice,” Caduceus hummed.

“Is there fighting at these kinds of events?” Yasha asked, and though Essek might have thought she was being sarcastic, her quiet inquisitive tone showed otherwise.

“No, but there’ll probably be fucking,” Nott pointed out.

“What the fuck?” Fjord asked, looking flustered.

“People dress up nicely to show off and get laid, duh!”

“All that aside why the fuck would they invite us to a fancy ball?” Beauregard asked, squinting at the invitation like it may bite her.

“As heroes of the Dynasty, and who returned the beacon that we celebrate on this day, the Bright Queen has personally requested your presence,” Essek explained, clasping his hands behind him. “I have also been tasked with ensuring your preparation for this event, in terms of clothing and etiquette.”

“Wait, first, what’s the Day of Radiance?” Caduceus asked curiously.

“I believe I mentioned before that on occasion, the sun is allowed to shine in Rosohna? The Day of Radiance is a religious festival that marks one such occasion,” Essek explained. “It is an extremely festive time for us, there is a parade and general frivolity in the streets during the daylight. The Cathedral of the Bright Queen hosts the Illumination Ball after sunset.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Caduceus said.

“What etiquette would we have to acquire for this event?” Caleb asked worriedly.

“Everyone who attends the Illumination Ball is expected to participate in the Opening Dance,” Essek said. “Though I am unsure of if any among you have had formal dance training?”

“I have! My Mama had tutors teach me,” Jester said, raising her hand excitedly.

“I have also had some dance training...though it was a long time ago,” Caleb admitted, and Essek filed that piece of information away for later. It would benefit spies to be able to assimilate into events with nobility. He would have to have a shadow of his look up more information on this.

“Caleb and I danced a waltz once!” Jester said excitedly. “He was really drunk, but he was good at it!”

“I am unfamiliar with that kind of dance,” Essek said, his intellectual curiosity getting the better of him. “Is it from the Empire?”

“Yes,” Caleb answered. “It’s an old Zemnian form of dance.”

“Well, do keep in mind that it may be different then our dancing. You all will only have to learn the steps of the opening dance, after all. Besides that, a rush order has already been placed with the palace tailor. You will all have to go and get measured.”

“That’s awfully generous of you,” Fjord noted.

“Her Majesty simply wishes for you to join in the celebration, She shall take care of everything else,” Essek said with his usual placid smile.

“Wait...are you going to be teaching us the opening dance?” Caduceus asked.

“That was what Her Majesty intended.”

“This will be so fun!” Jester said, nearly hopping with excitement.

Or a disaster, Essek thought but didn’t say.

----

The day after the invitations were delivered were full of activity. The Mighty Nein went to the court tailor and by that he meant they tortured the court tailor in the way that only the Mighty Nein knew how. By the end of the appointment when he went to collect them, his room had been rearranged, some important spools of thread stolen, and the tailor had been in tears. He had told Essek, with tears in his eyes, how he brave he was to deal with them. Essek hadn’t asked what had happened. Though at some point he would be certain to. Not that he was really sure he wanted to know the answer to his questions.

The Mighty Nein had all appeared in the Cathedral of the Bright Queen at the appointed time. The servants had taken a break for this hour, giving them enough space in the ballroom to practice with so many people. Essek was thankful to the Luxon for the privacy...since he had know idea what he would be working with. And considering the sometimes utterly chaotic actions the Mighty Nein took, it was probably better that he took on the risk alone.

“In the tango there are two distinct parts, the leader and the follower. It is extremely important that though the follower may feel the urge to step into the lead, that they allow the leader to fulfill their role,” Essek explained, unhooking his mantle from his shoulders. He was startled when Nott screamed as he settled it off on a chair. "What?"

"You took off your clothes!" Nott screeched.

"I'm still wearing clothes," Essek said deadpanned, motioning to his high-neck slate-grey tunic and black pants. In fact he had taken care to choose clothing that would preserve his sense of modesty. Essek didn’t like showing skin for a variety of reasons. There was nothing wrong with showing skin, of course. If anything he knew he was handsome and desirable and he could use his good looks to his advantage, and he had done so in his youth. But Essek also knew better than most that the roles one played were often helped by one’s appearance. If he appeared untouchable, then he was untouchable. It was as easy as that.

"I thought the mantle was like a part of your skin, or that you had really big shoulders," Nott admitted before suddenly pivoting to look at him again. "But wait! Aren't you shorter than usual?"

"Using my levitation magic would defeat the purpose of this exercise," Essek explained, pulling his gloves more firmly on. "Now? If you don't mind?"

