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#drawing the au was fun until it become my Thing. Because when your Thing––your identity––starts to faulter

chamomileteainabuttercup · 3 years

Text

Dincobb Week Day 3 - New Experiences (SFW)

Welcome to my Dincobb Week fanfic posts! I've written stories and scenes of varying lengths and tones. For clarity I should say that most of these exist as miniature AUs of their own and have no continuity with each other or with anything else I've written about these characters, so in different pieces they may be described having different physical features, personal possessions, preferences, et cetera. (There are three exceptions which I'll note as such when they come out.) Thanks to @djarining, who helped me a lot with brainstorming and discussing my ideas!

For today I have two pieces, an SFW and an NSFW - the NSFW is scheduled to post an hour after this one.

New Experiences

Cobb keeps on saying he’s been cold before, it gets bitter cold out in the desert at night, and Din has kept on telling him that yes, that’s cold, but it’s not ice and snow cold, and if he’s going to take him on a trip he needs Cobb to trust him about the appropriate clothing.

He does need thermals, he does need thick wool socks, he does need a heavy parka, wool cap and mittens.

“What about you?” Cobb asks. “You may be wearing thermals under your suit, but I don’t see a parka.”

“I’m used to making do without one,” says Din, “but I have higher standards for you.”

“Have ‘em for yourself too, then.”

“All right then. I will.”

“Just see that you do.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” Din says, smiling inside his helmet.

“I’m the boss of everyone, they just don’t know it yet,” says Cobb with a cocky grin.

Boss or not, he’s got Din to wear a parka over his beskar, which he doesn’t altogether like to do. The shiny breastplate is for show as well as for function. A symbolic declaration of identity and values. Well, everyone can still see the helmet, and he compromised on cutting off the parka sleeves just above the elbow so his vambraces are free and functional. This is meant to be a pleasure trip, just to show Cobb a different world as a treat, but he’s still not about to go anywhere without ready access to his grappling hook, flamethrower and whistling birds. Safety first.

He lands the small ship he’s borrowed from Boba on a small, flat-topped hill overlooking a frozen lake, its edges frosted white and its heart a turquoise blue. In fact, if you’re generous with your aesthetics, the lake is sort of heart-shaped. He wonders if Cobb will notice and appreciate that. They lower the landing ramp and step outside into a brilliantly sunny day. The air out here is so cold and crisp it stings your face. Cobb actually gasps. Din gives him a few moments to walk to the bottom of the ramp, then slowly, carefully, extend one foot and put it down and feel the crunch and squish of the snow under his boot.

“What do you think?” he asks.

“It’s weird!” says Cobb enthusiastically. He sees his own breath condensing on the air and huffs out another cloud of warm mist. Then, “Ow.” He puts his mittened hand to his ear.

“You forgot to take out your earring?” Din asks.

“I was excited to see the snow,” Cobb says sheepishly. “And I love it. You gave it to me.” It’s the beskar dart tip from a whistling bird and Cobb is almost comically proud of how it looks glinting in his earlobe.

“Well, it’s gonna get real cold and I don’t want you to get frostbite. Hold still,” Din says. He pulls off his gloves, gives them to Cobb to hold and carefully removes the already chilly earring. He pulls up one of the hook-and-loop flaps of Cobb’s parka pockets, tucks the earring firmly down inside, presses it closed, then pulls Cobb’s wool cap down to cover his ears properly. “There.”

“This hat is crushing my hair,” Cobb grumps.

“A Mandalorian helmet couldn’t unpretty your hair, but you think a toque will?” Din asks, pulling his gloves back on.

“Aw, Mando, you think I’m pretty?” Cobb beams at him, more radiant than the sunshine on the snow crust.

“C’mon,” Din says, embarrassed. He does think Cobb is pretty but he has too little experience of romance to be able to say it smoothly. He grabs Cobb’s hand and pulls him along, heading down the slope towards the lake. Cobb slips and flounders and laughs. He starts to lurch forward, catches himself and throws himself backward, landing on his butt and then flopping on his back with his arms outstretched. “Come on,” says Din, with a chuckle. He reaches down and pulls Cobb up to his feet, leaving his outline in the snow.

“Hey, look at that!” says Cobb, twisting to look back. “It really takes a print, doesn’t it? Not like dry sand at all. It’s so crazy that this is water.” He scoops up a mittenful and crumbles it around.

“Try squeezing it,” says Din. Cobb squashes the snow between his palms. “See how it compacts? It’ll hold together.” He’s remembering the short period his first covert spent living someplace very like this, a little compound in the snowy woods. Unlike most covert locations, it offered both secrecy and open space for children to run and play. The snow forts they built and the snowball battles they fought were both educational for warriors in the making and tremendous fun for a motley assortment of kids in hand-me-down winter clothes and soft training helmets. The snow was the first thing that brought him out of his shell to play with the others. Up to then he had been his foster father’s shadow, dumb with sorrow, until finally the sight of them running, shouting, flinging snow had sparked his attention.

Buir had seen where he was looking as Din stood beside him holding tightly a fistful of his cape. He’d looked down at Din, his helmet impassive, nothing like his lost parents’ dark, expressive eyes and smiling, talking mouths. But there was something kind in the tilt of his head, and he gently jerked it in the direction of the romping foundlings. Buir barely spoke because his larynx had been crushed in a fight years before. Rather than speaking through the mic in his helmet, he would hold a little electrolarynx device to his throat when he really needed to speak aloud, but more often than not he used a modified sign language, finding it more convenient. That was what he told Din back then, but thinking on it now, he’s fairly sure Buir switched to relying on signing because the electrolarynx made him sound a lot like a droid, and he saw how uncomfortable that made the child he’d picked up. He didn’t need to say “Go on”; Din understood, and after hesitating a moment longer, he released his grip on the crumpled fabric and ventured out to play.

That was the day he learned to make snowballs, and it’s something he can teach Cobb now, how to press and mould the snow between cupped palms, how to roll it down the slope, picking up more and more snow as it went, turning it between the two of them to keep its shape even and rounded. It makes them both laugh just out of happiness and satisfaction. Cobb’s cheeks and nose are flushed a sweet rosy pink. His eyes are bright, their hazel colour almost gold where the sharp sunlight catches it, and he’s altogether so lovely a sight that Din is glad his face is hidden and he can stare as openly and foolishly as he wants.

Together they build a snowman where the ground flattens out; he gets an idea and labours back up the hill in the sliding snow into the ship’s hold and brings back a bucket to mould its head into a snow Mandalorian. After that success they make their way down to the lake, and after Din checks how solid the ice is, they venture out on its surface, skidding around a little. Cobb keeps grabbing hold of his hand, and although it actually makes both of them a bit less stable, Din’s happy to let him. When Din asks, “You want to try sliding?” he’s immediately game. They run and slide on foot, on knees, and on a few accidental occasions on their asses until they’re out of breath and glowing with warmth. It occurs to Din that apart from a little light Grogu-entertaining, he hasn’t really played in years. He still knows how, though. Panting and laughing, they stagger off the ice and begin making their way back up the hill, wallowing in the knee-deep snow, helping each other up by reaching down from above or by pushing from below (hands on butts). At the top they look back at their chaotic trail across the formerly perfect snowscape.

“What do you think of it now?” Din asks.

“It’s fantastic,” says Cobb. “I couldn’t have imagined what it’s really like. And there’s no one I’d rather be here with than you.” He throws his arms around Din and, to his surprise, kisses him smack-dab on the cheek of his helmet. He can’t feel it, of course, but he enjoys it symbolically, at least for a few moments until it becomes clear that Cobb’s lips are stuck to the frosty metal. He tries to pull away, gives a little muffled cry of panic and pain, and stares helplessly through the eyeslot of Din’s visor. “Hnnh!”

“Dank farrik — it’s okay, hold still. Just — okay, put your hands on the helmet, hold it, take the weight. Got it? Don’t let go or it’ll peel your lips.” He steadies it with his hands too and brings his head and shoulders down, pulling his head out of the helmet. He’s dazzled by the unfiltered bright light for a moment, then gets a proper look at Cobb, scarlet-faced and glaring with anger, confusion and embarrassment, still smooching the helmet. He has to bite his own lip hard not to laugh, but it’s not really funny, he doesn’t want Cobb to get frostbite or tear the skin off his lips. “Stay there,” he says, turns and runs up the ramp into the ship. In the tiny, cramped galley he draws a cup of lukewarm water from the tap, then rushes back, trying not to spill it. “Okay. It’s okay, just hold very still for me, got it?” Carefully, he pours water over the join between lip and metal, while Cobb breathes loud and fast through his nose. After a few moments the icy seal breaks and Cobb is able to gently, carefully peel his lips away from the helmet. They’re very red and they look like they’re sore and stinging. “You don’t look like you’re bleeding anywhere,” Din says hopefully.

Cobb cautiously runs his tongue-tip over his lips and winces. “No, but they feel raw,” he says. “Goddamn that was cold!”

“I think you’ll survive,” Din says.

“Well, sure, I’ll survive,” says Cobb. “But could you kiss ‘em better?”

It seems only fair.

#dincobweek2021 #dincobweek #dincobb week #fanfic

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hibisha · 4 years

Note

Hello, a friend of yours said you might be able to recommend some radiodust fanfics, and it can be anything im not picky

RadioDust fanfics you say? Alright *cracks knuckles* here we go.

1.) The Charismatic Cannibal’s Guide to Self Care

Rating: E

Summary: Alastor chuckled around a hand. Angel would never get over how shark-like he could look. Fangs were the norm here, but Alastor’s had a certain animal quality that fit strangely in a humanoid face. Too big and too many. And right now they were tinged with a hint of red from his choice of drink.

“So what,” he said, “would liven up the place for you, sport?”

You might assume that Angel Dust is the bad influence in every situation. You would be wrong.

The Radio Demon has plans for Hell, and plans for Angel. And they aren't pretty.

Will contain gore/cannibalism/murder and plenty of fun, bad people. Please read the tags and content warning. Plot now, smut to follow.

Personal thoughts: It only one chapter so far but I really like the premise.

2.) Their Arrangement

Rating: E

Summary: Alastor and Angel Dust have come to an agreement after Angel pushes the Radio Demon's buttons a little too far and inadvertently awakens the long forgotten urges buried under decades of bloodlust.

Personal thoughts: One of my literal favorites. Alastor and Angel’s evolving relationship from sex friends to ‘oh shit I have feelings’ *chef’s kiss*.

3.) Absolute Territory

Rating: E

Summary: Angel Dust is an absolute terror for Absolute Territory.

Alastor never knew he had a thing for stockings until Angel decides to flaunt a pair, matched with a pleated skirt and an oversized sweatshirt.

Personal thoughts: Have some good ol’ smut.

4.) Heart Between His Teeth

Rating: E

Summary: So maybe there are better things to life than being drugged and fucked so hard you can't even think for yourself.

Personal thoughts: OMFG. I CAN NOT STRESS ENOUGH HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS FIC.

5.) Angel Dust’s Not So Illustrious Life

Rating: T

Summary: Alastor isn’t sure why he’s become Angel’s primary target, but the more he attempts to dissuade Angel’s advances, the more fervent they seem to become.

And maybe Alastor likes that...maybe...Yet it seems there’s more to Angel than innuendos and a quick romp.

Personal thoughts: I kinda love this fic a lot where Angel and Alastor respect each other’s boundaries.

6.) Caught In His Own Web

Rated:E

Summary: "So when the devil wants to dance with you, you better say never. Because the dance with the devil might last you forever."

Redemption is hard when you don't want to do it. Redemption is even harder when a certain Radio Demon keeps enabling your sinful behavior.

Personal thoughts: My favourite trope, bad people being worse together.

7.) I Thought I Knew You

Rated: M

Summary: Angel Dust can't ruin the hotel's reputation if he can't go outside. Or, at least, that's what Alastor says. Of course, it's all a ploy to torture Alastor's least favorite spider demon, but maybe he doesn't know Angel Dust as well as he thinks he does.

Personal thoughts: I really like this one especially since it feeds into my “Alastor is a dick in all AUs.”

8.) Sex, drugs and radio host

Rating: E

Summary: For some ungodly reason, Alastor decides to keep Angel safe and sound - meaning no sex, prostitution and certainly no drugs. Of course, this wild idea is met with more than a little resistance. But... no one ever cared if Angel was safe. And sometimes, all he would like is a hug. Sex sure is nice, but he is more than willing to explore the possibilities.

The trouble is, it doesn't seem like Alastor is offering anything specific. Keeping things strange and vague is not helping, especially when a new guest catches Alastor's attention.

Personal thoughts: Its cute and theres feelings involved is all I’m saying.

9.) Gentleman's Wager

Rating: None

Summary: Sick of listening to Angel Dust's crass and vulgar language, Alastor makes a bet with him. If Angel Dust can remain absolutely silent for one whole week, he'll give in and kiss him.

Personal thoughts: *inhales* JVKJGCHJCHJCVJHVJHGCJHCJHCGFD I LOVE THIS SO MUCH PLEASE READ IT.

10.) Triggered

Rating: None

Summary: Angel Dust had never really thought too much about the static hum surrounding Alastor wherever he went... until now anyway.

Personal thoughts: It's a very good fic about ANgel dealing with PTSD. Def check it out.

11.) Dinner and Drinks

Rating: None

Summary: Alastor and Angel Dust can barely tolerate each other and Charlie seeks to fix that.

Personal thoughts: Again, a slow development of Angel and Alastor’s relationship.

12.) You Do Something to Me

Rating: T

Summary: Alastor's radio signals go both ways, and for the past few decades he's tuned into the most beautiful voice. What a surprise to find the source in the Happy Hotel right under his nose.

A relationship that grows through music.

Personal thoughts: AGAIN, PLEASE READ THIS IT IS CUTE HECK AND WILL CLEAR YOUR SKIN. Also, its part 2: No One Knows Anything But Us

13.) 1932

Rating: M

Summary: The 1930s are the for perfect time to nurture any up-and-coming radio host or serial killer alike. Alastor is no exception.

Set in New Orleans in 1932, Alastor is living his best life. Broadcaster by day and home chef by night, he's learned that Jumbalaya is best served with a side of human liver and a still beating heart. That is until he brings the wrong meal to his table, a member of the Italian mafia, and ends up biting off more than he can chew.

With his latest meal escaping the table and his identity running the risk of being found out, Alastor faces his biggest hunt yet. The streets of New Orleans are his forest and this time, it's his head on the platter.

AKA Alastor screws up and now has to fix his mess in Dixieland while balancing his day job, cannibalistic hunger, and learn how to be a decent human being for once along the way. Should be fun.

Personal thoughts: I absolutely adore this fic. Please give it a shot.

14.) Contracts and Deals Series

Rating: E

Summary: Angel Dust, Hell's number one porn actor.

Alastor, Hell's most renowned overlord.

The two cross paths.

Angel makes a deal with Alastor to get out of his contract with Valentino. One thing leads to another.

Personal thoughts: It’s a good series that eventually gets really fluffy.

15.) Good Management

Rating: M

Summary: Alastor thought he had Angel Dust filed away into his niche box in the Hotel. He was wrong. But he's a good enough manager to fix his responsibilities.

Personal thoughts: Its AngeliaDark. You know it’s good.

16.) Anything for you

Rating: M

Summary: Valentino faces the consequences of hurting someone that Alastor deeply favors

i.e. Val fucking dies

Personal thoughts: Any fic where Val dies is a good fic.

17.) Predator and Prey

Rating: M

Summary: Every couple of years, Angel Dust goes through a change that makes him a lot less tolerable to be around, for many more reasons than one. The staff of the Hotel are about to learn that the hard way, none more so than Alastor.

Personal thoughts: Okay so, slight dubcon, would recommend checking the tags before going into it. Though I love how it tackles on the story of Alastor being a deer which is technically a prey animal and Angel being the predator for once. Absolutely love it.

18.) Good Tidings

Rating: T

Summary: A Christmas party in Hell isn't the big selling point for the Happy Hotel (For Hazbins), but Charlie feels that the holiday season is just what her friends need to open up to and help one another.

So what better way to do it than with a Secret Santa?

When Angel Dust draws none other than his crush, the Radio Demon, he knows he has one shot to not eff it up.

Personal thoughts: Really fluffy, a good read. Highly recommend it.

19.) Vanilla Bean

Rating: T

Summary: Alastor decides to try his hand at pet names and inadvertently offends Angel Dust. Rated T for swearing and there's suggestive content if you close one eye, tilt your head, and squint.

Personal thoughts: Okay so i loved this one because of how badly these two handle communication.

20.) For Auld Lang Syne, My Dear

Rating: M

Summary: Alastor's solitude is interrupted by Angel Dust who has just escaped a rough client and the two spend the last moments of 2019 together.

Personal thoughts: Love love love this. I just love Angel and Alastor dancing together okay.

21.) I Like It Better When I'm With You

Rating: M

Summary: Angel deals with feelings. Alastor deals with feelings. Just a whole lot of pining.

Personal thoughts: Summary says it all.

22.) Technical Difficulties

Rating: M

Summary: The hotel is running relatively well. Relationships between Alastor and the rest of the staff are budding surprisingly smoothly. And then the rainfall starts up, threatening all of it.

Alastor's out of tune.

Personal thoughts: I love how this is written. Slowburn but worth it.

23.) Lurking in the Shadows

Rated M

Summary: 5 instances where a curious and head-over-heels shadow follows Angel Dust around and 1 time where Angel decides to follow it instead.

Personal thoughts: It’s very cute how Alastor’s shadow pines after Angel.

24.) Crossroads

Rating: M

Summary: A mafioso’s and a murderous radio star’s paths collide in New Orleans in the winter of 1933.

Personal thoughts: OKAY SO I REALLY LOVE THIS BECAUSE HUMAN AUS ARE MY JAM AND THEN ALASTOR AND ANGEL BEING TERRIBLE HUMANS TOGETHER IS EVEN BETTER.

25.) Needle Through a Bug

Rating: E

Summary: Angel wakes up in a hospital after a party. His doctor is very strange, worryingly so. Still, he can't help but be intrigued.

Personal thoughts: Doctor AU. Alastor is insane. I love it because Alastor manages to be as creepy as possible while saving lives.

26.) My Roommate's a Demonic Deer

Rating: M

Summary: Don't you hate it when you "accidentally" summon a demon to fix a problem within your home, only to find out that they don't do that, so now you're stuck with a cannibalistic demon that constantly tracks blood onto the floor, brings other unholy beings into your apartment, and makes amazing jambalaya? It's amazing insanity!

Personal thoughts: Lmao I love demon summoning gone wrong so this was really an amazing read. Angel being a true himbo is always the best.

27.) Human Hazbin Roommates AU series

Rating: E, M

Summary: A series of porny RadioDust one-shots depicting modern human AU roommate life.

Notes:

Glimpses into the human lives of insufferable roommates.

(AKA This was supposed to be a practice at writing present tense smut and it devolved into sex and feelings)

Personal thoughts: Dive in for the smut, come out with the feels.

28: Darker Side of Hell series

Rating: E

Summary: Follow Charlie and later Alastor as part of my Story for the Hazbin hotel... It ain't pretty, so enjoy!

Personal thoughts: Not everyone’s cup of tea so i suggest reading the tags but I really love this series a lot. Angel being awkward and in love is the best shit ever. Its an amazing series.

29.) Scorched, Uninhabited, Rejected

Rating: M

Summary: When Hell suddenly loses all working functions, and angels start dropping from their overhead perches to attack the underworlds population, Charlie has no idea what to do before she's suddenly face to face with a Archangel. Though something, clearly, isn't right about the air the angel assures her to keep those who are dear tucked tightly by her side as the disaster struggles to fix itself.

But nothing is as it seems, Overlords' powers are dwindling and even her own is becoming strained as she struggles to protect her beloved hotel and friends from the Exterminators outside.

Personal thoughts: *vibrates* Can’t say much without spoilers so I’m just gonna beg ya all to read this.

30.) The Thin Line

Rating: None

Summary: Studies say it takes fifty hours of interaction before you consider someone a casual friend and two hundred to be a close friend. Alastor and Angel Dust manage to skip right past close friends to something more without either even noticing they've crossed the line.

31.) La Vie En Rose

Rating: G

Summary: Alastor learns that Angel is afraid of thunderstorms, and Angel in turn learns about the Radio Demon.

32.) falling

Rating: M

Summary: "You're hot as fuck, be my boyfriend."

That was perhaps the worst thing he could've possibly said from that standpoint.

A college setting where Angel gets suddenly awful at flirting when it comes to the face of his crush, a cute library assistant that goes by Alastor.

Personal thoughts: COLLEGE AU COLLEGE AU.

33.) Old Habits Die Hard

Rating: G

Summary: Angel decides to bring back a little habit of his after having a rough time.

Personal thoughts: Hella soft, please read.

34.) Handwritten

Rating: None

Summary: Alastor imagines Angel must be lonely in heaven, he writes to keep him company.

A series of letters addressed to Angel.

Personal thoughts: Hi, do you like crying into your pillow at 2 AM? You do? The look no further, this is the fic for you! Now, with extra heart wrenching feels!

35.) Relapse and Recovery

Rating: T

Summary: Going clean was never going to be easy, but easy was something Angel Dust never expected going into this anyway. At least he has a good support system to help him along the way.

Personal thoughts: I just really like AngeliaDark’s fics okay.

36.) Catalyst

Rating: T

Summary: All couples have their downfalls, and an event that should have been celebrated only drives Alastor and Angel Dust apart.

Personal thoughts: Love love love this. It’s very well written, reads easy and you’ll feel fluffy for days.

37.) Dinner Date: A RadioDust Tale

Rating: E

Summary: Angel Dust finally finds a way to get Alastor to agree to a 'date'. After all, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

Sometimes literally.

Personal thoughts: One of my favourite stories about RadioDust.

38.) This One's Dedicated to [static interruption]

Rating: M

Summary: A couple of years since the hotel's opening, the residents have settled down into a fairly tolerable routine. Recently, some of them have begun experiencing peculiar symptoms which become more noticeable as time passes. To his dismay, the Radio Demon finds that he is not immune.

A chance encounter with Angel Dust propels the two demons together as they attempt to answer what's behind the unusual phenomena, while rediscovering all the things they thought dead and buried along the way.

Personal thoughts: Slowburn but definitely worth it. I love the story and how it’s progressing with a certain mystery surrounding the whole plot.

Also slight self plug I guess:

39.) 14 ways to say “I Love You”

Rating: T

Summary: Just a collection of small drabbles I’m writing on based on single word prompts.

Please check it out if you’re a fan of odd AUs.

Wowee, that’s a lot. I’m gonna call it a night and say that’s all for today. I hope you enjoy these!

#hazbin hotel #radiodust #alastor #angel dust #fic rec #ask

391 notes · View notes

coldwind-shiningstars · 3 years

Note

ok ok prompts!!! so, I would be Delighted by some more qinxiyao family fic (deleted scenes or things you might have wanted to include in the big bang fic but didn't get to?), or, alternately, anything in the modern tcgf au? anything at all; they're all so excellent <3

both of these are such excellent prompts I started working on both of them, but the modern au got finished first! I’ll probably both a) do a lot of edits on this and b) do the qinxiyao family fic in a week or so, but here this is for now. Also, for those not in James and my brains, this is a very small part of a very large AU! Small note, all characters appearing in this fic are trans; however, He Xuan is still very much an egg and so they are referred to throughout the fic as “he/him,” although SQX at least is aware of this and wondering when to bring it up with her. She is, however, unaware that “Ming Yi” is a stolen identity and He Xuan is actually the eco-terrorist who’s been blowing up her brother’s fish hatcheries. It’s a long story.

If Xie Lian was being honest, he didn't much like the internet. It was so bright and everything moved too fast. People used a bewildering array of slang and images. It was surprisingly difficult to avoid spending hours reading upsetting news stories. People spent days arguing about pornography.

Also, his phone didn't really connect to WiFi very well. Even by the loosest definitions of the word, he hardly counted as a netizen.

People were usually shocked when he told them this, though, because Xie Lian's best friend was one of China's most popular beauty influencers.

Xie Lian's face appeared on her Weibo with some regularity. She talked about him often. He'd gone viral three separate times on Douyin, entirely accidentally.

What Shi Qingxuan was most famous for, however, was makeup tutorials. He had never actually appeared in one of these, but, since there were very few people in the world capable of saying no to a very determined Shi Qingxuan, this was about to change. He was used to being in her charmingly decorated little apartment but not quite used to becoming a decorated thing himself. He'd even put on one of the outfits Hua Cheng had designed and sewn for him, based on some of his old dance costumes and a few frantic weeks of historical research, and kept swishing the skirts around his legs.

Shi Qingxuan started setting up, chattering away to Xie Lian as she did. "You need anything before we start? Bathroom, water, a snack? I edit my videos pretty heavily, so we can always take a break, but it’s good to be comfy."

"No, I'm fine," Xie Lian said, and then had to close his eyes when she clicked on the ring light.

He fiddled with the makeup compacts laid out on the table.

Shi Qingxuan adjusted her light, scootched Xie Lian’s chair a little to the left and a little back, and then fiddled with the camera. It was quite the involved operation, Xie Lian thought; he knew a lot went into making videos, but he hadn’t realized it took this much effort before the camera was even on. Shi Qingxuan had done his makeup before, of course, but mostly just for fun, or something she could take a picture of and post on Weibo. It had been so long since he'd been filmed.

He watched Shi Qingxuan press record on her camera and then sit back and flash it a smile, putting on her Influencer Face. She squeezed his hand under the table.

“Hi everyone, welcome to Feng Shi!” she said, chirpy. “I’m Shi Qingxuan, and today we’re doing xianxia makeup with my good friend, Xie Lian. Now, for this look, we’re going to need…”

When Xie Lian was little, the makeup artists for his dance troupe had known he took about twice as long as anyone else did to get his makeup done. He was the darling of the company, though, so this was tolerated with fondness.

He didn't like the way the foundation felt on his face when it dried. His eyes watered when they put on eyeliner. He liked to spin his chair from side to side.

He'd had much worse things on his face than paint since then, and had learned how to be still.

Shi Qingxuan patted his hand cheerfully as she pulled out the setting powder.

"You're always one of my favorite models," she said. "You're so photogenic and so patient!"

"Thank you," Xie Lian said, and held still while she brushed it in his face.

Ruoye, probably noticing the warmth, slithered out of Xie Lian's robes and curled up on top of his head so she could get the full blast of heat from the ring light. She flickered out her tongue to scent Shi Qingxuan when she leaned in with a liquid eyeliner pen.

Shi Qingxuan made little kissy sounds at her, which only confirmed Xie Lian's certainty that he had good taste in friends. Most people were startled by Ruoye originally, but how they responded to her after Xie Lian introduced them was a good litmus test.

Ruoye settled in, and Xie Lian reached up a finger to stroke her scales.

He was feeling good, content and warm, happy to sit still. Then the apartment door clicked open, and Xie Lian stiffened.

"Ming-xiong? Is that you?" Shi Qingxuan called.

Ming Yi mumbled something back and shuffled into the room, buried deep in his black hoodie. As always, Xie Lian's first thought upon seeing him was wondering how he could see through all that hair.

The hoodie had a fish skeleton painted on it that he recognized instantly as one of Hua Cheng's drawings; it made Xie Lian smile, thinking of how insistent San Lang was that they absolutely weren't friends, no way, there was no particular reason he would make custom hoodies for Ming Yi. The fish were a coincidence. He’d even made Ming Yi custom salmon breakup boots while proclaiming it meant nothing.

Xie Lian, wearing an elaborate hanfu Hua Cheng had designed, sewn, and embroidered himself, even making him a period-appropriate duduo to flatten his chest, absolutely did not buy any of these excuses. Hua Cheng covered people he cared about with his art.

Ming Yi grunted a greeting and wandered off, probably to raid the fridge. Shi Qingxuan winked at Xie Lian.

“I’ll edit most of this out,” she said, conspiratorial, “But my viewers love Ming-xiong. Especially when he’s out of focus in the background. They’ve made memes. I haven’t told them anything about him. It’s good to keep a little mystery! It keeps people watching.”

Xie Lian, having no real idea what she was talking about, smiled and suppressed his instinct to nod. Shi Qingxuan began painting a flower on his forehead with red pigment.

Finally, Shi Qingxuan gently removed Ruoye from Xie Lian’s head and shoulders and settled a wig cap over his hair, then the wig she’d pre-prepared. A few bobby pins, a few tucks, and then she stepped back, grinning.

“Ta-dah! How do you like it, taizi dianxia?”

“It’s beautiful,” Xie Lian said, honestly.

“We’ll end the video here, I think,” she said, “But I’ll get some posed photos of you to edit in here if that’s alright. Oh, tilt your head back and forth a little? Good. Smile at the camera!”

Shi Qingxuan fluttered her fingers at the camera in a wave; Xie Lian waved too, a few seconds later. As she leaned forward to click off the camera he straightened his legs out to try and loosen them up. His knees made terrible crunching sounds as they stretched.

“You can take a little break if you want,” Shi Qingxuan said. “I’ll set up the area where we’ll take photos, but I’ll try to make it quick. You’re a darling for sitting through all this, you know?"

She was already bustling around again. She seemed to have an endless fountain of energy; Xie Lian found it admirable. He laid flat on his back on her bed, careful to not get makeup on her sheets or wrinkle his clothes. Ming Yi sat next to him, eating shrimp chips. He put a few directly into Xie Lian's mouth, feeding him like a little bird, and Xie Lian felt warm. Like Hua Cheng, it could be hard to know when Ming Yi liked you, but there were ways to tell.

He let Shi Qingxuan pose him until she was satisfied with the numbers of pictures she’d taken, trying very hard not to feel like the chuunibyou teenager he’d once been. He felt himself mostly immune to embarrassment at this point, but he supposed there were always exceptions.

Eventually, they cleaned up, although Xie Lian had promised Hua Cheng to show off the full look, so he didn’t get changed or clean his face.

“I’ll buy dinner,” Shi Qingxuan said. “We deserve it. You too, Ming-xiong!”

She herded them both out of the apartment and down the street to a small noodles stall. They all ordered (in He Xuan’s case, three bowls) and Xie Lian was fumbling for his phone when he heard Shi Qingxuan cheerfully tell the clerk to put it all on the same ticket. She tapped her phone to pay for it all before Xie Lian could protest.

A few people asked Xie Lian for pictures as they ate. He posed obligingly, hoping he hadn't spilled any sauce on his clothes while eating. When he was done, he packed up his leftovers, let Shi Qingxuan nag him into calling a Didi instead of trying to walk home, and bid both her and Ming Yi farewell. Ruoye, who had spent most of the time they were eating in Xie Lian's backpack, made a brief appearance too like she wanted to say goodbye as well.

Xie Lian clicked his own apartment door closed quietly and tiptoed over to slide his leftovers into the refrigerator. Down the hall, a light shone out from underneath Hua Cheng's studio door.

There was an old picture of the two of them on the fridge; it was them in a hospital pediatric ward group room. Xie Lian, age fifteen, was beaming at the camera, his "FIGHT! JUVENILE SLE" shirt a bright red and his pants an immaculate white. Next to him, Hua Cheng, his right eye patched with patterned tape, bald and tiny, stared up at him with devotion.

Ruoye bonked her head gently on the freezer door. Xie Lian pulled out one of her mice and slid her gently into her tank before giving her the treat; she was swallowing the mouse as he left the kitchen.

Hua Cheng turned to him as Xie Lian opened the door to his studio. His eye got wide, and his face looked like it did sometimes when he looked at Xie Lian, like he was seeing something holy. He slid his headphones off his ears.

Xie Lian did a little twirl for him, letting him see the way the fabric moved, and then tilted his face up for a kiss when Hua Cheng came over to him.

“Gege, you look beautiful,” he said.

“San Lang,” said Xie Lian. “It’s all you and Qingxuan. I’ll get her to send you the pictures later.”

Hua Cheng kissed the top of his head. He was dressed down, in a soft shirt and pants, not wearing his prosthetic eye. Xie Lian leaned his head into Hua Cheng’s chest.

“Gege seems tired,” Hua Cheng said. “Would you like to get ready for bed? Do you need dinner or your medicine? I can help you take all that off.”

