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blackswaneuroparedux · 3 years

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Anonymous asked: I enjoyed reading your posts about Napoleon’s death and it’s quite timely given its the 200th anniversary of his death this year in May. I was wondering, because you know a lot about military history (your served right? That’s cool to fly combat helicopters) and you live in France but aren’t French, what your take was on Napoleon and how do the French view him? Do they hail him as a hero or do they like others see him like a Hitler or a Stalin? Do you see him as a hero or a villain of history?

5 May 1821 was a memorable date because Napoleon, one of the most iconic figures in world history, died while in bitter exile on a remote island in the South Atlantic Ocean. Napoleon Bonaparte, as you know rose from obscure soldier to a kind of new Caesar, and yet he remains a uniquely controversial figure to this day especially in France. You raise interesting questions about Napoleon and his legacy. If I may reframe your questions in another way. Should we think of him as a flawed but essentially heroic visionary who changed Europe for the better? Or was he simply a military dictator, whose cult of personality and lust for power set a template for the likes of Hitler?

However one chooses to answer this question can we just - to get this out of the way - simply and definitively say that Napoleon was not Hitler. Not even close. No offence intended to you but this is just dumb ahistorical thinking and it’s a lazy lie. This comparison was made by some in the horrid aftermath of the Second World War but only held little currency for only a short time thereafter. Obviously that view didn’t exist before Hitler in the 19th Century and these days I don’t know any serious historian who takes that comparison seriously.

I confess I don’t have a definitive answer if he was a hero or a villain one way or the other because Napoleon has really left a very complicated legacy. It really depends on where you’re coming from.

As a staunch Brit I do take pride in Britain’s victorious war against Napoleonic France - and in a good natured way rubbing it in the noses of French friends at every opportunity I get because it’s in our cultural DNA and it’s bloody good fun (why else would we make Waterloo train station the London terminus of the Eurostar international rail service from its opening in 1994? Or why hang a huge gilded portrait of the Duke of Wellington as the first thing that greets any visitor to the residence of the British ambassador at the British Embassy?). On a personal level I take special pride in knowing my family ancestors did their bit on the battlefield to fight against Napoleon during those tumultuous times. However, as an ex-combat veteran who studied Napoleonic warfare with fan girl enthusiasm, I have huge respect for Napoleon as a brilliant military commander. And to makes things more weird, as a Francophile resident of who loves living and working in France (and my partner is French) I have a grudging but growing regard for Napoleon’s political and cultural legacy, especially when I consider the current dross of political mediocrity on both the political left and the right. So for me it’s a complicated issue how I feel about Napoleon, the man, the soldier, and the political leader.

If it’s not so straightforward for me to answer the for/against Napoleon question then it It’s especially true for the French, who even after 200 years, still have fiercely divided opinions about Napoleon and his legacy - but intriguingly, not always in clear cut ways.

I only have to think about my French neighbours in my apartment building to see how divisive Napoleon the man and his legacy is. Over the past year or so of the Covid lockdown we’ve all gotten to know each other better and we help each other. Over the Covid year we’ve gathered in the inner courtyard for a buffet and just lifted each other spirits up.

One of my neighbours, a crusty old ex-general in the army who has an enviable collection of military history books that I steal, liberate, borrow, often discuss military figures in history like Napoleon over our regular games of chess and a glass of wine. He is from very old aristocracy of the ancien regime and whose family suffered at the hands of ‘madame guillotine’ during the French Revolution. They lost everything. He has mixed emotions about Napoleon himself as an old fashioned monarchist. As a military man he naturally admires the man and the military genius but he despises the secularisation that the French Revolution ushered in as well as the rise of the haute bourgeois as middle managers and bureaucrats by the displacement of the aristocracy.

Another retired widowed neighbour I am close to, and with whom I cook with often and discuss art, is an active arts patron and ex-art gallery owner from a very wealthy family that came from the new Napoleonic aristocracy - ie the aristocracy of the Napoleonic era that Napoleon put in place - but she is dismissive of such titles and baubles. She’s a staunch Republican but is happy to concede she is grateful for Napoleon in bringing order out of chaos. She recognises her own ambivalence when she says she dislikes him for reintroducing slavery in the French colonies but also praises him for firmly supporting Paris’s famed Comédie-Française of which she was a past patron.

Another French neighbour, a senior civil servant in the Elysée, is quite dismissive of Napoleon as a war monger but is grudgingly grateful for civil institutions and schools that Napoleon established and which remain in place today.

My other neighbours - whether they be French families or foreign expats like myself - have similarly divisive and complicated attitudes towards Napoleon.

In 2010 an opinion poll in France asked who was the most important man in French history. Napoleon came second, behind General Charles de Gaulle, who led France from exile during the German occupation in World War II and served as a postwar president.

The split in French opinion is closely mirrored in political circles. The divide is generally down political party lines. On the left, there's the 'black legend' of Bonaparte as an ogre. On the right, there is the 'golden legend' of a strong leader who created durable institutions.

Jacques-Olivier Boudon, a history professor at Paris-Sorbonne University and president of the Napoléon Institute, once explained at a talk I attended that French public opinion has always remained deeply divided over Napoleon, with, on the one hand, those who admire the great man, the conqueror, the military leader and, on the other, those who see him as a bloodthirsty tyrant, the gravedigger of the revolution. Politicians in France, Boudon observed, rarely refer to Napoleon for fear of being accused of authoritarian temptations, or not being good Republicans.

On the left-wing of French politics, former prime minister Lionel Jospin penned a controversial best selling book entitled “the Napoleonic Evil” in which he accused the emperor of “perverting the ideas of the Revolution” and imposing “a form of extreme domination”, “despotism” and “a police state” on the French people. He wrote Napoleon was "an obvious failure" - bad for France and the rest of Europe. When he was booted out into final exile, France was isolated, beaten, occupied, dominated, hated and smaller than before. What's more, Napoleon smothered the forces of emancipation awakened by the French and American revolutions and enabled the survival and restoration of monarchies. Some of the legacies with which Napoleon is credited, including the Civil Code, the comprehensive legal system replacing a hodgepodge of feudal laws, were proposed during the revolution, Jospin argued, though he acknowledges that Napoleon actually delivered them, but up to a point, "He guaranteed some principles of the revolution and, at the same time, changed its course, finished it and betrayed it," For instance, Napoleon reintroduced slavery in French colonies, revived a system that allowed the rich to dodge conscription in the military and did nothing to advance gender equality.

At the other end of the spectrum have been former right-wing prime minister Dominique de Villepin, an aristocrat who was once fancied as a future President, a passionate collector of Napoleonic memorabilia, and author of several works on the subject. As a Napoleonic enthusiast he tells a different story. Napoleon was a saviour of France. If there had been no Napoleon, the Republic would not have survived. Advocates like de Villepin point to Napoleon’s undoubted achievements: the Civil Code, the Council of State, the Bank of France, the National Audit office, a centralised and coherent administrative system, lycées, universities, centres of advanced learning known as école normale, chambers of commerce, the metric system, and an honours system based on merit (which France has to this day). He restored the Catholic faith as the state faith but allowed for the freedom of religion for other faiths including Protestantism and Judaism. These were ambitions unachieved during the chaos of the revolution. As it is, these Napoleonic institutions continue to function and underpin French society. Indeed, many were copied in countries conquered by Napoleon, such as Italy, Germany and Poland, and laid the foundations for the modern state.

Back in 2014, French politicians and institutions in particular were nervous in marking the 200th anniversary of Napoleon's exile. My neighbours and other French friends remember that the commemorations centred around the Chateau de Fontainebleau, the traditional home of the kings of France and was the scene where Napoleon said farewell to the Old Guard in the "White Horse Courtyard" (la cour du Cheval Blanc) at the Palace of Fontainebleau. (The courtyard has since been renamed the "Courtyard of Goodbyes".) By all accounts the occasion was very moving. The 1814 Treaty of Fontainebleau stripped Napoleon of his powers (but not his title as Emperor of the French) and sent him into exile on Elba. The cost of the Fontainebleau "farewell" and scores of related events over those three weekends was shouldered not by the central government in Paris but by the local château, a historic monument and UNESCO World Heritage site, and the town of Fontainebleau.

While the 200th anniversary of the French Revolution that toppled the monarchy and delivered thousands to death by guillotine was officially celebrated in 1989, Napoleonic anniversaries are neither officially marked nor celebrated. For example, over a decade ago, the president and prime minister - at the time, Jacques Chirac and Dominque de Villepin - boycotted a ceremony marking the 200th anniversary of the battle of Austerlitz, Napoleon's greatest military victory. Both men were known admirers of Napoleon and yet political calculation and optics (as media spin doctors say) stopped them from fully honouring Napoleon’s crowning military glory.

Optics is everything. The division of opinion in France is perhaps best reflected in the fact that, in a city not shy of naming squares and streets after historical figures, there is not a single “Boulevard Napoleon” or “Place Napoleon” in Paris. On the streets of Paris, there are just two statues of Napoleon. One stands beneath the clock tower at Les Invalides (a military hospital), the other atop a column in the Place Vendôme. Napoleon's red marble tomb, in a crypt under the Invalides dome, is magnificent, perhaps because his remains were interred there during France's Second Empire, when his nephew, Napoleon III, was on the throne.

There are no squares, nor places, nor boulevards named for Napoleon but as far as I know there is one narrow street, the rue Bonaparte, running from the Luxembourg Gardens to the River Seine in the old Latin Quarter. And, that, too, is thanks to Napoleon III. For many, and I include myself, it’s a poor return by the city to the man who commissioned some of its most famous monuments, including the Arc de Triomphe and the Pont des Arts over the River Seine.

It's almost as if Napoleon Bonaparte is not part of the national story.

How Napoleon fits into that national story is something historians, French and non-French, have been grappling with ever since Napoleon died. The plain fact is Napoleon divides historians, what precisely he represents is deeply ambiguous and his political character is the subject of heated controversy. It’s hard for historians to sift through archival documents to make informed judgements and still struggle to separate the man from the myth.

One proof of this myth is in his immortality. After Hitler’s death, there was mostly an embarrassed silence; after Stalin’s, little but denunciation. But when Napoleon died on St Helena in 1821, much of Europe and the Americas could not help thinking of itself as a post-Napoleonic generation. His presence haunts the pages of Stendhal and Alfred de Vigny. In a striking and prescient phrase, Chateaubriand prophesied the “despotism of his memory”, a despotism of the fantastical that in many ways made Romanticism possible and that continues to this day.

The raw material for the future Napoleon myth was provided by one of his St Helena confidants, the Comte de las Cases, whose account of conversations with the great man came out shortly after his death and ran in repeated editions throughout the century. De las Cases somehow metamorphosed the erstwhile dictator into a herald of liberty, the emperor into a slayer of dynasties rather than the founder of his own. To the “great man” school of history Napoleon was grist to their mill, and his meteoric rise redefined the meaning of heroism in the modern world.

The Marxists, for all their dislike of great men, grappled endlessly with the meaning of the 18th Brumaire; indeed one of France’s most eminent Marxist historians, George Lefebvre, wrote what arguably remains the finest of all biographies of him.

It was on this already vast Napoleon literature, a rich terrain for the scholar of ideas, that the great Dutch historian Pieter Geyl was lecturing in 1940 when he was arrested and sent to Buchenwald. There he composed what became one of the classics of historiography, a seminal book entitled Napoleon: For and Against, which charted how generations of intellectuals had happily served up one Napoleon after another. Like those poor souls who crowded the lunatic asylums of mid-19th century France convinced that they were Napoleon, generations of historians and novelists simply could not get him out of their head.

The debate runs on today no less intensely than in the past. Post-Second World War Marxists would argue that he was not, in fact, revolutionary at all. Eric Hobsbawm, a notable British Marxist historian, argued that ‘Most-perhaps all- of his ideas were anticipated by the Revolution’ and that Napoleon’s sole legacy was to twist the ideals of the French Revolution, and make them ‘more conservative, hierarchical and authoritarian’.

This contrasts deeply with the view William Doyle holds of Napoleon. Doyle described Bonaparte as ‘the Revolution incarnate’ and saw Bonaparte’s humbling of Europe’s other powers, the ‘Ancien Regimes’, as a necessary precondition for the birth of the modern world. Whatever one thinks of Napoleon’s character, his sharp intellect is difficult to deny. Even Paul Schroeder, one of Napoleon’s most scathing critics, who condemned his conduct of foreign policy as a ‘criminal enterprise’ never denied Napoleon’s intellect. Schroder concluded that Bonaparte ‘had an extraordinary capacity for planning, decision making, memory, work, mastery of detail and leadership’. The question of whether Napoleon used his genius for the betterment or the detriment of the world, is the heart of the debate which surrounds him.

France's foremost Napoleonic scholar, Jean Tulard, put forward the thesis that Bonaparte was the architect of modern France. "And I would say also pâtissier [a cake and pastry maker] because of the administrative millefeuille that we inherited." Oddly enough, in North America the multilayered mille-feuille cake is called ‘a napoleon.’ Tulard’s works are essential reading of how French historians have come to tackle the question of Napoleon’s legacy. He takes the view that if Napoleon had not crushed a Royalist rebellion and seized power in 1799, the French monarchy and feudalism would have returned, Tulard has written. "Like Cincinnatus in ancient Rome, Napoleon wanted a dictatorship of public salvation. He gets all the power, and, when the project is finished, he returns to his plough." In the event, the old order was never restored in France. When Louis XVIII became emperor in 1814, he served as a constitutional monarch.