Nott continued to look at him suspiciously as he took his spot in the center of the room. He resisted the urge to sigh or chafe under the sensation of everyone staring at him, but especially Caleb. He could nearly feel his eyes digging into the back of his neck, causing his skin to tingle in a somewhat unpleasant manner. He was so self aware at that moment that he wished he could disappear into the shadows, back under his mantle, anywhere but out in the open feeling so exposed. But there were things more important than his dignity, the Bright Queen's orders being one of them.

"I will teach you all the leading and following steps to the dance. In total there are eight steps…"

Essek took them all through the steps multiple times. To his surprise, Beau and Nott both caught on to the rhythm quickly, as did Caleb who obviously did have some dancing training under his belt. Jester, though she got the steps, seemed determined to add extra spins any place she could. Fjord was as stiff as a board, despite Beau attempting to help him. Caduceus would get the steps and then trip over his long legs, where as Yasha seemingly had no sense of rhythm but was happy to follow along with Jester in extra spins.

"Very good," Essek said, noting this was probably the best they would do for today and endeavoring to keep going. "I believe it's time to partner up. I will demonstrate first, if someone is--"

Suddenly Beau gave Caleb's back a hard whack and forced him forward. Caleb began to cough, and looked back at Beau with an inscrutable expression. After a moment he raised his hand sheepishly. The rest of the Mighty Nein shared a look Essek didn't understand.

"Ja--yes," Caleb stuttered, his fingers curled upon his hand. Even through his glove, Essek could feel the warmth branding him, making him light headed. But he wasn't affected, he told himself firmly. Obviously. This was just a dance, a formality, nothing more or less.

"Very well," Essek said, schooling his tone into something polite and calm and acceptable. "First, place your other hand on the back of my shoulder. My hand is going to go on the small of your back."

Caleb nodded a tiny jerky nod. And then Essek placed his hand upon the small of Caleb's back, leaning him back, pressing them chest to chest, Essek’s face finding the hollow of his neck and a breath’s space from his cheek. Immediately Caleb's face went a delicious shade of red, and Essek watched it crawl from his cheeks to the tips of his ears and down his neck. He wondered if all humans had such a delightful and attractive affliction.

"You're close," Caleb gasped, sounding like he was choking on his own tongue.

"Of course, this is the proper position," Essek explained, grateful for all of his years of court training, his Denmother's critical glares, and the Bright Queen's company because he didn't tremble. He didn't stutter or tremble. All of this was in spite of the fact that the only thing he desired was to feel Caleb's body poured over him like this for the rest of eternity. He was so warm that he could feel it beneath all of his layers, in fact, they may as well have been chest to chest...skin to skin. And that line of thought was just enough to make Essek dizzy, to wish he could lean forward and kiss--

"Is this meant to be a sexy dance?" Jester asked, sounding delighted. It broke Essek out of his strange revelry.

"If by sexy you mean passionate and elegant, then yes," Essek said. Essek caught Caleb's gaze, felt his composure falter for a moment because had he always looked so lovely in the light? With the way loose strands of hair framed his face? It truly wasn’t fair. But no...no. He was in control. "Let us begin then."

Essek took them through the first round of steps, but where Caleb before had been precise and had been doing well with the rhythm and the sway of the slow-slow-quick-quick-slow. However, now it was as if Essek was dancing with a creature made of iron. In fact, he could almost feel Caleb creaking in his arms with the tension. Was it so uncomfortable to dance with him? Essek thought. Or...perhaps? But no, he couldn’t think such traitorous thoughts. Not when Caleb was in his arms.

He had the others pair up after first demonstrating the lead. Nott and Jester did a rather impressively exuberant performance, ending with a flourish of Jester nearly jettisoning Nott up and catching her as they both laughed maniacally. Fjord and Beau both snickered as the danced, before Fjord haphazardly flung Beau into Yasha’s arms. Immediately both women flushed, and began doing the most innocent and haltingly sweet tango Essek had ever witnessed. Fjord and Caduceus finished the pairings, Fjord doing his best to help correct Caduceus’ steps, while Caduceus smiled warmly at Fjord.

Essek however, after a short break, took up dancing with Caleb yet again. This time though, with the others in the Mighty Nein busy, he felt oddly assured of himself. He squeezed Caleb’s hand to catch his attention as they continued their dance.

“Would it make you more comfortable to switch? I shall follow and you can lead?”