“San Lang, you’re working,” Xie Lian said. “I already ate, so I think I’d like to sleep. But you don’t have to help.”

"Gege is more important than commissions," Hua Cheng said, and Xie Lian let him bundle him off to bed.

post about prompts!

#replies #my writing #body in abyss heart in paradise #paradife-loft

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dessarious · 4 years

Text

Misconceptions, Miscommunication, and Misinformation Pt77

Inspired by @ozmav Maribat AU

AO3 Beginning Previous Next

Damian spent the next day with Marinette at the hotel. Chloe and Luka both had school and Mari needed someone to keep her calm before the meeting with the Justice League. Not to mention Damian did not want to be stuck in the apartment with Drake. When Hawkmoth was unmasked it created a lot of ripples that everyone was still reeling from. Françoise Dupont was one more casualty. Between the ongoing investigation that was happening because of what happened to Marinette and the fact that Hawkmoth’s son went there the school was shut down until they found new staff at the very least. Since Damian hadn’t transferred yet he was off until it went through.

“So how’s your family taking the announcement?” He figured she’d ask eventually but it had taken her three hours so he’d give her points for restraint.

“The same way they take everything. It’s just one more thing for them to make fun of and overanalyze.” He saw her expression go hard and when she spoke there was a dangerous edge to her voice.

“They’re making fun of your sexuality?” He actually shivered at her tone. This was why Batman himself was terrified of this tiny girl.

“No. More making jokes about me having a significant other at all. Apparently they all decided that if I was ever to show interest in someone it would definitely not be reciprocated. At the moment they seem to be debating whether I’m making the whole thing up or holding my boyfriend’s family hostage to get dates.” It was their usual nonsense and he was used to it. Marinette however looked ready to transform and go back to Gotham to ‘talk’ to them.

“You should tell them that’s not okay. You shouldn’t be so worried about dealing with them that you’re afraid of living your life.” Damian just scowled at her in annoyance.

“I’m not afraid of those idiots.” She rolled her eyes and sighed.

“I didn’t say you were. But how many times do you decide to not do something because you don’t want to deal with the fallout? How often do you debate whether it’s worth it to do something that actually makes you happy because you think they’ll give you shit for it? They need to know that’s not okay. You should be able to live your life without being concerned about what they’ll say or do.” That made sense, to a point anyway. When he really considered it he realized she was right. It never would have occurred to him to ask to go to an arts school because he didn’t want to listen to their comments. At the same time, it was how they acted with everyone in the family.

“They don’t just do it to me you know. They constantly harass each other just as much. I could just ignore it and not let it control my actions.” He hadn’t realized how much it did control his actions if he was being honest. That was one of the many things he’d learned about himself because of his friendship with Marinette. Not that he’d ever tell her that.

“That doesn’t make it alright. Just because they don’t discriminate in their stupidity doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be called out on it. Just like when I call you out for being an asshole.” He gave her a flat look but she just smiled at him. It was becoming harder to keep a straight face around her and he couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing.

“Any idea what you’re going to say to the Justice League?” All else fails, redirect the conversation. Marinette grimaced at the question before blowing out an annoyed breath.

“I assume that Superman is going to start before I can get a word in edgewise so having an actual speech planned out is pointless. There’s only a few things I want to make clear. First that the ban to travel to Paris will be lifted at the end of the week in case of ‘loose ends’. Mainly I just want them to stew about the fact that they can’t do whatever they please.” Damian let out a snort of laughter at that. Given the way they’d all tried to descend on Paris the moment Hawkmoth’s capture hit the news he understood why she was doing it. They didn’t wait to confirm she had in fact caught the real villain and could have just been putting Paris at risk. “Second, that they still have absolutely no authority over the Miraculous themselves. Having Wonder Woman’s backing should help with that but I wouldn’t be surprised if one or more of them try to tell me to give them the Miraculous. And third, if any of them think tracking us down to take them is a good idea they’ll get the full force of the wrath the Kwami are capable of. Given that Plagg destroyed the dinosaurs in an ‘oops’ moment they should probably be worried about what he can do when angered.”

“As much as I would like to believe words will work, you may have to do another demonstration.” Marinette just nodded at him. She knew as well as he did that this wasn’t going to be easy. It was highly probable that they’d spend the next six months or so showing various members of the League that they needed to back off. Yet another reason for him to stay in Paris. Damian still didn’t understand why Marinette didn’t just ask him for the civilian identities of the heroes so she could deal with them herself. “Did you figure out which wheelchair you want to get? My father said he’d pay the difference if you need something out of your price range.”

“That’s a kind offer but I’m not struggling for money. My business has actually gotten even better since the fashion show. I might actually have to hire some people to make the clothing so I can concentrate on design if I don’t want to start turning people away. I’m also getting a lot of interest from clothing manufacturers about designing discount clothing to market to a broad audience. Honestly just doing one of those would likely have me set for life. I’m just glad I’m at the point where this won’t completely destroy my parents financially. While it’s nice to know they love me enough to sell the bakery and move somewhere that’s accessible to me I would never want them to have to.”

“Well if you need tips or names of people to help with that, Drake would be a good source. I know that you have Jagged stone but global manufacturing is different from music in a lot of ways. Wayne Enterprises deals with a lot more of the problems you’re likely to see.” She nodded thoughtfully before offering him a bright smile.

“Thanks, I might just do that. It’ll be helpful to talk to someone who knows the ins and outs of things. I was actually going to ask you since I have a feeling you know a lot more about your father’s business than you let on.” Damian just blinked at her for a moment before giving out a sigh and pulled out his phone to send her a list he’d put together. It was names and numbers of people in the company who could help her along with various laws, specifically intellectual copyright laws, and some other things to do with business. She just gave him another bright smile before she started drawing in her sketchbook again. He really wished he could figure out how she did that.

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#maribat #marinette dupen chang #Damian Wayne #bffmaridami

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bittybattybunny · 3 years

Note

If is alright with you may I ask about the Romcom and enemies to lovers aus? If not is fine and you can just ignore this ask

You can ask away!!!

What's on your mind? plots? I can give plot rundowns o7o

Romcom:

Arulius is a Fae Prince who was entered into a contract to win the love and marry the human woman Amaris 'Eclipse' Nightingale. he has 3 months to get her to agree to marriage or the contract becomes void and he fails (this will bring shame to his name) Eclipse is convinced the contract is due to her father creating a debt of some sort and is very against it. She tells Ru she'll pay back what her father borrowed and to forget the marriage. This confuses him and he's very invested in this working out as he likes humans. He's unable to tell her he's not human until the contract is completed or expired or if she finds out herself (and he can't manipulate it to get her to learn it)

What occurs over the next 3 months is a lot of shenanigans because this all takes place on a cruise ship. Eclipse is actually an employee on the ship hence another reason she's against this mess. So while she's working he's bothering humans for advice to woo her (and this includes advice from 4 children) and it's a mad house. Eclipse is also against it because she has a small secret herself, she has large silk moth wings. She hides them with a earring she wears and she's embarrassed by them. She doesn't get why this guy is trying so hard for her. Though she does find his attempts endearing and does slowly fall for him.

In this Ru is Genderfluid and actually doesn't really get the whole gender thing. he uses He/Him/They/Them/She/her what ever people want to use and doesn't really care because as a fae royal he can actually just change as he feels.

This leads to some embarrassment for Eclipse as he'll follow her into the women's bathrooms near the pool sometimes when he's talking to her.

as for the other currently it's called "No mercy" which is the song it's based on originally.

Arulius is a law student who does vtuber streaming on weekends. While playing "Killing Stage Overdraft" his favorite game (it's basically off brand overwatch) he ends up in a lobby after a string of losses and he gets grouchy on mic, he ends up getting sassed by another player. They wind up in the same matches and team the rest of the night with her berating his shitty attitude. Offline he goes to meet up with his crush and they are squishy dorks. Back in streams he ends up playing more with the sassy player. they have a bit of a rivalry in their matches despite the same team, and if she's on the other team she always swaps to a healer just to spite him. it becomes a routine for the two of them to bicker on stream and play together and she ends up more or less and actual friend where they actually will work together on occasion. Back offline he and his crush are getting closer over their love of KSO (he even buys her a keychain of her favorite character "Gravedigger" who's kinda like Reaper but more plague doctor themed) and they plan to go to a convention together. Meanwhile during his stream and he's talking with the sassy player she ends up getting interrupted mid match and laments how she has to cancel her date because of work. He gets a message same time his team qualified for the tournament at a local convention and is sad he's gonna have to cancel his date for it. She off hand mentions she's working panels at that convention and they end up parting for the night. The next day as he's talking to his friends one mentions the top "Hel" player will be attending the con "b30wulfGR1M" (Hel is the main healer character and the one His online rival will play when mocking him from another team) he's excited since if they place in the tournament high enough they'll get to play the "Lunar Wulf Pack" which is the team GR1M plays for. he's excited since he likes GR1M as a player and thinks the whole "helmet" motif is neat. GR1M in all their live appearances wears a electronic daft punk style wolf helmet (and I do have drawings of it) and doesn't give any info on themself out and when they talk they have a voice changer/modulator in their helmet that distorts their voice and it's part of their brand.

At the convention Ru is actually able to meet up with his crush, Eclipse, and they spend the day together having fun. She mentions she's glad she got a chance away from work to play since she's working some panels but they'll be in the evening. While they are having fun someone mocks her outfit (she's dressed as 'Hel') saying she's only doing it for the fanboys and bet she doesn't even play. She gets really agitated by this, the angriest Ru has ever seen her. She drags the guy to the game room and procures KSO and proceeds to completely destroy him a few times in a row before huffing and giving some trash talk of her own. it's at this moment Ru makes a connection. He realizes there are some very good odds that his crush and the sassy player may in fact be the same person. But this also confuses him because one of his close friends has a theory that the sassy player is GR1M based on when they play Hel on other teams. After an incident in the artist alley (Eclipse saw some really bad rule34 GR1M artwork that made her upset) she has to leave to run her panel. Ru asks which but she can't tell him due to her contract and leaves him there. Herschel and Bonnie end up finding him and dragging him to the GR1M meet and greet. While he's chatting with GR1M after getting an autograph he notices the Gravedigger keychain on their bag and comments he got the same one for the girl he likes. GR1M gets incredibly flustered and says they just adore Gravedigger but due to their teams set up they always get stuck being support, but when they play incognito on an alt account they just adore playing Gravedigger. Herschel asks GR1M's incognito name but they are ushered away.

During the tourny, Herschel ends up hurting his hand and has to drop, leaving just Ru and Bonnie which isn't enough for the matchups. Worried he's unsure what to do. GR1M is seen leaving and not long after Eclipse joins him. She plays Support and makes an off hand comment "the only time I'll play Hel for you." and it cements that she's "N0cturn" the player who sasses him on stream. He finds a lot of comfort in this and they end up placing 3rd in the ranking, which allows them to get to play teh brackets next day against GR1M's team.

However that night as Ru is going to his room there's an alert there was an attack at the convention and GR1M will be dropping due to being severely injured and in the hospital for their wounds. Ru ends up crestfallen but also worried because he can't get Eclipse to answer her phone (he was gonna ask her on a date but also since he has suspicions on her being both N0cturn and GR1M the fact GR1M was attacked makes him fear for her) An announcement goes out later that GR1M is being forced to retire from the pro gaming scene until further notice to to injuries sustained in their hand that will prevent them from using that hand for a few months at minimum.

And his fears are right. Eclipse is on campus the following monday with her entire left arm bandaged in a sling. It turned out the barista at the cafe she and Ru always met at had a one sided crush on her and had gone to the convention knowing she was going to be there, he assaulted her on the way to her hotel room with a box cutter and had gashed her arm up badly.

Ru ends up confessing he wants to date her and asks her point blank if she's N0cturn and then follows it asking if she's GR1M. She ends up confessing to both and that N0cturn is just her alt she uses when she's stressed. She confesses the entire reason she wears the helmet and keeps her identity secret (She had a lot of issues with sexism when she started of gaming and even tho the gaming scene has changed she's already established as this mysterious person. She also has really bad social anxiety so the helmet helps her interact with fans easier and deal with crowds) He tells her he doesn't care and wants her as his player 2 if she's down.

During his next stream he announces that N0cturn won't be playing WITH him but--- Eclipse pipes in from his mic she'll be teaching him how to play Hel, telling his stream he's met N0cturn offline and they are dating.

After her arm's healed she starts off getting back into games by streaming with Ru, he even got Herschel to model GR1M as a vtuber model and set it up for her

They play together on their streams, He's playing as Hel and she's Gravedigger and they are having a blast

No mercy has been my brain rot past 2 days lol

#ask #monochromebat #No Mercy AU #idk what to name the other au yet #both of these have fics started actually lol

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yououghtaknow · 3 years

Note

18 and 20 for the meta asks? also I already commented on clip 3 but fr this clip was so good that was such a good execution of that scene and s5 has been so good and literally brightens my day thank u 💛 i hope you’re doing well

hi, thank you so much!!!!!!!! i hope you’re doing well too <3 <3

i am putting a read more because i am a rambley person, but underneath you will find talks of unused plot points, the parallels between the girl squad and the lad squad, and what taylor swift album(s) i believe each season has the vibe of.

tw for discussion of abuse, mental health problems, addiction and eating disorders

18. Do any of your stories have alternative versions? (plotlines that you abandoned, AUs of your own work, different characterisations?) Tell us about them.

skam brighton has. so many aus. because it itself is an au of an original work. me and two of my great writing friends have written a great numbers of aus including but not limited to riordian-verse, glee, doctor who, rwrb, trc, a murder mystery au, and many aus based on comfort media of mine that i started on never finished (house of anubis, barbie movies, etc.). and many of them are unironically so good???? @fingersmithbysarahwaters and @nightwing642 are incredibly talented screenwriters. but also i did write a screenplay adaptations of the first two books in the raven cycle series and 2/3s of rwrb for no reason other than fun and autism.

as for skam brighton. oh boy. not many plot points have been changed, but some certain scenes/character moments were changed. for example, the scene in season 2 episode 8 where liz has a meltdown at the shopping centre and she has a heart to heart with mary was originally liz having a meltdown and running into al in the sensory room. but i wanted to hold back on revealing al as a main character until season 3.

also in the og season 3, jake and al didn’t break up. as i was finishing the season, i was getting ideas for how i wanted the series to develop (james’s crush on al namely) so i thought it would be good for both of their developments for them not to end up together. also in season 3 i hadn’t planned for jake to move house originally, so there was a scene in the finale episode of the lad squad hanging out, but it got cut because it just didn’t make sense.

in season 4, al and bree were a lot meaner to each other originally, because i love it when it gets busy at the brighton and the gay people get mean, but then i thought about it and decided it was out of character for both of them to be downright cruel. al and bree also had a scene in season 4 that was cut due to just not making sense.

also, in season 5, the “inner white girl” scene originally wasn’t in the show at all, but one day i was listening to the song, and about a week before the episode came out, i wrote it. also, bree wasn’t written to be a she/they until literally the day of putting the clip out because i thought it would be cool. that’s it :)

also the way i write is that i write the full clip out in a google doc and then edit it in ao3 about an hour before i put it out, so a lot of changes happen there. just small things, like making dialogue flow better, changing certain songs because i just want to, and sometimes adding in new sequences that i just thought of.

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

oh!!!! there!!!!! is!!!!!

personally, my favourite thing to write is little symbolic moments that make me happy because i play 4d chess in my head with myself every time i write.

before i go off, i must say, so many hints and clues have been dropped for season six so far. season six has been my favourite season to write and i’m already planning a spin-off project based on it to write, and it’s gonna be starting sooner than you think.

so a piece of writing i’ve been thinking about lately is the parallels between the girl squad and the lad squad. before i begin to go off, these are the characters i think parallel each other the most.

jake - sandy james - bree nick - rori theo - esther al - liz

jake and sandy is quite an obvious parallel to draw - both are football players, both begin the series closeted and having a close relationship with bryan - but their personalities are quite similar. both of them are closer with their mother than their father, both use their relationships as a method of protection, and both are afraid of of societal rejection at the beginning of the series. they also both discovered their sexualities and mental health issues over the course of their seasons, and both of their love interests are more outgoing theatre kids. jake and sandy’s relationship is also so interesting to me - because they start as very awkward friends, and jake tries to help sandy by making bryan break up with her, but outs her in the process, and sandy doesn’t want to forgive him. she takes her time and comes to terms with it on her own and decides to forgive him because sandy’s just a sweetheart - and this also parallels the way jake takes his time to forgive his mother. also, in their friend groups, they’re both the newcomer to them, and we get the introductions to the group dynamics in their seasons, and in the later seasons, they’re both a lot more relaxed as they’re in recovery <3

james and bree are also very similar characters. both have problems with substance abuse, both have promiscuous reputations, both have both mommy and daddy issues. they are both dean girls, to put it in spn terms. they’re both very funny, and use humour to cover up their struggles. both are dealing with a lot of mental illness and, throughout the series, it becomes more and more clear. they’re also both seen as “the hot ones” of their groups, with a lot of the characters canonically having small crushes on them (liz, rori and nick with james; rori, esther and annabell with bree). they’ve also both canonically hooked up with sophie. which i just think is fun. they also played mimi and roger together, which i think shows their parallels as addicts and people (with roger struggling with recovery and depression until the end, when he begins to get help, and mimi living the high life until it all crumbles down around her). they also share a want for independence and both are very sana-esque characters (james being middle eastern and religious, bree being the cool rebel girl in season 1).

nick and rori are both the “fun friend”. they’re both comedic relief in the early seasons, but we do get in depth with them as the show goes on. in grease, they play james and bree’s love interests (which is ironic, as rori and bree get together and nick is in love with james), and in rent, they play angel and maureen, the two main comedic relief characters. both of them struggle to connect their asian identity with their british identity, and both struggle with how the world perceives them (nick with their gender presentation and rori with her eating disorder). they both struggle with toxic masculinity and toxic femininity and use humour to cover up their struggles.

theo and esther are similar in the fact that they’re the squad members we know the least about. they’re both jewish, they’re both the mum friend of their respective groups, they’re both autistic and they’re both quite nerdy. they’re the most grounded member of their respective groups and tend to take charge and help make decisions. they’re also both quite sarcastic and very firm in their opinions.

al and liz are parallels simply because they are both nooras and vildes. they’r eboth autistic, they’re both the odd one out in their friend groups - liz being a lot more serious than the girl squad, al being a lot more in his own little world than the lad squad. they’re both very blunt and straight forward and say whatever they’re thinking.

also just some of my favourite bits of foreshadowing: nick being bitchy to liz throughout season 2 because they’re in love with james….. al talking about his sister to jake in season 3 and whenever al talks to the girl squad, bree insults him or walks away…… in season 4 episode 1, audrey mentions bree’s cousin is pregnant and then when bree finds out the results of her pregnancy test, oh no by marina plays (i’m now becoming my own self fulfilling prophecy)....... nick and all of his gender stuff throughout the series……. just all of the character stuff with grease and rent….. also just bree and rori’s whole relationship arc because it has everything. queerbaiting. subverting expectations. musical homoeroticism. a little cheating for fun. and they were best friends. honestly bree and rori season 3 is very august by taylor swift…… you weren’t mine to lose……..

speaking of, no one asked by here’s each season of skambr and the taylor swift albums they’re most like.

season 1 - debut/fearless

bro sandy is just such a debut/fearless era person. she’s looking for her place in this world!!!!!! she has the teardrops on my guitar energy (quite literally sandy pre-canon voice i bet he’s beautiful that boy she talks about and he has everything that i have to live without about bryan and sophie)..... the fun giggly crush songs that are deeply homoerotic….. esther season 1 voice the entirety of you belong with me. like esther really made a deeper connection with sandy in one month that bryan did in years of knowing her. sandy also is the type of person to stan love story, she just thinks it’s such a fun song and she does yell the key change every time it comes on.

season 2 - speak now/lover

elizabeth!!!!! liz is the type of person who only liked old taylor and then got internalised misogyny and then got over it and loves taylor again. the story of us is canonically a liz/rori song…. yes i am still a liz/rori subtext warrior….. liz is very never grow up and dear john is a very her and james song in the fact that they both relate to it……. when they bonded over their trauma “don’t you think i was too young”...... also lover is a liz season 2 album because it’s about liz learning that love is the most important thing in the world….. liz voice i want to be defined by the things that i love. also the archer is just a skam brighton song because it is an isaac song. also i’m just gonna say it. i like me! it’s a good song when brendon urie isn’t in it, you all are just afraid of having fun. also though liz in season 5 is very better than revenge because, while her season is about unlearning your internalised prejudices, i believe she deserves to be misogynistic for 3 minutes 37 seconds.

season 3 - red

now this is controversial. this season is about depression, grief and anger, and these feelings are red. literally jake voice so you were never a saint and i loved in shades of wrong we learn to live with the pain mosaic broken hearts….. like treacherous….. holy ground….. the whole country pop vibe….. the bitchy songs mocking people’s perceptions of the singer….. 22 is a lad squad song…. also jake voice i remember it all too well but it’s about his father’s abuse and his mother’s neglect…… like the whole season is just jake getting to the point where he is at “begin again”. also i feel like jake would like red because he spent a lot of time watching taylor swift music videos as a youth both because he liked the music and had crushes on the guys in them, and he feels red is the perfect middle between the country and the pop and the indie and he just really likes being sad.

season 4 - reputation

bree big reputation holland!!!!!!!!! she has it all - the romantic drama, the hatred of men, the fucking homoeroticism. bree stans the reputation tour and they have made the entire holland-fletcher family watch it on their netflix (al fucking loved it because he’s a canon swiftie, audrey had a fun time, patrick was a little confused, but has the spirit). listen bree “i did something bad”. bree “look what you made me do”. bree and rori “new year’s day”. bree voice i swear i don’t love the drama, it loves me!!!!!!!!! like the reason the season has a lot of reputation songs and ends with daylight from lover is a metaphor for bree leaving their reputation era…. also reputation has she/they vibes

season 5 - 1989

1989 my best friend 1989!!!!!!! i am coming out here as a 1989 (deluxe) stan. it’s just a serotonin album for me and it is just so nick. the mocking songs about their reputation…… the genuinely deeply depressing homoerotic songs that have fun upbeat music…… the cars….. also clean is just such a nick song. he is in recovery, he is just so personal to me. also nick voice one night he wakes strange look on his face pauses then says you’re my best friend and you knew what it was he is in love!!!!!!! nick canonically in love with all of their best friends braxton!!!!! also nick feels like a 1989 stan because they just have those fun energies. nick WILL scream the spoken part of shake it off at the top of his lungs. also new romantic is just a skamverse song in general. also just. out of the woods. no reason for me to say it other than it’s one of my favourite songs of all time.

season 6 - folklore/evermore

no evermore is not out yet. yes i am claiming it for season 6. see taylor has said that these albums are all about telling stories/fairy tales and that’s what season 6 is about. i cannot wait until next friday when the main and my plans for the hiatus are revealed…….. genuinely i do not know how anyone perceives skam brighton so i don’t know who people think the next main is, but…… i can only describe the state of me writing this season as the various ambiguous disorder gifs.

#skam brighton #skam brighton spoilers #what's up i've been a swiftie since i was 3 fucking years old and i will be loud about it!!!!!!!!#also i do love my funny little people i play with in my head (the skambr main squad) they are my dearest friends i would do anything for the #them

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sadwsocc · 5 years

Text

Kenma x Reader soulmate au

an au where whatever they wrote/ drew on their skin would show up on their soulmates skin too

word count: 3,473 words

genre: fluff??? idk

a/n: i really liked writing this one because kenma is actually my fav lmao but i think i wrote his name too many times so it might be a tad bit weird

Kenma was partially annoyed by how often his soulmate would doodle on their body, more specifically their left hand and knees, yes, knees. And he would be annoyed by the amount of questions he got from his teammates about the doodles on his body whenever they had practice. there were always a bunch of stars tethered on his knees in colourful ink (mostly green, purple, black and blue) Whoever his soulmate was, he was definitely annoyed yet intrigued by them.

Kenma didn't know why his soulmate would be up at 2 in the morning while he was playing video games but during those times, a bunch of smiley faces and random doodles would appear. yet, Kenma never made an effort to do make it known that he knew those doodles were there as they would rub it off after awhile. Kenma had no intentions of contacting his soulmate anytime soon.

That was until one fateful midnight, he noticed that there wasn't any doodles appearing on his skin, he assumed his soulmate fell asleep, finally. he decided it would be fun if he took initiative and doodles something, pausing his game he went over to his desk and grabbed a pen.

right when the tip of his pen was about to touch on Kenma's skin, it stopped. Kenma thought long and hard about what to draw or write since he didn't think he could be par with his soulmates clean and neat doodles. deciding on writing a small message, he proceeded to write on his forearm "took you long enough to sleep". he hoped that he would get a reply by morning when she awoke but to his surprise, a new message popped up on his right knee, "im not asleep yet".

"oh" he spoke aloud even though there wasn't anyone in his room. grabbing his pen, he wrote again, "oh". 'Very original' he thought to himself. he waited for a few moments and got an answer back on his other knee, "hi" beside it was a smiley face. Kenma was surprised that he would finally get to have a proper chat with his soulmate... at two in the morning— on a school night. Kenma thought about what to reply to her, 'a simple "hello" would be enough' he thought, which was what he wrote below the 'hi' his soulmate wrote.

moments later his soulmate wrote back with three dots, not knowing what else to write to him and continued, "sorry for the constant doodles—i get bored easily". Kenma sighed, at least his soulmate was self aware. he replied with "its fine", to which a smiley face was drawn again by his soulmate as a reply. that was the end of their little rendezvous, life continued onwards. the two of them made no effort to try to find each other, the doodles were still constant, the weird little notes that appeared on Kenmas palm sometimes would still be present, it was as if their short lived chat never occurred.

———

(y/n) liked to draw. a lot.

whenever you saw a piece of paper that was blank, you'd fill it up with doodles and drawings and when there were no paper in sight you would result in drawing on your own skin or your friend's. your friends didn't mind, nor did their soulmates as they all knew the only person who would draw such things was you, if they ever saw stars appear or little cat doodles or just basic characters from shows you had watched, they would know it was you. it was a known fact.

your skin would never be blank, ever. there would always be that one smiley face or that one random quote that would be hidden somewhere that was noticeable. it was fun for you.

you always wondered when you'd meet your soulmate, your friends all met theirs, mainly through telling them their names and what school they went to, it was— as you liked to call it— the easy way out. a good example of that would be your friend, Kaori, she found her soulmate when she wrote her identity and her phone number on her forearm last year, which was also the two of your first year at Nekoma High. Turns out, her soulmate was some kid named Kuroo that was a year older than the two of you. you had met him like once or ten-no-twenty times when he visited you and Kaori's class, his bedhead had never gone unnoticed to you, in fact it left quite an imprint on you, it was just too... unnatural.

from what you heard the way Kaori found Kuroo was when she told you that she once wrote on her hand that she would be going to Nekoma High, which she knew that her soulmate would be there (they keep in touch through writing i guess) and from then on they would write to each other profusely.

the first day of school and you had saw her anxiously walking around trying to find some dude that was drawn on her hand by her soulmate (it didn't look that good and you could hardly tell it was even a person at all until she stated it to you knowingly). you snickered as she tried to tell you how she thinks it's sweet and thought how her soulmate would go as far as to draw a 'self portrait' for her to find him.

you were in awe when a tall dude with hair that kinda fitted the drawing on Kaori's palm showed up and introduced himself to her, they were blushing and all. you remembered seeing a boy with rather long black hair (first year Kenma didn't have pudding hair, author checked) shielding himself behind Kuroo. you paid no mind to him, of course, you weren't really going to school to make friends.

back to present, it was two in the morning and you were up all night reading, what exactly? we don't talk about that. well, you were reading until you felt someone writing something on your hands and saw a few words written on your hand. one led to another but eventually nothing really happened so you never mentioned it to anyone.

———

weeks after that little midnight incident, one day, Kaori dragged you to your school's volleyball gym —you didn't even know your school had volleyball much less a club— to accompany her visiting her boyfriend, Kuroo.

before she started dragging you, you were writing down your day's to-do list intently. Kaori's green pen that you were using to write down on your palm was suddenly dragged out, ruining you beautiful to-do list. you grunted and sighed, clicking the pen to put it in you pockets as she took you hand and hooked it to hers, forcing you to go along with her rendezvous.

Kaori pulled the gym door opened and there stood about a dozen boys in gym clothes staring at the two of you. they all greeted Kaori but not to you as you didn't know any of them, sure you've heard Kaori talk about them here and there, but most conversations about them were about Kuroo.

Kaori promptly introduced you to the volleyball team, "hey guys, this is (y/n), i dragged her along because i wanted you guys to see her drawings that i mentioned before." this earned a stare from you to your cheery friend and you finally spoke, "since when did i agree to this?". Kaori looked at you and simply said, "when i was dragging you here" with a smile.

you sighed and handed her your sketchbook which was inside your school bag. she thanked you and then went over to the crowd of boys who were intrigued by you sketchbook, leaving you on the side.

———

a little before this, while (y/n) was being dragged by Kaori to the gym:

Kenma felt a little tingly feeling from his palm again and assumed that his soulmate started writing something, he looked at his palm and saw a little to do list being written only for it to be ruined by a sudden line being dragged across. confusion arose from the pudding head as his bed headed friend took notice and glanced at his palm.

a little idea popped into Kuroo's mind as he thought about the only person he knew would have that kind of handwriting and would use that type of green pens. he knew for one that his girlfriend always complained about her pens being taken from her by her (h/c) haired friend and knew what (y/n)'s handwriting would be like from the constant borrowing of her notebooks from his girlfriend. Kuroo always has a fleeting suspicion but it never occurred to him that he would notify Kenma.

He also knew that Kenma had a slight interest on the (e/c) eyed girl from the one or two times he saw him glance at her during lunch or walking in the halls, Kuroo also somehow never mentioned that he knew the girl and the thought just kinda slipped through his mind.

"what's with the weird to do list?" Kuroo finally spoke earning a nonchalant glance from Kenma. "i don't know" Kenma said with a slight confused tone. Kuroo thought about how his girlfriend would be dragging her friend here to show off her friends talents to the team and how his girlfriend would drag people by the hand and the dots started connecting.

———

You were left alone while your sketchbook was being the star of the show resulting in you sitting on the sides next to a boy with overgrown blond hair. It was Kenma, the boy you saw on your first day of school and in the halls and everywhere. you constantly thought about him, though you don't know why. Perhaps it was his slightly long hair? Or the way he looked whenever you saw him playing on his handheld gaming console. He always intrigued you and you thought he was quite cute, whenever you walked pass his class or saw him in the halls your heartbeat sped up. Or could it be the soulmate attraction thing you heard rumours about? Part of you hoped he would be your soulmate but the other felt bad if he was due to your constant drawings on your skin.

The two of you were sitting with your legs close to your chests. You felt yourself becoming a bit jittery and anxious from sitting next to the boy you always thought about. Finally, throwing your dignity out of the window you asked, "Why aren't you going over there like the rest of your teammates?". He finally looked at you and said, " I don't like crowds." You gave him a soft smile, nodded and replied, "me neither". you didn't like crowds, you tended to stay away from them, sometimes avoiding them at all costs.

You realised it would be odd if someone you didn't know suddenly came in to the gym, sat down and started talking you so you promptly introduced yourself. "hi... I'm (y/n), (l/n) (y/n)." you paused thinking about what to say next and then continuing, "Kaori's friend" pointing to the energetic and cheerful girl over with the rest of the volleyball team.

Kenma looked at you for a few seconds longer and you started overthinking, 'What if he thinks you're weird?' 'What if he hates you?' 'Why would he hate you?'. You started a debate with yourself as he finally spoke, "Kenma, Kozume Kenma..."

Of course you knew his name already but it would make you sound like a stalker if you said something like, "I'm (y/n)! And you, sir, are Kozume Kenma, Kuroo's friend and a second year setter, whatever a setter is!" you didn't know much about volleyball but your friend told you about the boys volleyball team once and you ought to remember a few roles.

You glanced over to the game he was playing and immediately recognised the art style of the game. Your eyes lit up and blurted out, "hey! isn't that MonHun?" Kenma looked at you with a bewildered expression, "Yes... do you play it too?" he asked in a soft and quiet tone. You grinned and put your left hand on the nape of your neck, awkwardly rubbing it, "ah, umm... no... sorry. I just know a lot about games and I suck at it too to be honest."