In England, until recently the views on Napoleon have traditionally less charitable and more cynical. Professor Christopher Clark, the notable Cambridge University European historian, has written. "Napoleon was not a French patriot - he was first a Corsican and later an imperial figure, a journey in which he bypassed any deep affiliation with the French nation," Clark believed Napoleon’s relationship with the French Revolution is deeply ambivalent.

Did he stabilise the revolutionary state or shut it down mercilessly? Clark believes Napoleon seems to have done both. Napoleon rejected democracy, he suffocated the representative dimension of politics, and he created a culture of courtly display. A month before crowning himself emperor, Napoleon sought approval for establishing an empire from the French in a plebiscite; 3,572,329 voted in favour, 2,567 against. If that landslide resembles an election in North Korea, well, this was no secret ballot. Each ‘yes’ or ‘no’ was recorded, along with the name and address of the voter. Evidently, an overwhelming majority knew which side their baguette was buttered on.

His extravagant coronation in Notre Dame in December 1804 cost 8.5 million francs (€6.5 million or $8.5 million in today's money). He made his brothers, sisters and stepchildren kings, queens, princes and princesses and created a Napoleonic aristocracy numbering 3,500. By any measure, it was a bizarre progression for someone often described as ‘a child of the Revolution.’ By crowning himself emperor, the genuine European kings who surrounded him were not convinced. Always a warrior first, he tried to represent himself as a Caesar, and he wears a Roman toga on the bas-reliefs in his tomb. His coronation crown, a laurel wreath made of gold, sent the same message. His icon, the eagle, was also borrowed from Rome. But Caesar's legitimacy depended on military victories. Ultimately, Napoleon suffered too many defeats.

These days Napoleon the man and his times remain very much in fashion and we are living through something of a new golden age of Napoleonic literature. Those historians who over the past decade or so have had fun denouncing him as the first totalitarian dictator seem to have it all wrong: no angel, to be sure, he ended up doing far more at far less cost than any modern despot. In his widely praised 2014 biography, Napoleon the Great, Andrew Roberts writes: “The ideas that underpin our modern world - meritocracy, equality before the law, property rights, religious toleration, modern secular education, sound finances, and so on - were championed, consolidated, codified and geographically extended by Napoleon. To them he added a rational and efficient local administration, an end to rural banditry, the encouragement of science and the arts, the abolition of feudalism and the greatest codification of laws since the fall of the Roman empire.”

Roberts partly bases his historical judgement on newly released historical documents about Napoleon that were only available in the past decade and has proved to be a boon for all Napoleonic scholars. Newly released 33,000 letters Napoleon wrote that still survive are now used extensively to illustrate the astonishing capacity that Napoleon had for compartmentalising his mind - he laid down the rules for a girls’ boarding school on the eve of the battle of Borodino, for example, and the regulations for Paris’s Comédie-Française while camped in the Kremlin. They also show Napoleon’s extraordinary capacity for micromanaging his empire: he would write to the prefect of Genoa telling him not to allow his mistress into his box at the theatre, and to a corporal of the 13th Line regiment warning him not to drink so much.

For me to have my own perspective on Napoleon is tough. The problem is that nothing with Napoleon is simple, and almost every aspect of his personality is a maddening paradox. He was a military genius who led disastrous campaigns. He was a liberal progressive who reinstated slavery in the French colonies. And take the French Revolution, which came just before Napoleon’s rise to power, his relationship with the French Revolution is deeply ambivalent. Did he stabilise it or shut it down? I agree with those British and French historians who now believe Napoleon seems to have done both.

On the one hand, Napoleon did bring order to a nation that had been drenched in blood in the years after the Revolution. The French people had endured the crackdown known as the 'Reign of Terror', which saw so many marched to the guillotine, as well as political instability, corruption, riots and general violence. Napoleon’s iron will managed to calm the chaos. But he also rubbished some of the core principles of the Revolution. A nation which had boldly brought down the monarchy had to watch as Napoleon crowned himself Emperor, with more power and pageantry than Louis XVI ever had. He also installed his relatives as royals across Europe, creating a new aristocracy. In the words of French politician and author Lionel Jospin, 'He guaranteed some principles of the Revolution and at the same time, changed its course, finished it and betrayed it.'

He also had a feared henchman in the form of Joseph Fouché, who ran a secret police network which instilled dread in the population. Napoleon’s spies were everywhere, stifling political opposition. Dozens of newspapers were suppressed or shut down. Books had to be submitted for approval to the Commission of Revision, which sounds like something straight out of George Orwell. Some would argue Hitler and Stalin followed this playbook perfectly. But here come the contradictions. Napoleon also championed education for all, founding a network of schools. He championed the rights of the Jews. In the territories conquered by Napoleon, laws which kept Jews cooped up in ghettos were abolished. 'I will never accept any proposals that will obligate the Jewish people to leave France,' he once said, 'because to me the Jews are the same as any other citizen in our country.'

He also, crucially, developed the Napoleonic Code, a set of laws which replaced the messy, outdated feudal laws that had been used before. The Napoleonic Code clearly laid out civil laws and due processes, establishing a society based on merit and hard work, rather than privilege. It was rolled out far beyond France, and indisputably helped to modernise Europe. While it certainly had its flaws – women were ignored by its reforms, and were essentially regarded as the property of men – the Napoleonic Code is often brandished as the key evidence for Napoleon’s progressive credentials. In the words of historian Andrew Roberts, author of Napoleon the Great, 'the ideas that underpin our modern world… were championed by Napoleon'.

What about Napoleon’s battlefield exploits? If anything earns comparisons with Hitler, it’s Bonaparte’s apparent appetite for conquest. His forces tore down republics across Europe, and plundered works of art, much like the Nazis would later do. A rampant imperialist, Napoleon gleefully grabbed some of the greatest masterpieces of the Renaissance, and allegedly boasted, 'the whole of Rome is in Paris.'

Napoleon has long enjoyed a stellar reputation as a field commander – his capacities as a military strategist, his ability to read a battle, the painstaking detail with which he made sure that he cold muster a larger force than his adversary or took maximum advantage of the lie of the land – these are stuff of the military legend that has built up around him. It is not without its critics, of course, especially among those who have worked intensively on the later imperial campaigns, in the Peninsula, in Russia, or in the final days of the Empire at Waterloo.

Doubts about his judgment, and allegations of rashness, have been raised in the context of some of his victories, too, most notably, perhaps, at Marengo. But overall his reputation remains largely intact, and his military campaigns have been taught in the curricula of military academies from Saint-Cyr to Sandhurst, alongside such great tacticians as Alexander the Great and Hannibal.

Historians may query his own immodest opinion that his presence on the battlefield was worth an extra forty thousand men to his cause, but it is clear that when he was not present (as he was not for most of the campaign in Spain) the French were wont to struggle. Napoleon understood the value of speed and surprise, but also of structures and loyalties. He reformed the army by introducing the corps system, and he understood military aspirations, rewarding his men with medals and honours; all of which helped ensure that he commanded exceptional levels of personal loyalty from his troops.

Yet, I do find it hard to side with the more staunch defenders of Napoleon who say his reputation as a war monger is to some extent due to British propaganda at the time. They will point out that the Napoleonic Wars, far from being Napoleon’s fault, were just a continuation of previous conflicts that arose thanks to the French Revolution. Napoleon, according to this analysis, inherited a messy situation, and his only real crime was to be very good at defeating enemies on the battlefield. I think that is really pushing things too far. I mean deciding to invade Spain and then Russia were his decisions to invade and conquer.

He was, by any measure, a genius of war. Even his nemesis the Duke of Wellington, when asked who the greatest general of his time was, replied: 'In this age, in past ages, in any age, Napoleon.'

I will qualify all this and agree that Napoleon’s Russian campaign has been rightly held up as a fatal folly which killed so many of his men, but this blunder – epic as it was – should not be compared to Hitler’s wars of evil aggression. Most historians will agree that comparing the two men is horribly flattering to Hitler - a man fuelled by visceral, genocidal hate - and demeaning to Napoleon, who was a product of Enlightenment thinking and left a legacy that in many ways improved Europe.

Napoleon was, of course, no libertarian, and no pluralist. He would tolerate no opposition to his rule, and though it was politicians and civilians who imposed his reforms, the army was never far behind. But comparisons with twentieth-century dictators are well wide of the mark. While he insisted on obedience from those he administered, his ideology was based not on division or hatred, but on administrative efficiency and submission to the law. And the state he believed in remained stubbornly secular.

In Catholic southern Europe, of course, that was not an approach with which it was easy to acquiesce; and disorder, insurgency and partisan attacks can all be counted among the results. But these were principles on which the Emperor would not and could not give ground. If he had beliefs they were not religious or spiritual beliefs, but the secular creed of a man who never forgot that he owed both his military career and his meteoric political rise to the French Revolution, and who never quite abandoned, amidst the monarchical symbolism and the court pomp of the Empire, the republican dreams of his youth. When he claimed, somewhat ambiguously, after the coup of 18 Brumaire that `the Revolution was over’, he almost certainly meant that the principles of 1789 had at last been consummated, and that the continuous cycle of violence of the 1790s could therefore come to an end.

When the Empire was declared in 1804, the wording, again, might seem curious, the French being informed that the `Republic would henceforth be ruled by an Emperor’. Napoleon might be a dictator, but a part at least of him remained a son of the Enlightenment.

The arguments over Napoleon’s status will continue - and that in itself is a testament to the power of one of the most complex figures ever to straddle the world’s stage.

Will the fascination with Napoleon continue for another 200 years?

In France, at least, enthusiasm looks set to diminish. Napoleon and his exploits are scarcely mentioned in French schools anymore. Stéphane Guégan, curator of the Musée d'Orsay in Paris, which, among other First Empire artworks, houses a plaster model of Napoleon dressed as a Roman emperor astride a horse, has described France's fascination with him as ‘a national illness.’ He believes that the people who met him were fascinated by his charm. And today, even the most hostile to Napoleon also face this charm. So there is a difficulty to apprehend the duality of this character. As he wrote, “He was born from the revolution, he extended and finished it, and after 1804 he turns into a despot, a dictator.”

In France, Guégan aptly observes, there is a kind of nostalgia, not for dictatorship but for strong leaders. "Our age is suffering a lack of imagination and political utopia,"

Here I think Guégan is onto something. Napoleon’s stock has always risen or fallen according to the vicissitudes of world events and fortunes of France itself.

In the past, history was the study of great men and women. Today the focus of teaching is on trends, issues and movements. France in 1800 is no longer about Louis XVI and Napoleon Bonaparte. It's about the industrial revolution. Man does not make history. History makes men. Or does it? The study of history makes a mug out of those with such simple ideological driven conceits.

For two hundred years on, the French still cannot agree on whether Napoleon was a hero or a villain as he has swung like a pendulum according to the gravitational pull of historical events and forces.

The question I keep asking of myself and also to French friends with whom I discuss such things is what kind of Napoleon does our generation need?

Thanks for your question.

#question #ask #napoleon #french #french history #history #military history #bonaparte #france #historiography #republic #historians #personal

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phanfictioncatalogue · 2 years

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Undiscovered Gems (2) Masterlist

part one

addict with a pen (ao3) - artdeficient

Summary: a sad boy loves oceans and sea breezes and the time in between day and night, so he sits by the sea with a sketchbook and sometimes, another boy joins him and sometimes, that’s okay

August (ao3) - glowingatmosphere

Summary: When Dan returns home and meets up with his childhood friend Phil after they’ve finished their first year of uni, he notices that things between them are different. As they rekindle their friendship, Dan completely immerses himself in the new feelings that he’s developing for his best friend. But when Phil starts talking about another boy, Dan begins to wonder whether Phil was ever really his.

baby blue and bubblegum pink (ao3) - phantasticworks

Summary: Dan paints his nails. Phil wants to try it.

Crossing Eyes, Dotting Teas (ao3) - indistinct_echo

Summary: A person isn’t supposed to just happen upon their comfort-celebrities in their building’s bin room. That isn’t how life works.

A fic about serendipity and what it means to be a good neighbor.

Dirty Little Secret (ao3) - A_Million_Regrets

Summary: There he was, sitting huddled next to his beautiful, absolutely perfect wife, looking calm and happy and peaceful and like he hadn't fucked up Dan's entire fucking life, like he had never crushed Dan's heart under his feet.

Human (ao3) - Nefertiti1052 (Succubusphan)

Summary: Phil is a Police officer and former Blade Runner who wants to be left alone, but fate will put him to the task of investigating a new lead regarding a Replicant. To his surprise, he's met one of the suspects before.