“Um...uh, ja, whatever you would like,” Caleb said, before Essek moved his arm to his lower back. Essek arched it, and pressed close, because this was what you did when you tangoed and for no other selfish reason. He was rewarded with an intake of breath that felt like a victory.

“I don’t bite,” Essek told him as they quick turned. “Relax, Widogast.”

“I just...this is very different than the kind of dancing I am used to,” Caleb admitted with a shy smile, and to his credit Essek could feel him attempt to unwind some of his tension. “Much more...intimate?”

“Isn’t that what dancing is supposed to be?” Essek asked, face close enough that they could share these secrets and he could smell wood-fire on Caleb’s skin. If he just tipped his head up so slightly…

He waited for the pause in the dragging of Caleb’s leg, before with a flourish he brushed his leg up against Caleb’s.

“Surely those of the Empire must know that,” Essek said, his heels clicking back into place. “Otherwise it simply can’t compare.”

“No, it can’t,” Caleb said, voice low and hushed and for the first time, he led them into a turn that felt natural and confident.

Essek had the acute feeling he wasn’t talking about dancing.

Essek was nearly tingling with the touch throughout the rest of his day. Through the daily report meetings, and his assignments with the Shadows, and even in his personal daily audience with the Bright Queen herself. It hadn’t gone away by the time he returned to his home. But when he walked to his front door, he immediately knew that something was different and it chilled that wonderful-lovely feeling and stilled it beneath his skin. The windows were just too bright, there was the shadow of too much activity. Gritting his teeth, he opened the door, his hand up and prepared to cast.

His servant Amald immediately rushed to the door looking breathless and harried as he managed to stutter out, “my lord, good evening!”

“What is happening?” Essek demanded, turning the corner to his living room. He immediately saw her. The snow-white-skinned tiefling continued to lie down upon his chaise, dressed in a violet velvet gown that clung to everything, her fur stole arranged over her shoulders. Upon his table there were two wine glasses, a lit candle, and an opened bottle of his wine chilling in ice.

“Essek, my dearest, don’t look so dour,” she said, holding out her hand. One of his other servants, Hadise quickly placed a tray of refreshments down, giving Essek a desperate look before quickly scurrying back with Amald. “Finally! Come, say hello to your favorite sister. I hope you don’t mind that I broke into your good vintages.”

“Adore,” Essek sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Haven’t you anything better to do than to torture my servants and burst into my house without invitation?”

“You are too lenient on them,” Adore said sitting up, tapping claws against the wine glass as she set it down. “Besides, is this how you treat me? I came all this way to see you.”

“You came here to attend the Illumination Ball,” Essek scoffed before looking around. “Where’s your husband?”

“Oh, he’s sleeping off the trip at home,” Adore said, standing up. She inspected the mantle of the fireplace, admired his crystal roses and spun his preserved world globe. “I wanted to see you, and this was the only time I could think to catch you. When these kinds of events come up, you are normally holed up somewhere. Remember when Uralin had to go and collect you for your own personal address before the counsel?”

“How could I forget,” Essek said coldly. “He broke my favorite writing desk.”

“Our eldest brother forgets his own strength,” Adore laughed breezily, as she paused before the mirror and inspected her appearance. Her white-gold hair was pulled back into a slick chignon that was meant to emphasize her decorated horns, there wasn’t a hair out of place though she appeared to brush at it. “He was relatively new to the minotaur body at that point. But that’s besides the point, can you imagine my surprise when I heard that not only are you not hiding in some musty dusty corner somewhere, but that you actively preparing the Heroes of the Dynasty for the event? I just had to know more.”

“What is there to know? I’m sure you have coaxed the words out of every passerby since coming to the capitol.”

“I do sing a very convincing song,” she said with a coquettish grin. “Don’t I, Essek?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Essek pointed out coldly.

“Yes, yes. Immune to my charms, I know. You have your particular tastes.”

“Tell me, really, what are you here for?” Essek asked her as he sat down. He filled his own glass with his wine, swirling it carefully. “We both know that these niceties do not suit you, and I assume you are not here to interrogate me about my sex life.”

“I think most would say the contrary for a variety of reasons, though, niceties are what you do best,” Adore pointed out, taking her seat and leaning against her hand as her elbow balanced upon the armrest. “And though your sex life is very interesting I am sure, I won’t lie to you and say I am here for that. Mother told me to keep my eye on you. She is afraid that you are losing your edge.”

“I promise you that no such thing has occurred,” Essek said with his most pleasant and agreeable smile. “Mother simply worries about me too much. Please, let her know that her concern is appreciated but unnecessary.”