Kenma looked at your for a second and went back to his game as you continued to look at his console. Little did you know, the two of your friends were silently gushing about how adorable and shy and awkward you and Kenma were being. One might not know if they weren't close to Kenma but Kuroo knew on an instant that Kenma was actually freaking out on the inside, to an outsider his attitude might not seem to change but to Kuroo, even the slightest difference was noticeable to him. Kenma seemed a bit giddy, his hand movements were quickened, more unstable as if he was panicking —which he was.

With a smirk playing on the bed headed teen's lips, he nudged Kaori with his elbows gently, "how long do you think they'll realise?" Kaori too had a fleeting suspicion about the two of you and now she was almost a hundred percent sure that her suspicions were confirmed. She stared at the two of you and pondered for awhile, with her right hand on her chin she said, "an hour?" Kuroo laughed a bit and ruffled his girlfriends hair, "you're so adorable." This made her blush profusely. Kaori then inquired, "should we tell them?" "Nah"

You realised that the team was taking a bit too long on admiring your sketchbook, you started to wonder if they were still absorbed in your art or they simply acted like they forgot they had practice. Making a small huff, you turned to look at Kenma again, staring intently in his game, he was on level 37. You heard the game was quite hard, you always wanted to play them but due to the fact that you inevitably sucked at it, you never bothered.

Minutes later, boredom got the best of you and you finally decided to ask, "Hey Kenma-san, can I borrow your console?"

"... after this level" he replied. Kuroo stared in awe as he saw you achieve something he was never able to —borrow Kenma's games whilst he was in the middle of a level. The third year captain was so proud of his friend's character development that he nearly teared up, whispering , "he grows up so fast" to Kaori, to which she giggled to.

After Kenma had beaten that level he handed it to you, setting his game level to the very first one. You awkwardly took it and stared fumbling with the controls. "I think I know how to play this" You said, "it's just dodging and attacking, right?" You rhetorically asked.

"Essentially, yeah" Kenma replied. Your heartbeat quickened and you suddenly felt awkward. A few button smashes and frantically waving the console around, you surprisingly passed level 1. You gave Kenma back his gaming console and raised up both your hands to celebrate beating the first level, you weren't expecting to actually win it, you were used to losing and being killed off. Kenma smiled at your cheery sight.

"High five, Kenma-san!" You said enthusiastically. Holding out both your hands towards him and waited for him to return your high five. Pausing his game and looking up from his console, he saw what you had written on your palm. Wide eyed, Kenma raised his hands to high five you, realising that you had the same green ink on your palm. You were too busy celebrating your victory you didn't bother to realise that he too had what you written on you palm. Putting down your hands, you saw that Kenma was still holding his out, you stared at him and then to his palm. It was then realisation hit you.

You lifted up your palm and stared into your hand and then to his, repeating this gesture for a sold three times before one of you spoke out.

"Are you-?" You asked, not bothering to finish your question. You quickly stood up and patted down the invisible dirt and wrinkles on your skirt and ushered him to wait as you ran over to your bag and grabbed out a baby blue pen you 'borrowed' from Kaori and went back over to Kenma. You turned over to show your wrist and started doodling a simple tulip on your wrist, Kenma in turn, turned around his arm and saw that he too had a baby blue inked tulip on his wrist.

Dropping the pen, you both stared at each other intently. "You're my soulmate" you both said quietly in unison. You let out a sigh of relief and immediately thought about the amount of times you've drawn on yourself.

"I'm- uh, sorry for the constant doodles, I get bored easily" you said meekly, covering your mouth with the collar of your shirt to hide the blush that was starting to appear on your cheeks. You smiled at you and told you that he rather enjoyed them and wouldn't mind if you continued to do so.

Kuroo and Kaori high fives each other as the other teammates were finally done looking at your sketchbook. They were now all looking at the two of you quietly sitting next to each other, cheeks tainted pink.

"What's up with Kenma-san?" Lev asked Kuroo. Kuroo smiled and told him, "he found his soulmate." Lev perked up and went over to where Kenma was and shook his hands to congratulate his senpai. "Kenma-san, congratulations! Today must be your lucky day! Your soulmate is very pretty and so are her drawings! You should look at them too!" As he said the last few parts, Lev looked at you. You gave him a shy smile with a faint blush and looked away, over to your short friend, you knew she was the one who had set this up indirectly.

After the whole ordeal, the two of you exchanged emails and talked about little things that had no meaning to it. You felt butterflies in your stomach the whole chat. He decided he would walk you back home along with Kuroo and Kaori, you assured him you would be fine but he insisted that his house was not far from yours so it was nothing.

"You know, Kenma-san, I kind of always liked you, even if you might've not been my soulmate," you said quietly while the four of you were walking back. You and Kenma walked as a pair while your friends walked behind the two of you at an excruciatingly slow pace which made the two of you decide to walk ahead of them.

Part of you hoped that he didn't listen as it would be rather embarrassing by the other half wanted him to know how much you love him as cheesy as it sounds. He heard it and stared down on the pavement you were walking on as did you. The two of you were so awkward together it was just too sweet. "Me too" he returned you a tone as soft and as quiet as yours.

"Do you think I can go over to your house someday, I kinda wanna play those games of yours" you voiced our in a shy tone. Kenma's eyes widen as he stared at you, thinking.

"Yeah".

The doodles never stopped from then on, maybe it even multiplied but Kenma didn't mind. He would sometimes show it to Kuroo and tell him thing like "Look what (y/n) drew," with hints of interest in his voice. It was absolutely adorable every time the two of you walked back home talking about your day. Somedays you would even stay over at his home and play his games, yet you still inevitably sucked.

#hq kenma #kenma x reader #best boy #haikyuu!!#haikyū #kenma #kozume kenma #nekoma #kuroo tetsurou #hq kuroo

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cottonblush · 5 years

Text

promise me | lmh

❧ word count: 3,403 maybe?

❧ genre: fluff, one mention of a cut so like gore i guess

❧ notes: installment one of the skz powers au!! this one is kinda a drabble series?? also i’ve discovered i love the whole “i hate u” “u love me” thing a little too much but it’s not hurting anyone so yee to the haw my guys!

The first time Minho realizes he’s a gifted one, he’s on the rooftop of his apartment building, unclipping some extra laundry from the clothes line. The wind picks up all of a sudden and the large bed sheet he just unclipped comes flying at his face. He’s trapped, a tangled mass of fabric and limbs, the opaque sheets doing nothing to aid his vision.

The sheets seem to act as a pair of wings, lifting the young boy into the air. It’s just a couple of feet at first, but then he keeps going higher and higher, and Minho can’t get rid of the sinking feeling in his stomach.

When he finally manages to untangle himself and take in a deep breath, he makes the biggest mistake. He pries open his eyes and looks down. There’s no building below him now, just the apartment complex’s playground and park. It doesn’t help that he’s afraid of heights. In that moment, he feels like a cloud, yet he feels like the weight of the world is pressing down on his shoulders.

The fear overwhelms him, clouding his mind, and Minho starts to freefall out of the sky. He tries to scream but can’t seem to find his voice. All that’s left is the seemingly infinite supply of salty tears welling in his eyes and streaming down his cheeks.

In the few seconds it takes to fall, the world seems to slow down. Minho sees flashes of his past, though there’s not much since he’s only at the ripe age of eight years old. He sees his mom making him ramen with an egg on top for the first time; he sees himself in the mirror, small hands running over the scar on his stomach from a surgery he needed; he sees his friends gathering around him to show him the stray cat they found behind a dumpster; he sees you, his next door neighbor and best friend, on the first day that you two met, eyes wide and curious about all the world could offer.

He won’t get to say goodbye to you or anyone else, Minho realizes. He screws his eyes shut and hopes everyone will at least remember him in a good light.

And then everything goes dark.

“Minho,” comes your high pitched voice after what seems like an eternity, “what are you doing hanging from Mrs. Yang’s terrace? Hammocks are meant to be set up close to the ground, silly! And you can’t use a bedsheet. My daddy says you have to buy a special thingy for it.”

Thankfully, the universe has decided it just isn’t Minho’s time yet, and when he realizes this, the boy scrambles to try and get to the terrace.

“Y/n! Please, help! I don’t wanna be in here anymore.”

You run off, causing Minho’s heartbeat to skyrocket, but you return moments later with Mrs. Yang. The woman quickly sees how serious the situation is and cautions Minho not to move.

“I’ll come get you so stay put,” she says, moving quickly.

Once the boy is safely back on the ground, he can’t stop crying, snot and tears turning his once pristine face into a soppy mess. You take the boy into your arms and the two of you fall to the ground, remaining in a tight embrace. Even though Minho is a couple of months older than you, you know it’s no time to point it out and make fun of him.

Instead, you hold him tighter and hope that only good thoughts can reach him, tiny arms doing the best they can to support the taller and larger boy.

Mrs. Yang calls Minho’s mom and she rushes downstairs to get her son, worried expression softening when she sees him safe and sound. She starts to pry him away from you and pick him up in her arms.

Before he can get away from you, you stick out your pinky finger.

“Promise you’ll tell me what happened?”

“I promise,” comes the reply, a matching pinky finger hastily wrapping around your own to seal the deal.

When Minho comes to terms with the fact that he has powers, specifically the power of flight, the first thing you do is urge him to start training to become a super. It’s your latest obsession, the name ‘Megaman’ leaving your mouth at least a billion times a day.

You tell Minho that you want to marry the famous super one day, regardless of the fact that there’s more than a decade between you two. That’s when the boy starts to think that maybe if he becomes a super, you’ll want to talk only about him instead.

Although it doesn’t take much convincing, actually getting Minho up in the air is the difficult part. You have to take it slow, holding his hand even if he’s only a couple of inches off the ground.

After weeks of the same results, it doesn’t seem that Minho will be able to make any improvements, so you do the only thing your ten year old brain can think of.

You unclasp the silver chain that rests around your neck, pendant shaped the same as the first letter of your name, and put it around his. Your hands come to rest on his shoulders, face serious as you try to pretend you’re like a sergeant from your dad’s favorite war-time movie series.

Minho scrunches his brows and tilts his head as he asks, “What’s this for?”

You giggle, serious façade immediately breaking, “It’s a good luck charm! This way, I can be with you whenever you’re flying and you don’t have to be scared.”

“For real? I can actually keep this? You’re awesome, Y/n! I’ll never feel scared if I have this with me!”

You give the boy a tight hug, a giant smile contouring your lips. Minho mumbles something into the crook of your neck, but you don’t quite catch it, so you pull back, hands still grabbing his shoulders and keeping him at an arm’s width away.

He looks unsurely down at the ground for a moment, contemplating if he should voice what he’s thinking or not. However, when he sees your that your encouraging smile hasn’t faltered one bit, it’s just the boost of confidence he needs.

He places his hands atop your own and says, “The necklace sure is great and all, but do you know what’s even luckier?”

You get pouty for a second, thinking your best friend might dispose of your precious gift. With a frown on your face, you grumble out, “No. And I don’t really care either.”

“It’s you, dummy!”

“Hey! Don’t call me a dummy when you’re the dummy, dummy!”

Minho resists the urge to roll his eyes because of course you’d find it in you to argue in a moment like this.

“Ugh, fine, I’m the dummy,” he concedes. “Anyway, I was thinking you can be my lucky charm! As long as you promise to never leave me, of course. And then we can be best friends forever!”

“Really? That’d be perfect, Minho!”

“Promise? That you’ll be by my side forever?”

“I promise.”

Flash forward a couple years and the two of you are sixteen. You’ve become on of the top students in school, balancing grades and your responsibilities as student council secretary. Minho has made a name for himself as a super, dedicating most of his time to saving lives and counting on you to catch him up when he returns home late at night.

However, with people on the streets becoming more aware of him, it also means bad people are better equipped to deal with him.

It’s one fateful night, the wind is howling in his ears and lightning flashes every couple seconds. He’s managed to sneak his way into a gang meeting, trying his best to calm his heartbeat and memorize every detail about the scheme that’s supposed to occur in the coming weeks.

The lightning ends up being a dangerous adversary, its light illuminating Minho’s crouched figure from his place beneath one of the windows on the second floor. One of the grunts notices something is amiss and whispers a command for the building to go into lockdown. He also alerts a guy who appears to be an interim boss of Minho’s location.

The other grunts have him in no time, using their familiarity of the layout to their advantage and sneaking up on him. They grab his arms, forcefully pressing them against his back, and drag him downstairs to the boss.

Minho finds himself seated in a chair. It feels like an investigation scene from the popular crime show on TV, the nearest source of light being an old lamp shining directly in the teen’s face. He gulps, knowing if whatever he says doesn’t please the boss—and it likely won't—he could end up in big trouble.

However, there’s one more mistake Minho makes, and that is overestimating the amount of leniency he would receive. He doesn’t even get a chance to speak before the breath is knocked out of his lungs. Next comes a sharp punch to the face and he knows that’ll leave a mark that won’t be so easy to cover up.

The gang members are relentless, each taking their turn punching or kicking the poor guy, until it’s finally the leader’s turn.

The bulky old man whips out a switchblade and slowly stalks forward. He places the tip of the cold blade on Minho’s forehead, applying enough pressure to draw blood. Minho’s eyes widen in recognition when he realizes what’s about to happen: the man is going to cut off his mask.

He can’t allow that to happen so he wills his body with all his might to break out of the death grip that the grunts have him in. He flies up into the air, shooting through one of the windows and making his escape. Although he does manage to make it out without anyone seeing his true identity, he flies home with a large cut on his forehead, gash slightly tearing into the edge of his mask.

Minho knows that if he goes home and his parents happen to see him in his current state, they’ll find out he’s a super and even worse, they may forbid him from doing the job he’s come to love so much.

Instead, he lands haphazardly on your bedroom’s balcony. He gives the sliding glass door a weak tap, hoping you’ll hear him over the sound of the raging storm above.

Like an angel sent from above, you do hear his call for help and crack open the door.

“Minho,” you call out, voice laced with drowsiness as it’s almost the middle of the night, “what are you doing? Come inside.”

You slide the door open even more, allowing his drenched body to weasel its way inside. You tiptoe across the room and turn the lights to the lowest setting that the dimmer can possibly allow. When you turn around, you resist the urge to yelp, instead rushing forward as Minho’s body collapses.

“Oh my god, Minho! What happened to you? Look at your face. It's…”

You can’t even finish your sentence, your thumb tracing over the delicate skin on his forehead, not ignoring the way his temperature is rapidly falling.

“We need to get you warmed up first,” you urge.

First, you plug in your space heater and position it in front of your bed. You then grab some spare clothes of Minho’s from your closet and turn, ready to hand them off when you see that his form is too exhausted to move on its own. Carefully, you peel off his suit, embarrassment not even close to being present in your mind due to the severity of the situation. You dress him as quickly as possible, making sure to avoid his open wound when sliding on his shirt.

Lugging his body onto your bed, you cover him with your blanket as well as the winter comforter you usually keep tucked away beneath the bed.

Thankfully, the wound is not as deep as it first appeared, and you hope that you can get away with treating it with ointment and wrapping it in bandages, at least until you can get Minho to a doctor.

You lean over his weakened body as you dab the cut with the necessary ointments and creams. Minho doesn’t make it easy for you. His right hand refuses to let go of its grip on your left wrist, skin never losing contact with your own. However, you let it be, knowing that just like that fateful day years ago, the best thing to calm him down is a nurturing touch.

He falls asleep like that and you can only hope for the best, refusing to sleep until you hear his breath even out.

When the sun rises the next morning and Minho comes to, you practically pounce on him, arms winding tightly around his neck.

“Can’t breathe,” the young man chokes out.

You instantly jump back, worry plaguing your features and tears threatening to spill onto your skin.

“S-Sorry,” you say, voice warbling and hands self consciously coming to rest at your side.

Minho softens upon seeing you so concerned, hands reaching out to grab your own.

“I’m fine,” he tries to assure you.

He tells you that he feels much better; he can’t even feel the cut on his head anymore, and that causes you to laugh, telling him he’s being absurd.

“I was so worried, you know? I really thought you were gone for a second there.”

“Don’t you remember our promise? I’m never leaving you and you’re not getting away from me anytime soon.”

“Of course, I remember. But I want us to make a new promise. I want you to promise me to always be careful on missions and always, always, always make sure to come back home safe to me.”

“I promise. I love you, Y/n. I hope you know that.”

“I love you more. And I’ve always known, dummy!”

“Hey!”

“You can’t even argue this time. You literally have a giant cut on your head. You are officially the dummy.”

“Oh god… Do you think my mom will notice?”

“It’s impossible not to. But maybe we can tell her you tripped on the way to school? She must’ve already left for work by now so at least you won’t have to worry about that for now.”

“Ah, what would I do without you?”

“Don’t know. Probably something dumb, dummy.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me!”

“…I hate when you’re right.”

You’re seventeen, not quite a dancing queen, when you’re first asked out to a school event: the winter formal dance. You’re giddy with excitement, chatting with your girl friends about the insta-worthy proposal all day. A classmate who’d recently been in a group project with you, Younghoon, asked you by stopping you at your locker with a bouquet of roses and a box of chocolates.

Because you’re so caught up in the excitement, Minho has to learn of this event through social media, grip turning his knuckles white when he sees that a picture of you and Younghoon in a side hug is your most recent post. He thinks bitterly to himself that you would’ve liked lilies or snapdragons instead and would’ve much rather preferred Haribo sour gummy bears to a cheesy box of chocolates.

He doesn’t know why he’s so irked, to be honest. He thinks maybe it’s because you’ve always attended school functions together as a tradition and you could’ve at least given him a heads up.

However, on the day of the dance, when Minho sees you leaving your apartment through the tiny peephole on his front door, he swears his heart stops. Even through the distorted view of the glass, you look stunning. Your hair is styled and you’re wearing a beautiful floor length gown, but the only thing Minho can think is how you seem to glow. You’re not wearing any makeup but it looks like a fairy came and sprinkled you with glitter and fairy dust. Your million watt smile is just as bright as any other day, but it has Minho’s heart going a mile a minute like he’s seeing it for the first time.

While you spend the night dancing with your supposed prince charming, Minho spends his night at a table sulking. His close friend, Jisung, tries to get him to dance with one of the many girls who are head over heels for him, but he doesn’t have the heart to, telling his friend that he’s just not feeling well.

As Minho downs his sixth glass of punch and crushes the flimsy plastic cup between his fingers, he makes a promise to himself. He promises that from now on, he’ll try his best to make you see him as someone you can spend the rest of your life with. Because maybe all of the 'I love you’s that he’s said to you weren’t a way to express platonic appreciation, but actually are his way of showing how he wants to be able to call you his own and vice versa.

Nothing seems to be catching your attention. You’re quite dense for an eighteen year old. Even his famed flirting and aegyo tactics breeze right by you. Minho swears if he could use one word to describe the whole situation, it would be the infamous r/woosh.

Everyone in your friend group knows about his not-so-little crush, but they’re waiting for him to make a big move. However, Minho’s used all the moves he knows. He’s about to give up hope when a friend suggests a last ditch idea: the silent treatment. That’ll have to get you to notice him.

He never predicted it would be so hard, though. Seeing you in the halls and living right next door to you but not saying a word isn’t as easy as it first sounded. You’re the first person he wants to speak to when he gets a good grade. His finger hovers over your number when he sees anything he thinks you would enjoy doing together (which is pretty often since he basically thinks about you 24/7). You’re the first thing on his mind when he wakes up and the last thing his mind remembers before he goes to sleep.

It’s taking a toll on you too because after a long week, you corner him at his favorite dinner.

Sliding into the booth across from him with a serious expression adorning your face, you inquire, “Did I do something wrong? I swear I haven’t and there was probably just a misunderstanding.”

“No,” Minho denies. “There was no misunderstanding. I just needed some time to clear my head, I guess. Something my friend said really got to me.”

It’s not a complete lie, but Minho would rather be swallowed by a black hole than admit he resorted to something as petty as the silent treatment, especially when it comes to wooing a girl.

“Next time, give me a heads up, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

You change the subject, offering to split a milkshake with him, eyes turning their focus from his face to the menu in front of him. You use your fingers to maneuver the menu around to face you, calling over a waitress. You order a vanilla milkshake with two straws and no maraschino cherry on top: the classic order for the two of you.

Minho hesitantly asks after taking a sip of the cold and sweet milkshake, “Hey, I know we’ve made a lot of promises, but I want you to make me one more.”

When you don’t reply but look at him with attentive eyes and an open heart, encouraging him to feel comfortable and speak his mind, he gets the extra boost of confidence he needs.

“Promise me you’ll give me a chance.”

“What? Wait, a chance at what?”

“I guess I should’ve said, 'give us a chance.’ Go out with me?”

The smile on your face is so bright and full of joy that Minho swears he’ll go blind if he sees it again, but the thought is dismissed when you jump up and reach across the table to pull him into a tight embrace.

Placing a light kiss on the tip of Minho’s nose, causing it to scrunch up in an adorable manner, you whisper, “I promise.”

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wbbbrothers · 5 years

Text

Dear We Bare Bears,

Hello! I am Sugs. Within the next month, I will be in the start of my college experience as an Illustration major. That fact is completely wild to think about considering when I first started watching this show (on this day four years ago) I was entering High School as a freshman student and I was, in fact, a completely different person. Therefore, I decided that because I am stepping into a whole new chapter of my life and this show has been with me the entire way... this Anniversary I wanted to write about how this show has impacted me over the past four years.

Apologies for this being a long post, I have a lot to say.

I created this blog right at the end of the premiere week of this show. I had watched every new episode airing during that Bearbomb that week. One of the last episodes of the week was Primal. So, while it was still airing and I decided in the middle of it that I was hooked! And I knew I needed to make an ask blog to enjoy these silly bear brother characters and fuel the love I had already already found for the show somehow. Wbbbrothers was that ask blog.

I didn’t know at the time but that was possibly one of the best decisions I could have ever made for myself at that point in my life and do mean that very sincerely. Growing up, having intense interest in media that took over my entire creative output was always a very common thing (and obviously still is). These large phases were able to keep my full attention about 1-2 years tops until my brain latched onto something new. But, out of all of those I have to say that We Bare Bears and Bears in general truly are very special to me. I have never been able to create such a variety of stories, embrace so many flawed and imperfect yet still loved characters and feel so deeply about them and the stories I was telling through them. Especially for this long of a time. We Bare Bears as a show holds a great deal of heartfelt comfort for me.

To me: We Bare Bears is a unique show in the fact that (most of the time) it has a very casual, down to earth and calming atmosphere about it. That being said, it is never afraid to experiment or step foot into other genres thanks to its open ended and episodic nature. It is not perfect by any means, like any cartoon written by human beings with flaws. But I admire the love that gets put into it with its personalized watercolored backgrounds, muted palette aesthetics, little visual humor and amazing colorists in general. It can be hit or miss sometimes but it is episodes like Chicken & Waffles, Chloe & Ice Bear, Occupy Bears, Yuri & The Bear, Hibernation, Hurricane Hal and more that remind me why I fell in love with the show in the first place. It loves the quiet moments just as much as I do. It does not have to be constantly shoving stimulation down your throat and in your face in order to tell a fun or compelling story. I have always respected its ability to take things at a slower pace sometimes, especially when a lot of current cartoons tend to lean towards Snappiness (snappy humor, snappy action, bright colors and fast pacing)

We Bare Bears feels like warmth. When I re-watch my favorite character driven episodes I cannot remove the fond smile from my face and when I re-watch my favorite adventure filled episodes it always sends me bouncing in my seat.

My method with interacting with my interests was always to create my own fan-content or Alternate Universes with the characters that I loved. It was my way of putting a piece of me into the characters whether it be through my other interests in media or my own experiences and feelings. The AUs I make are a genuine form of self-expression to me.

Obviously, the Character Driven and Open Ended Slice of Life nature of We Bare Bears as a series really opened up the flood gates in terms of my creativity and ideas for AUs. I never felt happier than when I was creating new jokes or dialogue or just silly scenarios. Alternate Universes were a combination of all the parts I loved about creating for me and they started to act as my own free-roam stories to explore these favorite characters of mine in all sorts of different ways. Since I have started, my work has only improved the more love and passion I put into it.

Superhero AU and Bad Bears are my main two fan stories/AUs of mine that have been around since I was 14-15 and are two of the most developed AUs I have ever had. They taught me a lot about, developing fictional worlds, characters and plotlines and I am STILL developing and enjoying them even now! They’ve also inspired me to make so many other OCs and stories so much as influencing future projects that I am currently in the middle of developing.

It baffles me to think of a world where I never watched We Bare Bears and never was able to be influenced by its fans, its art, writing and its characters.

If you’ve been on this blog long enough you might recall that my first Wbb AU was your average run of the mill Zombie AU (this was while wbbbrothers was still primarily an ask blog) not to be confused with my Zombie 2 AU which is a completely different premise entirely aside from the zombie apocalypse part. Long story short, I had a Fuckload of AUs back then and I mean A Lot. Enough to get condescending messages over, even some curse outs. (Not everyone I met over the four years was the greatest...) I was scared away from publicly speaking about most of them the way that I used to. While my technical skill was lacking for that age and I could not write a solid scene to save my life, despite the negativity, the intense passion and enjoyment I felt from making content kept me enthralled with the show. I kept making my AUs in private and developing them, posting more general fanart and occasionally art for my Superhero AU publicly. I even started to get pretty good at drawing Bears! And managed to make some friends who shared interests with me, something I never got to have offline.

It was not all great of course, the past four years have been extremely hard for me and extremely hard for everybody else, I’m sure. Bears was my default thought when surviving High School; my go-to pick me up. I seriously would say that it has saved me more than once whether it be through talking to my friends I met because of it or just offering a distraction/creative outlet from whatever was going on in my life.

Prior to becoming a fan I never would have thought I would have been able to make so many stories, projects, art, writing and comics and talk to so many amazing creators and people all thanks to this one show about Socially Awkward Bears living in San Fransisco.

But here we are.

And you know what, even when I inevitably move onto newer projects or interests, I think Bears will always be an important influencer to me. The wonderful people I have met throughout these four years have given me so much support and love and friendship like none I have ever been allowed to experience before. I have learned so much about my identity through my friendships and my stories. And even the awful people I have met taught me what NOT to do and what to avoid when moving forward in my life.

I am just. So, so grateful for everything and being able to pursue what I love and have it be received by others to make them feel things too. There is a Lot more I could say I am sure but since this is long enough as is I will send it off here.

So from the bottom of my heart I can only say Thank you. Thank you to my friends who still talk to me to this day, I love you guys. Thank you to those I used to speak to but don’t anymore, our friendship of the past still stays with me. Thank you to anyone who enjoys my work, my stories and follows me despite my wild ramblings such as this!! (If you’re still reading this wow, points to you)

And Thank you We Bare Bears for helping me grow so much as an artist and giving me a sense of direction and purpose with my work as a hurting teenager who was very, very lost in 2015.

Sincerely yours,

Wbbbrothers <3

#anniversary rant #wbb #modspeaks #SORRY IM A SAP #text heavy #long post

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bymoonchild · 6 years

Text

Set On You (M)

Pairing | Jungkook x Reader

Genre | Fluff, smut / volleyball!AU, college!AU, setter Jungkook x manager reader

Warnings | Light smut, detailed thigh-riding, thirsty nsfw thoughts, alcohol consumption, swearing and a whole lot of hopeless pining and soft moments because it’s soft uwu hours 24/7

Word count | 18.1k

Summary | Sports has never been your thing, so when you find yourself in a sports hall that reeks of perspiration and cologne and in front of a group of volleyball players whom you’re supposed to be managing (heck, you can’t even manage your own life), you know that you’re in Deep Shit™.

Especially when Jeon Jungkook, the golden setter of the team aka the boy who holds stars in his eyes, starts to occupy your reveries, slowly becoming both the quiet and pandemonium of your heart.

The repeated squeaks of sneakers and harrowing smacks from the contact of palm against ball reverberate across the court, sounding awfully similar to the erratic thumping of your heartbeats, but they do nothing to drown out the thudding in your eardrums. Cowering meekly behind the door of your school’s daunting indoor sports hall, the perspiration on your palms is getting way out of hand and your legs almost threaten to take you back to your dorm, but the palpable, icy-cold air that greets you halts you in your tracks.

Clad in their renowned black and red jerseys, you watch the volleyball players manoeuvre effortlessly all over the court, giving their all to keep the ball up in the air. They almost look identical – radiating with a peculiar charisma and indomitable grit – if not for the designated numbers on their backs.

More volts of panic pulse through your veins. You’re intimidated out of your wits, but even for a person who’s allegedly allergic to sports, you can’t deny the ferocity of their match – it’s pretty enthralling. Thinking about it, this is actually your first time catching your school’s volleyball team in action and you have to admit that their teamwork is quite something.

Sports has never been your thing, let alone volleyball. In fact, you would very much rather be cooped under your quilt in the comfort of your air-conditioned room at this very moment. How you’ve landed yourself in a humid and stinky indoor sports hall that reeks of perspiration and cloying cologne, facing a group of really tall and sweaty college boys with that signature awkward grin of yours is beyond you, and something you definitely didn’t foresee yourself doing in your second year in Seoul National University.

You should have trusted your gut feeling when you thought that agreeing to be the student manager for the school’s volleyball team to earn extracurricular points for your scholarship would be a terrible idea. Gosh, this is all on Hoseok, your English Lit seatmate and also (surprisingly) the captain of the volleyball team. Curse him and his manipulative ways of convincing people.

According to your very wise friend, 1) you desperately need to join a club ASAP because the only club you belong to is the Sunshine Club – no, it’s not a real club, it’s just a pejorative term for students who alternate between home and school, and that certainly earns you zero extracurricular points, 2) you need to get out of your comfort zone more often because this is college and in college, you fuck things up for the fun of it, and 3) a student manager could really do good for the volleyball team because the new season is starting really soon and they’re gearing up for first place this season after their demeaning loss to Hanyang University last year, oh and also, the boys have been praying everyday to have someone (new and well, fun) other than their coach on the team because the old man sure can be a little grump.

You don’t question the last point because it’s a known fact that the volleyball team is your school’s pride and joy. When they were beaten at their own game last year, the entire school went in mourning for a whole damn week. It’s pretty hilarious, the more you think about it, that the competitive sport is basically just a more intense game of “don’t let the balloon touch the floor”. But almost everyone finds the sport cool because somehow or other, the players also happen to be naturally tall and also attractive – though the latter is highly subjective and does not include your terrible friend.

Albeit not knowing the players personally and being able to match their names to their faces, you’ve seen the gang in school, perpetually flaunting their black and red jerseys that can be spotted from miles away and drawing attention to their rambunctious selves.

The number of people who admire (and worship) them don’t escape your notice too, including your smitten professors who all have a mutual soft spot for Hoseok whenever he falls behind or sleeps in class. It seems like everyone is oddly bewitched by their charms – you’ve heard stories about the appalling number of girls who’ve confessed to them and hooked up with them at parties, only because Hoseok can’t stop gloating about the increasing count. But whether they’re just plain ole rumors or facts, you’d rather not be involved in their social politics because Hoseok is your own Gossip Girl and that’s more than enough, really.

“Guys, gather up!”

Coach Kim blows his whistle and literally the entire team comes scrambling to swamp the two of you. A wave of panic washes over you, draining colour from your face as they start to look you up and down inquisitively. You’ve never felt that inferior about being vertically-challenged before, but being surrounded by a group of volleyball players who could appear to be almost a good 2 meters tall? Definitely not up your alley.

“We finally, yes, finally,” you don’t miss the enthusiasm and relief in Coach Kim’s voice, “have a student manager on the team!”

At that, everyone explodes in loud cheers, their gruff voices filling up the court and you shudder at the resonance of their voices.

“Hi,” you give a little wave to the tall towers before you, trying to make things less menacing for you. “I’m Y/N, a second-year Psychology major. Nice to meet you! I’ll be the student manager from today onwards. Hoseok dragged me here—”

“Yay, welcome Y/N!” Hoseok interrupts your intention of throwing shade at him with an overzealous whoop of excitement and his teammates divert their attention to their loud captain. “You guys be nice to her or you’ll be catching these hands.”