I Will Find You (ao3) - Amateum

Summary:

“But what if I make a complete fool of myself?” “Then you’ll never have to see him again.” “But I will. We literally pass each other every day, and once we know what the other looks like- “ “Then you will resolutely ignore each other and continue exploiting the Streetpasses to get more puzzle pieces.” PJ interrupted. “It’ll be okay. Besides, that’s the worst-case scenario. Most likely, you’ll have enough to talk about for at least one conversation. And maybe,” he added sarcastically, “you’ll make a new friend for once.” Dan laughed. Right. Make a friend out of a complete stranger. Like that’ll happen.

Or: Dan and Phil keep passing each other every day and have managed to strike up a tentative friendship. The only problem is that they've never met in person.

i've seen tomorrow (i've seen yesterday) (ao3) - itsmyusualphannie (itsmyusualweeb)

Summary: “The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there.” – L. P. Hartley.

future time travel au in which dan and Phil's jobs are to fix fractures in the timeline. this particular mission will take them back to 2019, but how well will they work together when they've just had a fight?

ivy (covered in you) (ao3) - irrationalqueer

Summary: Dani’s job now is to be guided - she is used to living in the darkness with Fiona, but for once they are headed toward the light.

Life’s Beauty is in its Impermanence. (ao3) - phansb

Summary: Daniel Howell and Phil Lester live in Kingston upon Hull, and begin chatting after a moment of striking bravery at a café. Over the next few days, they become increasingly more attached to one another, until Phil must leave to Isle of Man for Christmas.

Metaphors and Phobias (ao3) - Alaz

Summary: Phil Lester has social anxiety but his dream is to go to his favourite author’s book signing and tell him what his earliest work means to him.

Dan is a famous writer of erotic sci-fi except for his first series that he abandoned for misterious reasons.

Kath knows famous writers need to eat.

never believe it's not so (ao3) - lestered (clonetrobed)

Summary: Dan, in his ten short years, has pretty much classed himself as a skeptic. The Creatures sound just about as real to him as any dumb old urban legend or cryptid. But it’s pretty hard not to believe in a certain type of magic when he’s watching Phil’s dad literally light a candle in the center of the table by carefully blowing a tiny flame onto the wick.

Ribs. (ao3) - embrcethevoid

Summary: Dan and Phil throw a party, hoping to change their normal/loser lives. In the middle of adversities and growing up, it did, but not in the way they expected. Way, way better.

"Sir, How Old Is The Boy?" (ao3) - fourthingsandawizard

Summary: Dan and Phil take a quick break from their world tour, staying in an Airbnb that Martyn and Cornelia rented for the week from an eccentric Australian wizard. When Dan wakes up one morning as his ten-year-old self after drinking a magical tea that Phil accidentally brewed for him, they're forced to look for a solution before their viewers—or Martyn—can find out about it.

The Road To Being Okay (ao3) - WaterHorseyBlues

Summary: All Phil wanted was for Dan to be okay.

The Season's End is a New Beginning (ao3) - transdimensional_void

Summary: Lady Daniela and her close friend Philippa take a fateful stroll in the park. (Fem!Dan and Fem!Phil, Regency romance parody AU)

The Sun, The Moon, The Stars (ao3) - ShippingFangirl26 (IceQueenJules26)

Summary: Lonely armourer Dan meets a strange human on his space travels and learns what cannot be long hidden...

wait for me to come home (ao3) - manchestereyes

Summary: The story of Dan and Phil, as told by their Starbucks sofa. (Or, the bits of it that the sofa could catch anyway.)

words don't come so easily (ao3) - heartsopenminds

Summary: When Dan agrees to be a celebrity guest on a reality show for artists, his only aim is to raise his profile a little and appease his agent.

That is, until he meets the artists who'll be painting his portrait, and one in particular catches his eye...

You're Not Alone (ao3) - AmazingDandroid (Stardust_Ti)

Summary: Phil Lester always loved finding things washed up on the beach.

This time. He found something worth a lot more than shells and pebbles.

#phanfictioncatalogue #phanfiction #phanfic #phan #masterlists #undiscoveredgems #undiscoveredgems masterlist

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drspencerreid80 · 2 years

Text

Nevermore (Part 2/??)

Paring: Spencer x Fem! Reader

Summary: Friends going through everything together, loving each other in secret. Is it too late or just the right time?

Content warnings: Fluff, angst, mention of death (Maeve), general grieving sadness, ambiguous ending? Series, mutual pinning, reader, and spencer are very dumb.

Part (2/??)

Part 1

Word count: 1827

A/N: Part two is here! Thank you so much for all the positive feedback on part one (: I really hope you enjoy this one too.

Eight years had passed since that friendship had been formed and you couldn’t be happier. Your third year at the library you’d been promoted after the old librarian retired. Running a federal library wasn’t easy but you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Eight years at the FBI and eight wonderful years making friends with some of the best people you'd ever known. Not only had you become best friends with a certain wonderful doctor, but you’d also gotten very close with Penelope Garcia the BAU’s technical analyst. After closing the library for the night, sometimes you would make a beeline to her office to gossip, chatting about everyone and everything until Spencer was finished with his paperwork.

These eight years had been some of the best you’d ever had. Growing up a loner whose only friends were your mother and older brother seemed fine but by the time you’d gotten out of college, you were aching for friends your age. While you and Pen would talk clothes and the latest bands you were into, you and Spencer had a completely different relationship. It started out with him frequenting the library as he promised he would then by week three he was bringing you coffee and his favorite poetry after you told him how much you loved poetry. He always said you reminded him of his mother and since they were so close, you’d always taken that as a major compliment.

From the coffee, it led to meeting in front of his apartment to GO get said coffee, together. Then there were the sacked lunches you’d bring him so you two could eat together when he was free and not off working a case. You were surprised the day he'd asked for half your sandwich due to his germ issues, but you’d happily given it to him. In almost a decade of friendship, you’d rarely ever fought aside from the small arguments about who was a better poet or philosopher, but they never lasted, and you were never really mad at each other passed petty remarks. A year into your friendship there had been a particularly awful case regarding a man with DID and Spencer had been kidnapped. You remember being absolutely terrified when you went into Pen's office only to find her in tears pouring over her screens. You were able to calm her long enough to get her to tell you what was going on.

They found him, drugged and beaten pretty badly by a man named Thomas Hankle and you had been relieved when you found out he was alive, the man no longer a threat. But he wasn’t the same when he came back. It had taken two and half weeks for him to see you again, him coming into the library with two cups of coffee right before you were about to close up for the night. He looked...unwell to say the least. His hair wasn’t as straight as usual, and it was all over the place like he’d run his fingers through it a bunch.

“Hey (Y/N)” he’d met your eyes across the checkout counter looking tired and very sorry. Before you could answer he’d held out one of the cups and you hesitated before taking it thanking him quietly. You opened your mouth to reply but he spoke up at the same time, shutting both of you up immediately.

“Please, you go, I feel like I’m going to throw up right now” he frowned and looked down at his worn black and white converse as if staring at them would make him feel better. You took a long sip of coffee before speaking.

“Hey, I missed you”

He’d looked up at you sharply as if surprised you hadn’t started yelling at him the moment he stopped talking.

“I-I missed you too...very much” you blushed a bit at the confession, Spencer had never really been one to express those types of feelings sure he had before, but this had sounded different.

“Listen, Spence, I’m not mad at you” his eyes widened and you kept talking “You’re going through a lot right now and the last thing you probably want is me poking around your apartment bugging you about whether if going back in time and killing Hitler would be a good idea or not” you smiled lightly at the mention of one of your oldest arguments. Coming around the desk you reached up to touch his shoulder gently he didn’t flinch at your touch, but he tensed up a little before relaxing under your hand.

“If there’s anything you need from me, I would be more than happy to help, you’re my best friend and I will always be here for you no matter what.” squeezing his shoulder you dropped your hand and smiled at him encouragingly. What had happened next had been so surprising you’d marked the day on your calendar. Stepping forward he’d pulled you in for a hug, he’d hugged you before but much like his tone, this had been different. His arms wrapped fully around you and his head had dropped to your shoulder and when you’d finally returned the hug you could feel his body shaking.

That night had been rough for him, he’d all but begged you for a sleepover and spilled everything that had happened down to him, and JJ being separated before his kidnapping. He’d cried, you’d held him and after, he’d confessed the drug Hankle had given him had gotten him addicted and he didn’t know what to do. You’d suggested some sort of rehab, not knowing how he’d respond to it, but he’d taken the suggestion surprisingly well.

Years had gone by, and he’d been clean since finishing NA. You couldn’t have been prouder of him. Your friendship had grown stronger since and you would do anything for each other which you’d never had outside your childhood home.

You were reminiscing on the last eight years instead of doing your actual job when knuckles knocked on the wood of the checkout desk. You jumped and shook yourself out of your thoughts “Sorry, can I help you?” looking up you met the brown eyes of the man you were just thinking about. He smiled at you and pointed to a huge stack of books he’d laid on the counter.

“I hope so, these are all returns from yesterday”

Reaching up you grabbed them and started the return process.

“You know, you might as well stop checking books out at this point you’ve read the whole damn library.”

His grin widened “But then how would I get to see my favorite person during work hours?” you blushed deeply at the affectionate comment, he was in a really good mood today. Over the last few months, Spencer had been getting these awful migraines and after countless tests, brain scans, and blood work he’d come to a dead-end and you were more than worried for and about him. So the fact that he was here, smiling like he didn't have a care in the world, was thrilling.

“Someone’s chipper today and hey, no sunglasses” smiling you turned to stack the books he’d returned on the returns cart to be put away at a later time.

“You have NO idea how great I feel. I got ahold of this geneticist, sent her my brain scans and she’s gotten back to me with suggestions on ways to keep the migraines at bay and I haven’t felt this good in ages.” he had his old energy, the same energy he uses when talking about Halloween or his new favorite book of the week.

You turned back to him and couldn’t help but notice, again, how pretty his smile was. His teeth sitting perfectly under his perfect lips, his dimples digging into his cheeks, his- you shook your head gently trying to rid the thoughts that had invaded your mind. Spencer was your friend, but you’d always had a few too many “extra friendly” thoughts about him. At one point you’d thought about telling him you were hopelessly in love with him but decided against it not wanting to lose one of your first and most important friends. So, instead, you’d always pushed those thoughts aside reminding yourself that his friendship meant more to you than any stupid feelings you might have had. Granted it was probably a bad way of thinking, your love for him wasn’t stupid it was just the idea of him ever returning those feelings was almost impossible and you weren’t willing to risk it.

“That’s fantastic, Spence really, I’m so happy for you. I was starting to get pretty worried and frankly I missed seeing you this happy.” you leaned against the counter finishing the returns on the computer.

“Speaking of which, the horror movie festival is this weekend and I heard we may have the time off because Hotch wants everyone to get some much-needed rest. So, I was thinking if you could also get the weekend off, we could maybe possibly go? I’m talking all the classics, black and white horror projected drive-in style, and snacks. Popcorn, candy, chips whatever we want to bring.” he was rambling again, his excitement overflowing as all the possibilities crowded his mind “And I also heard they’re showing the invisible man, original of course as well as having a rather theatrical reading of the tell-tale heart.” he delivered this bit of information leaning over the counter wiggling his slender fingers in an attempt to make things sound spooky. He was smiling so damn hard at this point you thought his cheeks must hurt.

Of course, you knew why he added in those last two tidbits. The invisible man was one of your favorite classic horror films and Edgar Allen Poe was your favorite poet. You’d argued about it plenty of times, an argument always ending in Spencer calling him a “Creepy drunk who married his thirteen-year-old cousin” and you telling him it was purely based on nostalgia because your mother used to read him to you before bed every night.

“You didn’t even need to try and bribe me with Poe, I’m in.” he jumped from his spot leaning on the counter pumping a fist in the air like his team had won the game.

“YES! I’m so excited we’re going to have tons of fun. I’ll call you with details tonight and you can stay over on Friday so we can get there as soon as it starts.” he drummed his hands on the counter a few times before turning and making his way towards the doors leading out “Bye, love you!” he said giving you a little wave before exiting the library still grinning, not even giving you any chance to say it back or even wave.

You shook your head feeling your heart flutter at the idea of spending the whole weekend with him. Shaking him from your thoughts you grabbed the return cart and got back to work.

#criminal minds fic #criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencerreid #criminalminds #nevermore #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff

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scuttle-buttle · 3 years

Text

Chapter 5

WC: 1526

Rated: M

Chapter Tags: angst, mentions of physical congenital defects, name calling, Freud, mention of psychological disorders, mention of disabilities

🧠

Maybe it was naïve of you to hope for an apology from him after the incident in the classroom. He was a dick, after all.

Six weeks into the term and things had not gotten better, but in fact much worse. Every little thing he did drove you up a wall. He would talk to himself out loud about who knows what. He would ask you your thoughts and opinions on the theories he studied, and then try to challenge everything you said. He would make you feel small as he spoke down to you or he would laugh at your ideas. He would ask for help with the dumbest things too, like picking up pens and typing up all his notes. And worst of all, he would just watch you. It probably wasn’t really all that creepy, he didn’t actually give you those vibes, but you felt like a bug under a microscope.