“I am sure it is,” Adore said with a sip, looking as if they were both sharing a private inside joke. “We both know very well that Mother usually frets over nothing. She has always had a soft spot for you, ever since you were adopted into our family. I have complete and utter faith in your abilities, Essek. I know that you are perfectly capable of separating personal feelings from your work.”

“Of course,” Essek said, unaffected by her usual jabs.

“Then you also won’t mind that Mother requested that I assist you, and that I intend to do that.”

Essek felt his fingers twitch and tighten their grip upon his glass.

“Though I appreciate the thought, it is wholly unnecessary as I told Mother. I am sure that you have plenty you wish to do while in the city--”

“Oh I do, but I am also the head of the Musedel College of the Bardic Arts, if I didn’t assist you, what would that say about me? Besides, I also wish to meet this fabled Mighty Nien that you seem so determined to hog to yourself,” Adore asked with the mockery of a playful smile, placing down her empty glass. Essek stood quickly, wincing at the pain in his back as he did. Amald quickly came into the room with her coat. She put it on, before looking back at Essek with a challenge in her golden eyes. “I shall have one of my servants come to gather the details in the morning. Unless there is a problem?”

“No problem, I am thankful for your thoughtfulness,” Essek said, as she leaned close to him and studied his expression. She smoothed his cloak, in a mockery of gentle concern.

“Are you worried, perhaps? Don’t worry, Essek. I won’t steal any of your toys from you,” she promised with an indulgent smirk. “Unless they look particularly delicious, that is. I know you won’t mind.”

“I am sure they will appreciate the expert touch you will bring to their education,” Essek said, his smile tasting sour upon his face. “Goodnight, sister.”

With a click of her heels, the swish of her skirt, and the scent of jasmine she left his house. Essek stood there, gritting his teeth, trying to contain the wash of frustration that crashed into him like a wave. After a few moments of breathing, he managed to get it all under control.

“Lord of Light give me strength,” Essek prayed, looking up at the ceiling, before blowing out the candle.

#critical role #critical role fanfic #shadowgast #essek theylss #caleb widogast #the mighty nein

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writermich18 · 4 years

Text

Record Keeper Part 2

In Izuku’s defense, he wasn’t expecting anybody to conclude from his story that his family was one of the Record Keeper Clans or that he was a member of said Record Keeper Clan.

He would not have told Eri the story if he had known it would have exposed his family. Luckily, the Pro Heroes and students who had figured it out had promised not to tell anybody. They apparently knew how sacred and secretive the Record Keepers are, and how important it is that nobody knows which family is of which clan.

That doesn’t change the fact that Sir Nighteye wishes to kill him.

He stands in one of Sir’s agency’s meeting rooms, getting stared down by Sir Nighteye and his sidekicks Bubble Girl and Centipede, All Might in small form, Principal Nedzu, Aizawa-sensei, Mirio, Rock Lock, and Bakugou (apparently dragged here because they wanted to know if Kacchan, as his childhood friend, knew his secret).

Great. Now, not only will Papa kill me for this, the Elders are gonna drag me through the pit and training course until I collapse then hang my dead body in the Halls as warning towards any other idiot Midoriya who dares to reveal the Clan secret just to comfort a little girl. Izuku thinks as he shifts uncomfortably in his standing position. I am so dead.

“Why the hell didn’t you say anything?” Yagi asks, “Record Keepers are valuable! We could have kept the secre –”

“That’s exactly why,” Izuku interrupts. “We keep our identity a secret because people kill for the things we keep, the history we keep. I ask that you not say a word to anybody because people from all sides will come after me and my family to kill us for the things we know or because of the things we know.”

He turns to look at the door as he finishes, “Nobody knows the Forgotten Hero or his tragic tale at all because the government erased that history and made propaganda up to hide what had actually happened during the Dawn of Quirks. What they had done to Quirked and Quirkless people. They altered everybody’s memory and erased First from existence and memory. The only reason we Record Keepers have his memory at all is because my ancestors were a secret, a secret the Government didn’t and would never have because the People never spoke about us.”

“Izuku –”

He opens the door as he finishes, “First and the society his group, the Rogues, had created is forgotten because the people who used to be in power refused to let the society live, refused to believe that it was better than anything they could create. Can you imagine? Not remembering your own history, your own life, as it actually was because your own government altered your memory and erased that part of you from existence out of a petty need to have control over everything.” He walks out the door.

Nobody tries to stop him as they slump and process what he had said.