They all roll their eyes, before grunting out an okay. After taking turns to introduce themselves – honestly, your brain could only be loaded with so many names, you’d definitely need more time to digest and remember their faces, the players soon disperse and resume their usual rotational drills.

Turning to you with an eerily wide grin, Hoseok then leads you to the perimeter of the court and hands you a clipboard. “Okay for today, just familiarise yourself with the positions and the guys. Easy peasy, I know we’re all good-looking—”

You interrupt his narcissistic statement by faking a gag.

“Rude! As I was saying before I was rudely cut off, we’re all good-looking, but it’s easy to distinguish us. Unless you mix Seokjin-hyung and Jungkook up, which is fine because they look quite similar. Both ugly.”

“You just said—”

“The entire team is present except for Jungkookie. He’ll come later because he’s taking a test now. When you see a tall guy who looks like an overgrown, emo baby bunny, just mark Jungkook present.”

You hum mindlessly and glance over to the guys who’ve already taken their respective positions.

“Now, now, don’t gush over the guys. They’re fucking gross. They sweat a lot and stink like rotten meat after practice.”

“As if you don’t too! I’ve sat beside you in class after your practice before and I had to hold my breath the entire class.”

“Excuse you!” He clicks his tongue in annoyance, “I’m already pretty hygienic compared to the others… Anyways, it’s too late to back out.”

“Oh shit.”

“I’m kidding! We’re really nice, a little intimidating maybe because of our heights but that’s only because you’re short as fuck, but we don’t bite… unless you want us to. Come! Let’s go through the positions together.”

Being the volleyball neophyte you are, Hoseok walks you through the various volleyball positions. You learn that there are four main positions and only six players are allowed on the court, though the entire team is 14 members strong. There are three wing spikers in total – Hoseok, Taehyung, and Yoongi – and they carry the defensive workload. Namjoon and Seokjin are the middle blockers, while Jimin is the libero who wears a different coloured jersey since he can conveniently switch in and out of the game (usually with Seokjin) and lastly, the setter, who is none other than Jungkook. Hoseok calls him the backbone of the team.

“Okay, this isn’t that hard. I can do this,” you think to yourself after Hoseok leaves to join his teammates, a dry attempt to spur yourself on.

Maybe it’s because you haven’t done much besides committing their names and faces to memory and learning about the different positions, but the first thirty minutes of practice have been going surprisingly well, until—

“Jungkookie!” Hoseok shrieks while looking past your shoulder towards the door.

“The overgrown, emo baby bunny?” You quote your friend, before turning your head to look at the latecomer.

And damn, you wish you could take back your words. Standing before you is a boy who’s unfamiliar to your sight, but a dazzling one in appearance. His hair is a black mop of soft tousled locks, his onyx eyes are doe-like and his lips take on a soft rosy pink tint.

Upon your words, Jungkook doubles over with a boyish chuckle. “Hyung! What did you call me?”

Ignoring the latter and swatting him away, Hoseok continues with a beam, “Yep, this is Jungkook, our golden setter. Great, now you’ve met everyone on the team!”

He then turns back to Jungkook, while offering you a pat on the back, “Jungkookie, meet Y/N, our new student manager. Treat her nicely or I’ll break your fingers.”

Jungkook takes offense at the threat (his dearest fingers…) and glowers at his captain. He then turns to you and you notice that his facial expressions soften for a moment, before his face starts to scrunch up. With a contrived smile, he extends out his hand, “Hello, nice to meet you.”

You draw in a furtive breath, painfully aware of how he practically looms over you.

“H-Hi, I’m Y/N.”

You instantly curse yourself, red threatening to dot your cheeks because Hoseok literally just said your name like 10 seconds ago.

Even from where you’re standing, it doesn’t take much for you to notice how his eyes take on a sharp, mesmerising glow. Like stars glistening in the velvet night sky, vying to out-glow one another.

And so, you panic.

“Nice to meet the overgrown, emo baby bunny,” are the words that follow your already embarrassing introduction and you grimace upon hearing yourself, wishing to swallow your stupid words back. Your mouth just lives to sabotage you whenever you’re nervous.

The awkwardness starts to saturate the air, uncomfortable in the way it clings onto the two of you, minus Hoseok who’s drinking everything in with confusion. Jungkook’s eyes rest on your embarrassed features, blinking owlishly and this is when you know that you need to leave, stat. Embarrassed, you bite your lower lip and mutter, “I have to go… help Coach. Bye!”

Spinning on your heels skittishly, you jog past hoarse hollers of nice serve and chance ball to join Coach Kim at the sidelines and you swear you’ve never speed-walked this fast in your entire life before. It literally takes every ounce of you not to freak out even when you can still feel holes being bored on your back. Not even an hour into practice and you’ve embarrassed yourself already? So much for beating your personal record.

“Well, that was painfully awkward,” the captain taunts with a smile full of mirth.

“Urgh h-hyung, stop it!”

Besides the brainwork of remembering the players’ names and positions, your agenda of tasks also includes physical labour, much to your dismay, of refilling water bottles, picking up stray balls from all corners of the court and being in charge of the dreaded grimy storeroom aka your new hiding place away from the sausage fest outside.

You don’t really get to watch today’s full six-on-six match, too busy scrambling all over the court to gather the stray balls and when you’re finally done, the boys have taken a five and are sprawled all over the floor, grumbling loudly in fatigue.

Joining Coach Kim on the bench, your eyes sweep quickly across the court and you see Jungkook lying on the ground with his eyes closed, chest heaving up and down rhythmically in tandem with his breathing, like an empty boat blobbing on gentle early-morning waves. What catches your attention is how apparent his jersey sticks to his abdomen, slightly exposing his torso and warmth violently flares in the full of your cheeks, tipping your ears pink. You can’t unsee it, but you desperately want to. Beside him, Hoseok has his shirt rolled up to his chest, baring his well-sculpted front, but you don’t feel a thing.

As if on cue, a raven black mop of dishevelled locks rises up from the ground, swiftly meeting your eyes in the process. He freezes like a rabbit caught in a snare, eyes wide and shoulders rigid. But it’s not like you’re any better. You stare back at Jungkook blankly, trying your best not to panic because he just caught you staring at him like a creep and it’s only your first day.

Uh oh.

A disconcerting feeling starts to stir in the pit of your stomach, so you quickly pry your eyes away because you’re that good at pretending that you didn’t see shit.

From your periphery, you realise that he’s still looking straight at you and you shudder at the weight of his piercing gaze, feeling hot all of a sudden.

Eventually, you decide to muster up some courage and turn back to him. You see that his eyes are still dead set on you and this throws you off kilter. Forming a thin line on his lips, he suddenly throws himself back onto the ground with a thud, causing his teammates to rise up instantly and wonder what the heck is wrong with their setter.

The way Jungkook stares at you remains etched in your mind even after practice. If this is what you’re going to face three times a week from today onwards, you’re going to need all the luck you can have and probably also some calming tea for your unsettling nerves.

You arrive at the sports hall punctually the next practice, a tad excited, albeit the nerves in your stomach. Instead of reporting straight to Coach Kim, you decide to greet the few players who are already warming up, but almost retract your footsteps when you see Jungkook part of the warm-up circle.

He’s already staring at you with that same gaze of his, but the boys don’t sense your hesitance and beckon you to join them. It’s a little too late to back away, so you saunter over with a bubbly façade, ignoring the fact that Jungkook is still relentlessly boring holes onto your face.

“Hey!” Taehyung chirps and scoots over to make space for you. “Sit here, Y/N!”

“Hi Y/N!”

“Did you come from class?” Hoseok pipes, spinning a volleyball with his finger.

“Yeah, it ended 10 minutes ago.”

“H-Hi.”

You hear a soft murmur beside you and turn your head, only to meet Jungkook and his brown doe eyes. Seated only inches away from you, his breath fans out across your cheek and warmth scatters over your skin in the rise of gooseflesh at the proximity. He doesn’t break eye contact with you for few seconds, as if you two are the only ones in the court, before he blinks away and continues stretching like he didn’t just stutter.

“Hey, Jungkook,” you mutter in a slight daze of confusion, wincing when your words come off as a gasp, so you quickly turn back to somewhere safe – to the sight of Hoseok doing push-ups with the derpiest face ever. If Jungkook has heard your silly gasp, he’s sure being really nice for not laughing about it or bringing it up.

Once Coach Kim finally enters the court, you run up to him in relief because you’re dying to break away from Jungkook’s gaze, and Hoseok invites you to join their discussion about the strategies for their practice match. Foreign terms like “quicks”, “back-row attacks” and “jump float serves” are being strewn around vivaciously, but you dutifully scribble whatever you could decipher on your clipboard, though the technicalities are starting to get pretty overwhelming.

Mid-way into the discussion, a particular chuckle floats over to your direction and you can’t help but draw your gaze to the middle of the court. You see Jungkook goofing around with his teammates, spinning a volleyball deftly with his hands, and the edges of your lips curl up at the sight of him having fun. It’s strange how he’s so uptight whenever he’s around with you, all rigid limbs and awkward glances.

Practice starts promptly after the discussion and things start to change half an hour into practice, contrary to their chill warm-up session. Taking their respective positions, nobody’s cracking jokes or slacking off, all committed to ensuring that the ball stays afloat and honing their skills.

The shift in Jungkook’s demeanour is especially evident to you. From the shy and awkward boy he is around you, he’s now focused and charismatic. His gaze doesn’t break away from the ball, always on the lookout and poised to set.

The boys practice for another two hours, constantly refining their moves and providing feedback to one another. Besides listening to Coach Kim’s never-ending commentary and laments about the boys, you also move around the perimeter to observe each player and take notes on your clipboard.

You somehow find yourself standing near the net, where Jungkook is positioned in his fully immersed glory. Hoseok calling him the backbone of the team comes to mind. After researching more about the different positions, you’re aware that the setter controls the flow of the game and orchestrates the attacks, but what intrigues you more is knowing that Jungkook is one of the best setters in the zone. You wonder if he’s really that amazing as what they make him to be, so you decide to take a break from your clipboard and pay full attention to the boy in front of you.

The ball arches over the net from the opposing team and Jimin springs into action, diving on the ground without hesitation. He grunts loudly when he manages to save it, pumping it back up in the air. A rolling receive, you recognise. From behind, one of his teammates screams an exasperated “nice save”.

The ball glides over to where Jungkook’s at and he extends his arms, as if inviting it to rest in his cupped hands. You can’t help but be mesmerised by his figure that’s positioned at a breath’s gap from the net, his back arching into a parabolic shape and thigh muscles rippling as he uses just one hand to slightly push the ball over the net with great aplomb. His effortless move sends the ball diving straight onto the ground, untouched by his stunned teammates from the other side.

“A dump!” Taehyung hollers excitedly, “Holy fuck!”

“What the fuck, Kook!” Namjoon from the opposing team shouts in frustration, but seems to be equally impressed by Jungkook’s sly move. “You’re a devil.”

Jungkook lets out a satisfied chuckle at their dumfounded reactions and the edges of your lips quirk up involuntarily. His sun-kissed skin shimmers with a thin sheen of sweat on his neck, while his dark eyes sparkle with intensity. He looks almost idyllic being on the court, phenomenal even – it’s like he belongs there, like he was born to play and shine on the court.

There’s something about his contented smile that’s enamouring – there’s something warm, soft and child-like beneath it. Something very much like a young boy playing hide-and-seek, hidden deep within him and hoping to be discovered and resurrected.

His smile is a nice sight.

The match resumes and you continue to observe how the setter receives the ball and tosses it to his teammates with impeccable control and precision. The way his fingers cup the volleyball doesn’t go past your notice and you gulp when your eyes land on his veiny arms.

A warm tingling feeling courses to your own fingertips. You wonder how holding his hand would feel like and similar thoughts continue to invade your mind throughout the entire practice.

The following practices fly by in a blur.

You’re on the bench with Coach Kim, your clipboard in hand. You’ve soon found joy in analysing the skills of each player and coming up with strategies, and this is evident from your clipboard that’s now filled up with your messy handwriting. The exciting game of volleyball is really starting to grow on you, though what’s more captivating is watching the setter shine on the court.

Jungkook is a silent and calculating setter who pinpoints his tosses with an eerie tactical accuracy. He’s especially meticulous in estimating the average height of each spiker’s jumps and he knows how to change the speed and altitude of his tosses to complement each teammate, leaving no room for mistakes.

While you’re realising all these by yourself, the guys are still fighting it out on the court, engrossed in the last set of the practice match and Jungkook’s team is in the lead. It’s against his own teammates, but the setter’s competitive burn doesn’t seem to know when to stop, boundless when it comes to the things he’s passionate about. This isn’t exclusive to just him though – his teammates seem to have picked up his vigour too, all firing with extra vitality. It isn’t surprising as all of their efforts are dedicated to winning the championships this season.

Seeing how the game is never coming to an end because they’ve been at match point for the last five minutes and neither team is letting their guard down, you excuse yourself from the game to refill their water bottles. Seokjin decides to join you when he watches you leave. Jimin has stepped in for the last few minutes of the set and you thank him for his help because carrying 14 water bottles is not an easy task.

From the corner of his eye, Jungkook sees you returning to the court with their water bottles hugged to your chest and he wishes he could run over to help you. But when Seokjin appears behind you, sharing a laugh with you, an unfamiliar feeling pools in his stomach – something about the sight of you laughing with his teammate puts him off. He doesn’t like it, but he softens at how brightly and effortlessly your face lights up. Seokjin’s probably telling you one of his overused dad jokes.

Sharp curses and flustered yells of Jungkook’s name fly through the air, but there’s barely enough time for him to process what is going on. He registers the blur of yellow and blue spinning in a few centimeters away from his face and before he knows it, he’s crashing on the cold hard ground from the impact.

A yelp escapes from the back of his throat. He feels like his nose just did a full-on pancake save on the ground. The middle of his face is throbbing in pain and his vision starts to blur from the tears at the edges of his eyes.

“Jungkook, what the heck were you doing!” Coach Kim bellows and jogs over to check up on him, his creased forehead is evidence that he’s in disbelief that the golden setter is actually capable of being distracted during a match.

The blazing blur of blue and yellow is soon replaced with shadowy looming figures and gasps of horror.

“Gosh, your nose is as red as Angry Bird,” Taehyung pipes in and chortles with his phone in hand. “What the fuck, I need to capture this. This is blackmail material.”

“Dude! What was that about?” Hoseok kneels down, a tad amused by the situation. “You’re normally not like this, who were you looking at?”

“Guys, guys! Give him some space…”

A lulling voice emerges amidst the insults mercilessly thrown at his injured self and Jungkook relaxes a little.

Easing your way to the front, you squat beside him, wincing at the sight of the bloody gash. A single line of blood trickles down his jaw and then to his neck, causing a red seam on his jersey.

“Okay, kids! Thank god that we have a manager now. Y/N will take care of Jungkook and his bloody face, so get back to practice!”

You offer him a little smile as he stares at you wide-eyed silently.

“Jungkook? You’re okay. You’re fine, it doesn’t look that bad,” you coo reassuringly, hoping to lessen the pain that’s evident from his contorted expression.

Pressing the back of his hand to his nose to wipe away the blood, Jungkook flushes pink, as if his face isn’t red enough already. Besides the stinging pain on his face, he feels his heart beating a merciless staccato rhythm. He already has trouble breathing from the blood in his nostrils, but all air rushes out of him when you inch even closer to assess the damage and he shuts his eyes in panic.

“I’ll take you to the nurse after you’re all cleaned up.”

Jungkook grunts in response. With careful fingers, you cradle the back of his head and push away his sweaty bangs with your other hand, before gently wiping the area around his nose. Slowly reopening his eyes, he gazes at you quietly and you avoid eye contact with him at all costs, but you shiver involuntarily when the warmth of his breath graces your arm.

At this close of a distance, you can count the long eyelashes that frame Jungkook’s large orbs, the crooked bunny teeth that appear when he winces, the little mole under his lips and the faint scar on his right cheek that mars his otherwise unblemished and fair skin. His hair also feels soft as it tickles the back of your hand and you’re so tempted to thread your fingers through them. You have to physically shake your head to rid yourself of these thoughts.

“Okay… Slowly…” You slip out of Jungkook’s hold as he settles on the edge of an empty bed in the school clinic and the nurse approaches you two without a word, as though injuries like these are an everyday occurrence.

“Does it still hurt?”

“Not as bad as before,” he mumbles bashfully, peeking at you through his lashes and you instantly want to melt into a puddle on the floor, especially since there’s less blood, people and space. It’s just the two of you now.

Noticing that you’re standing awkwardly by the door, he pats the space beside him and you move over, actually tired from the whole ordeal.

You two make some small talk while waiting for the nurse to return. You learn that Jungkook is in his second year too, a Computer Science major, and you tell him that you’ve never seen him in school before though the Social Sciences faculty is right beside his.

“I think I’m kind of low-key?” He states and you raise an eyebrow. He is definitely not low-key. There are probably girls gushing over him at this very instance.

“I’m always in class or at practice. Okay, I spend 30 percent of my life in class, 60 percent at practice and the last 10 percent in my room,” he explains animatedly, flinging his hands to gesture how he divides his time.

You try not to sputter into a fit of laughter, but laughter pokes its way across glassy eyes and pink cheeks when Jungkook scrunches his nose at his words.

“But I think I’ve seen you in school before? Your faculty always has fundraiser activities going on. And you performed for a talent show before, didn’t you? My friend dragged me to your faculty’s talent show. You sang an Adele song right?”

“Oh,” you squeak, a little too high to your liking, red finding its way up your cheeks. You’re nonplussed and a little touched that he remembers you from the other talented and pretty female contestants because they’re so many girls around him and you’re just… well, you’re just you.

“Oh my god, I probably sounded terrible,” you grimace, hand flying up to cover your face in embarrassment.

“No, you didn’t! I remembered your performance because it was that good.”

“R-Really?

He hums in response.

“Okay… thank you, I guess?” You look down at your fingers awkwardly. “That’s really nice of you.”

A chuckle escapes his lips. “No – thank you. Coach would have just left me bleeding on the ground if it wasn’t for you.”

A small smile tugs at your lips and the edges of his lips start to curl up to a semblance of a smile as well. Before you know it, he has his hand up, gingerly ruffling your hair and your entire body instantly stiffens, as if zapped by electricity. Muted colours of soft pastels swirl in your head. You think that his touch on your head might actually burn more than his squashed nose.

“No problem, Jungkook.”

It’s been a month since you joined the volleyball team as their student manager and now your existence alternated between school, your dorm and the sports hall, but you’re actually enjoying every bit of it.

It’s a Tuesday, which means there’s no volleyball practice, but you’re heading to the sports hall to clean up the storeroom and do some administrative stuff for their upcoming friendlies.

“Y/N!”

Looking up at the direction of the familiar voice, your eyes land on Jungkook who’s smiling at you and you stop in your tracks. You drink in the sight of him in a white T-shirt, ripped light blue jeans and a denim jacket. It’s nothing over the top, but he looks stunning regardless and you have to curb the lingering wisps of excitement brewing in your stomach.

This is probably the first time seeing Jungkook in school. Ever since his bloody nose incident, the two of you have started to become less uptight with each other and are now friends, if you choose to omit the awkward stares, flustered cheeks and sweaty palms. Just friends, nothing more or less.

You wave to him, trying your best to hide your surprised expression. He has never approached you directly during practice, let alone in the hallway.

“Where are you headed to?” He breaks the distance between you and him in less than five strides.

“I’m just going to clean up the storeroom. You?”

“Clas—oh actually, I was about to practice my tosses too.”

“Don’t you have class?”

“Um, no I don’t?”

“But you were just walking in the other direction, away from the sports hall.” You raise an eyebrow and tilt your head.

This stops him cold. He can’t place your expression exactly – it’s a cross between amusement and confusion and this makes him even more torn between wanting to continue lying so he can go to the sports hall with you and dropping the act and running away to save himself from further embarrassment. He chooses neither.

“Okay fine, you caught me. Can we… let’s just go to the sports hall together?”

How and why is a mystery, but you find yourself nodding your head in acquiescence.

Walking beside Jungkook is anxiety-inducing, as if you aren’t nervous enough around the said boy on a regular basis. As you pass through the hallway of blur figures, you pick up a whiff of Jungkook’s scent – it’s a comforting, clean fresh laundry scent that rests pleasantly on your nose. The soft material of his denim jacket is ticklish as it brushes against your arm, sending your heart ricocheting even more furiously in your ribcage.

There’s always been something about Jungkook that makes you feel… alive, you realise.

It’s the little awakening tingles that shoot up your spine every time his skin comes into contact with yours, be it casually and intentionally and the momentary halting of your heartbeat and the fluster that attacks you without a warning whenever he gazes at you. It’s the little crinkle at the edges of his eyes when he’s smiling and his mellifluous laughs – both soft and loud ones – when he’s cackling up with the guys that never fail to render you breathless.

You hate how you always magically transform into an incoherent fool every time you come in contact with him. But no matter how times he has caused your heart to stop for the briefest of moments, you don’t regret the lovely loss because you’ll gladly succumb to any pain, fuzzy feeling or ramification that Jungkook brings – just because, as strange as it sounds, you like it.

You don’t realise that you’ve held your breath the entire walk to the sports hall until you reach the storeroom and that was only possible after persuading the insistent Jungkook that you don’t need his help with clearing the cabinets.

When you’re done after spending an hour in the stuffy storeroom, you find Jungkook spiking the balls against the wall in his sports attire. You swallow hard when your eyes trail down to his accentuated butt that looks too good for his own good and his thighs that flex dangerously when he moves. Your cheeks sear with embarrassment that’s hot enough to burn away your lewd thoughts.

For someone who’s painfully shy and cannot toss a ball for pity’s sake, you cannot fathom where you get the sudden surge of courage, but your mouth decides to take matters into its own hands and blurt out something along the lines of “Hey, want me to toss the ball to you?”.

You hate how your voice rises in the end, turning into an awkward squeak, but he seems to find it adorable if his dazed look is anything to go by.

Eagerly taking you up on your offer, the two of you soon fall into a comfortable pattern – you’d toss the ball to Jungkook for him to practice his tosses and spikes and this continues till the volleyball crate is emptied out. Sometimes you don’t toss high enough and he’ll laugh at your fail attempts, but he’s always patient with you and even teaches you the proper way of tossing the way with the correct push. Heck, you didn’t even know that there was a correct way of tossing a freaking ball.

After what seems like 10 hours, you sit down to catch your breath, slightly embarrassed by your lack of stamina because Jungkook looks like he can go on for another 10, looking as impeccable as ever. When he runs a hand through his hair with that lopsided smile of his, it leaves you even more short of breath. It’s as though he’s doing this on purpose.

His fitted shirt is drenched with sweat, cruelly sticking to his abs and you gulp when your eyes trail down to his thighs. The fabric of his shorts hugs his lower half like a second skin, revealing the harsh lines and sculpted muscles of his thighs. And you really need to curb your obsession for his thighs, because it’s getting way out of hand and you’ll skin yourself alive if he ever finds out about it.

“Hey, you tired?” Jungkook trudges over to sit beside the stoned you, playing with the ball in his hands.

“Oh no no, I’m okay,” you lie blatantly and begin to stand up, but he stops you.

“It’s okay, I’m pretty beat too. Want to grab some food? I’m actually really hungry.”

He looks at you with a painfully familiar glint swimming in his corneas and your breathing stutters violently at the sight.

Listen, you don’t know if you can survive being this close to him, but you decide to fuck it when Hoseok’s words echo in your mind: you need to get out of your comfort zone more often – go and fuck things up.

Deciding to heed his stupid advice, you shoot Jungkook a smile, “Thought you’d never ask.”

Somehow or other, you two end up eating at a convenience store near campus because ramen after practice is always a good decision.

“So, um, how’s school?” Jungkook starts off, picking up his noodles with regalement, but deadpans upon realising how lame he sounds.

“How’s school?” You repeat with a bemused tone, chuckling at his dry attempt at making small talk.

“I mean like… tell me about yourself? Like how’s school been like for you… Urgh, this is so embarrassing.”

He groans loudly and buries his head in his palms and then peeks at your face through the spaces in between his fingers. His heart swells like never before at your smile and the tinges of amusement dancing in your orbs.

A highly ranked and skilled setter he might be, but Jungkook knows no shit when it comes to his strange, burgeoning feelings for you. He wishes that feelings could be more like volleyball – systematic, clear-cut, and guaranteed a clear, satisfying view if you try hard enough. Human emotions bring along this ambiguity that he’s scared of approaching. He isn’t sure if he is capable of understanding it, but there’s always a first time for everything.

You laugh dryly, “I’m always clueless when I’m supposed to talk about myself. I guess I’m just a normal person with normal dreams and normal hobbies?”

He chuckles boyishly and your breath hitches, nervous as heck from the way he’s looking at you so attentively with a soft smile.

You continue, “Okay, I don’t really have a hobby and I spend a lot of time by myself in my room. I know I’m lame.”

“No, it doesn’t! If it makes you feel better, I feel normal too. With normal dreams and hobbies.”

A corner of your mouth curls up in retaliation. “Being the golden setter of SNU’s volleyball team and probably the best in this entire zone isn’t quite my definition of normal. Now I feel even more boring.”

“No! Urgh… You’re not boring. If you were, I wouldn’t be here listening to you – I swear. And I have a limited patience for boring people… like Coach. God, he is the most boring person in the world.”

“You’re just being nice to me.”

Jungkook shakes his head fervently and your heart gnaws at how disconcerted he is –he’s trying so hard to make you feel better about yourself that it’s endearing.

“Being normal is great, but there’s nothing normal about normal I feel? And you… you’re a special kind of normal. You’re nice, smart, funny, sometimes pretty awkward but still not as awkward as me, so you’re not that bad.”

You chuckle sheepishly, but your smile fades away when he shoots you a longing look before muttering under his breath, “And you make me feel normal.”

His brown eyes glimmer in the hazy streetlights, highlighting the caramel flecks in them. Your eyes dart between his soft expression and his fingers that are drumming against the table.

“Me?” You squeak, startled by Jungkook’s sudden confession. Your mouth drops agape, but it’s quickly overridden by a shy smile when you observe how the little blush on his cheeks has receded to make camp on his ears, the glint in his eyes brighter.

“Yeah. When I’m with you, I feel normal. Not a volleyball player or the golden setter. Just me, Jeon Jungkook.”

Heat sits high on your cheeks as his words linger in your ears. The world seems to hang suspended, out of space and out of time. You try to find your voice but your tongue is suddenly terribly numb, so the two of you continue to sit in silence, staring at one another and enjoying the swim of your heads.

That night, Jungkook walks you back to your dorm and you give him a hug before saying your dreadful goodbye – a lilting whisper of good night Kook.

Hugging isn’t uncommon with the team because they’re strangely big on hugs and being their manager means that you’re their personal teddy bear that they can crush after a long tiring practice. But you don’t miss how you hug Jungkook a little tighter and longer compared to the casual ones you share with the others, relishing the warmth of the sweet honey gold that pulses through his veins. To your surprise, he wraps his arms around you as well and the two of you stay in that position for awhile in the quiet of the night. The way his broad chest heaves up and down alongside his slow, steady humming heartbeat serves nothing but as a solace to you.

You feel safe in his arms.

There is truth that you think Jungkook is cute, that you couldn’t deny, alongside the emotionally-constipated but quiet and sincere ways he cares for the people around him. He’s sincere, doesn’t sugar-coat his words and can also be quite the jokester. He doesn’t flirt excessively and make you feel uncomfortable nor does he do anything particularly extravagant to get your heart racing, but your heart still runs a fucking marathon nonetheless.

That night, you only manage to fall asleep after spending hours trying to counter your own thoughts and coax the erratic slamming of your heart against your chest. He’s a child of the cosmos. You wonder if he sings lullabies and waltzes with the stars in his slumber.

You wonder if the stars look at him in defeat, envious of the way he outshines them all. The effulgence he possesses beats the brilliance of all the other stars.

In between shy glances and awkward banter sessions, Jeon Jungkook has slowly become both the quiet and pandemonium of your heart.

That night, Jungkook’s phone blows up with messages from his teammates and he’s this close to throwing his phone on the wall and strangling them with his bare heads, seniority and all be damned.

[minie hyung] [22:49] jungkookie is getting it [22:49] with y/n our lovely manager!!! 2 qt pies [22:49] [Image]

[best captain in the world] [22:49] damn kid [22:49] it’s only been 2 weeks [22:50] and i didn’t ask y/n to join the team so that you could hit on her??

[jungkook] [22:50] guys wtf I’m not hitting on her!!! [22:50] we’re just friends [22:50] and wtf jimin hyung where were you??? when did you take that pic?

[minie hyung] [22:51] when you 2 were busy staring at each other!! [22:51] i was just walking back home and passed by the store bcs I WAS HUNGRY [22:51] but you were too engrossed in looking at each other and being lovey dovey to notice me but what’s new

[yeontan’s dad] [22:51] y/n’s hella cute tho

[grumpa hyung] [22:52] yeah, really pretty and smart too

[jungkook] [22:52] lmaO say wAT [22:54] she’s mine, just saying [22:55] back the fuck off

[joonie hyung] [22:55] “we’re just friends” he said

[handsome hyung] [22:56] aww our kookie has a crush !! who knew that you were capable of feelings

[jungkook] [22:57] well someone has to take ONE for the team

[best captain in the world] [22:57] wrong interpretation of the phrase kid. [22:58] you just insulted y/n, i’m telling on you

[jungkook] [22:58] NO HYUNG PLEASE DON’T [22:58] I’M SORRY ☹ Y/N PLEASE ☹☹☹ [23:01] hyung????

“So… you and Jungkook, huh?”

Hoseok plumps his ass down dramatically onto the seat beside yours and you, for the nth time, regret choosing that seat on the fifth row on the first day of your English Lit class. Who the hell would have known that you’d sit beside the pesky and loud-as-fuck volleyball captain and end up being extremely good buddies?

“Me and Jungkook?” You tilt your head, though you already have an inkling of what he’s going to bring up. You just wish that he wouldn’t tease you too much about it.

“Yeah, you two have been awfully and shadily close nowadays. You know you’re all that he talks about, right?”

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach at his last sentence. You had no idea at all.

Hoseok catches the flush that runs all the way down to your neck and simpers at your speechless self who’s currently mindlessly picking at your food and avoiding all eye contact.

“And the sexual tension between you two is real. Don’t think the team hasn’t realised. It’s our favourite thing to talk about now. Besides talking about our sexcapades, that is.”

“What the fuck? I totally did not want to know that.”

Shooting him an incredulous glare, you throw a fry at him. The thought of Jungkook engaging in hook-ups bothers the heck out of you and you want to vent all your frustration on your meddlesome friend. You wonder if Jungkook’s as nice to other girls as he is to you, and if there’s another hapless girl who’s in the same plight as you. The thought of it makes you sick.

“Okay, but you must have noticed how intensely Jungkook looks at you. Like he wants to eat you up. Or out.”

“Oh my god, can you not say that so loudly?”

“I speak nothing but the truth, girl.”

“Shu—”

“Speaking of the devil, look who we have here? Your lover boy!” Hoseok guffaws.

Fate is really pulling strings to get the two of you together.

You tilt your head upwards and amidst the bustling students, you spot half of the volleyball team in the middle of the cafeteria – they probably decided to grab lunch together before practice – and then your eyes land on Jungkook, who’s already looking at you with his doe eyes and boyish smile. He’s dressed in his signature look – his favourite oversized black hoodie that practically drowns his physique and grey sweatpants – and damn does he look dashing.

“Guys, over here!”

Hoseok hollers as loud as he can, much to your dismay, diverting all attention to your table and you squirm in your seat with a defeated sigh. As they make their way over, you focus on stuffing your food in your mouth, so you can hurry get the fuck out of here. But before you know it, a tray is settled beside yours and of course, it belongs to none other than Jungkook.

You scowl at your tray, knowing that the guys have obviously left that particular seat empty for Jungkook. From your periphery, he slides into the seat beside yours and your entire body tenses up. Despite having gone out for a meal with him before, you still don’t think you can handle the proximity.