The only time you could tolerate the doctor was when he was giving his lectures. It was like he was a totally different person. Gone was the calculating and stubborn doctor, and in his place stood a thoughtful, passionate, intellectual that tried to see the world from as many facets as possible. He was so incredibly open minded. You'd even seen him crack a smile or two.

You wondered what he might be like if that was his personality all the time. Would the two of you get along better and argue less? Would he think more highly of you, and not just as some dumb assisstant? You doubt it.

“-And then he handed me a stack of notebooks and asked me to type everything up. All his handwritten notes. Like oh my god, get with the times and just type them the first go yourself.” You were set upside down on Bitsy’s bed. This week Kreizler had amped up your workload, so of course you had to vent to your friends.

Feeling the blood pool in your head you roll over and sit up with a huff. “He’s just so strange… and he’s left handed but to the extreme. I don’t think I’ve seen him use his right hand once the entire time we’ve worked together. Like how odd is that?”

“Maybe he’s got OCD or something?” Margo, your mutual friend suggests.

You contemplate what she said. Perhaps he did have something else going on? The more you think about it the more you realize he really didn’t ever use his right hand; when he asked for your assistance it was always for a two-handed job. Perhaps… You are broken out of your trance when Bitsy interjects.

“You need to either find a new hobby to distract yourself or you need to hate-fuck the guy already.” She doesn’t look up from her phone.

Her comment catches you so off guard you choke on your own spit. Margo pats your back as you overcome the coughing fit. “Bitsy what the actual fuck?” She just gives you a ‘what?’ look. Clearly she’s grown two heads to even consider suggesting that to you.

“It’s not so crazy. You like older guys, you said it yourself that he’s smart and he’s cute. Maybe this is what you both need. Get out some frustration.” She tosses her phone to the bed. “And to be honest I’d like to be able to talk to you about literally anything other than how much you can’t stand the ‘good doctor dickwad’.”

Your mouth is gaping at her in your shock. Her words settle in you like a bag of rocks. “Oh my god I really do talk about him that much don't I?” Shame and embarrassment wash over you as you realize that yes, the majority of your day is spent complaining about Kreizler. “I’m sorry guys, I’ll make an effort to tone it down.”

“It’ll probably help with the stress too if you stop,” Margo adds.

“That and getting dicked down - how long has it been for you?”

“Yeah no,” you get off the bed and walk out of the room, “I’m not answering that.”

“Too long then!” Bitsy calls after you with a laugh.

He really thought he had been doing better with you. He couldn’t say you were his favorite person by any means, but you were proficient at your job and the tasks he gave you. A hard worker. He tried to engage in friendly conversation or to talk about the lessons he was planning with you. As little as you had actually studied psychology he found your insights to be most interesting and enlightening. He actually enjoyed it.

You, on the other hand, apparently did not.

Today was going the usual route - he attempted to engage you in discourse; you were determined to defend and fight your way out of it. Oddly enough, for as much as you loathed talking with him you were always giving him your opinion on things.

“How could you be so base to believe that? We are all individuals with our own wants, needs, and desires, sure, but to only be subject to that? To have no freedom or choice in anything we do or say? It’s ridiculous.” You sat with your arms across your chest, a sneer on your face as you argued with him.

His face remains calm through your tirade. He himself took Freud’s work with a grain of salt, but he was interested in your reaction to his questioning. So he pushed you. “And yet you sit here now with the most basic principle being exhibited - the presence of Freud’s Id hard at work - as you become frustrated and angered by my words. Is that in itself not the desire to let anger take control? Acting without fear of consequence? To be exactly what you now claim is ridiculous?”

You scoff. “No, Doctor, because I’ve chosen to not put up with the bullshit. I choose of my own free will.”

“But what is free will, if not chained to our deepest desires and fears? Us acting on the primal needs within us so out of our control? You have no choice in the matter, only impulse. Nothing you choose matters, you are inconsequential.” Laszlo found that he liked to rile you up. You were more forthcoming in your ideas and defenses; a worthy partner to discuss psychological theory with. But today he had pushed you too far.

By this point you had had enough. His constant instagation had driven you to the end of your rope. In reality it probably wasn’t that bad, and you really weren’t that confrontational of a person. But god, with him you just couldn’t seem to hold yourself back. He drove you up the wall.

“Is that what you want? To study me like your little project, seeing how you can get me to crack? Your own personal basket case to psychoanalyze? What - does that get you off at night or something?” You don’t even care that he’s your boss anymore or how inappropriate your suggestion is. If he can push and push and push without regard to what is considered socially allowed then you’d be damned if you didn’t too.

His face is merely curious, a hint of a smirk on it, as you all but yell at him from your desk. He sits back, a pen in his left hand, his right resting atop the desk. You notice his right thumb twitch.

“What’s wrong with your arm?” blurts from your scowled mouth. You don’t know why you ask. Maybe his idea about being chained to our deepest curiosities, no matter how questionable, had some weight behind it.

"I beg your pardon?" His eyes change the second the question slips from your lips. No longer is he eying you with amusement, but he looks as if he might snap at any second. His face is hard, you can see his jaw clenched under the full beard he sports.

At his reaction you know that you screwed up. You never should have said anything at all. Sure he could be as rude as the day is long, but he wasn’t necessarily a cruel man. He had little moments where he was genuinely kind to you. He even made you tea once.

“I’m sorry- I…. I don’t know where that came from. It was inappropriate of me and I apologize, Dr. Kreizler.”

The silence that overcomes the room is deafening, so unlike the boisterous discourse that was taking place a moment ago. You turn away hoping to resume your work. You even take a moment to pray to whoever is listening that you didn’t just get yourself fired.

“It was a congenital defect.” You turn back towards him, but he does not meet your eyes. He speaks low again. “My arm never developed correctly so it is weaker and has less function. That is all.” You nod at him, swallowing. The look in his eyes does not match what he tells you. He has the look of someone haunted by their past. It is a look you are all too familiar with yourself. You both finish your work in silence.

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor

#the interpretation of dreams #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo x reader #laszlo kreizler #the alienist #the alienist angel of darkness #daniel bruhl laszlo kreizler #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #scuttle-buttle

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zozophoenixxx · 3 years

Text

Serotonin Booster :D 🐉

How to train your dragon edition

Here are some things I had forgotten or little details I just noticed on my rewatch, maybe even Unpopular Opinions 🤭👀

✨Race to the Edge ✨

SEASON 4

Tuffnut choked on a stun dart- I think I've seen it all regarding the twins HAHDHSHHA

Fishlegs really had Meatlug opening its mouth WIDE JUST TO SAY ABORT THE VERY LAST SECONDHAHSHGSGG

I love how Hiccup and Astrid can communicate without actually talking 🥺

I love how all dragons are a reflection of each of their owners like even tho Barf and Belch aren't the smartest they can be whenever they actually try

- Snotlout and Hookfang are both hotheaded and never really listen

- Fishlegs and Meatlug both are sweet, smart, resourceful and jealous sometimes hehe

- The twins and Barf and Belch are crazy and dumb but can be smart and strong whenever they need to be

- Astrid and Stormfly are both authoritative and badasses but also caring

- Hiccup and Toothless are both natural born leaders

Astrid built the ballista

Fun fact: Mala means bad in Spanish and it makes sense if you think about it cause Mala is BADASS HAHDHSHAHA😂 sorry I make bad jokes like that

Hiccup referring to Tuffnut as one of his best friends is adorable 🥺

"Flattery has no effect on me, mainly because I never hear any" dudeee ruff that's so saddd🥺😭

JAJDHHSJSJS TUFFNUT REALLY SAID "IT'S TIME FOR BALLISTA-NUT" AND JUMPED RIGHT OFF OF TOOTHLESS

And then him actually fighting Gruffnut is pretty badass I mean they threw actual punches and kicks and everything 😳

Why was Hiccup so cold towards Astrid? When she was just trying to help with his bounty problem

The way Toothless prevented Stoick from killing Savage 🥺🥺🥺

Now that I think abt it Hiccup got kidnapped so many times

Stoick punching Ryker and threatening him is one of the best things I've seen 🤩

Dude poor Snotlout was just insecure in ep4 And I love how Hiccup tried to help him and even then Snotlout still tried his best to show that he can be a leader

- i really loved how he learned that he couldn't just stop covering someone, I mean even when Astrid told him to "peel off and help Hiccup" he was like "no way I'm not leaving your wing" 🥺🥺🥺

Submaripper - tidal class, super powerful, prefer deeper open water and typically very reclusive. Extremely territorial and dangerous.

I LOVE HOW THE SUBMARIPPER SAVED HICCUP, and Toothless's face whenever he couldn't get Hiccup out and Barf and Belch breaking the pod to get him 🥺🥺🥺I can't

𝕃𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕝𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕕𝕖𝕡𝕣𝕒𝕧𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕤𝕪𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕠𝕞𝕤 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕤

- multifaceted disorder

Uncontrollable euphoria - Astrid

Lack of coordination - Heather

Mood swings - Snotlout

Complete catatonia

Cold ankles

Rash

Paranoia - Fishlegs

I CAN'T LOOKING AT THEM LIKE THIS IS JUST TOO FUNNY. NO ISTG EPISODE 7 IS GOLDDDD AND WHEN THE DRAGONS TOOK OVER 😂

Stoick is so fine 🤩

JAHDHAHSHA HICCUP REALLY OUT HERE FAT-SHAMING HIS DAD when poor Stoick is just trying to tell him that going after Viggo only for revenge is neither safe nor the right thing to do

- "What? What do you mean? You love revenge. Revenge is your thing. Weren't they gonna name you Stoick the Vindictive before... Well you know." *signals to Stoick*

Shadow wings - ep7 they follow, herd and shadow. Big one isn't as fast or maneuverable. Small ones are smart and quick. The big one looks like the submaripper.

AND THE WAY TOOTHLESS DEALT WITH THE LAST OF THEM. It was amazingggg he dived down towards a lil pond but he couldn't see cause of the dust and so HE USED THAT ONE SHOT THAT LETS HIM SEE TO KNOW WHEN TO GO BACK UP AND ALLOW THE BIG SHADOW WING TO CRASH AGAINST THE WATER.

The Flying Shatter-Scatter move with Shattermaster and Windshear was so cool and it's also basically the only thing that has pierced through dragon-proof ships

Bro I really wanted to see Astrid saving Toothless when she saw he was in danger in ep8

I DONT WANT HEATHER TO LEAVE UGHHHH 🥺

HEATHER AND FISHLEGS ARE SO GOALS I CANT 🥺🥺🥺🥺😭 I LOVE THEM TOO MUCH

Everyone's shocked faces whenever Hiccup and Fishlegs weren't thinking the same thing HAHDHSHABA

Toothless's facial expressions whenever he saw Astrid was in danger and the way he grabbed Snotlout and went down the volcano just to try and save her- I love their relationship 🥺

And how Hiccup was so worried when he saw Astrid in the lava and the way he grabbed her 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Dude I shipped Throk and Mala so harddd

And the red night terrors ufff we love them

Tuffnut just killed Macey

Ruffnut is so badass bro I love her she really had a sword to her neck and was like "take your best shot pal"

Project Shellfire: a weaponized dragon, Shellfire - tidal class, Titanwing, bigger than a submaripper, long range firing capabilities.

Hiccup just saved Astrid from falling to the water and the way he looked at her right after he put her down- he seemed so concerned I can't 🥺😭

BLINDSIDED ALSO LOVE THIS EPISODE 🤩🥺

First name Astrid calls out is Hiccup's 🥺

Her eyes omg

The way she started hyperventilating and the way he held her hand with both of his and the way he kneeled down next to her and made sure she knew that he was still there and the way Toothless's facial expression went 🥺😔 and the way he put his wing on her legs to try and cover her or protect her 🥺🥺🥺I can't

I mean Imagine how Astrid must've felt I just can't I'd be so stressed out and desperate and the next day she was just like I'm going to look for my dragon idc

No dude because the way Hiccup grabbed her by the waist to prevent her from falling off of Toothless and how both of their expressions softened whenever he told her not to apologize and whenever she hugged him 🥺

I love how the twins are trying to learn how Astrid feels but Ruffnut takes advantage of "blind" Tuffnut and has him run off of a cliff

AND HOW HE CAUGHT HER AND GOT SO NERVOUS WHEN THEY BOTH FELL DOWN 🥺 wait now that I'm watching it again he actually prevented her from getting hit in the head omg

"Of course she's not gonna hide. What was I thinking? She's Astrid."

MISTAKE whenever Astrid took the dragons out of their pens they weren't wearing their saddles and now that they've found them they have them on.

Them spending time with each other's dragons is so funny

Nonono I can't this is the beginning of it all! The beginning of Hiccstrid dating is HERE!!!! and that scene whenever he tells her that she's strong and they'll get through it and he holds her arm and then slowly moves down to her hand 🥺 I love them too much I can't- I want what they have. HE WAS GOING IN FOR THE KISS TOO I CANTTTTT OK THIS IS TOO MUCH

"There will always be a Hiccup and Astrid. Always."