Little did Nighteye or anybody in that universe know, it was because of Izuku’s knowledge and the Record Keepers’ existence that people got out of the fight with only major and minor injuries and nobody dead.

Thanks to the Forgotten Hero’s story, Izuku recognized the signs of a lab experiment and a hurt child, and acted on it as soon as the child, Eri, was within his grasp. No hesitation or daring to listen to Overhaul when he came out of that alleyway, just grabbing Mirio and Eri and running.

Because the alternative had been drilled into his very mind by the stories he grew up on, including First’s story, he had responded to an obvious escape attempt and did what his ancestors would have done.

Stories, especially true stories, have a lot more effect on the world around you and how you perceive it than most people realize.

The Record Keepers know this better than anybody – they have an entire closed off section of the Keeping Library that more than proves this statement to be true.

Izuku wishes he knew how to explain that to outsiders but he doesn’t know how to nor does he think it would have changed their opinion. Either way, Eri is safe, everybody except the Villains got out of the fight alive and relatively death free. No funerals are being planned and no regrets pilled up.

That is enough.

Knowing that Eri is here, and not with Overhaul, slowly recovering and learning how to be a child again, is enough.

Are you proud of me, Grandpa Tsunayoshi? Izuku watches with soft eyes, Eri playing in the playground with Kouta and Mirio (playing slowly to be mindful of his injuries). Though a smile doesn’t grace her lips, her eyes are alight with happiness. Tiger from the Wild Pussycats in casual clothes watches them play on the bench. Izuku sits on the fountain bench, mindful of his shoulder. We managed to stop the Bad Men before they could further destroy her happiness and childhood. She’s escaped and the Bad Men are paying for it.

A wind blows through the park. Plays with his hair.

It smells like oranges, the forest, sunlight, blood, and hope. Izuku didn’t know how the wind smelled like Hope but that’s what it smelled like.

Light fingers card through his hair, laughter rings out around him. He straightens up and looks around. Nobody’s paying attention to him and the others were too far to do that.

A voice whispers in his ear, “You did good, little one. That little girl gets to have the childhood I lost thanks to you. But it’s time to rest and relax now. And remember.”

“Only justice will bring peace,” Izuku whispers the words automatically to the wind, eyes moving to Eri as she comes up excitedly to him, talking rapidly about all the things they were doing. The wind sings around him as he stands up and easily picks her up.

He smiles and hums along to everything she’s talking him, asking questions where needed, letting Eri do the talking. Mirio chimes in every now and again, mostly letting Eri do the talking too, as they leave the park, waving goodbye to Tiger and Kouta.

Unnoticed, a figure appears in the park behind Deku. This figure has the same kind of curly hair as Izuku but shoulder length. It falls and frames his face while also stylistically and purposely covering the left side of his face. Freckles decorate his entire face, neck and arms. The hair is white. His eyes a soft brown with green flakes dancing and sparking inside of them. Tan skin.

He wears a sleeveless white shirt over which is a sleeveless and loose dark-green-and-black jacket – similar to Izuku’s own hero costume but designed a little differently. A white scarf covers his neck with the two ends falling down his chest and back, a design, of a circle broken in pieces on it in which a wyvern dances gracefully inside and clutches one of the broken pieces, in front of the wyvern is a single flare of fire and lighting, is sewn into the end part of the scarf lying on the chest. Wrapped around his arms are hidden-blade gauntlets, white and green fabric bracing the elbows, and bandages covering the fingers with brown fingerless gloves covering the hands. A red utility belt is wrapped around his waist, brown, loose combat pants cover his legs and fall over red-and-black braced shoes. Black-with-green-light-decorating-it fabric also braces his knees.

The figure watches Deku, with Eri and Mirio, slowly leave the park and smiles. He touches the necklace that sits on his chest.

The same necklace swings around Izuku’s chest as he transfers Eri to Mirio who gladly takes her. They run ahead with Mirio laughing as Eri shrieks in joy. Izuku laughs at them.

The necklace glints, Izuku turns and sees the figure. He pauses. The figure lifts a hand in a single, two-fingered salute and points at Izuku. Izuku pauses then gives a smile and returns the two-fingered salute, nodding to show he got the message.

“I understand, Tsunayoshi. She will live the childhood you couldn’t, I will remember your story and pass it on, and this society will one day remember who you are,” Izuku tells him softly, the wind carries it to him. The figure raises an eyebrow. Izuku amends, “After I rest and graduate.” Tsunayoshi smiles, then turns and waves goodbye, fading as he walks away.