He greets you with a hi and you nod back in response. He has no idea of how his mere presence fills your veins with electricity.

The boys soon fall into a conversation about their rivalry with the other schools and throwing a party before finals to relieve some stress and frustration – you honestly wonder what kind of frustration they’re talking about here.

Sitting with the volleyball players – even just half of the team – for lunch makes you wonder how the heck you agreed to becoming their manager and how you’re still with them because they’re so rowdy and embarrassing. You’d probably feel intimidated by them if you didn’t know them personally, but look at yourself now: you’re part of the team and also hopelessly crushing on their setter, who happens to be sitting right beside you.

“Oh right, Y/N! I have something to show you,” Hoseok coos from across you, wagging his eyebrows suggestively with a sparkle of mirth in his orbs. Interest rekindled, you urge him to spill and he fishes out for his phone from his pocket. At this, you notice Jungkook tense up instantly.

After scrolling through his phone for a few seconds, Hoseok beckons you to lean forward with a shit-eating grin and you have a hunch about what he’s up to.

“The other day, Kookie said some things in the group chat that you might want to see.”

“Hyung!” Jungkook flares up beside you, lurching forward across the width of the table and snatching the phone from Hoseok’s grip before you could even look at the screen properly. “Fuck hyung, you’re such a snake!”

Hoseok only shrugs casually. You have to battle Jungkook yourself if you want to pursue the matter.

“Jungkook, what’s on his phone? Why can’t you show me?”

“Um, i-it’s a secret!” He panics, holding the phone high up and out of your reach.

Clicking your tongue in annoyance, you try to grab it, but Jungkook’s hand is so fucking long that you can’t get the phone within your fingertips regardless of how high you reach out.

“Kook!” You lament, leaning forward to weasel your way to find out why he’s being so shady, but he doesn’t let up and holds the gadget even further away from your reach.

Caught in a frenzy, you don’t realise how your boobs are pressed against his left arm and your other hand is propped onto Jungkook’s thigh. How and when it happened is nebulous. It’s only when your fingers find themselves kneading his thigh that you realise the dire situation you’re in.

Dragging your eyes down to where your hand is at, you halt when you realise that it’s centimetres away from his crotch. Any careless movement and you’ll be brushing against Jungkook’s dick and this very thought sends a small jolt through your body.

Fuck.

The fact that he’s wearing those grey sweats of his doesn’t make things any better as they’re proudly flaunting the distinct outline of his bulge prodding at his sweatpants. Gulping down hard, your whole body freezes up blankly.

Seconds stretch into infinity. When Jungkook realises that you’ve stop persisting, he absentmindedly turns to you and is met with a dangerous view of your cleavage conveniently pressed up against him. But he soon grasps that this isn’t the sole reason why you’ve turned paralysed. When his eyes follow your gaze and find that your hand is milliseconds away from his bulge, he flings Hoseok’s phone onto the table.

“Oh my god, fuck I’m so sorry Jungkook.”

You withdraw your hand away instantly and pry your eyes away from his crotch, though you can’t stop thinking about his bulge. Flopping back into your seat, your limbs turn into goo. You’re definitely going to hell.

He looks up to meet your eyes, fumbling frantically over his words. He wants to bury himself alive.

“It’s ok—I, um, it’s fine, Y/N. It’s okay. Shit—”

He trails off awkwardly and you almost choke at the congealing tension in the air. You swear you could slice it with a knife and then use the same knife to cut Hoseok apart because your friend sure is a devil.

“Gross. Can you guys stop flirting with each other in front of us?” Jimin pipes and you dart your eyes to across the table and see that everyone has their eyes fastened upon the two of you with amused expressions. You close your eyes and wince – maybe if you close your eyes long enough, you’ll disappear into thin air.

Jungkook clears his throat awkwardly and stares hard at his food. He takes a little peek at his crotch and dies a little more inside upon realising that he’s popped a boner in the fucking cafeteria just from your touch. Fingers tugging down the hem of his hoodie, he hopes that you wouldn’t look down and notice it.

The next few minutes of lunch pass by agonisingly with you fuming silently in your chair, looking more like an aggravated hamster than anything with your flustered face and crease on your forehead.

Every time Hoseok reaches over to pet your head, he’s attacked by an icy glare and a hard kick to his shin from the boy sitting two seats opposite him. But he also notices how Jungkook melts at the roses flaring across your cheeks. He’s so whipped. Their golden setter is so fucking whipped and he has no clue what to do about it.

It’s D-20 to the start of the season. The team needs to kick their training into high gear if they want to be ready in time for their first official match and that means absolutely no slacking and only two hundred percent during training and friendlies.

That goes the same for you too. You’ve been busy coming up with strategies for each player and organising friendlies with neighbouring schools. It’s hard to arrange friendlies due to time constraints and it took you tons of phone calls and paperwork, but you manage to secure a session with Hongik University just before the start of the season.

You’re just returning to the sports hall after walking the Hongik team to their bus when a loud bedlam from inside catches your attention. Rushing into the sports hall, you see the SNU players huddled in a circle, tension evident in the air. Arms are being recklessly thrown about and bodies are being shoved.

Squinting your eyes, you take in the breadth of the agitated shoulders and your stomach drops when your mind registers the number 9 on the jersey.

Jungkook.

A wave of panic hits you square in the chest. From where you’re standing, you watch Taehyung grab him on the shoulders to calm him down. The setter retaliates by flinging his arm, turning to your direction in the process. He is livid, cheeks flushed red with eyebrows furrowed as he proceeds to grab another teammate by the collar.

Number 1.

Hoseok.

This sends your stomach flying into a sequence of contortions.

You’ve never seen Jungkook this furious before, normally so composed with his feelings. This very sight gets your blood rushing frenziedly, especially how he’s this close to socking Hoseok in the face – Hoseok, his captain whom he respects so much.

Ignoring the fear that catches in your throat and freezes the breath in your lungs, your legs take you across the court as fast as they can.

Jungkook freezes and drops his fists instantly when he spots you approaching. The nervous flickering of your eyes doesn’t escape his notice and under your worried gaze, he feels the world crumble at his feet. He feels like he’s the shittiest person in the entire world.

You reach out for him with unsteady fingers, but he recoils at the slightest touch of your fingertips, distress and chagrin all over his face. A series of frustrated grunts and curses escapes his lips before he stomps off the court with heavy footsteps, ignoring the concerned looks of his teammates as he barrels out of the door and slams it shut.

You stare blankly at the door, bombarded with a tumult of conflicted emotions. You contemplate running after him, but you understand that Jungkook probably wants some alone time to cool down. So you choose not to, staying behind to check on Hoseok while the others fill you in about the argument.

“I kept missing Jungkook’s tosses and he got mad at himself for not tossing high enough for me, but it’s not even his fault,” Taehyung explains apprehensively. “He was in a bad mood throughout the match, so we lost. After that, Hoseok-hyung went to talk to him and Jungkook started lashing it out on him.”

His lips quiver at the thought of him causing the argument, so you put your hand on his shoulder and offer him a small smile.

“Y/N, check on him for me, please?” Hoseok walks towards you and pats your back softly. You could only nod, because knowing the setter, he’s probably beating himself up right now.

Torn ligaments, twisted joints and sore shoulders: they all heal with time, but disappointing the team is a heavy weight to carry, especially for setters.

It’s the setter’s role to bring out the best of their teammates, to know each of their strengths and weaknesses and adapt accordingly to each player’s skills. And it’s also the setter’s fault if his teammates keep missing his tosses. It’s his fault for their loss today.

Jungkook’s limbs feel so heavy that it’s as though he’s carrying the weight of the world. No one is blaming him. Not to his face, at least. But he knows that he has led them down and his self-deprecating thoughts are so loud that he can literally drown in them. He might look like a dense guy, but there’s a tenacious hurricane living in his mind.

Hunched over on a bench, he grits his teeth and locks his fists, nails digging the skin of his palms, while hot tears threaten to spill. Maybe if he practices harder, maybe if he doesn’t fuck up that often, maybe if he disappears, the team will be better—

“Hey Kook.”

He snaps out of his trance when his ears perk up at the familiar voice. Blinking his tears away, he sees you with the same concerned gaze and feels a sharp tug at his heartstrings at the very sight of your worried expression.

You lower yourself to meet him and press a cool water bottle to his forehead. The sudden coldness makes him look up and the tugs soon multiply rapidly when you smile softly at him, moving to sit beside him.

You don’t talk for a good three minutes, letting the silence weave itself comfortably into the spaces between you two. You don’t really know what to say and you don’t want to force him to talk either.

“You’re always saving my ass.”

Jungkook shatters the unnerving silence with a sigh.

Your lips curl up at his attempt of lightening up the mood. “Maybe that’s because I’m your manager?”

All hardness of his features soon disappear and he looks like a scared bunny. Honestly, you just want to give him a tight hug until you take away all his sorrows.

“I mean, beyond being our manager… You always seem to be around whenever I mess up. You’re like my personal cheerleader,” Jungkook laughs.

His laughter is a sweet symphony to your ears, prompting a small bubble of laughter to escape your lungs too. “Out of all things, I especially don’t want to be your personal cheerleader.”

Your relationship with Jungkook has developed by leaps and bounds over the past few months. From being awkward strangers who could barely hold eye contact for more than two seconds, to a cordial manager-player relationship, and to the good friends (minus the bashful smiles, burning cheeks and occasional NSFW thoughts) who look out for each other that you are today. It’s amazing how much you two have opened up to each other.

“Y/N, do you think I’m self-centred?” He asks suddenly. “I’m sorry that you had to see me like… this. I wished I had a better control of my emotions, but sometimes it’s just really hard, you know…”

His words clog in his throat and he swallows them meekly.

Your heart gnaws at the way he views himself.

“Hey, don’t say that. You’re not self-centred, Kook. In fact, you’re one of the most selfless people I know. And I know it’s hard – it’s normal to feel frustrated. Everyone’s feeling the pressure, but your feelings are valid even on bad days.”

“So… you’re not going to scold me for picking a fight with my teammates? With Hoseok-hyung?”

“You think I came here to do that?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook mumbles and looks away glumly.

“Don’t be silly,” you nudge him softly, urging him to turn towards you. “I came here because I know that you feel responsible for losing today. You’re angry at yourself for Taehyung’s slip-up.”

“Y-You know? How?”

“Hmm, I notice a lot of things about you, Kook. You just don’t realise it.”

An acknowledgment between a whine and a ‘hmm’ escapes from the setter’s lips, so quizzical and innocent that he sounds like a bunny.

“It’s just… I’m the setter and I’m supposed to be the core of the team so if we don’t do well, it’s on me. It’s my fault… I just don’t want to disappoint them.”

The remainder of Jungkook’s sentence dies on the tip of his tongue as he shuts his eyes, remembering the commotion he caused.

“But it’s not your fault, you know that right?”

“I—”

“Do you know how much the team looks up to you? You’re indispensable. The guys depend on your skills, your experiences and trust in them. Yes, the team could have done this and that – a lot of things could have been improved – but we shouldn’t be focusing on the could haves. This is why we practice and practice. You’ll do better next time, I’m sure.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because,” you turn to him, settling your hand on top of his. “You are Jeon Jungkook and all of your teammates have faith in you. Myself included.”

“You?” Stupefied, his voice comes out as a soft whisper.

“I’m your teammate too, right? Oh, and also your personal cheerleader. I mean, this title was kind of forced on me but I’ll take it if it makes you smile – just like how you’re smiling right now.”

Jungkook merely shakes his head with a soft smile and raises his arm to ruffle your hair, stirring up a mini tornado within you. He chuckles when you jump slightly, displaying his bunny teeth in their full glory and though you would have liked to stare a little longer, you have to stop yourself, so you avert your gaze. The pink flush threatening to dot your cheeks is lethal and you can’t afford Jungkook knowing your true feelings.

He then squirms closer, eliminating any space in between you two, and rests his weight on you. Before you know it, he’s lowering his head on your shoulder and your heart soars at the intimacy.

He feels warm beside you. He’s always mysteriously warm and it’s the kind of warmth that brings you nothing but comfort. You resist the urge to press closer against him and tilt your head to match his, still too stricken to move a muscle. He continues fidgeting, until his nose finds the crook of your shoulder.

“It’s nice,” Jungkook murmurs and you almost don’t catch it.

“What’s nice?”

“That you’re here.”

Golden stardust bursts within you upon his words, doing absolutely nothing for the wildfire claiming the land of your chest, but you try to conceal the joy in your voice.

“Well, you can’t get rid of me that easily. Until I get sick of managing you idiots, but I also need extracurricular points, so I’ll still be here, whether you like it or not.”

“I like it.”

Lowering his gaze to the ground, he repeats with an earnestness that wakes up the hummingbird of your heart with a gentle pat on its head. “I like it a lot.”

You can almost imagine Jungkook serenading it with a lullaby – you know he would.

There’s no denying the sudden lightheaded feeling you get from the sweet calm of his presence. You can’t ignore how your wandering eyes are always somehow meeting his sparkly ones and how they rest on you longer than they should, rendering you breathless every single time.

While Jungkook is energetic and burning with passion, slightly insecure and childlike in his own dumb Jeon Jungkook ways like a young fire, you, on the other hand, are perceptive and calm, like a soft breath of cool air on a hot summer day that sways the knee-high grass in the meadows. And maybe this is why he adores you so much, for you are each other’s opposite and complement.

You used to be skeptical about the idea of love and hate all sorts of uncertainties, but that was until you found a new home in the galaxy of Jungkook’s eyes.

“Shall we head back?”

He stands up, looking as determined as ever. He offers his hand to help you up and you gladly reach for it. To your surprise, Jungkook slips his fingers into yours wordlessly and any hope of catching your breath fizzles out.

The two of you walk back to the court with comets dancing across your rosy cheeks and smiles brighter than the celestials in Jungkook’s eyes.

He’s hella whipped for you – that he will willingly admit defeat. There isn’t a definite time or date when he realised that he has his little crush on you, or when that little crush has graduated into a serious, ardent adoration for you. It’s a gradual plummeting; a peaceful and clandestine descent before his heart was willingly taken hostage by you.

You’re catastrophically beautiful, completely detrimental to the feeble defences of his heart. You never fail to soothe the storms in his mind with your lulling presence. No one has ever heightened such a keen capacity of physical sensation in him and to be very honest, he is utterly petrified, but he wants to try, if it’s with you.

The world around you is spinning.

As part of their team bonding efforts and to relieve some stress before the season, the team has decided to throw a party at Hoseok and Namjoon’s frat house, which only means: a fuck ton of alcohol and unruly volleyball players with no brain or mouth filter whatsoever.

After chugging seven shots of vodka and four shots of suspicious mixtures that were handed to you, you’re more than just out of it. Everything is fuzzy and ten folds funnier, liquid confidence smouldering within your bloodstream. The amount of alcohol in your system is enough to make heat pool in your stomach and send your thoughts into a frenzy.

You’re aware that you’re badly smashed, but for fuck’s sake, you don’t understand why you can’t stop having nasty thoughts about the boy sitting in front of you.

Opposite you, Jungkook is watching his embarrassing teammates sputter into a howling bout of laughter with an amused grin. From his half-lidded eyes, he’s a little out of it, but he still looks fucking good and this causes your chest to swell.

You’ve made eye contact with him for the fifteenth time within the past two hours. Much could be said in the language of stealth. It’s as though you two enjoy this little game of the push and pull attraction of two magnets. You don’t miss the twinkle in his eyes that never fails to ignite a deep fire in your bones, washing your senses away. As you imploringly pry yourself away from his intense gaze, you turn to see Hoseok flashing you his most annoying grin ever.

“Fuck off,” you mouth, knowing exactly what your idiot of a friend is about to say, but this only urges him to tease you even more and you want to sock him in the face.

Without wiping that annoying smirk off his face, he leans forward and whispers into your ear, “You two little shitheads have been eye-fucking each other the entire time.”

“Wha—”

“He probably has a boner right now. Just look at him trying to cover it up.”

Your eyes search for Jungkook. Shifting uncomfortably with a cushion planted on top of his lap, his irises suddenly dart all over the room to avoid looking anywhere near you.

You gulp down.

He has a boner?

The voice in your mind screams at you hysterically and you can almost hear the smile in her tone. He has a boner. A fucking boner! Fuck.

How your thoughts run from wanting to tape Hoseok’s mouth so that he’ll shut up for the first time in his life to imagining yourself taking care of Jungkook’s hard-on is beyond you. The mere thought of Jungkook’s hard dick strained against his jeans gets your mind whirling with images of you kneeling on your knees, kissing the head of his dick before taking him completely in your mouth and blowing him till he comes.

Between glowing cheeks and averted eyes, you abandon the righteous battle with your morals, knowing exactly what you want.

You want him. You want him to fuck you senseless until you forget your own name.

These thoughts send a bolt of heated pleasure straight to your core, causing wetness to pool between your thighs.

Frenziedly, your eyes trail back to the setter and you notice him fidgeting uneasily under your gaze. Fuck, you’re not freaking drunk enough for this. You reach out to grab the drink from Hoseok and down the deathly concoction that he probably made with the intention of getting downright wasted. Seconds after your brave and reckless act, you wince at the burn of your throat.

Hopes of washing your cacophonous, lustful thoughts away with the burning liquor go in vain because it’s just simply fucking impossible. This has morphed into a battle of brain and heart. Your heart definitely knows what it wants: for Jungkook to take you there and then, but your brain is screaming at you to stop being so concupiscent. But since when have you ever listened to your brain? Jungkook probably doesn’t even think of you that way. Poor boy’s probably going to be mortified when he finds out how ready you are to bend over for him.

Shoving Hoseok away in embarrassment because you’re ashamed that that bitch has caught you red-handed, you decide to hide in one of the rooms to clear your head because the living room is an intolerable place to catch your breath and rid your filthy thoughts when everyone is raucously downing shots and screaming at one another. You may be a wreck, but this place is a breeding place for hell and havoc. So much for team bonding.

After finding your way through the maze of sloppy and rowdy drunks, you spot a bedroom down the hall – yes that’s right, Hoseok’s room. Hopefully, that will teach him a lesson for perpetually feeding off your misery.

In your drunken state, it takes you a few fumble attempts to ease the door open and when you see one of the boys sitting on the edge of the bed, you know you’re utterly fucked.

Jungkook.

With a cup of vodka in hand, looking as irresistibly riveting as ever.

A whimper finds its way lodged in your throat and you’re unsure whether to laugh or cry at the absurd situation, because ending up in the same room with the boy whom you’ve been trying to avoid the entire night because you couldn’t stop thinking about sucking his dick dry is truly ridiculous.

His eyes widen when he finds you at the door and his lips can’t help but part to expose his teeth at your surprised and shit-faced expression.

“Y/N?” He slurs, voice raspy, and you grasp that he, just like you and everyone else in this apartment, is wasted as fuck, so you should definitely leave before you do something that you’ll regret. You’re about to turn on your heels and hide from him for the night and well, the rest of your life, but the alcohol pulsing through your veins screams at you to fuck it and go against your thoughts.

“Hey,” you mumble, closing the door behind you.

“You okay?” Even in your drunken state, you can still hear the worry burning at the edges of his usually composed voice. You nod as he pats the space beside him and you amble towards him.

“It was too noisy. Had to take a breather in somewhere quiet,” he mumbles, raising his cup to his lips.

“Me too.”

The two of you continue to sit in silence, drinking in the moment of weird stillness and suffering from the whirlpool in your heads. At the speed that your thoughts are racing at, it’s a feat how your mind is still functioning – how it can still coherently form lewd thoughts and images of Jungkook buried in between your thighs.

You need to tame the fire that’s flaring viciously within you before you lose control and pounce on him. For what it’s worth, you notice that he has been anxiously fidgeting with his cup, downing it for the nth time in the past five minutes. You’re pretty sure that he’s drinking nothing and is probably just as nervous as you.

Deciding that anywhere would be better than being stuck in a room with the boy whom you can’t stop lusting for, you break the silence, “Um, maybe I… should go—”

When you stand up to leave, Jungkook frantically leans forward and grabs hold of your wrist, pulling you towards him. He hasn’t meant to do it, but you somehow end up toppling over, bones liquefied by the booze.

The room starts to spin even faster, your orbs flickering back and forth. Your body is planted snug on top of his thighs, your hands and boobs pressed against his broad chest and your crotch against his bulge.

Arms firm around your waist, his body heat zaps your skin with a fiery warmth, flaring up your neck and ripening your features with an unbridled lust. For the briefest of moments, you swear you feel his dick twitch beneath you and the way he gulps down his saliva hard confirms that he bears the exact same thoughts.

“Oops, sorry,” you giggle, feeling an abrupt surge of high from the alcohol. You push against him to steady yourself, but he doesn’t let up, arms still locked around your befuddled self.

Another deafening silence descends. Even in your intoxicated state, you can still hear the thumping of your heartbeat blasting in your eardrums. You two look into each other’s eyes, unmoving. You can’t tell much from Jungkook’s eyes since they’re droopy and hazy, but he’s looking at you so intensely that it sends another zap of electricity down your spine and to your arousal. You subconsciously rub your thighs together and his lips curl up into a smirk when he realises the effect he has on you.

“Y/N,” Jungkook whispers hoarsely and he leans in till he’s dangerously close, till the delicate graze of his mouth transgresses the juncture between your jaw and ear and a familiar prickle of gooseflesh tremor moves along your neck at the sudden proximity.

“You’re so beautiful.”

A cascade of warmth starts to pour into your abdomen, the intimacy of the moment suddenly drawing upon you. You can even smell the alcohol from his breath and it’s inebriating, making you wetter than ever.

“Can I kiss you?”

He breathes into your ear and you jerk your head in bewilderment, eyes wide and ears ringing. You hesitate and wonder if he’s joking, but he shows no sign of teasing; just a look of patience and sincerity.

“Y-Yeah,” your words come out practically as a whimper and you let your eyes fall shut as he slowly inches forward.

When he presses his lips against yours, a fizzle of electricity runs through your veins. His lips are everything that you’ve imagined – soft and warm. Intoxicating.

He parts them slightly, enough to capture yours nicely, and presses in a little firmer. The tip of his tongue shyly licks at your bottom lip, coaxing you in more, and you feel like melting in honey.

Greedy for more, you chase his tongue and he chuckles in satisfaction, tangling his tongue with yours. God, he can taste the vodka and sprite on you and as silly as it sounds, he thinks this is the best mix he has ever tasted.

You whimper against his mouth, fingers threading through his hair and tugging softly at them.

“Fuck. I want to do bad things to you,” he exhales with a little whine, hands smoothing up the expanse of your back.

Despite your drunken, flummoxed state, you manage to hear him loud and clear. A deeper surge of tabooed desire runs through your veins at the thought of Jungkook getting turned on by you. You imagine him getting off to thoughts of you, desperate for your touch. You wonder what kind of risqué fantasies he has of you and if they’re as filthy as yours.

“Like what?”

“Urgh Y/N, please don’t make me say it out loud. I’m drunk, but not drunk enough to tell you that I want to fuck you.”

“You do?” You ask, voice laced with a barely restrained frustration.

“I want to strip you bare and fuck you. Right. Now.”

“How badly?” You bat your eyelashes at him coquettishly. It’s almost impossible to curb the lingering wisps of excitement brewing low in your stomach.

“So fucking bad,” he groans, gnawing at his bottom lips anxiously. “B-But not today… I want it to be done properly.”

You sulk blatantly, tugging at his hair again.

Cupping your cheeks, he lowers his forehead to meet yours and chuckles, “It has to be somewhere perfect for you. N-Not in my captain’s dirty ass room.”

“But Kook,” you protest with a whine and press yourself against him. His entire body tenses up when your cold hands begin to roam, slipping underneath his shirt and tracing the hot flesh of his chiselled abs.

“God, you’re such a tease. Fuck you.”

The desperation in Jungkook’s voice is shameless and he’s this to close to surrendering at the hands of your intoxicated dirty self.

“Please do,” you whimper frivolously against his neck, licking at the tender exposed skin. The heat between your legs is so intense that it’s starting to ache with need.

“Y/N—”

“Fuck, I fucking love your thighs.”

It must be the alcohol talking, but fuck it. You’re going to follow your heart’s desire.

“W-What?”

He stiffens underneath when your nimble fingers graze along the inside of this thighs.

“Do you know how distracting your thighs are when you wear those volleyball shorts?”

“You were staring at my thighs?” The teasing lilt caressing the edges of his voice doesn’t escape your ears.

“Your thighs are fucking thick. It’s too tempting to look away.”

The winning moment of liquid courage takes over your brain completely and you can’t help but moan unabashedly when Jungkook’s fingers slip under your dress, grazing your skin languidly.

“I-I want to ride your thigh.”

There. You said it, embarrassment drowned in giddy anticipation and longing ages ago.

Jungkook grunts despairingly. Every single nerve-ending of his is aflame, skin tingling with ferocious desire.

You are going to the bane of his existence.

“Please?” You beg wantonly, aching to be touched.

In sly discretion, you press your thighs together, desperate for some sort of friction that will make your throbbing need easier to bear and Jungkook clicks his tongue in fake annoyance, shooting you a glare when he realises what you’re doing.

“Fuck, Y/N. You’re trying to kill me. I’ve had a hard-on ever since you arrived.”

You giggle, noticing how his normally-doe eyes darken with rampant lust and you rub your thighs even more.

“You’re so fucking pretty. So beautiful. Fuck my life.”

He rolls his lower half suggestively, allowing you to detail the thick profile of his length – underneath lies a furious red begging to be touched and sucked.

“Ride my thigh,” he instructs, eyes glassy with lust and desire, inducing another wave of lechery to consume your insides.

Without any hesitation, you adjust your position on his thigh to make yourself at home, torso melding against his and this fucking turns you on like no other. Eyes rolled back into your head, you start to grind on his thigh, shuddering blissfully at the hard ridges of muscles against your dripping core.

Pleased with your reaction, he flexes his thighs with a satisfied smirk and a shiver traverses your entire body, leaving you with a spasm of nerves. You wail his name out loud – knowing that the others outside probably can’t hear it and your whimpers increase in volume and pitch when his fingers linger around the elastic of your panties, before palming your ass cheeks to anchor you closer to him.

You moan at his touch, begging for more. The wetness in between your thighs has long ruined your underwear and Jungkook’s jeans.

“Fuck, your ass,” he grunts loudly from the back of his throat, finding purchase on your ass cheeks and kneading them with a vice-like and desperate grip.

“The guys were talking about how cute your ass is and I told them to shut the fuck up. Do you know how fucking hard I get when you bend over to pick up the volleyballs? I always have to spend hours jerking off after practice.”

You moan in response, light-headed from the mental image. Jacking off in the locker room is not anything new or a taboo among the guys. But Jungkook always spends a longer time than the others in the cubicle to curb the pulsating urges between his legs. The mere thought of you, innocently batting your long lashes at him and being so intimate with him, has always been enough to make him cum.

Wiped over by another intense surge of lust, you grow an ardent urge to touch him more. Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing he wants to see in this world, it’s like a battle of waits between predator and prey, but you are lucidly aware of what you want.

Slipping your hand between your bodies, your fingers trail down from his toned abs to graze against the prominent outline of his clothed bulge and it grows to its full hardness almost immediately from your touch. You haven’t even seen his dick yet, but fuck, you really, really want a taste of Jungkook’s dick.

“I-I want your dick. So bad. Please, Jungkookie. Please?”

You’re so filthy that you don’t even recognise yourself. Moving your hand along his length, you stroke him through the two layers of material, but you can still feel the heat of his cock against your palm. Just as you’re about to unzip his jeans, he stops you to your disappointment.

“No, not today,” he manages to breathe out, nearly at his wit’s end. His voice is about to crack from his insatiable hunger for you, while you groan despondently in response.

Jungkook’s fingers trace along the length of your neck until they find their way into your hair and run through them as he leans down to the crook of your neck. You shiver when his breaths coast on the exposed skin of your throat before he nips gingerly on your skin, soft one moment and dirty the next, relishing how it makes you jump.

God, he can smell you at this proximity. Your favourite citrus and lavender scent. He stifles a laugh at how you can still smell so tantalisingly innocent when you’re so fucking needy for him. His dick grows even harder, turned on by the stark difference in your character and this makes it even harder for him to prevent blowing his load there and then.

He desperately wants to pin you down, strip you bare, explore your body in all of its magnificence, memorise every crevice of your body and then fuck your brains out till his name is the only thing you know. But he needs to hold himself back, not wanting it done sloppily at a party and especially not when you’re drunk, but he’s this close to joining the dark side.

White stars begin to dot the edges of his vision.

He digs his fingers into your waist to press you closer to him, thigh bouncing rhythmically so your clit brushes against a different area of his toned thigh each time. It brings a euphoric sensation to your core, the tingles spreading fast and sending you near delirious. A writhing wreck, you can only fall limp against his chest, muffling your stuttering whimpers. You wish he’d let you come apart with his fingers, but the way he’s grinding his thigh up against your clit is intoxicating enough, much more than the alcohol in your blood.

“That’s it,” he smirks, watching you grind your hips back and forth with a lustful gaze and you reach up to kiss his neck to exhibit your high.

“You like this?”

“Fucking,” you mewl wantonly, tugging at his tousled locks. The heat radiating from Jungkook’s body burns addictively and sharp intakes of air occur against your lips, leaving your throat to run dry. “Love it.”

He grins at your honesty, more spurred to make you feel good. Tonight, it’s all about you and your pleasure. Hovering over him, you let your mouth hang open and inhale each other in. His breath coasts on your cheeks when he pulls away for air, only to dive back into the pristine juncture of your throat, attacking the delicate skin, searching and starving. He doesn’t stop sucking and running his tongue across your skin till your neck is painted with lilac bruises, till he’s satisfied with his very own masterpiece.

“J-Jungkook, please.”

With a predatory gaze, he watches how your breasts bounce with each rock of your hips and leans south to trail his tongue down your cleavage. You hook your arm around his neck, soft whimpers leaving your mouth when the pleasure overpowers you till you can’t even find your voice. Jungkook hums in satisfaction, burying his face into your chest.

Discovering the pleasant weight of your breasts and the firm peaks of your nipples against his calloused palms, he kneads them hungrily, fuelling the growing pressure that’s culminating in the pit of your stomach.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re so hot.”

A combination of a hoarse moan and gasp is strangled out of Jungkook’s throat from the depths of his lungs. His spine straightens as his body locks up over the sudden onslaught of pleasure. The slick noises of your folds against his thigh are almost deafening now, filthy to the core, but not as erotic as your moans. He honestly can’t believe this is happening, after his many fantasies of being this intimate with you.

“Jungkook,” you moan shamelessly when the coil inside you grows tighter and tighter, hotter and hotter. “I’m cl-close.”

“Come for me, baby.”

The smallest of smirks tugs at the corner of his mouth when he runs a finger down your clothed core, further tightening that coil in your belly. You feel so vulnerable under his command, but his dominance lights up your nerves like fireworks. You fucking love it.

Jungkook’s leg starts bouncing faster and the otherworldly sensation sends you over the edge. Your nails dig deeper into his biceps to stable yourself as your legs begin to shake, stomach knotting. You choke back a sob as you jerk your hips up, moaning an incoherent string of curse words and his name all mixed in one. The sight of your lovely face hovers over his, your swollen mouth hanging apart, eyes half-lidded in a torrent of bliss and neck messily painted in purple bruises.

Jungkook holds your hips down to help you with your high, whispering sweet praises into your ear as his hands stroke your sides. He lifts his leg ever so slightly, dragging the hard muscles against your core once again until you snap your eyes shut, your entire body briefly locked up and dispersed into a series of erratic spasms.

The idyllic blinding white fades to only a shimmer at the edges of your eyes. You slump forward, burying your face into his chest. Seconds after, he follows suit, coming untouched in his pants.

Head still buried in his chest, Jungkook wraps his arms around you to engulf you in a tight hug. He breathes heavily against his work of art on your neck and jerks up when reality hits him square in the face.

Your breath is still ragged in your lungs, forehead rested on his shoulder as he gently rubs comforting circles on your back. You’ve ridden off most of the intoxication, but you still can’t think straight. Not when Jungkook is nipping at the soft lobe of your ear, an attempt to coax you into relaxing.

“That was… wow.”