TOOTHLESS'S FACE 😳

I love how Meatlug got so serious after she heard Toothless's distress call

ASTRID IS SO BADASS I CAN'T SHE'S JUST SUCH A NATURAL AND AUTHORTITAVE I LOVE HER

THE HAND THING WITH ASTRID AND THE TRIPLE STRYKE 😩

Fishlegs riding Hookfang is HILARIOUS

That final scene is gold bro I just can they're too perfect I mean we get Toothless and Stormfly messing around in the background and then we get Hiccup scooting towards Astrid so that their shoulders were touching and also Hiccup asking Astrid if she's really ok and then him telling her that he never stops worrying about her and her saying that she feels the same way AND HER ASKING HIM ABOUT THE ALMOST-TO-BE-FIRST-KISS IN THE FOREST and him getting all nervous and being like "no it wasn't perfect" and telling her that he thinks abt kissing her a lot AND HER BEING LIKE "this seems pretty perfect to me" AND THEN BAMM THE KISS UGHHH IM NOT CRYING OK... yes I am😭

Hiccstrid kiss count: 2😘

I love how Astrid comforts Hiccup and puts her hand on his chest

Wait shit I completely forgot That Snotlout is actually the one that came up with ~Hiccstrid~ hehehehe -> also the first one to notice that they were acting kinda sus (nvm he thought one of them had a gambling problem)

Ruffnut's impression of Viggo is actually pretty accurate

Heather knowing about Hiccup and Astrid and just getting the gang away so that they can have a few seconds alone

OMG THE SUBMARIPPER I LOVE IT!! It is the natural and hated enemy of the Shellfire

The Triple Stryke let Dagur ride him

HICCUP CALLED DAGUR BROTHER I CANT

No and when they kissed IN FRONT OF THE GANG AND THEY WERE ALL LIKE 😳😦 AND "This. Changes. Everything." Iconic

I can't imagine watching this season by season and having to deal with that cliffhanger LIKE WHUT- the whole volcano just exploded and ur telling me that's IT!! Nope nope nope

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tobi-momo · 3 years

Text

"The Setter's Help" Chapter 7

Pairing: Kageyama Tobio x Volleyball player!reader

Synopsis: With a big game coming up, the confidence in your setting has gone down significantly. Knowing the setter on the Karasuno boy’s volleyball club is good at what he does, you ask him for help. Will he help you build your confidence and skills or will he just tear it down more?

Genre: Romance, fluff, some crack, angst, hurt/comfort

Chapter Warnings: Cursing, angst, physical violence (?) (not much if any), lmk if more

Word Count: 1.9k

Taglist is Open!!

“Kageyama!” A loud shout could be heard from outside the storage room where Kageyama had been sitting for the past two hours. Suddenly the blank white wall had the memories of his happenings with you covering it. Every time he looked back at himself, the emotion he saw behind his face said everything he wanted to. “You’re really pretty today”, “do you want to hang out?”, “You’re amazing at volleyball”, “I like you”.

“Kageyama!”

The yelling had become clearer, he regarded. His eardrums pick up the sounds of his name, although his eyes still never peeled from the partition. Only when the collar of his shirt was pulled and tugged on and his body being lifted off the chair did he look away, his brain finally responding to its messages.

“You’re such an asshole! Do you know what you did to her? She hasn’t stopped crying! She liked you! And you messed this up! How could you? What did she do to you?!”

It seemed as if Hinata has snapped, Kageyama notes. It’s not that he didn’t care, but the energy that he had in his body to keep fighting and defending himself had almost drained out.

I know, I know, I know.

All he could do was listen, silently scream at how he hurt you, how he damaged your self-esteem, and tore your view of yourself. He knew you looked up to him as both a mentor and a person, and he knew that you wanted to be just like him in terms of volleyball. The event that had occurred just about three hours ago had carved into his brain and embedded itself there, resulting in a headache that he thought he deserved. As his friend throws him around with his fist, his head wobbling and his teeth gritting at the reality of it all, he groans.

“She was good for you!” I know. “She just wanted your help!” I know. “Why did you mess it up?!”

“I don’t know!”

Hinata’s eyes widen dramatically when he heard Kageyama’s voice bleed through the air, his arm loosening a bit and lowering Kageyama’s figure down towards the chair. He looked distressed, Hinata noticed. It was obvious he was arguing with himself, his breath shaking as his chest heaves, his hands balled up into fists yet not having the energy to put them up and use them. His furrowed, frustrated eyebrows that guide his angry eyes when he stares at the floor, too ashamed to look up towards the man counting on him the most. It may have been the humid room, but his eyes felt hot, wet. His head felt sore, tired. But what could he do now, instead of just laying there in guilt and shame, constantly thinking about the way you grew scared of him once he stood up to you, or when you were sobbing and shaking into Kiyoko’s chest as she held you close.

Silence overcame the room; a dark, frozen occurrence in time that was only interrupted by a couple of sniffles as Kageyama tries to pick himself up. He brushed himself off as he stood straight up, a shadow overcasting the top half of his face when his hair sways in front.

“You better fix this,” Hinata mumbles. “Even I can see she’s too good for you.”

“Yeah. I know.”

~.~.~.~

Giving you time was one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do. Watching you walk past him in the hallways and avoid looking at him during class. Every time he tried to stop you in the hallway to talk or say your name to grasp just a sliver of your attention, you do the opposite. You never looked at him once. A concentrated, determined look on your face as you stare at the piece of paper beneath you, your fingers fidgeting with the pen you hold.

The cap resides on your lips while you write down a new formula. His eyes carefully trail the way your mouth wraps around the lid, focused pupils darting to the different details your lips display, them blowing out when you move them, your hand slipping the cap out from your lips. He let his mind get distracted for a little bit while he thinks about how soft your lips would be against his.

“Oi,” Hinata whisper-yells at the man who stares at your mouth. He hesitantly turns around, a blank expression hugging his face while he looks at the ginger. “Stop looking at her like that, you look creepy,” he whispers as he leans upon his desk to give the message properly.

“What? No, I don’t,” Kageyama tries to defend, only his volume a little louder than intended.

“We get it, you like her, but take it slow, remember? No one wants to see you drool over her eating her pencil.”

“She isn’t-” he sighs, turning back around and sitting in his chair properly, “whatever,” he grumbles.

Once the bell rang, he only caught your eye once before you darted out of the class. Dammit, he thought.

“Hey, Y/n,” he called, only to be ignored by your leave as you exit the classroom.

He hated that. He kept seeing your body disappear over and over again and he couldn’t take it. He couldn’t take watching your back vanish around the corner of the white walls any longer, but his brain ached when it yelled at him to just leave you alone. It was hard, he had to stop himself from taking another step, but his foot halted and he was left alone in the empty hallway while you storm away with no regard.

~.~.~.~

The minute practice rolled around an anxious feeling wrapped around his nerves, suffocating them and telling him to worry and be anxious. It created a pit in his stomach that he wasn’t able to shake, a nervousness that he wasn’t able to identify as he enters the silent gym. Well, silent now that he was present. All murmurs and small-talk came to a stop, all eyes turning to face him while the metal doors clang shut.

Well. This was awkward.

“C’mon! Let’s get to practice, y’all! What’s up with everyone?” Coach Ukai shouts in question with his arms in the air, hoping to clear the dread for a slow second. He chuckles dryly when the humming and mumbling continues, all except two volleyball club members grabbing a ball out of one of the available carts. He gives a double-take to two standing boys by the entrance of the gym, jogging towards them when they don’t move after a moment. “What are you guys doin’? What’s going on with everyone?”

“Well,” Hinata speaks up, a hand scratching his neck as Kageyama takes a step back, scared. “Something happened yesterday and… let’s just say the club isn’t too happy with Kageyama-kun over here.” He tries to laugh it off, but the evidence in Kageyama’s fearful eyes proved that this was, indeed, a serious matter, so Ukai’s face didn’t do anything but display shock and concern.

“Hinata,” he calls, walking off as he uses his pointer finger as a gesture to make the boy come over. He complies, speed walking with his arms sticking out the sides, while Kageyama just stands at the back of the gym, trying his best to ignore the stares of judgment- the ones of Tsukishima and Tanaka, of course. He couldn’t tell if they were glaring at him out of sport or if they were actually mad, but the way his eyes strayed to the polished floors was enough to say they still affected him.

“Yes, Coach?”

The man leans down towards the teenager while looking at the lonely player in the corner, a brow quirked up in question as he asks, “Why is he acting like that?”

Hinata raises his arm to point when he says, “I jus-”

“No, I know what you told me, but what happened. This is not how the team usually is, have you seen the third year’s?” He points out the three men on the court, Hinata taking a quick glance at them grumbling incoherent nonsense to themselves.

“Uh… well,” he tries to explain, putting his pointer fingers together for comfort. “Do you know of Y/n?”

“Mhm, I know of the girl. Girls’ Volleyball Team, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s her. Anyways, Her and Kageyama-”

“Wait, a minute. Are you telling me what I think you’re about to tell me?” He questions with a whisper louder than he intended, although thankfully earning no quizzical looks as he quiets down.

“No, no, no. Well-”

“Are you serious?”

“No! Okay, okay, so basically what happened was he was helping her train for a game she’s excited for,” Hinata continued his explanation, both the ginger’s and Ukai’s head’s turned towards the dark-haired teenager as they talked under their breaths about what had happened. Hinata could see in his peripheral vision the way the blond’s eyes blew open in surprise.

“Kageyama-” he pauses, taking a breath, “Kageyama Tobio,” he clarifies, not believing his ears, “did that to Y/n?”

The ginger only nodded his head, guilty. “Yeah…”

“Oi! Kageyama!” The older man calls the lonely setter his way, the teenager hesitating for a moment before following directions. “Are you dumb or something?”

“What?”

“You heard me!” He keeps his voice at a low whisper, although the striking frustration in his voice does not falter to make Kageyama take a step back in utter shock. “Why the hell would you do that to a nice girl like Y/n? There could be no possible reason other than you being stupid!”

“Coach, I think-”

“Get to practice, both of you! And stop torturing girls like that!” He waves them both off, shoving them away with annoyance. They stumble off, not hearing Ukai mutter, “Dumbasses,” under his breath.

~.~.~.~

You weren’t there. You never showed. The empty gym rang with silence as the dust particles clashed with the windows and the benches, only showing themselves when strings of light bled through the clear panes. He could only sigh, as this was half expected of you, which he had come to the conclusion that that was valid as he closed the gym doors before heading home.

It was like that the next day as well, and the next; Kageyama has no idea why he keeps bothering to show up anymore. Whenever he had texted you politely that he was on the court waiting for you, the message switched from Delivered to Opened in less than two minutes, leaving him to assume that you knew you were doing this to him.

While he picks up his volleyball bag for the last time that night, he walks home with a conflicted expression. Should he keep waiting for you? Or should he stop? You had to come around one of these days, you were crazy about this game, you practically begged him to help you, and even if he wasn’t your mentor anymore, you stay at home doing nothing?

He stopped his thoughts from pursuing- he knew not to call you lazy, because he knew he would be wrong. You were determined, you had a goal. It just irritated him that he was the one to mess it up for you.

That’s it. He won’t do that anymore. He won’t mess it up. He knows you can do amazing on your own anyways, you never really needed him. His time helping you is over.

a/n: hi sorry its been so fucking long ive been having a lot of trouble not only with this chapter but with home things too, so im really sorry aljsdasld buut!! its almost over! one more chapter then an epilogue then The Setter's Help is over! thats so weird honestly but im super happy you guys tagged along! thank you!this is me trying to redeem kageyama, and redemption plots are hard for me so i apologize lasjdkas

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kiribakuhappiness · 3 years

Note

👖 Are you a planner, plantser, or pantser? Is it consistent?

Ahh, this question is always so interesting!

First I just want to define the terms above - in case some people aren't aware of their meaning!

Planner: Relatively self-explanatory, a planner is someone who plans out their entire story from start to finish before they even think about writing it. Character backstories, settings, relationship connections, timelines, order of events and their significance, important symbolic details, everything is entirely fleshed out before that pen hits that paper or before those fingertips start tapping away at that keyboard!

Pros: - No need to stop writing for every new plot point/chapter - Generally very well fleshed out characters and scenes. - Plenty of room for constructing well thought-out foreshadowing.

Cons: - Takes a lot of time and effort before the writing process can even begin. - Generally very difficult to tweak details later on, as it creates a domino effect regarding the remainder of the preemptive planning.

Panster: Coined from the term "by the seat of one's pants," a panster is someone who gets a vague idea for a story and takes off running with it. No direction or planned events needed, just their juicy inspiration and a blank document! Pansters are also usually known for writing scenes out of order.

Pros: - Lots of creative freedom. - No feeling of being weighed down by a predetermined path/plot. - Great technique when writing a story that will contain a lot of plot twists.

Cons: - So. Much. Editing. - Will generally end up doing everything that a Planner would do, just later on in the game. - Character motivations + plot structures can suffer by becoming cloudy and unclear/unexplained.

Planster: Probably the easiest to identify/define after learning about the other two, but a planster is someone who is a healthy mix of both! Most writers are plansters, as the range is much more varied and so, by default, contains the medium average. Plansters will get a new story idea, make a few notes or plan out a few important scenes/details, and then use that like a vague roadmap for their stories similar to the dodgy early-2000's Google Maps Directions.