“But…” Izuku watches his great-great-great-great grandfather disappear, “Do you want us to remember only Tsunayoshi, only First? Mana deserves to be known too, even though you can’t remember being Mana.” He closes his eyes for a moment, touches the necklace around his neck. Then turns heel and runs to catch up to Mirio and Eri who had stopped and are waiting for him.

Even though Tsunayoshi won’t answer him, he knows what he will do when he’s ready to tell the complete story to the world. Against Record Keeper duty because that is what Grandpa Tsunayoshi wants.

He won’t be telling the Tale of the Forgotten Hero, the public tale the Midoriya’s tell to outsiders.

The tale the world will know when he’s ready is the Tragedy of the Two Lost Brothers.

The Story of Mana, Hisashi, Subject 27: History’s Forgotten and Betrayed.

Tsunayoshi had learned about what happened to his brother, his true name. Was told it during the final battle by the Secretary of the Science Department who had also been charge of the Lab.

He had learned that his brother, whom he had seen get shot down by 5 bullets during his initial kidnapping, was alive. First hadn’t followed up, too shocked by finally learning the name he had lost and defeating the government that had hurt so many.

Izuku hadn’t wanted to follow up either, especially given that history from that time period had been purposefully destroyed by the 1% the moment they forcefully took control back after Tsunayoshi’s death (the Midoriya’s and many others had tried to stop it, but war and infighting hadn’t been something anybody had planned on doing again except for the 1%. Only the Midoriya’s had been able to keep the history and it is only because none Record Keepers don’t know how to nor have access to the Clan Library). But, after learning about the history of One For All and All For One… The idea has been pecking at him non-stop in the back of his mind.

Against his better judgement, Izuku approaches his mentor and asks if he can visit All For One in prison with his father and grandmother. Explaining that the Record Keepers side of his family need to double check with somebody from First’s time period to see if the memory altering aspect of that history is correct.

He had already informed his grandmother and father about his idea and also the never-happens-after-that-time-period-has-passed chance to check facts about specific events. So, he has already gotten their approval.

Toshinori, predictably, refuses. But Izuku is nothing if not persistant. After the reassurance that it was just a Record Keeper meeting from both his father, grandmother, and himself, with permission from Papa and Granny that his mentor can come with them, he reluctantly agrees and calls it in.

They plan it out to go over the weekend, next week.

Izuku gets official permission from Granny to tell the Tragedy of the Two Lost Brothers in its full form before All For One, Toshinori, the elder Record Keepers, and whoever is listening to their conversation.

Yes, his father had indeed scolded and grounded him for telling Eri and those other people the Forgotten Hero version of the story without permission. Yes, he was grounded, dorm-school-dorm, nowhere else without teacher permission and older student buddy system, style, for the week and that’s why they’re doing it next week.

#bnha #bnha au #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #midoriya record keeper au #part 2 #I really hope this makes sense because I don't feel like rewriting it

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notbang · 4 years

Text

burning up again

R/N. Set in some vague overlapping future universe of this, this and this, but requiring prior knowledge of none to understand.

(read on ao3)

“You know, this place sounded a lot more whimsical and fun when I was reading about it in letters.”

“I don’t think I was ever speaking specifically about the accommodations,” he says, wry, “so much as the symbolic act of coming here itself.”

“I know,” she shoots back, almost sulkily, and wriggles up the mattress to better rest her head in the crook of his arm. He stretches, and the fingers of her left hand cakewalk idly up his chest in her contemplation until he catches them and traps them in his own. “If anyone’s guilty of romanticising mediocrity, it’s me. I’m aware.”

“Well,” is all Nathaniel says, the smug twist of his mouth intended to tease, more than anything else.

Rebecca’s restless, perpetually in motion with an energy he doesn’t share. He’s been jungle-dwelling long enough that the humidity doesn’t bother him so much anymore, but there’s a difference between being able to sleep beneath a sheet in a sticky room and having to accommodate someone else’s body heat as well as your own. Still, the tightly-wound demeanour that had always felt like second nature to him has never really had a place here, and despite the queasy anticipation that has been slowly fraying his nerves all week in the lead-up to her arrival, having her sprawled out alongside him now, Nathaniel feels nothing but a sleepy sense of calm.

Even if her insisted-upon sleeping arrangements leave a little to be desired.

“This bed isn’t exactly built for two people,” he tells her when she starts to squirm, his eyebrows creeping upwards with a familiar cocktail of fondness and exasperation.