He breaks the silence with a sheepish smile as he pushes the messy strands of your hair away from your face, gingerly running his thumb over your rubescent cheeks. He leans his head down to meet your forehead, brushing the tip of his nose with yours.

“Yeah,” you breathe out softly and he can hear the gears turning frantically in your mind.

“You don’t… regret it, do you? Fuck, I’m so sorry… We’re both drunk and I shouldn—”

“No! Of course not,” you shake your head, “I-I liked it.”

“You liked it?” From the lilt that caresses the edges of his voice, he’s clearly enjoying this.

“Urgh, shut the hell up!”

Even in his post-snogging and thigh-riding state, he still looks incredible. He’s just so delicate and nice to you that it’s almost unreal – it’s like being in a dream. He looks at you like you hold the stars in the night sky with utter adoration, before pecking a soft kiss on your forehead.

At this very moment, you realise that you’re irrevocably, hopelessly and unabashedly in love with him and there’s no turning back, not when the stars in his eyes are twinkling with nothing but love.

Jungkook and you aren’t exactly a thing. Not yet. Sure, you guys hang out exclusively and all like before, but neither of you has popped the question or sat down to delve into the daunting topic of Feelings.

The morning after, both of you wake up to tangled limbs, bad morning breaths, bashful smiles and memories of last night’s dalliance. He tells you to give him some time because honestly, he thinks he needs all the time he can have to ensure that he does this relationship thingy properly with you. The last thing he would want is to fuck things up with you. And you tell him that you’ll wait for him, because you know how hard things have been on him. Juggling between volleyball and school work is tough enough, so you don’t want to give him more pressure.

However, you realise that there have been several changes regarding the way he acts with and around you. Whether it’s because of that intimate night or stress from volleyball (or both), Jungkook has become so much touchier with you – he’s always wanting to hold your hand and keeping you by his side. Displaying of affection is also more common in front of his teammates, but it’s not like you have anything against it. He probably needs more attention and affection since the season is only days away.

After a series of friendlies, the season has finally begun and the boys have never been readier, all prepared to be crowned as champions. With your clipboard attached to your hand, you unwaveringly multitask between watching the semi-final match and taking down notes for the boys.

Their semi-final match is with Yonsei University. While you’re pale in the face standing at the sidelines, the boys are determined and embody a degree of calmness on the court, their nerves submerged by the jolts of adrenaline. They’ve got the upper hand with Yonsei and their win is guaranteed, but it’s impossible not to feel anxious.

The crowd cheers as Jungkook tosses the ball to Taehyung at a calculated height and precision and the latter spikes it down before their opponents even have time to blink. The incident from last month comes to mind. You’re glad that he has learnt to have more confidence and trust in himself and his teammates, though he dedicates this improvement to you and your calming presence.

"You're at set-point, so please focus. And don't do anything dumb," you tease, placing your hands on your hips and faking a scowl at him as he unblinkingly hovers over you. You remember how you used to be afraid by their builds, but you’ve grown slightly accustomed after awhile, though there’s one thing that you think you’ll never get used to: the way Jungkook looks at you with stars dancing in his eyes.

“I’m kidding, kiddo. You’ll do well like always, okay? I know you will. Now go there and kick some ass.”

He nods and downs the water bottle that you’ve handed to him before pouring the remaining over his head. His action doesn’t surprise you anymore as you already have a towel ready to wipe him dry.

But what takes you aback is when he grabs you by your shoulders and leans down to meet your eyes. You open your mouth, ready to lament about him touching you with his clammy hands, but retract upon seeing the change in Jungkook’s demeanour.

Despite the loud cheers from all four directions, Jungkook can hear his heart racing loudly in his ears. Just before the whistle pierces through the court to signal the end of time-out, he traces your jaw with his fingertips and whispers into your ear, his mellifluous voice softer than snow, “I have something that I need to tell you after the game.”

Tinges of affection waltzes with the stars in his pupils. He looks at you like you hold his entire world on the tips of your fingers, like he just needs you for everything to be okay.

Lacing your fingers together, warmth seeps from his palm into yours like a soft, comforting hum and you know exactly what he wants to tell you.

“Okay, I’ll be waiting here.”

With a sliver of hope, he jogs back to the court. It’s now his turn to serve. With that same palm that just held yours, he gallantly performs the best serve of his life, one that spirals off his palm to shoot through the hole between the other team’s back line, clinching a safe spot for SNU in the finals.

After five long sets, SNU wins Yonsei by a landslide and the team gets an evening off before they resume practice the next day. Jungkook seizes this chance to take you out for dinner, somewhere that isn’t at the convenience store.

The sky is already soaked in sparse hues of navy and black, and the silence of the night becomes even more endearing due to Jungkook’s mere presence by your side. He’s nervous, you can tell, even more than this morning, from the way he’s bouncing nervously on the balls of his shoes, as though he’s about to combust.

His vision zones in on how your bottom lip is caught between your teeth – a habit of yours whenever you’re unsure, so he takes you into his arms and intertwines your fingers together. You relax involuntarily when he starts rubbing circles onto your palm.

Jungkook cranes his neck up, lips grazing the shell of your ear and you shudder at his warm breath fanning against your skin, inviting the rise of gooseflesh to scatter all over your neck.

He wraps one hand around your waist and looks deeply into your orbs, as though he’s spellbound by the iridescent glint in your eyes and the roses flaring up across your cheeks under the sliver of moonlight.

And in the velvet of the summer night, he gingerly whispers, with utter adoration swelling his chest to the size of the moon. The words that you have repeatedly dreamed of him to say. The words that you’ve been wanting to tell him. The words that have been trapped hidden behind his heart for the longest time.

“I love you.”

You feel the warmth of Jungkook’s palms cradling your blushing features, while he strokes your cheeks with his thumb.

“Kook,” you breathe out softly.

“I love you, Y/N.”

He repeats in a tone three notches deeper, paired with an earnestness that gets your heart ricocheting in your ribcage.

“I knew there was something about you when you joined us on the first day… And I confirmed it after sacrificing my own nose.”

“Sacrifice? You mean it was on purpose?” A sparkle of mirth glimmers in your eyes under the hazy yellow light.

“I normally don’t get distracted, but I couldn’t help but get upset when you came back into the court laughing with Seokjin-hyung. I was still staring at you when I got hit on the face.”

“You’re so silly, but at least your boopy nose is still cute. I love your nose.”

“And my thighs, right?”

You blush fervently at the memory of that night.

“Fuck Y/N, I just confessed to you and all you do is tell me that you love my nose,” he laughs, his thumb still rubbing circles onto your cheek.

Your lips curl up into a smile. “Kiss me?”

“I will give you the entire world if you asked me to.”

His whisper is so earnest and affectionate that it makes you feel like melting.

In a graceful sweep, he pulls you closer by the hips, finding purchase on your waist. The first touch is similar to the caress of a feather, so light that you could barely feel it. The tip of his tongue skims over the rosy flesh of your bottom lip, eliciting goosebumps that tingle along the nape of your neck. You close your eyes, feeling like you’re plummeting into a bottomless pit.

Jungkook’s lips are soft, a little chapped, as they meld to yours. He kisses you like he hasn’t kissed you before, like it’s your first time being completely vulnerable to each other, like planets condemned by gravity to collide.

Images of him moaning shamelessly beneath you as you grind on his thigh and him kneading your ass get completely fizzed out of your memory. You can only think of him kissing you, how tenderly he’s holding onto you, how sweet his lips taste onto yours and how sincere he is on stealing your breath.

You can only think of how the objection of your affection is coruscating before you as he sprinkles his personal collection of stardust onto your lips, with a love so blazingly radiant that it rivals the intensity of the sun.

You feel golden.

Like you’re lying on a bed of sunflowers, drifting alongside the movement of summer’s light towards glistening honey.

A whimper lodges itself in your throat, bubbling against Jungkook’s lips and even in the darkness behind your eyelids, you can vividly picture the crescent of his smile forming against your lips.

The tip of his tongue prods at the seam of your lips and you part your lips to let him in entirely. You reach out and caress the nape of his neck to deepen the kiss, jumping slightly in surprise when his fingers splay gingerly over your waist, tugging at the hem at your shirt languidly. Your mind has long become a labyrinth of little streets that you have difficulty navigating, sent into a turmoil by how sweet his love tastes. It’s insane how much you yearn for his burning touch.

You inch away slowly and your eyes land on his, now glistening with solar debris that sends instant palpitations to your heart. He stares at you longingly, like he can’t believe that you’re really here in front of him, cocooned up against his body and adoration swells in his chest. He feels like combusting, but he also feels like hugging you and having you all to himself till the end of time.

“You know how I feel for you, right?” You mumble, looking deep into his orbs.

Jungkook notices how your bottom lip is taut between your teeth and the hint of a blush is still glowing effervescently on your cheeks. You’re beautiful. A visual spectacle, a sight to behold. You’re so beautiful that his chest constricts, lungs taking a sparse second to remember how to fucking breathe normally again.

“Remind me?” He whispers back.

You let out a giggle at how ardently Jungkook is gazing at you and how lovely he looks right now, exhilaration gleaming like a kaleidoscope of stars in his eyes.

This time, you lean in, planting your lips on the rosy flesh on his mouth and he softens. Kissing him is akin to drinking hot chocolate on a rainy winter day, snuggling under your warm quilt after a long day and dancing in the rain. It feels like weaving through time and space.

Pulling away, he lets out another one of his boyish laughs, tugging at your heartstrings for the umpteenth time that night before dusting kisses over every inch of your blushing features, exhaling words of love against your skin. You see galaxies sprawled all over in the darkness of your closed eyelids.

“I love you Jeon Jungkook,” you breathe out, gracing the shell of his ear. “I love you so much and I swear by the stars in your eyes.”

“Are you… wearing Jungkook’s jersey from last season or are my eyes playing tricks on me?” Hoseok quips, eyebrows raised.

“Oh.”

You look down at your attire – Jungkook’s old jersey and a pair of denim jeans. “Yeah, he made me wear it and now I feel like some frat boy’s hoe.”

“I wouldn’t if I were you. Hell knows what the kid did while wearing that jersey, probably jerked off in it like a million times. Oh and he also sweats a lot – I know it’s been washed and all, but it’s literally a sweat-drenched shirt. Unless you’re into that kink…? Like Jungkook’s sweat? Hit me up, baby.”

You throw the nearest object at him – your clipboard, clocking him square in the chest, though the boy remains unperturbed.

“Listen, I’m really happy that you’re here with us. You’ve been with us for only three months, but you’ve been of such great help to the team and we all really appreciate you being here. So yeah, thank you?”

“It’s so weird that you’re being nice to me,” you chortle. “But no worries, dude. I somehow like suffering, so I like being the team’s manager.”

“Well, you have Jungkook now – take it as a thank you gift from the team, won’t you? He’s a good human sacrifice for the satanic you,” Hoseok waggles his eyebrows greasily.

“Fuck off,” you sneer back, rolling your eyes.

“Jungkook is a great guy, really, even though he’s an overgrown, emo baby bunny,” he quotes himself and you recall what happened the first time you met Jungkook. “But I’m just really happy for the both of you.”

Time really doesn’t wait for no one.

Amidst a whirlwind of tiring training sessions, worn-out limbs and bottles of protein shakes, three months have come and gone in a blink of an eye. Your first season with the volleyball team is approaching an end.

It’s finally D-day and everyone has been waiting for this since forever – their final match with Hanyang University.

The game passes in flashes of white, alongside the voices of excitement and desperation, hand signs and bruises that stacked up quicker than their attacks. They're ferociously neck and neck with Hanyang – both teams are refusing to relent, tightening up their plays and leaving fewer and fewer loopholes in their game as they vie for match point of their fifth and final set.

Your lips are probably chapped from biting on them, bearing the brunt of anxiety, as you continue to chant please, please let them win to yourself.

A risky ball returns to your side of the court and your heart stops at the difficulty of receiving it, but Jimin slides across the court in time and manages to save it, hollering loudly, “Chance ball!”

He digs it towards where Jungkook is poised, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and everyone drops into their ready positions, all eyes on the ball and set to put an end to the intense rally.

It’s only a matter of milliseconds before the ball falls into the cupped hands of the golden setter who then pushes it back up in the air, quick and effortless, to an altitude that complements the height of Hoseok’s jump. Without even the slightest of delays, the captain is up on his feet and stretches his hand to slam the ball down ruthlessly.

His smack sends it rocketing towards the other side of the court and his opponents scramble to receive it. It brushes against their libero’s forearm, but it’s almost impossible to save it from the speed and force it’s flying at, and meets the floor with a satisfying thwack of finality. Everyone freezes all at once with hitched breathes, eyes glued to how the ball dribbles obstinately in a slow motion, before rolling away from the perimeter of the court.

The last whistle breaks the static silence to announce the finality. Everyone turns to the score chart – 28 to 26.

There and then, the gym erupts into a positive torrent of roars and it takes a few prolonged seconds before reality hits Jungkook right in the face.

SNU won the championships.

They won the season!

Consciousness comes streaming back to the players after awhile. Yoongi is the first to scream, unexpectedly, with a loud fuck yeah and this snaps everyone out of their trance. Jimin’s reaction comes next, falling to his knees to do his signature slide, both fists pumped in the air as he snarls, “We fucking won!”

The players then tackle one another into a tight group hug, all smiling triumphantly and throwing their fists up in excitement. The sound of cheering from the crowd sends a tingle up their spines and it feels so fucking good.

Coach Kim is already on his feet, running towards them with the proudest smile you’ve ever seen on him and you’re about to follow suit, until you see Jungkook break away from the huddle and barrel towards you at a speed too fast for your comprehension.

Smiling at how his face is lit up like the stars in his eyes, you throw your arms wide open and he dives into your embrace, hot tears brimming at the edges of both your eyes. He engulfs you into the tightest hug he’s ever given anyone and you wrap your arms around his waist, heart swelling with pride.

He feels like the dew on a perfectly bloomed rose in your comforting arms as he nuzzles further into the crook of your neck, relishing the warmth of your lithe body against his.

“Kook! You did it, oh my god!” You scream in joy, but your repeated words of congratulations get muffled by his broad chest.

He leans back to take a look, a really good look of your beaming face that screams nothing but pride and love, before scooping you up in a graceful sweep and twirling you around, simply because words cannot describe how happy he feels.

A soft, feather-light peck is then pressed on your ear and a blush makes camp on your cheeks. His warmth leaves your skin after a fleeting second, the cool air of the sports hall rushing back to stroke the flaming blush on your cheeks.

Still riding the high from their win, he then leans in to kiss the beam from your lips and the open display of affection makes your heart burst in your chest. Behind you two, the entire volleyball is wolf-whistling and applauding raucously. Jungkook scrunches his nose in embarrassment at how all his teammates and Coach are gawking at the two of you, but really, he cannot find any damns to give.

Red-faced and bright-eyed, the champions of the season make their way out of the court with a steady, triumphant gait, their bodies pumped with a brew of adrenaline and slight exhaustion. Lagging at the back of the team is Jungkook and you in your own little bubble. His fingers are interlaced firmly with yours and he registers that his heart will forever and always be set on you.

In his eyes, you see stars. You see yourself. You see the two of you.

You see love.

For the nth time that day, Jungkook leans in to meet your lips and he knows very well that this is the sweetest victory he will ever taste in his life.

Note | If you’re reading this, hi there love! ♡ Thank you so much for reading my first piece on this site. If you liked it, hit that like or reblog button or/and hmu with feedback or talk to me here – it’ll really make my day ♡ This was beta-ed by Ali @gukseuphoria and J @glitterjjk – thank you for being my first beta readers! There’ll be more stories coming your way, check out my WIPs for more! 💫💛✨

(A special shoutout to Ayv @piedpipers for being my first friend here and for always believing in me and hyping me up 👭🌞🌸💖)

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dailytimdrake · 5 years

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Hello! Thanks for answering my reverse-robin ask, I love your ideas! If you don't mind, I'm really interested in the idea you mentioned at the end about what it would be like if Tim and Nightwing teamed up! Thanks! :D

Hello, I’m glad you like my ideas! I’ve been pondering over how to answer this ask, because I’m not familiar with Nightwing at all outside of his limited interaction with Tim.

In the previous response, I mentioned:

“He might find himself as Red Robin after getting fired, but he might also become Nightwing’s sidekick. I think this verse’s RR and Nightwing would be a formidable team - maybe the more synced counterpart to Batman and Robin.”

To expand on this, I’d say that considering Jason hadn’t been Red Robin prior to Tim getting fired, Tim would have to take on a new identity of his own. I don’t see this happening. Throughout his history in superheroing Tim has always taken on another’s name and costume and made it his own. Both Robin and Red Robin were never his to begin with. So along that line I’d say Tim might look towards a cape that recently stopped using their alias: Batgirl.

Obviously he’s not going to call himself Batgirl, but he might take the costume and modify it a little. He might call himself Batboy? Batkid? Or something along those lines. His costume would have more armour, more belt-pockets, a shorter or maybe retractable cape, but the colour scheme would remain: black, yellow, blue/purple. (If I were more artistically inclined, I would draw this, but as it stands the only thing I am adept at is coming up with ideas for comics I’ve barely read.)

Now Tim has never had much experience fighting crime completely alone, seeing as he started off stalking his heroes and then working with Batman. So this is completely new territory for him. He goes to Barbara to ask for permission for the Batgirl colours - because I feel that Tim should have some level of respect for Babs at this point - and asks for advice. (I’m not sure about Barbara’s storyline, but for AU purposes let’s say she’s Oracle by now.)

She points him towards Dick Grayson, because he’s the one who dropped Batman and went off on his own to forge his own path and identity in the first place. If there’s anyone to ask about leaving the Bat and going solo, it’s him.

The thing is, Tim doesn’t know Dick outside of his stalking and that one meeting in the circus before it all started. Tim only knows what he sees. This necessarily means that Tim is, in fact, a tad apprehensive about seeking Dick out, because his recent personal experience with Dick has been very much centered around Bruce and anger. And we all know how vicious Dick can be when he’s angry.

“So if Tim were the 2nd Robin, I’d say Dick and Bruce would have had a really bad falling out, and Dick must have left possibly indefinitely, and Bruce reacted as if Dick were dead.”

So, Tim would have the idea to go to Dick for help, but he’s held back because he thinks Dick might not want to see him, seeing as he did replace him as Robin. And because Tim still feels associated with Batman more than with Nightwing, despite being “fired” and essentially brushed off.

Tim and Dick would have to really build their relationship together first, I’d imagine. With Dick off in Bludhaven and Tim patrolling parts of Gotham on his own (not to mention staying away from Batman and Robin), this won’t happen until Barbara sends Dick a tip-off: one of Batman’s birds is out of the nest. And Dick, as resentful as he is towards Bruce, feels responsible for his successor as Robin, in a way. So they start talking, I guess.

“[…] Tim is effectively kicked out of their circle both by circumstance and personal choice, but I imagine Dick would seek him out and offer advice as a former Robin. (Ah, I love Dick & Tim bonding. I find their differences and similarities really complementary.)”

After some time though Dick finds that Tim is really, really good at detective and tech things. At least, he’s much more tech-savvy than Dick is. They’re both good at detective work, but Tim is better - the kid figured out Batman and Robin’s identities when he was like, 5, come on. So they work cases together, and it’s a fun time, because Tim’s "big picture” line of thinking and Dick’s attention to detail fit with each other nicely.

I’m not sure if I answered your request adequately, if at all, but here’s a really well-written meta by @theflyingwonder on Dick and Tim’s relationship in canon. I imagine their relationship in this reverse-robins verse wouldn’t be much different, just that the circumstances have changed. Hope this response made sense!

#tim drake #dick grayson #nightwing #red robin #alternate universe: ageswap #long post #request #headcanons #Anonymous #ask

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elles-choices · 5 years

Text

Godsend: Chapter 1 & 2 (TRR AU, Liam x MC)

A/N: Hey guys, I’m so excited about this series that I’m sharing a double chapter with you! I hope you guys like it as much as I do :)

Chapter 1: Hometown Glory

Pairing: Liam x MC (Catherine aka Cathy), Drake x Meg

Summary: As the spare to the throne, Liam leaves Cordonia to University in the States. Hoping for some normalcy in a life outside the spotlight, he leaves his comfort zone embarking in new adventures and falling in love for the first time until fate strikes.

Disclaimer: Some characters belong to Choices by Pixel Berry

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Chapter 1: Hometown Glory

Liam walks through the hallways of the place on the way to the Government wing to see his father. He has no idea why, but he was summoned by Constantine and this usually happens when he and his bother are in trouble — his thoughts start racing but he can’t think of anything that he might have done or taken part of. He takes a deep breath before knocking at the study door, slowly opening it. He sees his father on the phone, with a had gesture he signalizes Liam to come in and sit down, waiting until the call is over.

„Very well, Hakim. Why don’t we save the details for our dinner next week? Perfect! Alright, talk soon, old friend“, Constantin hangs up and looks at Liam very seriously. „So Liam, I heard from Regina that you were talking about transferring to an U.S. University“, he stands up and walks to the bar cart, pouring himself and Liam one fingers of whisky.

„Yes, father. I believe that living abroad would broaden my horizon and I’d like to get to know other cultures before I finish college and start working in service of the crown“, he looks at his father, who hands him a drink.

Constantin walks back to his chair, „Regina thinks it will be good for you“, he sits down and looks at Liam, „and I cant deny, I think it is a good idea myself“. Liam smiles and his eyes widen. „I pulled some strings and due to your impeccable curriculum and grades, you were admitted into Stanford. You will be flying next week to California“, he smiles.

Liam jumps from his chair and walks up to his father to hug him, „Father! I can’t believe it… I never thought you would ever consider letting me go! Thank you so so much!“, he smiles.

„Liam, my son, I just wish you would have come to me first“, he hugs him, patting him on the back. „However, there will be rules!“, his tone becomes stern and Liam goes back to his seat, „There can be no scandals and nobody can know you are a prince“, he opens a drawer, picking up a brown envelope and putting a few papers on the table, „In the U.S you will be known as Liam Thompson, a British exchange student from London. Only the US Government and the University know your true identity. This is your new passport, drivers license and everything you will need — The British Government has helped us with everything and it’s only be possible thanks to our shared ancestry with the English Monarchy, Queen Victoria. So, next time Elizabeth invites us for a wedding, we better show up!“, he smirks. „I’m taking your platinum credit card, you will get a normal one with a comfortable limit to live off but not too high to draw attention — if someone asks about your comfortable life though, tell them your parents are bankers. You will live near campus in a two bedroom apartment that you will share with Drake. Your security detail will occupy the apartment in front of yours and will be always in your shadows, making sure that you are okay“, he puts everything back into the envelope and hands it to Liam. „However, if the press finds out about it and your whereabouts or if anyone discover your true identity… that’s it! You will have to come back home, understood?!“

Liam smiles, „Understood, father! This is only fair…“

„Alright, I guess you have a lot to get done before flying out to your new life in the states, so you better get it done!“, he walks up to Liam and hugs him once again. „Now, I will try to track down your brother to tell him the news. I’m sure he will want to say goodbye in style!“, he chuckles.

„Okay. I really have a lot to get done. See you later, dad and tell Regina thanks from me!“, he smiles and walks out of his father’s study.

——————

One week later…

Leo knocks at Liam’s apartment urgently, „Come on, little brother! The guys are already waiting!“. Liam opens the door suddenly and Leo almost falls into his room, causing Liam to chuckle.

„Alright! I can’t even get ready for my own going away party…“, he shakes his head while his brother puts his arm around his neck and they walk down the stairs to meet Drake, Maxwell and Bertrand in the entrance of the palace. Liam greets each one of them and says: “If everyone is already here, what are we waiting for? Let’s get this party started!“. The guys cheer and one after the other enter the limousine but shortly before Liam’s turn to go in, he hears a familiar voice behind him.

„So, it is true?!“, Olivia stands there, her eyes welling up with tears.

„Guys, go ahead, I have to talk to Liv for a second… and no worries, I’ll be right behind you. Now, go, go, go!“, he shuts the car door and watches as they leave, turning back to Olivia. „Let’s go for a walk.“

Olivia crosses her arms in front of her and walks out of the palace with Liam following behind her. Heading to the gardens, she says: „I can’t believe you were going to leave without saying goodbye! I really mean nothing to you…“, she lowers her head, looking at her feet.

„Liv, don’t say that“, he stops her and puts his hands on her shoulders. „You are one of my best friends. It’s just too complicated right now“

„I don’t wanna be your friend, Liam. I want more… that kiss meant something to me… I thought you felt the same way“, she looks at him, tears streaming down her cheeks.

He hugs her and she rests her head on his chest, „I’m sorry, Liv. I thought, perhaps there was more there but… I love you as a friend, as a sister and it won’t change!“

Olivia pushes him away, „Wow Liam… as a sister?! You kiss me and then tell me you love me as your sister?“, she looks at him for a moment in silence, her face expecting something from him but there is nothing there, „Good. I wish you a good flight, Liam. Have fun with your new life!“, she walks away.

„Liv… Liv! I’m sorry for hurting you… I really am!“, he says, walking in her direction but she doesn’t answer, just makes some motion with her hands and leaves. Liam watches her as she goes, torn between going after her or letting her alone but he knows, it’s better to leave things this way — he will never be able give her what she wants from him.

——————

Liam arrives at the beer garden thirty minutes later and everybody notices due to his facial expression that he had a lot in his mind. He sits next to Leo and Drake, watching Maxwell and Bertrand greeting someone on another table.

„What happened? You look down… it’s your going away party, you should be happy to leave this place for a while to enjoy some time with people of your own age“, Leo says.

„He kissed her, that’s what happened!“, Drake says sipping his pint, earning him an annoyed glance from Liam before he looked at Leo.

„Yeah, I just made my situation with Liv a lot more complicated“, he takes Leo’s pint and takes a gulp, „She spent the entire summer throwing herself at me, I thought maybe there could be something there… but there isn’t. Now she is hurt and mad at me“.

Leo takes the pint back from Liam’s hand, „She will survive, Li. This was a stupid move though, everybody knows she has been crazy about you from a young age. However, what is done is done. You are leaving and now with you moving away, she will have no other choice than get over it“, Leo wraps an arm around his neck, „“I’ll miss you, brother but I am glad you will be able to leave this madness. And I envy you for all those American girls… make me proud, little brother!“.

Liam laughs, „Yeah, I’m pretty sure being an asshole is not part of my curriculum“, they all laugh and Maxwell and Bertrand join the guys.

„Hey, what did we miss?“, Maxwell says smiling.

„Not much, just my brother being an ass…“, Liam laughs.

„Wait, you are talking to the next king, Liam. You better show some respect!“, Bertrand says in a very serious tone.

„Too late for that, Bertrand!“, Drake says smirking.

„Alright, who wants more beer?“, the guys put their hands up excited, „Good, let’s get this party started! My brother is leaving to the land of opportunity, we have a lot to celebrate!“

To be continued…

For more chapters go to my MASTERLIST in my bio.

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Chapter 2: Party In The USA

It’s been three days since Liam and Drake arrived in Palo Alto. While Liam has been busy buying books and getting ready for summer quarter, Drake has been out getting to know their new surroundings. Suddenly Liam hears a knock at his bedroom door:

„Come in!“, he looks at the door, closing his book.

„Hey Li, what are you up to?, Drake asks.

„Just catching up with my reading. Where have you been all day?“, he says smirking.

„Yeah, I wanted to go shortly to the coffeeshop but I met this cute girl, Meghan“, he walks into the room and sits down on a chair, looking at Liam, „She showed me around… and she invited us to this party tonight“, he puts his feet on Liam’s bed.

„Not a chance, Drake!“, Liam pushes his feet away from his bed, „I don’t know anyone yet and I’m not going to be your third wheel!“.

Drake chuckles, „She has a roommate… for what I head you two are perfect for each other, she is all about studying but she is cute, I saw her photo!“, Drake stands up, „And I’m not asking you to come, I’m telling you to because if you don’t… then her roommate is going to be the third wheel and you can’t let it happen!“, Drake smirks and Liam throws a pillow at him.

“Alright... but only because I can’t leave the poor girl alone with you two making out!”, he takes his book in his hands, lying down while Drake leaves his room.

—————

When Drake and Liam arrive at the party, they walk around looking for Meghan, finding her next to the drink table.

„Hey! There you are, I thought you guys had changed your minds!“, she says hugging Drake, „I take this is your roommate? Hi, I’m Meghan“, the petit brunette smiles friendly, shaking his hand.

„Meg, where is your roommate. Liam is already looking forward to get to know her!“, Drake chuckles and Liam throws him an annoyed glance.

„Cathy?! She should be here any minute. Last time I talked to her she was leaving the hospital to go home and change“, she says handing the guys a cup of beer.

„Is she okay?“, Liam asks.

„Oh, yeah. She is a med student doing rotation, so basically she is assisting residents…”, she sees a familiar face coming to their direction, “There she is!“, she says excited. Liam turns around to see the 5’8 blonde with big green eyes and the sweetest smile he has ever seen — she is wearing a red floral summer dress and flats. He stares at her for a moment feeling his heart skip a beat. Meghan hugs Cathy and says: „So good to see you! How was your day?“.

„Good but I’m exhausted!“, she looks at the two guys behind Meghan, „So, I see you have made new friends already…“, she giggles.

„Yeah, these are the exchange students I told you about, Drake Walker and Liam Thompson. Guys, this is Catherine Levine but everybody calls her Cathy“, she says making them acquainted.

„Hi Drake, nice to meet you“, she shakes his hands and turns to Liam, „Hi, nice to meet you“, she offers him her hand and Liam takes it, kissing her knuckles without taking his eyes of hers. Catherine blushes and looks at the others. Drake shoves him discreetly and Liam releases her hand.

„Hi Cathy, I’m Liam and it is nice to meet you too“, he can’t stop looking at her, Meghan throws a glance at Drake and he says:

„Yeah, you two get to know each other… we have to go somewhere to do something else…“, he takes Meghan’s hand and they leave chuckling.

„Can I offer you something to drink? Perhaps a beer?“, Liam asks.

„I’m not of drinking age… and I don’t really like alcohol, thanks anyways. But I’d love a glass of orange juice“, Cathy smiles and leans on the wall next to Liam. „So, you are British?!“, she looks to the side and catches him looking at her.

„Yeah, how did you know?!“, he smiles, handing her her drink.

„Your accent makes it obvious… and no American guy would be such a gentleman and kiss a girl’s hand“, she giggles and Liam blushes.

„I’m sorry for that… force of habit... I mean, not that I do it often... I just...”, he closes his eyes afraid he is making a fool of himself and breaths deeply for a second, “I never meant for you to feel uncomfortable“, he mumbles.

Cathy turns to him, „I didn’t… I thought it was really cute“, she smiles and takes a sip of her drink. She looks at some drunk guys trying to flirt with a girl, „I don’t really know why I agreed to this… I can’t stand these parties where people only come with the intent of getting drunk!“.

„So you hate college parties then?“, he chuckles, „Do you wanna go outside? It’s kinda loud in here“, Liam says nervously, „But don’t feel pressured to go with me… I mean, it is only an offer“.

„I know, Liam… relax, I don’t bite!“, she smiles, putting a hand on his shoulder, „Let’s go“. They walk through the crowd on their way outside and make their way along the sidewalk for a couple of minutes until they arrive in front of a car and Cathy sits on its hood, „Come on“, she taps on the space next to her.

„Won’t we get in trouble if the owner sees us?“, Liam says looking around.

„Nope… because I’m the owner, come on!“, she leans back against the windshield, looking at the sky, „So, what are you majoring in?“, she looks at him.

„Political Science and Economics“, he looks at her, „I was told you are a med student…“, he smiles.

„Yes, I always wanted to be a doctor but it does take a lot of my time and energy…“, she looks back to the sky. „Are you excited about living in another country?“

Liam chuckles, „You can’t imagine how happy I am! Back home, everything is so… different“, he looks down, his voice expresses sadness, „It was fine as long as my brother was around but when he was old enough to leave, things changed… thankfully Drake was always there for me“, he looks at her shortly, „I don’t wanna bother you with these things... let’s talk about something happier“.