Pros: - A healthy amount of creative freedom when coming up with new scenes and characters. - Easier to make midcourse adjustments in regard to plot devices, foreshadowing, etc.

Cons: - Writer's block can set in when struggling to connect one vague predetermined plot point to the next.

As for my answer, I am very much a Planster, leaning more towards Panster! Usually when I come up with a new story idea, it's a very vague concept, but a concept nonetheless.

So, take Why Is Everything So Weird With the Lights Off? as an example!

When I started that fic, my only notes going into it were these (copy + pasted from my notes app):

Bakugou appears at Kirishima's door; he's been drinking (third year, reasonable age to engage in such activity). Kirishima's first time seeing Bakugou drunk. Bakugou has come to confess his feelings - Kirishima can't imagine why Bakugou would think that midnight on a school night is a good time to strike up a conversation, but what kind of friend would he be if he turned him away? Kirishima's chivalry to be a good friend battles internally with his desire to be with Bakugou as the night progresses. Bakugou is uncharacteristically touchy and honest about his wants to hang out with Kirishima (internally, he's frustrated that he keeps fucking up his attempts to confess, and so tries to stay later and later to get it right). "'M not fuckin' comfortable," he [Bakugou] says [from the makeshift bed on the floor], louder and firmer, as if that will change anything. From beginning - no attraction/romance detected between them. As story progresses - lines start to cross and blur and Kirishima's buried feelings for Bakugou become more apparent to the reader. (Their relationship has started to subtly change, as all relationships tend to do.)

As you can see, there's very little in-depth details here. I don't really go into long-winded explanations and I don't really focus on anything regarding the setting or plot points. Of course, the type of notes I take and the amount of attention to details I give vary drastically regarding the project, but the entire idea is at least glossed over so I don't forget it, and I always try my best to be firm when considering Character Motive (ie; Bakugou drunkenly arrives with the one and only goal to finally confess his feelings to Kirishima), the rest of the fic and all of its minor details come as a result from these motives.

I'll give another example where I went into A LOT more detail, again, copy + pasted from my notes app! Disclaimer: major spoilers for unwritten chapters regarding Fighting Tooth and Claw to Get Back to You.

[Upon UA Katsuki + Fantasy Katsuki meeting for the first time]

"It is fucking winter?"

"Yeah. It's fuckin' winter."

[Right before they switch back] - UA Katsuki experiences a darkness where he finally meets Barbarian Bakugou face-to-face. They approach each other, movements mirrored, and it's UA Katsuki who raises a hand out towards him first, which Barbarian Bakugou hesitates to accept (he is resentful and ashamed of UA Katsuki and believes him to be ignorant and immature). But UA Katsuki needs to know what happened right before the switch, he needs to unlock that memory, and Barbarian Bakugou is reluctantly curious about his unwavering determination, so they clasp their hands together in a strong grip and are thrust into a new place - sunny and filled with green grass. The barbarian clan is there, Dragon Eijirou included, as they prepare to train for several moons straight before migrating away for the winter. Barbarian Bakugou and Dragon Eijirou leave to go train on their own, unbeknownst to them that Eri is following. They banter for a bit and kiss before bakugou wraps an intimidating hand around his neck and jaw. "Are you going to fight me or not?" Dragon Eijirou grins at that, still giving him a sultry, distracted look despite the fingers clasped threateningly around his neck. "What do I get if I win?" He teases. Barbarian Bakugou smirks before he gives Dragon Eijirou's head a light shove in the opposite direction, who steps out of his space again just as easily as he had entered it. "Off, you dumb lizard," Barbarian Bakugou grumbled, still looking amused before he reached over and pulled the glinting, golden sword (All Might) from its holster on his hip and brandished it towards Eijirou, whose red eyes glisten with a new kind of want as he stared at it - the dragon part of him yearning to collect such a valuable treasure. "You would look good as a King, Katsuki," he tells him. Katsuki's smirk grows wider. "And you as a dragon, if you'd ever hurry the fuck up." He gave the sword a vague sway through the space between them and Eijirou's eyes flash dangerously. "Come and take it from me. I know you want to," Katsuki goaded. Eijirou turns into a dragon and they fight.

[Choice made when Imperial soldiers attack during their training session (mentioned at beginning of story by Sero)] - All Might (sword) is falling off the cliff's edge, while Dragon Eijirou is about to get shot by a piercing arrow. Barbarian Bakugou chooses to try and save Dragon Eijirou (abandoning the sword and his future Kingdom), who calls out "NO" even as a dragon who shouldn't be able to speak (he doesn't want Bakugou to lose his throne just for him), which causes Barbarian Bakugou to stop abruptly in shock. The arrow is shot and pierces Dragon Eijirou's underbelly. He lets out a loud roar before he plummets down into the forest out of sight (leading to his capture). Barbarian Bakugou sees red, reaching down to grab the nearest abandoned steel sword (one shown at beginning of story that UA Kirishima shatters) that he then uses to swing down and slice into the shoulder of the soldier that had shot Dragon Eijirou. More soldiers descend into the valley. Katsuki hears a scream and turns to see Eri lying on the ground, terrified as a soldier holds up a crossbow at her. "TO THE END OF ALL DRAGONS!" The man yelled (revealing that Eri, in the fantasy timeline, is also a dragon, and explains her fondness for Barbarian Bakugou when she joins their group and observes how he treats Dragon Eijirou with kindness instead of prejudiced fear). Barbarian Bakugou's feet move without thinking as he lunges in front of Eri, just as her fingertips reach out and graze along his shoulder before everything goes black.

When UA Katsuki awakes again, he is in the hospital on campus, and Kirishima is sleeping in the chair beside him.

[fantasy setting, after the switch back. Barbarian Bakugou - despite still being offered the throne for Musutafu - declines. Izuku and Todoroki are preparing to go back to the kingdom with the news of the vanquish of the Imperial Army, gazing out at Bakugou's barbarian clan as he absently moves about the crowd, barking orders and preparing his clan for travel. Dragon Eijirou joins them to watch as well.] "I am surprised to learn of Kacchan's abandonment of the throne. I thought there was nothing in this world that could replace his desire to be King," Izuku mused out loud to him. "He would have made a great leader."

Dragon Eijirou grinned from beside him. "You're wrong, Izuku," he states simply. "He already is a great leader."

Because of the complexity of the story, with all its many plot twists and such a large cast of important characters, my notes are far more in depth here than they are for my other fic - however, these notes wouldn't necessarily be structured enough to be considered a Planner-mindset, as there is still plenty of room for added details, dialogue, etc.

Phew! What a fucking post :,D a big ole chonker - I hope you enjoyed reading at least, if you've made it this far! 🧡

Fanfic Ask Game - send me a question! ☺️

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emsylcatac · 4 years

Text

Compatible

Summary:

When Ladybug brings some of the old magazines she used to read as a teenager to a sleepover with Chat Noir, they end up doing an 'Adrien Agreste compatibility test', something that she has done more than once as a teenager.

There's no way her partner could beat her at it and get a higher score than her. No way.

Read it on AO3

Ladynoir identity reveal commission for @multibug ♥ | Donation drive @mlbforblm

Thank you so much again for beta-reading this, @rosekasa ♥

The proceeds of this commission go to Color of Change, a racial justice organisation centered on the Black Lives Matter movement!

You can learn more about MLB for BLM & the different contributors on the blog, and you can view info for commissioning me for art or fics here!

You’re of course very welcome to commission any of our talented contributors and donate if you can! Otherwise you can help us to spread the word by reblogging the different posts from the blog! Thanks for your help ♥🤜🤛

* * * * *

Ladybug looked around the room at the mess she and Chat Noir had left from the evening before. Scattered UNO cards on the table, empty glasses and half empty bottles of wine and cider, a plate with only three or four cookies left, and abandoned game controllers on ottomans in front of the small TV.

They always left a mess when they had a sleepover together; always because they went to bed way too late and were too tired to clean it all.

She loved that.

She turned her head to look at her partner half-sitting beside her on the sofa bed. The sheets were pulled up his waist, and he was wearing a dark grey t-shirt v-neck as a pajama that suited him particularly well. She herself was wearing a red with tiny black polka-dots tank top, and a pair of small black pajama shorts.

Chat Noir was smiling at whatever he was reading on his phone. Ladybug propped her head on his shoulder, but kept her gaze away from the device.

“What are you looking at?”

He kept silent a few seconds, still grinning, before answering. “I told my best friend about what my supervisor said to me yesterday. He’s telling me he’s gonna buy an electric racket for mosquitoes and slap him with it.”

Ladybug chuckled. “I like your friend.”

Chat Noir was doing an internship somewhere in the city, and while it seemed like he enjoyed it, his supervisor sounded everything but kind to him. Something Ladybug couldn’t understand, knowing how nice her partner was.

“I thought you would,” he replied, turning his phone off and putting it on the nightstand.

After defeating Hawkmoth four years ago, Ladybug and Chat Noir had both taken a break to focus on their studies. He had been somewhere abroad from what she gathered; she had studied in another city. Now they were both back in Paris and had been for a year; a new threat needing the heroes had arisen.

It had been good to see her partner and best friend again after all this time, a deliverance of sorts. Being older opened up to a lot more freedom than they had as young teenagers: they were more lenient regarding their identities, for one. Ladybug even offered more than once to reveal each other, but Chat Noir told her he was not quite ready yet. It had surprised her a lot, but if he needed time, she would let him take it.

Still, it hadn’t kept them from getting even closer than they used to be.

Ladybug wished they could be even closer. She suspected that Chat Noir probably did, too, yet neither of them pushed for it. The very comfortable friendship they had now established was both a blessing and a curse in that regard.

While it was easier for her to stay at her parent’s house for now, Chat Noir had had a new personal studio. It wasn’t big; just the kind of place you’d expect from any average student having to rent a far too expensive place for what it was, courtesy of living in Paris—but it was enough. It was great to plot against their enemy… or for sleepovers, a habit they had taken soon after he got it.

Chat Noir looked at the pile of old magazines she had brought—they were the ones she read as a teenager, the ones she gossiped about with Alya during their sleepovers. She had thought it could be fun to try that with him, even if they were definitely not up to date.

“We forgot to read those!” he exclaimed, getting up.

She watched as he closed his eyes to pick one at random, and brought it back to the bed.

“Which one did you get?”

“Let’s see… oooh, ‘Clara Rossignole is looking for a Ladybug and a Chat Noir for her next music video’”, he read aloud. “Wow. How old is that stuff?”

“Er, I think I must have been fifteen or something so… Seven years old?”

“Amazing! Exactly what I need to keep up with the latest juicy gossip!” He grinned.

Ladybug laughed and leaned on his shoulder to have a better look at the magazine. She remembered that one with this cover very well, it was the one where there was a personality test about—

“‘How compatible are you with teen model Adrien Agreste’, page 21.” Chat Noir fake-gasped. “Spiiicy! Let’s do it!”

As he opened the magazine, Ladybug hoped that it wouldn’t be too obvious to see how easy it was to find the page right away. Despite the years that had passed, the page was still bearing the marks of having been opened and opened again and stared at for far too long, more than any other.

If he noticed, Chat Noir chose not to comment.

He grabbed a four-coloured pen on his nightstand. “Wow, my Lady, that’s a lot of ink on there! We can barely see the little symbols in front of the answers.”

Well. She had had to take the test more than once to get a better score. She’d been aiming for a hundred percent compatibility, a hundred-and-one if she was lucky, or over-compatible—as she should have been back then according to herself.

Not that she would admit that to him.

“I had done it with friends. That’s why it’s so… inky.”

Chat Noir hummed, suspicious, but didn’t push further.

“And it doesn’t work with symbols, it’s a points system. So we can’t cheat,” she added.

She would know. She had tried.

He snorted. “You remember this surprisingly well, Buguinette.”

She didn’t comment on that very accurate observation. Instead, she dropped a kiss on his cheek.

“Why do you want to do that test anyway?”

“Because it’s fun! And to see if I can get a better score than you,” he said.

She scoffed. “As if you would win! I’m unbeatable at this.”

That made him snicker. “Unlike with UNO?”

She glared at him at that and pulled her head away from his shoulder. He brought her back with an arm around her, and kissed her temple apologetically.

She begrudgingly accepted the kiss. Very begrudgingly. (She couldn’t help but smile at the contact of his lips).

(She also couldn’t help but snuggle closer to him).

“So,” Chat Noir went on, “what do we have for the first question… Oooh, ‘which colour is your favourite? Green, Blue, Pink or Red?’,” he raised a brow. “That’s not a lot of choices in my opinion.”

“Blue,” Ladybug automatically answered.

Chat Noir snorted. “No, yours is pink Bugacheat, I know that well enough,” and he circled the answer in red. “However, mine is blue.”

“Maybe I changed favourite colour.”

“No, you didn’t,” he replied flatly. She pouted. “Next question. ‘What is your favourite season?’”

Ladybug pondered. She liked all seasons, after all; they each had their charm.

“Can’t we pick all of them?”

“Well, apparently you can’t because, according to this very accurate magazine, Adrien Agreste has only one favourite season.”

“Write ‘autumn’, then,” she decided.