“You’re telling me. It’s not even built for one people, if the people is you.” Rebecca grunts, shifting again, trying to get comfortable and elbowing him sharply in the gut in the process. “You should really speak to someone about the quality of the facilities.”

“The facilities you were provided with are perfectly fine. You’re the one that was determined to play stowaway in mine.”

“Mm, yeah, but your room is so cosy and romantic, with the canopy, and the candles.”

He raises his eyebrows, dubious. “The mosquito net and the citronella coils?”

She waves him off, nearly clocking him in the face. “Okay, so the smell isn’t particularly enticing, but it’s fun, right? Being a little sneaky. Having a sleepover. Hmm?”

“It’d be a lot more fun in less than ninety percent humidity.” She pouts up at him, and he appeases her with a warm press of his palm to the small of her undeniably damp back. His lips graze across her forehead on his way to nosing into the cloud of her humidity-frizzed hair. “But yes—practically every defining detail aside, this is… nice.”

Rebecca sighs her agreement as she inches up his side, a greasy koala on a eucalyptus oil-slick tree. It should definitely be more off-putting, the mix of perspiration, pungent insect repellant and the remnants of lotion that only barely saved her shoulders. Instead he drinks in the sun kissed bridge of her nose, the pinking of her cheekbones and the abundance of freckles dusted across her face like constellations that can only be seen in clarity out of the city limits. It’s a hundred times better than any piece of paper, and every possible protest dies as a result on the tip of his tongue.

“I can’t believe you live like this,” she says eventually. At his frown she hastens to add, “I’m not passing judgement. Emphasis on the ‘you’, not the… ‘this’. You’ve always been so…” She trails off, gesturing vaguely at the length of him, and he huffs out a laugh.

“I know. It astounds me most days, too.”

“Was it hard? Getting used to everything?”

He considers that for a moment, knowing for a fact he’d spent a good number of days unavoidably rankled by his new circumstances, but unable to put his finger on the true moment of transition.

“I guess. But… hard in a good way. Hard in a way I was looking for, to wake me up. As embarrassingly cheesy as it sounds, even when I hated it, it felt… good, and important, to be following my heart for once, instead of something my father drilled into my head.”

She takes the hand not tangled in his and presses her open palm to his chest, fingers splayed out across his sternum, radiating warmth. “I mean, on some twisted level it makes sense. If you were a Planeteer, you’d definitely be the heart power,” she says, then to his confused look elaborates, “Apparently it means you can talk to monkeys.”

“I see. And you would be…?”

“Fire. For obvious reasons.” She tilts her head, considering. “Or maybe wind. For other, also probably obvious, equally unflattering reasons.”

He winces, and shakes his head as if to will the insinuation away. For all their overwhelming similarities, there’s still a lot of things they don’t have in common, and Rebecca’s penchant for toilet humour is one of them.

Her tone turns suddenly coy. “Speaking of saving the planet, here’s a thought on our current predicament with global warming. What if we shower—together, obviously, gotta think of the earth—and then just… don’t bother towelling dry?”

“Mm, that’d probably feel good for about thirty seconds, tops. Then: sticky. Also—and while I’m not sure that’s what you’re implying, it’s usually a pretty safe bet with you—you are not going to want to do anything sexy once you step foot in that shower. Believe me.”

“Believe you because you’ve tried?” she asks, eyes narrowed, frowning her suspicion.

“Believe me because I know what my shower stall looks like.”

She hums, apparently too skeptical to be truly appeased. “So the shower’s out. But we have prior experience. We’re intelligent. We’re innovative. We can find a position with minimal contact points and maximum air flow.”

There’s no question of what she’s implying now, even if her tone is still currently set to teasing, and his stomach tightens in acknowledgement. He’d been too cautious to take it as a given that her trip was intended as a romantic one, even if it was difficult to read between the lines of her intentions and find them to be anything else. Just because his most recent trip back to West Covina had led to them falling back into bed together didn’t mean anything concrete—their letters since have been as carefully choreographed as always, deftly walking the tightrope between tentative flirtation and outright propositioning without either of them being bold enough to quantify the true nature of their long distance relationship.

If the hug she accosted him with upon her arrival and all the excuses she’s found to touch him throughout the day haven’t adequately telegraphed her intent, though, surely her presence now in his tiny standard issue sanctuary housing cot has well and truly dashed any illusions that the purposes of her visit are purely platonic.