Cathy turns to see him and hugs him shortly, whispering into his ear, „Whenever you need someone to talk to, just let me know“, she looks into his eyes and smiles. They sit back for a while watching the sky in silence from a moment and Liam couldn’t stop himself from look at her every now and then. Suddenly, Catherine’s phone rings and she answers:

„Hey! We are at the car… when you leave the house just take the path to the left, along the sidewalk. We are waiting!“, she hangs up. „They are coming and we will drive to our apartment. Do you wanna come?“, she smiles.

Liam smiles brightly, „Yeah… sure. But we didn’t have time to buy a car yet. Do you mind if we drive with you?“

„If you trust me with your life“, she winks at him and gets out of the hood of the car, giggling.

Meghan and Drake get closer, he has an arm around her waist. Liam looks at Cathy and smirks and Meghan says: „Okay, okay… nothing to see here! Let’s go, this party sucks“. They all get in the car and drive to Catherine’s and Meghan’s apartment. They order in some pizza and chat for a while before Meghan and Drake disappear in the apartment.

Cathy and Liam are in the living room laughing together talking about movies and whatnots, when she hears something, „Psst…“, she says holding a hand up, „What is that?“, she hears faint panting, moaning, grunts and start blushing when she looks at Liam.

He starts laughing and whispers, „What about we give them some privacy and step out for a minute?“. Cathy stands up and leads Liam to the balcony, where he sees a telescope. „Is it yours?“

„Yeah, stargazing is one of my hobbies“, she leans on the railing and looks at the sky.

„This is a fascinating hobby. What is your favorite constellation? And can you show me?“, he leans on the railing looking at her.

„Orion… but you probably already know how to find it“, she giggles.

„No, tell me more about it, please“, Liam smiles.

„Okay… According to greek mythology, Orion was a gigantic hunter with supernatural powers. He was very strong but extremely dumb and one day he said he would kill every animal on the planet, enraging the goddess Gaia, who sent a scorpion to kill him. The giant soon realized he couldn’t shoot an arrow through the scorpion’s armor and jumped into the sea to avoid the creature. Artemis hit him with an arrow after Apollon tell her, this giant was a terrible villain. When she saw the body, she realized it was her friend Orion and begged the gods to bring him back to life but they refused, so she put his picture in the sky“, she smiles excited and places herself in front of Liam. He is so close to her that he can smell the lavender scent of her hair, „Hold me tight with one hand and give me your other hand“, he does as she says, „There, you see?“, she takes his hand pointing her finger to the stars, „Head, shoulders, the belt…“. Liam chuckles and Cathy turns around, „Wait… you tricked me! You already know, don’t you!“, she looks up into his eyes, he is still holding her tight.

„Yeah but I enjoyed your lesson anyway…“, he realizes how close they are and feels a force pulling him to her. He tries to resist it and his hand leaves her waist. „It’s kinda late… you said you were tired, I should go“.

„I’d love you to stay but I actually have to wake up early“, she sighs, „ But I’ll drive you home and no discussion… it’s not like I will get any sleep now with those two putting on a show“, she giggles.

Liam stares into her eyes for a moment, „Okay… Thank you!“.

Cathy takes his hand and they walk to the car. It was a five minutes drive and they listened to some music, Liam kept glancing at her, admiring her beauty while she was focused on singing the songs out loud.

The car stops in front of Liam’s building, „So, here we are…“, she looks at him smiling.

„Give me your phone, please!“, he says with a chuckle.

„What? Why?“, she says giggling.

„Just give me your phone, you will see!“. She hands it to him and he types something in it, „Here… now you have my number. Let me know you are alright when you get home!“, he looks at her nervously for a few seconds, not really wanting to leave. Then, he leans in slowly to kiss her, noticing she is blushing. She looks down to her hands and he goes for her cheeks instead. „Sweet dreams, Cathy“, his voice is husky and tender.

„Sweet dreams, Liam“, she looks into his eyes one last time before he leaves and she drives away.

—————

After a shower, Liam lies in his bed thinking about this evening and he can’t stop thinking about her. He wanted so bad to kiss her but he was afraid of overstepping the boundaries with her. He doesn’t know her, yet he knows that there is something special about her, something that makes him nervous and his heart beat faster. Her smile, her eyes and those lips of hers, something sensual and angelical at once. Suddenly a text comes in, pulling him back out of his thoughts. He opens it and smiles:

„I’m home. It was nice meeting you, Liam. Have a good night, x Cathy“

Quickly, he answers, „I’m glad. It was nice meeting you too, Cathy. I hope I see you around soon!“ And leaves his phone on the nightstand, knowing it will be hard to sleep thinking of her.

To be continued…

For more chapters go to my MASTERLIST in my bio.

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emmaspirate · 6 years

Text

Running with the Devil

A/N: low key have no idea what this is. Going to roll with it any way. AU in which Joe didn’t raise Barry. Barry’s also a villain so that’s fun. Didn’t have this beta’d so be nice, I just wanted to get it up here! Enjoy!

Summary: Iris West didn't like to think she was a stupid girl. She had her moments, especially when alcohol was involved, but stupidity was not something she thought she possessed. Agreeing to go undercover to bring down Central City's most notorious super-villain, The Flash? Stupid.

AO3

Chapter I

She isn’t sure why she volunteers. It’s literally one of the dumbest things she has ever done, second only to that time she jumped off a roof at a frat party and nearly paralyzed herself. She could at least blame alcohol that time. Right now, she’s stone cold sober and can only blame her lack of self-preservation and maybe that concussion she’d gotten from cheerleading.

Her dad had been firmly against this, he hadn’t even let her become a cop in the first place. Eddie had too, although lately it felt like he was always against her. Or maybe she was always against him. That therapist she’d seen that one time had told her that she purposefully pushed people away before they could leave her.

That therapist had been a fucking idiot and her dad and Eddie should know by now that she does what she wants.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Captain Singh asked.

Was she sure she wanted to do this?

“Yes,” she replied, sounding surer than she felt.

It wasn’t like she didn’t think she could do this. She’d gone undercover before for her job as an investigative reporter at CCPN. That, however, usually consisted of flirting with a lifeguard to figure out if they’d used too much chlorine in the local pool, or pretending to be a professor at Central City University to unearth a wage discrepancy between black and white faculty. Those had all been small stints, just short-term assignments, and she hadn’t really had to sell herself all that much. It had been easy.

Infiltrating The Flash’s inner circle, that was going to be a touch more difficult.

The Flash was one of Central City’s most notorious villains. He’d popped up a few years back after the particle accelerator explosion at STAR Labs along with a whole bunch of other metas. Metas he now appeared to be the leader of so she at least had to admire his ambition.

The main problem was that very few had ever seen him.

He had super speed, or at least that’s what everyone assumed. Originally referred to as the Scarlet Streak, he often only left a trail of yellow lightning as a sign he’d been there. He liked to frequent all the big banks in the city, decimating the accounts of the wealthiest. Jewelry stores were also high on his list. Anywhere he could collect large amounts of money or valuables, he was sure to hit. Sometimes he even broke into people’s houses, but, once again, he only hit up the homes of Central City’s richest.

She had no idea how she was going to get to him.

Captain Singh didn’t need to know that.

Apparently someone had hacked into their computer systems and stolen the identities of everyone working as an undercover agent. The hack also happened to have occurred at the exact time that they were working to build a case against The Flash, and maybe find out his identity. Which was quite a coincidence. It was hard to get close to The Flash when he could see you coming.

That the argument she walked in on when she’d gone to visit her dad for lunch. He and Captain Singh were trying to figure out what to do, both of them coming up short. It had been that Iris nonchalantly suggested that she could go undercover.

“Absolutely not,” her dad had protested.

Iris huffed. “I’m an investigative reporter, I’m good at pretending to be someone I’m not. I can do it.”

Joe quirked an eyebrow. “Oh I have no doubt that you can do it, you just aren’t going to. It’s too dangerous.”

“You were just about to send one of your own men in,” Iris scoffed. I can handle myself, Dad, you taught me how to. There’s no record of me on any of the CCPD computers, I’m not a cop, and you don’t even need to create a fake identity for me, I can just use my own. He’ll never have a reason to suspect me.”

Her dad placed his hands on his hips, which told her she was going to get shot down. “No, Iris. End of discussion.”

She almost let it drop to, except then she looked at Singh’s face and he was considering it. “Captain Singh?”

The Captain looked past her and right at Joe. “It’s not a bad idea.”

“No!”

Iris cut in then, voice rising an octave. “I’m an adult, Dad. I can make this choice with or without your approval.” Knowing she’d catch more flies with honey then with vinegar, she changed her tone to a softer one. “But I want you in on this. Please.”

Joe looked back and forth between the two of them, clearly sensing he was fighting a losing battle. “Fine,” he barked and Iris threw her arms around him. “But things start to go south and we’re pulling you out.”

Iris smiled. “I’ll be fine, Daddy. What could go wrong?”

The answer to that question was many things.

Many things could go wrong.

Admittedly, her plan was not the best. It was, in fact, maybe one of the worst plans she could’ve come up with. Not only was it entirely contingent on whether or not he showed up, but he could also just kill her.

That would really suck.

She definitely owed Linda a drink for letting her use her parent’s apartment to set a Flash trap. Well, truthfully she owed Mr. and Mrs. Park a drink and, depending on how this went, a new apartment.

The Park’s were old money, Linda’s great-great grandfather having owned like every newspaper in the city at one point. Or something. Iris wasn’t really sure because Linda didn’t really like to talk about it. The only reason she’d found out at all was because Linda had been the one who had posted bail when she’d been arrested in college for streaking across the quad.

Focus, West.

So that was how she found herself sitting on the Park’s couch absentmindedly flipping through a magazine. It was a bit past midnight and at this point she wasn’t even sure The Flash would show at all.

That kind of pissed her off, considering how much work she’d put into the article she’d written to lure him or her here. She’d included lots of details about how Mr. Park had just acquired a new, big, fat emerald. It was one of the largest single payments for a gemstone that had ever occurred. She also mentioned that he was currently keeping it stored in his home until other arrangements could be made. She made sure to include any detail that she thought would draw The Flash in.

It was all fake of course, but that was beside the point.

She was just debating on taking a little nap when a gust of air passed through the room. That in and of itself probably wouldn’t have been odd, she was pretty sure she left a window open, but the yellow lightning moving around the room alerted her that she was no longer alone.

It took her a second to register that The Flash was moving from room to room, and then another second to realize why. “Looking for something,” she yelled out and the volume of her voice made her feel stupid, but she wanted to be heard.

The lightning stopped for a moment and everything was quiet. Iris briefly wondered if The Flash had left, and that would really suck because how was she going to find them now.

In a split second and another gust of wind that sent her hair flying around her face The Flash was in front of her staring down at her with angry eyes.

He, and it was definitely a he, she knew that at least, was significantly taller than her. He wore a red leather suit that covered him from head to toe. The only parts of him that were visible were his mouth and his nose and the aforementioned eyes, which were a pretty dark green. His frame was lean, but she could tell he was muscular. Her eyes drifted down to his chest, where a white circular emblem sat with a lightning bolt in the center. Cute.

“Where’s the emerald?” He growled and his voice was coming out distorted, that much was obvious.

She probably should be scared because he was very obviously pissed off, but she’s kind of just giddy because he’s here. He’s here and he’s The Flash and she has so many questions. So she decides to have a little fun. “The emerald?”

His tone lets her know he is not messing around. “The Park’s emerald! Where is it?”

She smiles, and his agitation seems to grow. “The emerald? I’m sure it’s here somewhere. You’re welcome to keep looking.” With that she sits back down on the couch and starts flipping through her magazine.

It’s clearly not what he was expecting and he just stands there confused for a moment. Then suddenly the magazine is out of her hands and her back is pressed up against the wall and he’s all up in her space.

“Do you know who I am?” He breathes and his voice just holds a hint of malice.

For the first time, Iris is scared. She’s scared but she’s also intrigued and maybe it’s the reporter in her, but her curiosity always gets the best of her. “You’re The Flash. You’re one of the most well-known and feared villains in Central City.”

He falters then, maybe expecting her to not know who he is because if she did then shouldn’t she be afraid? His surprised expression is quickly replaced with a careful mask of neutrality. “Then I suggest you tell me where the emerald is, before I remind you of why I’m one of the most well-known and feared villains in Central City.”

“It’s not here.”

“What?” It’s clear that’s the last thing he was expecting to hear.

They were so close she could see tiny specks of gold in his eyes. “Yeah. The girl who wrote the article on the emerald suggested that maybe they shouldn’t keep it in their home.” She smirked. “You know, just in case someone wanted to steal it or something.”

“Do you know where I can find this girl? I’d like to have a word with her.”

Iris raised an eyebrow in challenge. “You’re looking at her.”

“You’re a reporter?” Flash asked as his jaw flexed.

She stuck out her hand. “Iris West. You are?”

She realized belatedly that she was flirting with him. She was flirting with The Flash. She was flirting with The Flash when she was happily dating Eddie Thawne. She was flirting with The Flash when she was happily dating Eddie Thawne and a part of her kind of liked it.

It wasn’t her original plan, but she figured she’d just go with whatever worked.

To her surprise, he huffed a laugh. “You’re a funny girl, Iris West. A little bit stupid, but funny.”

Iris stuck her chin out in defiance, not appreciating the dig. “Some people might say I’m brave.”

He leaned in then, close enough that Iris can feel his hot breath fanning over her face. “Those people would be stupid too then.”

He’s gone before she can even blink, disappearing in a, well, flash. She’s left there trying to process what the hell just happened, or even if any of that had happened.

Reflexively she flexes her fingers and is surprised to feel something in her right hand. Looking down she realizes that she’s holding a crumpled piece of paper. She quickly unfolds it and realizes that it’s the cover of the magazine she’d been reading.

There on Jennifer Lawrence’s face in messy, hurried scrawl are the words:

You’re brave and I’m stupid.

Definitely happened.

Let it be known that Iris West does not do well on little sleep.

She had a sporadic sleep schedule, she’d be the first to admit that, but she always got her eight hours. Even if that meant taking a seven and a half hour nap in the middle of the day.

So the day after her Flash encounter she was just a tad irritable.

By tad irritable she means that if someone so much as breathed in her direction she would basically take their head off.

The last thing she wanted to do was go to the gym. She’d never been one of those people who got a rush from exercise. The notorious “runner’s high” always seemed to elude her and instead she just got cramps. Still, she found that if she didn’t force herself to go at least five times a week then she wouldn’t go at all and now was really not the time to let herself go.

Not when she had the fastest man alive to keep up with.

It was incredibly convenient that her apartment complex had a gym inside of it. She loved her apartment complex. Eddie kept trying to get her to move in with him, but she was just overly attached to her gym, and her doorman, and her little balcony where she kept all her dead plants. At least, that’s what she told him. She couldn’t seem to admit to him or herself that maybe she just wasn’t ready to move in.

These were the kind of thoughts that plagued her whenever she hit the treadmill. The only way to make her stupid brain shut the hell up was to run so fast it felt as though one of her lungs was going to collapse. So that’s what she did.

She’d come to the gym a bit later than usual having gotten caught up at work. The place was empty when she’d arrived and she welcomed the solace. She decided to plug her phone in into the speaker that played throughout the room. Normally, she found it super obnoxious when people did that, but no one else was here so she didn’t see the harm.

She had only gotten two songs in when someone else came into the gym.

That someone else also happened to be a very attractive, tall brunette in his twenties.

Of fucking course.

He seemed surprised to see her there, sprinting on the treadmill like her life depended on it. She assumed that he just wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here this late. That made two of them.

“I can turn it off,” she yelled over the music as she pointed over to where her IPhone was laying.

He was still staring at her and she was suddenly hyper aware of the fact that she was only wearing a sports bra and her boobs were bouncing all over the place, but he shook his head and seemed to come to. “No, uh, it’s fine. I like this song,” he replied.

Iris gave him a little two-fingered salute and then went back into her own little world. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her gym buddy climb onto a treadmill two away from hers. He cranked up the speed and began to run, his pace matching her own.

She normally liked to do about three miles before doing a quick ab circuit and a few squats. Then she typically went back to her apartment and ate a pint of Rocky Road.

Three miles came and went.

Eddie had once informed her that her competitive nature was very unattractive. He hadn’t meant it as an insult, but naturally that’s how Iris had taken it. After all, it wasn’t her fault he fucking sucked at Pictionary.

Still, it was nothing short of miraculous that the guy hadn’t even broken a sweat given the pace he was going at and the length of time he’d been going for. She’d only gotten started about five minutes before he had and she was drenched in sweat in a way that probably wasn’t cute. When she hit the six mile mark, she nearly quit. Then she made the mistake of looking over at him.

It was almost instinctive and she instantly regretted it because there was a small challenge in his eyes.

She wasn’t the only competitive one in the room.

That settled it then. She would just die on this treadmill. There was no way she could outrun him, he wasn’t even breathing heavily, but she wasn’t about to quit and sacrifice her pride. So yeah, she’d just die on this treadmill. Reasonable.

They hit ten miles and her legs go numb.

Maybe this is the runner’s high. Maybe she’ll just eventually lose control of her limbs and go flying off. Maybe she’ll never be able to stop running. Maybe…

Then suddenly the treadmill two away from hers goes quiet and she looks over and he’s climbing off. His hands are held up in mock surrender. “I concede,” he said.

“Thank god!” She yelled as she slammed down on the stop button. “I was starting to hallucinate.”

He laughs. “I admire your commitment to athleticism.”

Iris takes a long gulp of her water. “Not to be confused with my commitment to winning.”

He gives her a knowing look. “Oh never.”

She gives him a quick once-over and her initial assessment of “very attractive” still stands. He is tall, maybe a little over six feet, with tousled brown hair and high cheekbones that are covered in freckles. He’s got beautiful green eyes and suddenly he looks so familiar. “Have we met before?”

He starts a little at that and scratches the back of his neck. “Kind of. You’re Iris West, right?”

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Yes. How do you know my name?”

“We went to high school together. I’m Barry Allen.”

He looks at her like he expects her not to know who he is, but of course she does. “Barry Allen from AP Chemistry?”

Barry doesn’t even try and hide his surprise. “Yeah. You remember?”

She smiles and reaches out to give him a light shove. “Of course I remember! Your notes are the only reason I passed that final exam.”

He nods, laughing. “Yeah, yeah, that’s me. I’m impressed. That’s not what most people know me for.”

She knows exactly what he’s referring to, of course. Everyone who went to Central City High knew who Barry Allen was. When your father is convicted of murdering your mother and sent to prison for life, people tend to know who you are.

She never really believed that anyway.

She shrugs, trying to play it off. “Yeah, well, I’m not most people.”

She thinks she hears him mutter “You’re right about that,” but she doesn’t have time to ask him to repeat himself as he asks, “So what’re you doing now?”

“I’m a reporter over at CCPN.”

Barry gives her a genuinely excited grin. “Look at you! You were president of the school newspaper so I guess I should’ve known, huh?”

She’s surprised he remembers that. “Well the stuff I write now is nowhere as near as interesting as the stuff I wrote back in high school.” Hopefully that would all change once she brought The Flash down. “What about you? Are you putting those AP Chemistry skills to use? You always had a knack for the science stuff.”

“Yeah I am actually. I’m a forensic scientist over at CCPD.” He says it so nonchalantly it seems as though he’s trying to downplay it.

Iris shoves him a second time. “Dude! That’s so cool! My dad is actually a cop over at CCPD.”

Barry expression changes suddenly and he seems more guarded. “Yeah I’ve bumped into him a few times.”

She doesn’t know what causes the shift, but she figures it best to ignore it. It could have something to do with the fact that her dad had been friends with the Allens, but then again it could not.

He looked good though, that much was certain. He’d filled out since high school, finally gaining the muscle needed to control those long limbs. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and sweatpants, and, yeah, he’s definitely been working out, and her eyes suddenly drift to his shoes.

“Are you wearing Converse?” It comes out a little more high-pitched and disbelieving then she intended, but seriously how had he run in those.

“What?” He looks down, confused. “Oh, yeah, I guess I am?”

“Those are so bad for your arches! You can’t run in those, Barry.” She has literally no idea where this outburst is coming from but she thinks maybe she’s a little pissed that he was running so effortlessly in Converse.

Barry rolls his eyes. “It’s fine, Iris.”

“No it’s not. I’m going to buy you new shoes and you can thank me twenty years from now when you aren’t flat-footed.”

He goes to protest but the sound of his phone ringing cuts him off. Barry looks at her, an apology on his expression, but she nods to tell him to take it. “Hello,” he says. “What? I thought that was handled. Seriously? No. Yes. No, no it’s fine I’ll come in now.”

“Duty calls, huh?”

Barry nods and he looks genuinely upset to ruin the moment. “Unfortunately nothing seems to get taken care of if I’m not around.”

Iris sighs. “Ain’t that just the way life is?” She nods towards the door. “Go, go. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you.”

He waits a moment before heeding her advice, giving her a small wave before he disappears from view.

Barry Allen was a curveball she wasn’t prepared for.

She can’t say she’s mad.

So the next time she runs into him is actually not planned.

She was just going to deposit some cash at Central City Municipal Bank when suddenly there was a gust of air and the lone security guard was yelling at everyone to get on the ground.

To the guard’s immense credit, he did actually attempt to stop The Flash. He shot feebly at the lightning moving across the room, but then his gun was out of his hands and rope was bounding his hands and feet.

Then the damnedest thing happened. Leonard Snart walked in through the doors.

Leonard Snart was one of the best thieves in all of Central City. He would probably argue that he was the best thief in the city, and if his father wasn’t still alive he’d probably be right. Snart could get past any kind of security system in seconds. He also had a weapon that was often referred to as a “Cold Gun” because it could shoot concentrated bursts of negative temperature particles. It could literally freeze people alive. Leonard Snart had been untouchable by any and all law enforcement.

She was going to bring down Leonard Snart.

When she very subtly reached into her pocket to get her phone so she could take a picture, she probably should’ve known that it wasn’t subtle at all. She probably should’ve known that Snart would see her. She probably should’ve known that her actions would probably get her killed.

Except she didn’t know all of that and so that was how she ended up with the Cold Gun pointed at her.

“Say cheese,” Snart said in a voice that’s so theatrical she would’ve laughed had circumstances been different.

Iris closed her eyes right before he pulled the trigger and then suddenly she could hear birds chirping and she thought maybe she was in heaven but when she opened her eyes she was standing on top of a building. She could see the bank a little ways in the distance and how the hell did she get up here?

A lone voice answered that question for her.

“What the hell were you thinking?” His tone, distorted as it was, suggested he wasn’t angry or overtly concerned for her safety in any way. He was talking to her like she was an idiot.

Which Iris, and she suspected any sane person, hated. So her own voice came out just a little bit heated as she yelled, “Two guys were robbing a bank! I was trying to call the police.”

He settled his hand on his hip. “You had your camera open.” He sounded slightly smug, as though he was happy he caught her in a lie.

Iris paused then, deflating slightly. “Okay, well maybe I was going to take a picture, but then I was definitely going to call the police.” When he let out an annoyed huff she shrugged. “Investigative reporter, what are you going to do?”

He smiled and for the first time Iris noticed that his face was vibrating ever so slightly, blurring his features. He definitely wasn’t doing that the first time they met. “As an investigative reporter I would think you’d know that by the time the police reach any of my crime scenes, I’m long gone.”

“Cocky, aren’t we?”

“Confident.” He replied and yeah she had to give him that one.

She stepped closer and he mirrored her actions, stepping back. “Yeah, well, you never know. Maybe they’ll catch you one day.”

He said his next words so quietly she thought maybe she wasn’t supposed to hear. “Figures a cop’s daughter would have unfounded faith in the police department.”

That surprised her. “How do you know that?”

Any trace of anger or judgement he’d held at the beginning of the conversation was gone now and he was teasing her. “You’re not the only one who knows how to do some digging, Iris West. I quite liked your article on the Flower Festival.”

That was not a proud moment for her. Something about a girl named after a flower writing a story about flowers made her have to suppress her gag reflex. The article was about as puff piece as you could possibly get, no matter how hard she tried to make petunias sound badass.

Desperate to prove herself, which she constantly seemed to be, she asked, “Did you also read my article about corrupt beat cops at CCPD?”

He clearly wasn’t expecting that, and she knew his answer before he said, “Must’ve missed that one.”

Iris took another hesitant step forward, and this time he didn’t step away. “Maybe you should read it. Police are not infallible, I would never be naive enough to believe that. They make mistakes, even my dad would admit that. He always taught me to question everything around me.”

The Flash seemed positively taken aback, and she felt slight satisfaction at that. Any time she could defy expectations, she took the opportunity to do so. Besides, it was probably smart to convince him that she wasn’t some police groupie. At least if she wanted him to let her take a peek inside his operation.

Shaking his head he seemed to recover quickly. “He may have done too good a job.”

Iris smirked. “You two may be in agreement on that one”

He gave her a weird look then, as though that was an odd statement for her to make. Funnily enough, she imagined that her dad would have a similar reaction at the implication that he and The Flash could see eye to eye on anything.

“I should probably go,” he breathed.

Iris must have been making up the reluctance she heard in his voice. Then again, he didn’t need to tell her he was leaving, he could’ve just sped off.

She nodded. “Well, thank you for not letting Leonard Snart freeze my face off.”

He laughed. “Iris,” he purred and she liked the way he said her name. “You are much too interesting to have your face frozen off.”

Then just like that she was on the street and he was gone and she was left to wonder whether or not that had happened.

And if she noticed that over the course of the next few weeks Central City Municipal Bank was not robbed once, she never said anything.

#yeah #idk #we'll see where this goes #the flash #flash #barry allen #iris west #westallen #iris westallen #westallen fic #westallen ff #flash ff #flash fanfiction #flash fic #westallen fanfiction #mine #my writing #flash writing

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deepdickdaniel · 7 years

Text

Yoon Jisung | Soulmate!AU | Handwriting

prompt: you have the same handwriting as your soulmate.

note: this was a request by an anon! my ask box is here and open! enjoy!

you remember being a kid practicing your letters in pre-k and hearing your teacher gasp in excitement

two other kids in your class had been assigned next to each other and when your teacher was walking around to check over their work, she noticed their handwriting being the same

every curve, every line was identical - it was like a printer copied them onto their papers

that was your first experience with someone finding their soulmate

and ever since then, you had been desperately searching for your own

you always snuck looks at your classmates’ papers to see if their penmanship matched your own, but to your disappointed, they didn’t

one year, your grade was chosen to send letters to students a few years older than you from a different school as a sort of pen pal mentorship exchange

you were assigned a student by the name of yoon byeongok so you sent a letter according to the rules of the program

he sent one back quickly, introducing himself and even drawing little smiley faces and cute shapes around his letter

you were relieved that your pen pal seemed to be kind and encouraging - his first letter already had a lot of awesome tips for applying to high school

after a few letters, you started to notice the similarities in his and your handwriting

but you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of someone you respected, so you kept your theory to yourself

that is, until byeongok himself asked you about it

one of his letters wrote “ah, and this might sound strange, but did you happen to notice that we have the same handwriting...? do you know what that’s supposed to mean?”

now you had hope that he was looking for his soulmate, too

so you wrote him back, explaining that you had actually put your letter and one of his on top of each other and held it to the light, comparing individual words

they were written identically

ever since you sent that letter, byeongok started acting a lot more casually with you, treating you more like a friend than someone he had to mentor

and you did the same, leading you two to eventually become best friends

the way you got along with him, you knew you were soulmates, even without physically meeting him

but byeongok still kept in mind your slight age gap, making sure to not approach you romantically just yet

so you continued to be just best friends

...until you moved from busan to seoul

you had failed to give him your new address in your last letter and the box you kept his letters in, and therefore his address, seemed to disappear with the move

all you knew was that he was planning on attending university in seoul and hoped that the universe would lead you to your soulmate once and for all

when you got to seoul, you settled in right away and made friends, but a part of you always felt like something was missing

you hadn’t talked to your soulmate in ages and while you had best friends, no one understood you like byeongok did

eventually, you graduated high school

and a new family moved into the house next to yours during the summer before university, where you were surprised to see someone familiar

it was park woojin, the cute little boy you always babysat back at busan

you guys hung out and you showed him around seoul during the weekends

he told you that he came into contact with daniel, another friend of yours from busan that moved to seoul a year or two back

woojin and daniel had met other guys in seoul and they became a whole group of friends

woojin would always tell you about the different guys, never shutting up about how cool and fun they were despite being a lot younger than half of them

when you met up with daniel again, he introduced you to sungwoon, who you found out would attend the same university as you

and daniel told you more about the guys woojin never shut up about

he especially went on about the mom figure of the group, but you weren’t really paying attention to the name

but you remember smiling at the mention of the guy, despite not knowing who he was

school started again and your first day of university arrived

you shared a class with sungwoon and met other friends as well

one day, after class, sungwoon asked if he could take your notebook home so he could copy some notes

he was asleep during class lmao

so of course you agreed and the next day, he came up to you looking suspicious while handing you your notebook

“...have you found your soulmate yet?”

you were surprised to hear this, feeling like it came out of nowhere

“i technically have...but i haven’t heard from him in a long time”

he nodded his head and remained quiet all class, which weirded you out but you decided to not say anything about it

after class, he told you to come eat dinner with him and a few friends

there, you saw daniel and a few unrecognizable boys at the table

you walked to the table in the middle of a guy wiping off daniel’s face and scolding him to eat more cleanly

“ya, you’re so old now, stop eating like a child”

you giggled to yourself as you got closer, mentally noting that this must be the mother figure that woojin and daniel were always talking about

sungwoon whistled, calling the guys’ attention and introduced you to them

the mother figure turned around and you swore your world stopped turning for as long as you guys locked eyes

everyone introduced themselves and when it came to the mother figure, you listened intently for his name

“hi! it’s really nice to meet the one woojin and daniel can’t stop talking about! i’m jisung!”

your heart absolutely dropped at hearing his name

despite your heartbreak at the thought of finding your soulmate and then discovering it wasn’t him, you made the most of dinner, quickly growing comfortable with the guys

seongwu’s jokes and seeing minhyun challenge the guys to shots despite his being filled with water LMAO made you feel kinda better

at the end of the night, most of the guys headed home, but jisung insisted on bringing you to your house

for some weird reason, sungwoon patted your back and winked before running to join the other guys

jisung offered to carry your things for you that you had brought from school, being really sweet despite you guys just meeting

you were a little tipsy and therefore, a little more talkative than usual, but jisung listened with an ever present smile, nodding his head and laughing at appropriate moments

you guys were halfway home when he asked if you guys could stop by a small park

he had you sit on a swing and sat in the one next to you, looking like he wanted to say something...so he did

“did you know we have the same handwriting?”

oh boy, you sobered up real quick

“w-what?”

“you’re my soulmate”

as much as you wanted to believe it, you knew your soulmate’s name wasn’t jisung

he noticed your hesitation and got a bit nervous, continuing,

“sungwoon hung out at my house last night and took out your notebook to copy notes...your handwriting is exactly like mine”

“..”

“i’m really happy that i found you after all this time”

not understanding his words, you decided to tell him the truth,

“listen, jisung, as much as i wished you were my soulmate, i know that you aren’t because i’ve already found mine...”

he looked confused and sad, lips unintentionally pouting

“what do you mean?”

you sighed, explaining about your lost love, byeongok, who lost contact with you when you moved to seoul

and when you were done with your story, you looked to jisung to see he was smiling and even tearing up

“i see”

“yeah, so i’m really sorry and i hope we aren’t awkward from here on out...”

“well, i’d hope not since you’re my soulmate”

“did you not hear anything i just---”

“i’m byeongok. i legally changed my name to jisung a little after we lost contact with each other”

you stopped talking and stared at him in shock - you hadn’t told jisung your soulmate’s name

he just smiled and stood up from the swings, walking over to you and holding his hands out for you to take, which you did

he pulled you up and hugged you, nuzzling his face into your shoulder

“i’m so happy that after all these years, we found our way to each other...”

he trailed off as you felt your shirt grow wet where his face was settled; he was sniffling but he wouldn’t let you go

you made him pull away so you could see his face and wipe away his tears while you were trying to hold in your own

“thank you for finding me, jisung. thank you for not giving up on me”

“as if i could ever give up on the love of my life”

he said this teasingly, leaning in to give you the first of many kisses that you would share with your soulmate

that night was the start of your relationship and your place as jisung’s soulmate guaranteed you a spot with the rest of the boys for life

and since jisung refusd to give up his title as mother of the group, you became their father (sorry minhyunnie)

sometimes, jisung would come to pick you up from the class you shared with sungwoon

“awww, hyung! you came to see me!”