He circled it in red for her, and circled spring in green for him.

“Okay, ‘how many times do you blink in the span of a minute? Fifteen, eighteen, twenty or twenty-two”, he frowned. “Where did they even get these information?”

“They have very good sources.”

“Sure,” he snorted. “Does Adrien Agreste himself even know the answer to that?”

“Well, of course, it’s in the magazine,” she laughed.

She knew it couldn’t really be trusted, but she liked to take these facts as straight science when she was younger.

“God, these tests are so bad,” Chat Noir shook his head. “How is that suppose to tell you if you’re compatible with him or not?”

“Hey! Don’t criticise my magazine or you’ll offend mini-me!”

“Well, Babybug, I think the questions from your magazine are dumb. And I’m answering… I don’t know... eighteen maybe?”

“Put twenty-two for me,” she said proudly.

She remembered the answer corresponding to Adrien’s to that question, but he didn’t need to know that.

They went on like that through the rest of the test, from morning routine to favourite scent—“Ew, why are one of the answers camembert?”— and gut reaction when faced with an akuma—“you would jump off of a building, Kitty”. Ladybug tried to answer what ‘Adrien’ would do instead of herself, and Chat Noir corrected her each time—“I choose passion fruits!” - “there’s a reason you always take strawberry ice-creams, my Lady. You can’t fool me!” — until they arrived at the end of the test.

“Aaaaand I’ve got a score of…” Chat Noir paused, looking and calculating the results, “eighty-six percent! While you, on the other hand, despite trying to cheat on at least five questions—”

“Hey!”

“—have a score of… Aw, only forty-one!”

“What?!” Ladybug all but screamed.

“Ah, yes, it looks like I beat you Buguinette!” The little shit sounded so proud with himself.

“There’s no way your score is higher than mine,” she said, snatching the magazine from his hands and scrupulously recounting the points herself.

There was no way, indeed.

And yet.

Chat Noir knew how to count, alright. Ladybug was silently fuming.

No, it didn’t matter anymore whether she was compatible with her old crush or not. And yes, the magazine was probably incorrect anyway.

And sure, Adrien was twenty-two now, not fifteen, so his answers would probably not be the same anymore, but still.

She had to defend young-Marinette’s honour.

And in honour of young-Marinette’s past struggles and unconditional love, there was no way Chat Noir of all people could be more compatible with Adrien than herself.

Chat Noir’s laughters brought her out of her shocked horror.

“Aw, don’t pull that face, Bugachups, sometimes you win, sometimes you lose! Maybe you’ll beat me to the next! Say, they don’t have a compatibility test with Chat Noir by any chan—”

“You cheated.” She stated it calmly but coldly. She had to be calm about it. “You must have.”

Chat Noir guffawed. “I’m not you! Also why so upset? Afraid I ruined your chances with…” he took the magazine back from her hands to read the caption under the test’s title, “...Paris’ favourite teenage boy?” He frowned. “Hey, shouldn’t that have been me at the tim—”

“No, I’m not afraid of anything like that,” she grumbled. “It’s just that… I used to know everything there was to know about Adrien Agreste back in the day.”

He blinked. “Everything?!”

“Everything,” she repeated. “Also, I don’t need to do a Chat Noir compatibility test to know that I’d get a hundred percent at it.”

He snickered. “I sure do hope that you’d get a higher score with me than that poor forty-one percent.”

She hit him with her pillow. For making fun of her, and for not having taken the bait.

“Yes,” she insisted, “I’d have a better score and I’d get the highest, thank you very much.”

He gently pinched and squished her cheeks while nuzzling his nose against hers teasingly. “Aaaww, of course we would be the most compatible Buguichou, we’re made for each other!”

Better.

Still, they had become so comfortable with each other now that it could mean everything and nothing.

“Chat Noooiiiiir,” she whined in lieu of pushing further, “stop annoying me!”

He released her and laughed. “You love it when I annoy you!”

Yes.

“No.”

He snorted and shook his head. “Anyway.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “What was it about you knowing everything there was to know about teen model, Paris' darling extraordinaire Adrien Agreste?”

She groaned. “Please can we not?”

“No. I want to know more about the boy I’m eighty-six percent compatible with, Bugaboo! And who better to teach me all I need to know other than the finest expert you aaaaar—”

She snatched the magazine back from his hands and swatted him with it.

“You’re” —swat— “not” —swat— “more compatible than me” —hit— “with Adrien” she had him pinned on the bed and he was giggling, trying and failing to push her away, “because I had the biggest crush” —swat— “on him and I was” —swat— “in love with him, do you understand?”

She stopped hitting him to throw him her deadliest look.

“Wait, what?” he said, still grinning from the fight. “You were in love with him like… in love love?”

She crossed her arms. “Yes, I was in love love with him.”

He snorted. And then, slowly, his body shook more and more, the laughters coming from him getting louder and louder.

“You—,” he choked, raising a finger in her direction, “you were in love with Adrien Agreste when we were fifteen.”

She sighed. “Yes, I was in love with Adrien Agreste. Go on, laugh all you want, ‘ha-ha-ha, Ladybug was in love with Hawkmoth’s son, ha-ha,’ so funny.”

“Oh my god, yes, Ladybug in love with our enemy’s son,” he kept laughing. “Waaait, wait wait, hold on, that’s excellent but… when you told me you were in love with someone else, back then…”

Her stomach fluttered at the memory that yes, Chat Noir used to be in love with her.

“...Does that mean that he was the boy you were referring to?” he looked at her expectantly.

She didn’t reply.

“He was?!" he exclaimed. “Ladybug, that’s… that’s… that’s hilarious!” and he was back laughing, even louder than before.

She glared at him, before grabbing her pillow once again and hitting him with it.

“No, no—I’ll stop, I’ll stop! But you don’t understand, this is so funny!”

“I really don’t see why.” And with that she lay down on the bed and turned around, her back to him. “Adrien is a very sweet person, I had great taste.”

Today, however, by loving Chat Noir? Maybe not so much, she decided.

A warm hand settled on her arm.

(She still had great tastes).

“Say, my Lady… if you were to meet that Adrien boy today and he were to ask you on a date… would you say yes?” She could still hear the remainder of his amusement in his voice, but he seemed to have calmed down, now.

She turned around to face him. He was lying on the side, propped on one elbow with his head resting on his hand. She pondered his question a few seconds. She hadn’t seen Adrien in a while, after all.

And… there was someone else now. She wasn’t fifteen anymore.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

He was rubbing small circles on her arm.

“Oh?” he said with a hint of amusement in his voice. “What would fifteen-year-old-Bugbooboo think about that?”

She snorted. “She wouldn’t believe I’d ever say that. She’d think I lost my mind.”

He chuckled with her.

She frowned. “But… well, we all change when we grow up and… Adrien is probably still a great person. And I mean, with what he had to go through, I admire him a lot. But also, there’s some—… there’s… there’s...”

“There’s what?”

You.

“Chat Nooiiir,” she tugged at the kwagatama around his neck instead, and raised her eyes to his. She bit her lip. “You know.”

She couldn’t get the words out of her mouth. Even after all these years, confessing was still something she found herself struggling with. But she kept his gaze as he silently searched hers; she wouldn’t back away or hide from it.

She kept it as he slowly took the hand that was fiddling with his necklace and lifted it to his lips. Kept it as he gently kissed the tips of her fingers. As she felt a shiver and the heat rising to her cheeks and was sure he could see it, too.

And she still kept his gaze as he lowered their hands on the mattress, and caressed hers with his thumb.

He knew.

And he reciprocated. She put a hand on his cheek, and slowly brought her face closer to his. She was about to close her eyes and the gap between them when a finger on her lips interrupted her.

Chat Noir closed his eyes, letting a small smile tug at his lips. Took a deep breath. Exhaled.

Opened his eyes again and looked right into hers.

“What if…” he said nervously, almost as a murmur, a deep contrast to his amusement from earlier. “What if I told you that… that you could have both? In one person.”

Her eyes widened. She sat up suddenly and grabbed his face. Did he mean that—

“Chaton?!” she said surprised —questioning. Her eyes frantically searched his.

He took one of her hands and brought it to his mask. And slowly nodded.

Carefully, shaking, she removed the home-sewed mask from his face.

His eyes were closed, but it was the unmistakable face of Adrien that met her. And older Adrien, an Adrien who was still the same but also so different.

An Adrien who was Chat Noir, and had always been—an Adrien that she knew more than she could have possibly thought.

As he opened his eyes to look at her, she took both his hands and kissed them. She noticed that she was crying when she saw tears dropping on his ring. She didn’t care.

It suddenly hit her that this boy had had to fight against his own father—and that it was certainly why he hadn’t been ready to show himself before. What he just did now, finally revealing himself to her—this was huge.

But looking at his gaze, soft from her actions, and feeling his hand wiping her tears away, she decided that it was probably not something he wanted to discuss now. And she didn’t want to ruin their moment, their reveal, with pity and talks about his father: the very thing he had probably tried to avoid when he was still insecure about who he was under the mask.

She giggled through her tears. “You’re beautiful,” is what first made its way out of her mouth.

That made him laugh and oh god, she was making him cry too now.

“Take off my mask. Please,” she whispered, kissing his fingers once more.

He sat up next to her, are gently put a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Then, he did as she told—and gasped.

“You—you’re Marinette!”

She giggled again. “And you’re Adrien!”

“I was thinking about you the other day. I was wondering how you were doing and…” he trailed off.

“And now you know!”

“And now I know!” he grinned. “You’re wonderful… I missed you so much but… it also sounds weird to say that now, doesn’t it?”

“Well… we could still catch up, around a coffee and uh… is this date with both Chat Noir and Adrien still on the table?” she asked.

Was she being a bit too straight forward? Probably. But she had troubles to control her mouth right now.

“When will it not?” he breathed.

She squealed and wiggled on her spot, grabbing his face. But before she could come closer to him, she faltered and stopped, remembering his finger on her lips a few minutes before.

“Uh, can I kiss you this time?”

He chuckled, a soft blush gracing his cheeks—and kissed her in answer.

She immediately closed her eyes at the contact of his lips and kissed him back—slowly, deeply, tasting him as much as she could. He tilted his head to give her a better access, and she climbed on his laps to be more comfortable—and closer to him.

Marinette lost count of how many times they came back for each other, of how many times their lips met, or their tongues. She felt so happy and so good—so in love.

When they separated and looked at each other, shy and giddy smiles on their faces, she couldn’t help but drop another tender kiss on his cheek, and caressed it afterwards.

“Now I know what you found so funny earlier,” she told him.

“It’s hilarious, right? We were so dumb!”

“We still are,” she added.

“We definitely still are. I can’t believe I didn’t know that Marinette was in love with me in collège, wow.”

“Is in love with you,” she corrected, still caressing his cheeks. “Present tense.”

She would always remember the look on his face when she said it. He was in love with her too, there was no doubt about it.

Suddenly, she was hit with a realisation and looked at him in horror. “Wait a minute. That means… That I have only forty-one percent compatibility with Chat Noir?!”

Adrien burst out laughing. “My Laaaady, you can’t seriously believe these tests, right?”

“Well, no, but we still should have way more compatibility than forty-one percent. Who even has that with their super-hero partner?”

“Marinette,” he said, amused, “my Bugabisous…I don’t even have a hundred percent with myself. It would be hard to live in my own head.”

She blinked. “You’re right. That test is dumb. But how do we know if we’re the most compatible then?”

Adrien chuckled, and put his hands around her waist, bringing her closer to him. “Well, you’re the Guardian, I think you can make up the rules for that.”

She put her arms around his neck. “That’s true. Then I decide that we’re a hundred percent compatible.”

“A hundred percent, uh?”

Their foreheads were touching now.

“A hundred-and-one,” she whispered against his lips, and she kissed him.

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limitlessgojo · 3 years

Text

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 9)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: Red Strings of Fate

Next Chapter: Invisible Ties

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty <3

Chapter 9: Wait for Me

After the mission, you got back to the Kyoto High School campus. Both of you were still a little awkward, not knowing exactly how to proceed with your relationship. Are you dating now? Not necessarily.

Noritoshi reached out to you from behind, but thought better and retracted his hand. You seemed to have zoned out for the rest of the mission, so he thought it would be better to give you a bit of space.

You both were outside your dorm room after having submitted the report about how the mission went.

You turned back to face Noritoshi, “Thank you so much for accompanying me on my first ever mission senpai. It was definitely a different experience from just sparring with other jujutsu sorcerers. I’ll do my best to improve.”

You lowered your head, but he bent his knees so he could face you, “You definitely have talent and raw power. Please be more logical in your tactical and in-fight responses next time. Thank you for protecting me.” He spoke quietly so as to not disturb the other students who are already in bed.

You smiled tightly, “Just… doing my job.”

You looked up to face him. There was something cloudy and stormy in his expression that you couldn’t quite read.

He was such a hard man to read, Kamo Noritoshi. Now that you think about it, you really don’t know much about the man who is your soulmate.

Noritoshi pulled back with his usual solemn expression. “You should go on ahead and get some rest. Good night.”