The woman in question pulls him from his musings with a drawn-out, nasally whine. “God, I just have to…”

The rest of her sentence is lost in the fabric of her t-shirt as she squirms to get it up and over her head, and sure, he has to actively tamp down on the impulse to jerk away when her moist skin hits his, but then certain parts of his anatomy waste no time in sounding the alarm that for the first time in longer than he can currently properly recall, Rebecca Bunch’s scantily clad body is in unmistakable, maddening proximity, and his breath leaves him in a shaky huff. Despite the fact they’ve been engaged in banter around the topic for the last ten minutes at least and in fact, most of the day, it’s a very particular jolt calling attention to the impending physical reality of it now, running through him like electromagnetic muscle memory.

“Oh,” she says quietly, as if sharing the exact same revelation, eyes dropping down and to his mouth.

They shift minutely against one another until he takes her by the waist and twists, orienting her so she can feel the the fan on her face. His fingers smooth through the resulting restless waves of her hair.

Just like that it’s back at full force again—the stubborn twist of heat that exists between them, both impeded and exacerbated by the suffocating jungle humidity, like an itch you couldn’t stop yourself from scratching, if only you had the energy to move.

It’s unnerving as it’s always been, the ways in which she tames him and makes him wild.

“Hello,” he says, going for suave but falling somewhere a lot closer to shaky.

Rebecca lets out a soft giggle and bends at the knee, toes leading the way to twist her leg between his.

“Hi,” she breathes into his mouth, the cartilage of her nose crushing against his own.

Apparently, that far-from-sophisticated call and response is all the encouragement they need before they’re crashing back into each other’s orbits, an alignment of single-minded satellites colliding for the thousandth time.

It’s not as needy as their last kiss, instead whittled down into languidity by the slow burn of whatever it is they’ve been allowing to rekindle between them over months of correspondence and an overnight temperature that lends itself to a leisurely pace. I’ve missed you, she tells him in no uncertain terms, and he feels unhurried in his efforts to lay out his supporting arguments of every way he intends to miss her back.

Her nails drag across his scalp and he groans, fingertips hinting at the band of her bra.

“Nope, I can’t,” she blurts suddenly after another enthusiastic minute of making out, pushing back at him and scrunching up her face. The disappointment doesn’t even have time to sour in his stomach before she’s rushing to make the grounds of her rejection clear. “I’m sorry. It’s just so sticky. Like, disgustingly sticky. An I-can’t-expend-the-energy-that-would-only-make-us-stickier sticky.”

He obediently withdraws, rolling off of her and back towards his side of the bed, as much as their cramped shared space currently allows and what ultimately ends up being much the same arrangement as before, albeit with his body being the one caged by hers against the mattress as she holds herself away in something reminiscent of a reluctant push-up. “Absurdly,” he agrees, unable to deny himself the skin-to-skin contact of combing her matted hair back behind her ear.

“Like, I can’t tell where my body ends and yours begins, and not in a… well, it is in a hot way, technically, but not in a sexy-hot way? More in the way that I’m just melting into you until we form some kind of amorphous, perspiring blob.”

“Charming,” he says lightly.

He takes some satisfaction that he’s not alone in the dull throb of his frustration, judging by the way she shifts to squeeze her thighs together.

“Can we maybe just, I don’t know, sleep on the floor? With a companionable inch of breathing space between us as we gaze wantonly into each others’ eyes? That concrete looks cool and I mean, heat rises, right?”

“Sure, if you want to hang with the scorpions.”

Her upper body, which had been in the process of relaxing back towards his, slingshots back up off of him at that, eyes going disproportionately wide to the rest of her face. “Dude. You get scorpions in your room?”

“Sometimes. Also: lizards.”

“That’s it—I’m taking the next flight home.”

His palm skirts her shoulder blades, coaxing her back down. “Uh-huh.”

Amused as he is by her theatrics, there’s another more obvious option, one that he would have offered hours ago if only she’d given him the chance, stubborn as she’d insisted on being in response to his attempts to organise her transport back into town. He absently wonders what their chances of getting a taxi are at this time of night.

“Nathaniel?” she ventures tentatively, her voice small amongst the encroaching outside chorus of cicadas.

“Mmm?”

“Do you want to sneak into my hotel room with me? I’m pretty sure it has air conditioning.”

His smile stretches wider as he pats her encouragingly on the back. “There you go.”

She carefully peels herself off of him, and he lets her drag him, good-natured, from the bed.

#crazy ex girlfriend #rebecca x nathaniel #my fic #i feel like the pacing is a little off towards the end but y'know what? just happy to finish something #prayer circle that i can get back into barcelona fic now

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