“bye, i’m not here for you”

“WOW, what a neglectful mother!!!”

the guys absolutely adored you and were happy to see that jisung was no longer alone

and whenever you were with them, sitting with jisung’s arms around you, you were thankful for the family that came with you finding your soulmate

#yoon jisung #jisung scenarios #jisung imagines #wanna one #wanna one imagines #wanna one scenarios #jisung #soulmate!au #yoon jisung imagines #yoon jisung scenarios

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vikingpoteto · 6 years

Text

And this is my piece for the first ever KuroDai Discord Exchange!!! Surprise, @thatishogwash!! It is I, your secret santa!! I've always wanted to write about Chat Noir!Kuroo and your request of Any Show AU gave me the perfect excuse!! I hope you find this fun to read! Why Kuroo is still Chat Noir and not Kuro Neko, even though they aren't in Paris? Psshhh. Don't think too much about it.

Title: Simply the best Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou/Sawamura Daichi Word count: 6,279 Rating: Gen Warnings/Tags: Miraculous Ladybug AU, Light Angst, Minor Character Death, Off-screen death,Hurt/ComfortVillain with ridiculous name Summary: Ladybug is gone and Chat Noir is the only hope the city has. Daichi thinks that's enough.

READ ON AO3

Sawamura Daichi has lived in a shitty neighborhood for years now. It's the best he can afford with his nurse salary, so he can't really complain. His mothers keep begging him to come back to Miyagi, of course, but doing so would mean admitting failure and Daichi is too prideful for that.

Call him stupid for sticking to a decision he made as a hopeful student fresh out of college, but living in Tokyo has been his dream since he was a kid. It was the reason he worked so hard on volleyball, so he could earn a sports scholarship. It was the reason he worked his ass off every day at the hospital to afford a one-room apartment in a sketchy neighborhood. He wanted to enjoy the big city and maybe make a difference. Save some people and whatnot.

Granted, Tokyo wasn't the happy place it was when Daichi graduated. Since it was Tokyo that changed so radically, it wouldn't be a shame to just say fuck everything this town has become and go back home. Except that, as shitty as it is, it still is the town of Daichi's dreams. And he's a nurse, for crying out loud. He wants to think he can help the city go back to what it once was.

Call him naive. He knows he's aiming for the impossible, but what can he do except hold onto hope?

Tokyo hasn't been the same since the death of Ladybug, Japan's number one hero. However, if believing things might get better makes Daichi a stupid country boy, then he doesn't want to be a big city person.

The sun has yet to rise and Daichi is returning home after a gruesome night shift. There had been an akuma attack and several civilians were involved. Daichi really missed Ladybug and her power to reverse whatever damage the akumas had caused.

As sleepy as he is, Daichi still stops by the dumpster behind his building - a charming landmark - and fishes a small package of cat food from his pocket. There's a particular stray cat that's been around often and Daichi is trying to win her over and take her in by giving her food whenever he has the opportunity.

He's thinking the amount of trash bags is higher than usual and wonders if his cat got lost in the middle of the dirt when his sleepy eyes register the odd dark shape on top of the bags. It looks almost like a human being. Daichi shivers when he thinks of bodies being sent away in bags back at the hospital. Suddenly feeling bad, he's about to drop the food wherever and hurry inside, stray cat be damned, when a nearby street lamp flickers, illuminating the alley for a brief second. The trash bags move. Daichi freezes on the spot.

The oddly shaped bags look human because they are human. A tall, lean man clad in black leather.

"Oh my God," he gasps, rushing to the man's side. "Are you okay? Can you hear me?"

With deliberate caution, Daichi slowly turns the man around, earning a soft groan that settles his nerves a little. The man is alive.

"It's going to be okay," Daichi says in his most reassuring nurse voice. "I'm going to help you."

In the dark alley, there's very little that Daichi can see of his features until the man blinks slowly. His eyes are strikingly yellow, almost to the point of glowing. Daichi almost lets go of the poor fool when the street light flickers again and Daichi finally realizes that the man is not only clad in leather, but he's also wearing a matching black mask.

Daichi has found a very hurt, very unconscious Chat Noir.

Daichi runs around his apartment. Maybe this is all a weird dream. Maybe he died of exhaustion in the middle of his last shift and this some sort of afterlife hallucination. He stops at the bathroom and slaps some cold water at his face, just in case this is really happening.

"Tokyo's superhero is unconscious on your couch," he tells his reflection. "He probably has a concussion. This is not the time to get hysteric."

As far as pep talks go, it isn't his best, but it's enough to get him moving again. Carrying first aid supplies, he rushes back to the living-room-slash-bedroom-slash-kitchen. Chat Noir is exactly where Daichi left him, his leather uniform torn in several places and a blossoming bruise on his left cheek, his eyes still closed.

Daichi settles his first aid kit next to the couch-slash-bed and starts working. As tired as he is, this is still his job and his body seems to remember what to do and what to look for. He checks his breathing, his pulse. He looks for broken bones and severe injuries, although there's only so much he can do without the proper equipment. As far as he can tell, there are no broken bones, but the shoulder is definitely dislocated. There's a high probability of a concussion too.

Now... what does he do? Had this been anyone else, he would have already called an ambulance. This is Chat Noir, though. The only thing standing between Tokyo and complete chaos. A hero, whose identity should be kept a secret. Daichi knows that not everyone at the hospital he works is trustworthy, he can't simple trust an unconscious masked hero to a bunch of strangers. It isn't his place to decide that.

A beeping sound distracts him, drawing his attention to Chat Noir's hand. He frowns when he realizes the noise is coming from a small black and yellow ring. Without thinking, Daichi reaches for it.

A clawed hand suddenly grabs his wrist before he can even touch the ring and Daichi lets out a shameful yelp. The grip on his wrist tightens and he feels the weight of two bright feline eyes on his face.

"Who are you?" A deep voice demands.

Chat Noir is awake.

This isn't the first time Daichi is grabbed by a suddenly conscious, scared patient, but given the situation, he takes a little longer to find his voice.

"I'm-" He clears his throat. "I'm Sawamura Daichi. I am a nurse and I found you unconscious a couple of minutes ago. I think you might have a concussion."

Chat Noir tries to sit up and falls back on the cushions with a pained groan. He looks around in confusion, looking every bit of a jumpy cat. Daichi does his best to sound soothing and calm when he speaks again.

"It's fine. You're safe here. I want to help you."

Bright yellow eyes turn to him, suspicious. Daichi holds his gaze, although he feels his cheeks getting a little warmer. This is probably not the best time to remember the brief period in his freshman year in which he had an embarrassing celebrity crush on Chat Noir. Now that he can look closer, he has the opportunity to see how sharp Chat Noir's cheekbones are, how he isn't as skinny up close, although he's still leaner than Daichi. And he's tall. Really tall. The leather outfit really isn't helping.

"You're just a civilian," Chat Noir says as though he's reassuring himself.

"That's right," Daichi tries to smile as he used to in high school when he had to encourage insecure first years. "And I want to help you. Is that all right?"

Chat Noir hesitates, still measuring Daichi. His suspicion breaks Daichi's heart.

Not because he expects to be universally trusted, God, no, but because Chat Noir is a hero. He should be used to people throwing themselves at him, eager to help him in any way they could. Instead, he's used to being attacked from every direction. Chat Noir has dedicated himself to protect everyone from Hawkmoth and his akumas to the point he became like a stray cat that got tossed around so often it no longer trusts humans.

Another beeping noise makes them both jump. Chat Noir gives his ring a concerned look.

"You wouldn't happen to have any apple pie, would you?" He asks.

Daichi frowns, confused. "What?"

"Apple pie," Chat Noir repeats, "do you have it? Or any dessert, really. It's important."

It sounds important. Daichi stands and browses his small fridge. There's no apple pie, but he finds leftovers of the melon bread Oikawa brought last time he stayed over. Daichi brings it to Chat Noir.

"Is this enough?"

"Yes, I-" Chat Noir makes a pause. "Can I have some privacy?"

"You want privacy to eat bread?"

"I'm gonna need to detransform a bit."

"Oh. Sure. I'm gonna..." Daichi looks around. There isn't much he can do except locking himself inside the bathroom or going outside.

"Just turn around for a minute," Chat Noir suggests.

Daichi obeys. It wouldn't usually be a good idea to turn your back to a stranger in an empty room at the crack of the dawn, but this is Chat Noir. If there's one person that deserves trust, it's him.

Behind him, Chat Noir mutters, "Kenma, claws off," and golden light fills the room for a moment. Daichi is tempted to turn around, but he controls himself. The fact that Chat Noir is right behind him, unmasked, is a little overwhelming.

He hears a soft voice saying something he can't make, despite the small space. Chat Noir's deep voice asks the second voice to shut up and eat. Daichi waits.

"Kenma, claws on," Chat Noir says after a while. Golden light fills the room again. "Good. You can turn around now."

Daichi does. Chat Noir looks infinitely better. He's sitting up and his suit has been magically restored somehow, although his cheek is still swollen and slowly becoming purple.

"Can I properly examine you now?" Daichi asks.

"You could," Chat Noir says carefully. "Sawamura, was it?"

"Yes," Daichi says, reaching for his flashlight.

"Well, thank you for helping me, Sawamura," Chat Noir says with a small smirk. Daichi's heart skips a beat and he has to work hard to focus on the task at hand. "Usually I'm the one doing the saving. It's gratifying to be on the saved end, if a bit embarrassing."

"You might be a superhero, but you're human too, right?" Daichi holds the flashlight in front of Chat Noir's eyes. "You shouldn't push yourself too hard. Now follow my finger."

"My, my, how nice of you." Chat Noir's slim pupils follow Daichi's finger without problem. "You're a very gentle man, Sawamura.”

"I'm doing my job. Are you in pain?"

"In the presence of such a handsome young man? I can barely feel a thing."

Chat Noir is flirting with him. He's probably just messing around to lighten the awkward situation, but it makes Daichi's heart race anyway. He reacts in the only way he knows: by glaring at him as though he's reprimanding him. Chat Noir seems too tired to be embarrassed, so he just gives Daichi a worn smirk.

"I took a beating, so it feels like I got run over by a car. My shoulder kinda hurts more than the rest. You should have seen the other guy, though."

Daichi ignores that and takes a closer inspection of said shoulder. “I can put it back in place, but it’s going to hurt. And you should go easy on it for a while.”

“I don’t exactly decide when I’m going to need to work hard,” Chat Noir says, eyeing Daichi suspiciously. He probably has had dislocated shoulders before and he knows the process of fixing them.

“Well, unless you want Tokyo to have a superhero with a useless arm, you better try,” Daichi says.

That distracts Chat Noir enough that he drops his smirking façade for a moment. He stares at Daichi, dumbfounded, and Daichi thinks this is the first time he’s seeing a genuine expression that night.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been called that.”

“What?” Daichi raises an eyebrow. “Someone with a useless arm?” And he quickly pushes Chat Noir’s shoulder into place.

The startled shout of pain makes Daichi smirk a bit. “Almost as good as new.”

"You are one sadistic nurse, has anyone ever told you that?"

Daichi laughs a little. "Why, thank you. I try to be."

Chat Noir blinks slowly, as though Daichi's laughter makes him as dizzy as his presence in general makes Daichi. Daichi can swear he flushes a little under the bruises. Which probably means Daichi's brain is a little fried after everything that happened.

"I think I should get going," Chat Noir says. He stands slowly, carefully checking himself for other injuries. He's clearly used to this.

"You still need medical attention," Daichi protests. "In an actual hospital." Then something occurs to him. "You can afford going to a hospital, right?"

All those jokes about being a stray cat had Daichi worried. Chat Noir laughs.

"Yes, I can," he says. "Don't worry your pretty head anymore."

Chat Noir heads to the porch and Daichi follows him closely. He wants to point him to the door instead, but, before he can say anything, Chat Noir turns to him in a swift twirl that makes his tail wip around. He looks like a cat about to pounce at its prey.

"Now, how can I repay your kindness, Sawamura Daichi?"

Daichi is so surprised by that question that he hears himself blurting, "you can't."

Chat Noir tilts his head to the side, looking a little disappointed. Daichi quickly amends:

"I mean, there's nothing to repay. You were hurt. I just helped a bit."

"You're a nurse. Shouldn't you take care of people in exchange of money?"

"I already have a salary. Besides, I presume you're not giving me your address so I can send you a bill."

Chat Noir's eyes sparkle. "Not really, no. I can pay you in other ways, though."

Daichi swallows, telling himself he's imagining the flirtatious tone in Chat Noir's voice. Chat Noir used to be known for being a flirt, sure, but he's not like that anymore. Not after Ladybug died.

"Put that on the human decency tab," Daichi says. "If you found an unconscious guy on the street, you probably would help too, right?"

"Yes, but..."

"Look, how many times have you saved the city?" Daichi asks, effectively shutting him up. "If anything, I'm the one that's in debt with you."

Chat Noir stares at him with that curious empty expression once more. Daichi waits, but it seems that he rendered the superhero speechless.

Finally, right before the silence becomes awkward, Chat Noir smiles. He reaches for Daichi's hand. Chat Noir - the Chat Noir - kisses Daichi's knuckles. It takes all of his will power to hold back a giggling fit.

"In this case, thank you very much, Sawamura. I can say that you made this night much better. And not just because you saved my life." And he winks.

Chat Noir honest to God winks at Daichi, which makes him think what a dork , but at the same time makes his stomach do somersaults at how charming that was.

Before Daichi recovers, Chat Noir takes a step back and, with a last smirk, leaps from the porch to the next building.

"Wha- Be careful!" Daichi shouts after him. "Go to a hospital!"

He thinks he hears Chat Noir laughing in the distance before his neighbor from upstairs shouts a gruff "shut up!"

Daichi wonders if this is the last time he'll see Chat Noir.

Ladybug and Chat Noir have always been a pair. Partners, two complementary pieces of a whole, best friends and lovers. They used to protect the city together. The time they were active were the most peaceful years Tokyo had ever experienced. Crime plummeted and citizens felt safe and happy.

Everyone loved the heroes. Ladybug was everyone's favorite, of course. She was strong and confident, swinging around saving people and giving everyone hope. Chat Noir has always been a tad less popular, but he had his share of fans as well. He was but a sidekick, sure, but he was cool looking and just as willing to protect as Ladybug. When Hawkmoth arrived and the akuma attacks started, the superheroes didn't disappoint. They would outsmart Hawkmoth everytime and Ladybug could always heal and revert the damaged caused. For years, it seemed everything would be all right.

But then Ladybug died during one of the attacks. Chat Noir disappeared for days and, when he finally came back, he wasn't the smirking superhero he'd been before. And he would always do his best, but it wasn't enough. Chat Noir had the power to destroy, a power that wasn't easy to use for protection. Not when he had no way of fixing the mess. Not without his other half.

Even then, Daichi refused to give in to despair. Chat Noir was grieving, but he was still doing his best. Daichi would try his best as well. He might be no superhero, but he would try to save the city as well, one band-aid at the time.

Oikawa sets tea on the table and says, "drink it."

Daichi stares at it in confusion. "I didn't order this."

"No, but I changed your order," Oikawa says simply and, at Daichi's glare, he huffs. "Well, excuse me if I take better care of you than you do. For a nurse, you have pretty unhealthy habits."

Daichi doesn't want to admit Oikawa is right, so he grabs the cup of tea grumbling something inintelligible and takes a sip. He pulls a face at the bitter taste, but that makes Oikawa smile with satisfaction.

"We could meet up at a more agreeable place, you know," Oikawa gestures vaguely at the hospital's coffee shop. "No offense, but this is kinda depressing."

"I have to be around in case there is an emergency," Daichi explains.

"That defeats the purpose of going on a break, don't you think?"

Daichi doesn't say anything at that. He appreciates the fact that Oikawa takes the time to see him and catch up at least once a week and he likes Oikawa very much - you don't stay friends with your high school rival if he isn't a cool guy - but it annoys him too much when Oikawa is right - which, unfortunately, happens often.

"How's the article going?" Daichi asks.

Oikawa seems unimpressed by Daichi's obvious plead to change the subject, but, for once, he is kind enough to take the bait anyway. He starts describing his last article and the cute volleyball player he interviewed for it. Daichi smiles as his friend gets carried away and starts gesturing and talking loudly. Oikawa complains about his internship a lot, but Daichi knows he loves every part of his job. Daichi is happy for his friend.

"And I've been so busy I couldn't even update the Miraculous Blog lately."

Daichi takes a sip of his disgusting tea. "Is there a lot to report?"

"Well, not a lot, but there had certainly been things," Oikawa says with a pout. "Just watch me. One of these days, I'll get Chat Noir to talk to me."

That name brings Daichi memories of that night just a couple of days ago. He hasn't heard of Chat Noir since then, but he tries to disguise his interest. Oikawa has run a news blog (that you're not allowed to call a fan site, because that's derogating, apparently) on the comes and goings of Ladybug and Chat Noir since they were teenagers. He's one of the few (not) fansites that didn't close down after Ladybug's demise.

"If only he went back to how he was in the past..." Oikawa laments. "He could use some good publicity, you know?"

"He shouldn't need that," Daichi says.

He's thinking of the genuinely surprised expression on Chat Noir's face when he was called a hero. He thinks of the bruises and the battered body. Chat Noir kept fighting, despite losing his soulmate and he kept fighting to protect the city. It just pisses Daichi off that people find in themselves to complain, as they're the only ones that miss Ladybug. As if the one person that was closest to her wasn't the one in pain.

By Daichi's side, Oikawa lets out a saddenned sigh, but whatever he has to say on the matter is muffled by the ruckus outside. Both men turn to look in curiosity that quickly becomes horror when they realize people are running out of the hospital screaming.

"Akuma attack!" Oikawa says, jumping to his feet.

"Don't do anything dang-" Daichi starts, but his friend is already pulling the phone out of his pocket and rushing outside. "Damn it, Oikawa!"

Daichi and several of Oikawa's other friends already had the don't-run-toward-akuma-attacks-just-for-a-scope talk several times, but Oikawa is relentless. When he sees news opportunity, he'll take it without risk. The only person capable of stopping him is his photographer, Iwaizumi, that, unfortunately, isn't anywhere around the hospital.

Daichi has no option other than run after his idiotic friend to make sure he doesn't get himself killed.

The hospital is chaos - or at least more chaotic than it usually is. Right on the entrance hall they find a small crowd cornered in fear of a man dressed like a cartoon doctor and holding a clipboard giant needle. The akuma is mid super villain speech when Daichi arrives.

"... for I am Doctor Fear! And I will not be mocked any longer!" He screeches.

Daichi is wondering why all of the villains must have such cheesy names when he locates Oikawa behind the reception desk. How he got there so fast is beyond Daichi.

Doctor Fear (or whatever) swings his giant needle and one of the cornered people stands suddenly. It's a girl with short, light hair. Daichi would have mistaken her for a teenager if she wasn't wearing a nurse uniform similar to his own.

"P-please!" She squeaks. "I d-don't know what happened, but- these people d-didn't do anything wrong!"

Her small body does very little to hide the small crowd behind her, but she opens her arms in a poor attempt to shield them from view.

"You don't know what happened? YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED?" Doctor Fear cackles. "Patients always whining! Pushing me around, yelling at me! I'm not at fault for your diseases! I was doing MY BEST! And yet they ask for MORE, they blame ME when I'm not enough! NOT ANYMORE!"

Everything happens too fast. Doctor Fear raises his needle. The girl goes pale and tears start streaming from her eyes, but she doesn't move. Without thinking, Daichi takes off his own shoe and throws at the akuma's head.

"Hey! Doctor Lame!" He calls.

The akuma turns to him, his deformed face showing shock. Daichi vaguely notices that Oikawa is too horrified to hold his phone straight, a feat no horror has managed so far, as far as Daichi knows. He'd be proud of himself if there wasn't a murderous creature holding a giant needle and staring straight at him from the other side of the room.

"You think you got it bad?" Daichi taunts. "You're just a doctor. Writing prescriptions! Big deal! We, nurses, are the ones doing all the hard work!"

Later Daichi will wonder what the hell he was thinking. Or rather, he'll tell himself that he wasn't thinking at all. His little stunt is effective, though, because as terrorized as she is, little blonde nurse is already pulling the people on the corner to their feet so they can escape while Doctor Fear's attention is elsewhere.

Although that is great news, it doesn't necessarily means something good for Daichi as an individual.

"YOU DARE MOCK DOCTOR FEAR!"

"Fuck," Daichi says eloquently as he turns around and starts running.

In his defense, there isn't much he can do in a situation like this. Sure, he used to be an athlete and he still plays volleyball when he gets together with his friends, but he barely knows how to throw a punch. He's just a nurse. How the hell will he fight a supernaturally mutated angry doctor?

"COME BACK HERE, YOU INSOLENT LITTLE-"

Daichi feels something prickling his neck and his entire body goes flacid. Falling on his face while he was running full speed isn't a pleasant experience, but even worse is the fact that he can't move. At all.

Doctor Fear cackles loudly and Daichi can't even turn around to look at him. He can only hear his approaching steps and feel horror churning in his veins. They're just outside the hospital and there's no one around. Daichi doesn't even know the powers of this akuma. Will it kill him? Paralyze him for the rest of his life? The looming shadow of Doctor Fear appears in front of him and Daichi swallows hard.

"I'll teach you not to disrespect me," the akuma says.

Daichi closes his eyes.

"Paws off my prince," a voice says and Daichi feels himself being pulled away like a ragdoll.

He gasps in confusion and, for a moment, he thinks he's flying. First, he registers the smirking masked face next to his. Second, he realizes that he isn't flying, he jumping.

Or, well, being carried by a jumping Chat Noir. Semantics.

"And so we meet again," he says. "Are you all right?"

"You mean besides the akuma, the fact that I can't move and that you're literally climbing the side of a building as you carry me? Perfect."

"Don't you mean purrfect?"

"You drop me this instant."

"No can do, my prince."

Chat Noir only stops when they're at the top of the hospital - that is 4 stories tall, by the freaking way - where he settles Daichi carefully.

"Here, you should be safe here," Chat Noir says.

"You could have just pushed me to the bushes on the ground floor or something," says Daichi.

"Are you telling me you're not impressed by my skills?"

"NEEDLE!"

Chat Noir jumps out of the way right on time to avoid a flying stab like the one that paralyzed Daichi. The enraged akuma is floating a few meters above them and already preparing a new set of shots - because of course he can fucking fly.

"Rude much?" Chat Noir says. "I'm having a conversation with my friend here."

"STOP. MOCKING. ME!"

Daichi had never seen a hero fight except in the videos on Oikawa's blog. From where Chat Noir left him, however, he has a privileged position.

Daichi loses his breath as Chat swings his baton and jumps at the akuma, fearless. Why anyone would doubt Chat Noir is every bit of the hero Ladybug was is beyond Daichi.

He saved my life, he realizes. He saved a lot of people's lives and he hardly gets any recognition just because he doesn't have magic healing powers. So what if Chat Noir has the power of destroying things? So what he is incomplete without Ladybug? He's a damn fine hero despite losing his partner.

Daichi gets angry. He feels powerless. And not just because he's paralyzed on a roof, but because there isn't anything he can do against the akumas. He's just a regular human being. He can't stop the akumas like Ladybug did. Like Chat Noir still does on his own. Daichi wants to help.

Except....

He suddenly notices: the akuma is still holding the clipboard. He's not using it as a shield when Chat Noir attacks with his claws, he's not dropping it in order to fight properly... Almost as though the clipboard is important. As though his powers are coming form it.

"Chat!" Daichi shouts. "Chat, the akuma is on the clipboard!"

Chat Noir almost trips. "What?"

The distraction is a mistake. Doctor Fear lets out a victory exclamation and throws something Daichi can't see at Chat Noir. The hero gasps and stumbles backwards in pain and Daichi opens his mouth in silent horror. This is why you don't talk to people in the middle of deadly fights!

"Why, you little-" Chat Noir grits. "Didn't your mother teach you not to interrupt people's conversations?"

"Didn't I teach you not to disrespect DOCTOR FEAR?!"

"That's a dumb name," Daichi yells.

Akuma and hero freeze and turn to him in disbelief. Daichi still can't move, so this is probably the dumbest thing he'd ever done. This is the second time he draws the akuma's attention to himself, but how else is Chat Noir going to get that dumb clipboard? The akuma is too focused on him to let him get anywhere near it.

"You dare insult me again?" The akuma roars and, regardless of his ridiculous cartoonish doctor costume, Daichi does fear him.

"I'm telling you, the nurses in Silent Hill are far more terrifying than-"

"ENOUGH!" The akuma raises his giant needle, getting ready to throw it at Daichi. "You have made fun of me for the last time! I'm going to end you! FOR I AM DOCTOR--"

"CATACLYSM!

"Wait, what?"

It's too late. Chat Noir has touched the clipboard with his destructive powers. A horrifying scream comes from it as it cracks and disintegrates and Doctor Fear wails in pain. As problematic as he was, Daichi feels a little sorry for him.

Still, he sighs in relief as the doctor costume disappears and the man's skin returns to normal, revealing a common man underneath the monster. He falls to his knees, unconscious. Back when Ladybug was alive, she would have broken the clipboard and purified whatever monstrous thing came out of it. Now, Chat Noir has to use his ultimate power to destroy the akumas. Destroy, not purify. It isn't a painless process or a beautiful thing to watch, like what Ladybug used to do, but at least the civilian that had turned into an akuma would survive.

"That was insane, my prince," Chat Noir says, a little breathlessly. "You put yourself in danger."

"I was just here paralyzed," Daichi says with a shrug. "Thought I'd make myself useful."

Only then he realizes he can move again. He tries to stand and it feels as though he went through the most intense workout session of the universe, every single muscle in his body feeling sore. He tries to ignore his own discomfort and turns to Chat Noir.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

"Oh, I'm almost purrfect," Chat Noir says. "I mean, I've been lightly stabbed, but other than that-"

Daichi glares. "You what?"

Chat Noir shows Daichi his left arm, that he’s been holding close to his body, his right hand pressed to his bicep as if to stop the bleeding. He isn’t succeeding.

“I think he threw a scalpel at me,” he says as if it’s nothing.

“You- Oh my God, that is far from perfect, that is the opposite of perfect. We have to fix that right now.”

“Yeah, about that, I’m running out of time, so I should…”

“Step inside so I can patch you up? Yes, and you will,” Daichi says threateningly.

He almost died about 15 times in the past minutes, so there’s very little he fears right now. That and it’s his fault that Chat Noir was stabbed, so the least he can do is to force him to get proper treatment for his injuries. Even if he must bully him into doing it.

“All right, all right, I… Wait, we need to get that man to safety.”

“We can drag him inside so he doesn’t get sunburnt. He’ll wake up soon enough, won’t he? Come on, we should go before people realize the akuma attack is over.”

Daichi works in a fairly small hospital and, luckily enough, the highest floor is still desert, since most people ran from the akuma. He finds an empty room and locks the door, so no one will bother them, even when people start realizing that the effects of the akuma attack have passed.

“Let me see your arm,” Daichi asks.

“Huh. Prince, I really don’t have time to-”

“Your transformation is wearing out, right?” Daichi walks to a cupboard, getting the supplies he needs. “It’s fine. I won’t look. And I can give you something to cover your face while I patch you up.”

Chat Noir stays silent for a short moment.

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” he says in a quiet voice that doesn’t suit his flirtatious personality.

“Yes, yes, you saved my life, remember? I would say that being thoughtful is the minimum I can do.”

While Daichi has his back turned to him, a golden light fills the room and Daichi knows Chat Noir’s time ended. Once again, he could turn around and learn the identity of Tokyo’s superhero. Instead, he blindly hands out a surgical mask that Chat Noir takes with a little hesitation.

“Is it safe to turn now?”

“You—Yes.”

Daichi turns. He tries not to stare, he really does, but he’s seeing Chat Noir in his civilian clothes. The only think concealing his identity is a white surgical mask. Fortunately, Chat Noir’s regular clothes consist of red sweatpants and a white sweater that has a black cat face on a pentagram with the words “Black Meowgic” printed beneath. It’s distracting enough that Daichi doesn’t feel too tempted to take a peek at his face.

“You’re barefoot,” Daichi points.

“And you're missing a shoe. I was about to binge watch Naruto when I got a warning of an akuma attack. Didn’t have time to dress up.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say you were about to binge watch Naruto?”

“Hey. The classic was good. The beginning of Shippuden too.”

Daichi shakes his head as he grabs what he needs to clean the wound. “I can’t believe you watch Naruto. Never meet your heroes.”

“Aww, prince, so I am your hero?”

Daichi raises an eyebrow at him. “Of course you are.”

He doesn’t resist and looks then. He needs to see what kind of expression Chat Noir is making. Without his cat years, the unruly way his hair sticks out is more evident. Without his mask, his eyes aren’t supernaturally golden with narrow pupils, but light brown. They’re still pretty eyes, though. Warm and beautiful. Daichi can swear he’s seen those eyes before.

Chat Noir looks astonished at Daichi’s words, as though he can’t believe what he’s hearing. Daichi feels angry again.

“You know that you’re everyone’s hero, right? You’ve been protecting this city regardless of what it costs to you for years and you’ve been doing it on your own.”

Chat Noir hisses a little when Daichi rolls up his sleep to clean his wound.

“A lot of people don’t see it that way, prince. I’m not as good at this whole heroing thing as Ladybug was.”

“A lot of people need to pull their head out of their asses,” Daichi barks. “Ladybug was your partner, not your superior. Losing her must have been so hard for you and yet you kept going and helping everyone. You are as much of a hero as Ladybug was, Chat.”

“You… You sound a little like her. Like Ladybug.”

“Then you know I’m right.”

Chat Noir doesn’t respond to that, leaving Daichi to work in silence. In the end, he wasn’t lying about the lightness of his wound. It doesn’t need stitches, as Daichi feared and a simple bandage does the job.

“I’ll need you to reapply the medicine every time you shower and change the bandages at least once a day until it’s fully healed,” he says.

“Thank you,” Chat Noir says, his voice warm. He’s thanking Daichi for more than the medical attention.

“It was nothing,” Daichi says. “I could…” He hesitates for a second before finally adding, “I could keep helping you, you know? No offense, but you look like you’re pretty shitty at first aid.”

“None taken. I kind of am.”

“So, if you ever get seriously hurt and you need help of someone that won’t question… Well. You know where I live.”

“That makes me sound like a creep.”

Daichi shrugs.

“There’s a stray cat that comes to see me every other couple of days. What harm would it make adding another?”

Daichi can’t see, but he’s sure Chat Noir is smiling beneath the surgical mask. “I’d be eternally thankful for your help, my prince.”

Daichi crosses his arms. “You keep calling me ‘prince’. You forgot my name, didn’t you?”

Chat Noir laughs and says, “Kenma, claws on.”

Daichi closes his eyes against the light of the transformation. When he opens them again, Chat Noir is in front of him in all of his glory. The bandage is hidden beneath his black leather uniform, but it’s still there. The proof that Daichi has helped a superhero.

Chat Noir bows and takes Daichi’s hand, guiding it to his lips. He kisses it softly. “I’d never forget the name of my savior prince, Sawamura.”

Daichi feels himself blushing. Chat noir might be a tad ridiculous sometimes, but he sill makes Daichi's heart race when he acts like that. Keep it together, Sawamura.

"You must have someone that is worried about you," Chat says. "You should go back to them."

Daichi nods, but he can't help but to ask, "will we see each other again?"

Maybe this is wishful thinking, but Daichi can swear Chat Noir is blushing under his mask.

"I sure hope so, my prince."

Daichi probably should go looking for Oikawa to reassure him that he's fine, but he stays where he is and watches Chat Noir jumping out of the window and running away. This time, Daichi doesn't doubt that they'll see each other soon. And maybe it's wrong and selfish of him, given the dangerous circumstances required for such a meeting, but he can't wait.

#haikyuu #kurodai #kuroo tetsurou #sawamura daichi #hq fanfic #poteto writing

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