“Good night Noritoshi senpai.” You weakly called out, before going back into your room. Your heart had never pounded this hard and fast before, you were sure. You had trouble going to sleep that night, remembering the second vision you both shared.

On the other hand Noritoshi’s head was spinning by the time he got back into his room. He could still feel the ghost of the kiss from the vision and wondered how it would feel to hold you close to him like that.

◇◇◇

During the weekend, Noritoshi went back to the Kamo Clan estate and told his father of everything that had occurred between the two of you. As soon as he finished his father softly slammed down a fist on his desk out of excitement.

“It’s been how many years since the last known living pair of soulmates existed? They were so highly regarded that most pairs chose to live in complete isolation out of fear of being targeted. We need to be careful, but this is truly a blessing from the heavens.” His father smiled.

Noritoshi’s dad pushed a book towards him. “We were able to find a very old record of soulmates from our clan’s history. Kamo no Hotaru. A man who lived quietly, after eloping with his soulmate away from the Kamo clan. His partner was said to be a woman from the Abe clan. They supposedly died in battle, according to records. This happened during the rise of curses right before the Heian era.” His father spoke solemnly.

Noritoshi felt chills run up his spine upon hearing his words. “The woman’s name is unknown. But her parents were known to have not approved of her involvement with Hotaru kun. This was as written in the diary entries of Hotaru. Curses and curse users alike were drawn towards their synergy and tried to break them apart or at least kill one of them.”

“They might have survived had they stayed with their families, but they chose love above all. Back then it was not yet widely known about how soulmates’ offsprings could have a power far greater than their parents’, but now we do. But even apart from that, a soulmate bond is said to make both halves grow stronger. So make sure that you don’t let go of her. Charm her and make sure she stays with you. A stronger bond will give you strength as a Jujutsu sorcerer.” His father orders him.

The words were swimming in Noritoshi’s head. But… “If it’s simply falling for her and making her fall for me, it should come naturally with time father. To be frank, I’ve been attracted to her since our first meeting. I will do my best.” Noritoshi said firmly.

◇◇◇

Days after your first mission, Noritoshi’s words from your first mission together still bothered you. It was so dumb on your part. “You don’t know me.” Those words just kept repeating in your mind. It wasn’t wrong.

Make no mistake, Noritoshi didn't mean to offend you at all. From his point of view, he only wanted you to tell him the real reason as to why you saved him without thinking of your actions. He didn't mean to hurt you with his words.

You tried to let it go, knowing that he was just extra worried at that time. But to be honest, it was something that still hung over you. You wished to know him better, not only as a soulmate, but also as a friend.

Everytime Noritoshi came around you and greeted you hello, your heart would tighten just a bit. He could start to feel the weighted heaviness on your soul that he didn't realize was yours via the bond.

He simply thought that he was also feeling down for no reason. It was a long way, distinguishing whose emotions were whose, as the bond is still so fresh between the two of you.

And so he gave his mother a call and scheduled a meetup with her.

“Hello? Mother. Yes, I am well. How are you? …. That’s good to hear. Are you free this weekend? …. Nothing really, I just wanted to see you. …. Yes, me too. …. All is going well here at school, you don’t have to worry I promise. … Yes father is okay. …. Thank you, I’ll see you this Saturday then. Goodbye.” Beep.

◇◇◇

In the following weeks, Noritoshi had been incredibly busy to say the least. He was finally getting promoted to a semi grade 1 as long as he does well in his next mission.

His father was constantly reminding him to make sure he makes you fall in love with him as his soulmate, and hurry it up so that the rest of the clan can meet you already. And he just really wanted to see his mother.

One afternoon you tried to cheer him up after noticing his bad moods. You made senpai some coffee and brought him pastries in your free time.

You sent him a text saying you had something for him. He replied that you could stay for a bit in his room.

“Pardon my intrusion!” You called out as you went in. The door was left unlocked for you. “Come in.” Noritoshi looked up tiredly. His eyes had heavy bags and he looked so exhausted.

“I’m sorry to be bothering you. I just brought some coffee and pastries here so that you can regain a bit of energy senpai.” you whispered, not wanting to be too loud for him.

“It’s not a bother. I’ve just been swamped with so much work as of the late.”

"Senpai, have you… considered getting a bit of rest first? The TOEIC is still a long way to go." You stared at the papers that read "TOEIC 990" stacked on top of his desk.

"I have other matters I’m attending to. Family business and other missions." He grunted while continuing to write down on his paper. He was definitely stressed and overworked.

Maybe he needed someone, like a family member. You tried to empathize with him, "I see. Have you heard from your mom and dad lately? I also understand if you're feeling homesick, I feel the same…" You trailed off upon seeing his face tighten at the mention of his mother.

Your heart dropped.

"That's none of your business." He whispered coldly without thinking.

Fuck y/n. You stepped on a landmine.

You inhaled sharply, backing away. “Ah, I’m so sorry to be intruding. I stepped out of bounds. Please get as much rest as you need.”

You quickly excused yourself from his room feeling so confused from his sudden cold demeanour.

Noritoshi reached out to you, “Wait! I didn’t-” but you already closed his door and stumbled out of his room faster than he could react.

He gave a deep sigh, not meaning to offend you or anything. He just wasn’t in the mood to be around anyone else, and that included you at the moment.

He was just feeling stressed, because he had to cancel his meetup with his mother since his father demanded to talk with him about other clan matters.

He groaned out in frustration. “I’ll have to talk and apologize to her later.” He noticed a heavy and sharp tugging at his heart. He dropped his pen in surprise and stared at his chest in confusion.

"This… these aren't my emotions…" it dawned on him finally. Finally, you both are starting to share very strong bursts of emotion.

Pain and sorrow. Your emotions washed over him like a tidal wave, so sudden that he didn't realize tears were running down one side of his left eye.

He felt guilt and regret like never before.

◇◇◇

A strong wave of regret and guilt stabbed through you. You were pretty sure that these were Noritoshi's emotions.

You finally started feeling something from his end, but you just felt heavy. Was it supposed to be tiring to be a fated pair? Or was it just the bond that was messing up both of your emotions?

You couldn’t even ask anyone else for help, because currently there are no known living soulmates. Besides you and Noritoshi that is.

◇◇◇

The next time you met each other, it was a bit awkward. You tried to give him space during the past few days, understanding that it must be what he needed.

After all, he didn't seem too keen on the way you tried to connect with him last time. You probably overstepped your boundaries. It's true, even though you're soulmates, you're still just friends at this stage.

But Noritoshi found himself looking for you. Trying to catch you in his free time, he finally found you in the weaponry, training with your twin blades.

He stared at your figure. You looked like you were dancing rather than fighting. Smaller daggers controlled by your cursed energy flew around you, covering for any blind spots.

They came to a halt as you set them down and deactivated your technique.

"May I help you Noritoshi senpai?" You asked without turning to look at him. He felt his throat tighten up.

"I came to apologise." Your fingers twitched as though itching to throw your dagger at him. But of course you would never.

"Ahhh, it's okay, Noritoshi senpai. I'm sorry for rudely not minding my own business. Even though we might be soulmates, you're not my boyfriend. We are just good friends aren't we?" You said as you finally turned to face him.

‘Set the boundaries and define the relationship’, you thought to yourself.

Every word you said felt like you were pushing the needle deeper in your heart. It hurt, and you both knew it.

He stepped towards you, standing inches away and shaking his head. "I took out my anger and stress on you, and that was wrong of me. I'm sorry. I do care about you deeply, and you're much more than a friend. You are a very special person to me.``

"Don't say words you don't mean Noritoshi senpai. Please." Your heart was slowly crumbling. He looked pained. "I am not lying. Please believe me.”

But you shook your head and stood your ground. You could feel a fraction of his emotions at this stage of the bond. And you knew in your heart that he was just as confused as you are, trying to feel his way into this relationship.

Noritoshi’s father’s words echoed in his head, ‘Don’t let her go.’

"Don't be unfair to me y/n. If I need time I need it. And I will surely fall for you. If you need time, I’ll also give it to you." He whispered out urgently. "We have a lifetime together."

How did he always sound so sure of himself? Of the future for both of you? You looked back up at him with teary eyes. It sounded so wrong, like he was forcing himself to love you just for the sake of the bond. Does that even count...

"To be honest with you, I don't know what to feel right now senpai." Your voice cracked. His heart broke upon seeing you like this. But nothing can be done.

Does the knowledge of a soulbond always bring a pair together or does it doom two people who are not yet ready to love?

"Wait for me." He promised as he took your hands in his and looked you in the eyes. Your marks felt warm.

You finally felt yourself calm down. And it was so frustrating that you're becoming so dependent on him, turning to him for physical affection. He was the cause of your sorrows and joys altogether.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

#kamo noritoshi #blood bound #red strings of fate #noritoshi x reader #jujutsu kaisen #noritoshi angst #mahito #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk fic #kamo noritoshi x reader #noritoshi x y/n #noritoshi fluff #kamo noritoshi x you #jjk kamo #noritoshi x you

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abraxos-is-toothless · 3 years

Text

healing and feeling

My @aftgexchange gift for @bayta-darell !!! I’m so sorry that this is late, I went to post at the beginning of the posting week but I couldn’t find it anywhere. I’ve spent the week doing a rewrite. There was more of it (Kevin and Neil having a discussion) but I just wanted you to get something rather than nothing. I really hope you like it. A general foxes type fic where they do some healing. Canon warnings apply- mentioned not detailed.

---------

Twenty minutes. Twenty whole minutes it took of the foxes remaining silent for Betsy Dobson to realise she’d have to make the first move if she wanted to make any progress at all here today.

“David first suggested this for you all once before and you refused, which I respected. I will not force anyone to talk until they are ready. But you’re all here today and I feel I should ask the nine of you, why now?”

Aaron watched as everyone not-so-subtly shifted their eyes to look at Josten who opened his mouth as if to speak before closing it again. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them from where he sat on the floor by Andrew’s chair. There was a space next to Boyd on the plush yellow couch but well...

“This is the second time this week Neil has almost stabbed one of us.” Ah, Reynolds. Always making sure she got straight to the point. Matt glared at her, muscled arms crossed over his chest.

“I said it was fine, I startled him-”

“It damn well isn’t fine, Matt! Were you not a boxer with some good reflexes, he could have done some serious damage.”

Aaron watched them argue back and forth until Betsy politely cleared her throat, her calm, soothing smile never once leaving her face. He admired the woman, he truly did; he couldn’t imagine dealing with people’s shit all day and managing to still look sane and collected. His own mind was enough of an asshole as it was. “I’m glad that we’ve gotten to why you’re all here, but I’d like for us to remain civil in these sessions. Talking about such things can be straining and I want you to remember you’re a team, that you’re friends.” Matt nodded and threw Neil a small smile and Allison simply flicked her hand, bright red nails catching in the sunlight streaming through the window. Aaron caught Neil bringing a hand up to rub at the scarring on his face but then Andrew’s hand came down to hold the back of his neck, thumb rubbing back and forth carefully and the tension Neil was holding in his shoulders eased up. His twin met his stare without faltering and simply raised a pale brow at him, as if daring him to comment. Aaron kept his mouth shut and turned back to Betsy. “Now Neil, would you be able to tell us what might have brought on these outbursts of violence?”

“I’ve always been this way, thanks to my mother.” Aaron saw Andrew’s jaw clench at the mention of Mary Wesninski; he knew well enough how his brother felt about abusive mothers. “But this is different. We lost our most recent game. We’re falling behind a little and if we don’t win the next game, we don’t get to progress any further.” Aaron couldn’t stop his mouth from moving, even if he had tried to.

“You’re telling me that Boyd almost got stabbed because we lost a game? Are you serious right now? It’s not the end of the fucking world!”

“It is for me!” He stopped and said nothing more, turning his face away from them all, ignoring their looks of confusion. He knew Josten loved Exy as much as Kevin, but he didn’t think such a thing was enough to stab someone over. Kevin sighed, eyes closing before he put his head in his hands. Neil’s jaw clenched and he stood abruptly, walking towards the door, Andrew following just a few seconds after. Betsy, bless her heart, she tried to reason with two of the most stubborn beings on the planet.

“Neil, maybe you’re not quite ready to talk, but we’ve only just-”

“I apologise, Dr. Dobson, but I can’t talk with you in the room. Anything regarding that part of my life cannot be discussed outside of the people who already know. I do not wish to implicate you.” The woman wrote a few things down; the scratch of the pen was loud to Aaron’s ears.

“Very well, then. Let David know when you’re all ready to come back, and we’ll schedule something between classes and practice.” Neil and Andrew disappeared out of the door and Aaron and the rest were quick to follow, but not before Renee, ever the peacekeeper, gave the woman a gentle smile and told her they’d see her next week. As if she alone could wrangle them all into another session. He made his way over to the mas with Nicky and Kevin, where Neil and Andrew waited, sharing a cigarette between them, and the upperclassmen left ahead of them in Matt’s truck. No one spoke until they were all in the car and on the move, and of course, it was Kevin.

“This isn’t a good idea.” Nicky leaned across the seats and over Aaron to bat at Kevin with one hand, all the while texting Erik on his phone in the other.

“Shut up. You don’t think that anything is ever a good idea unless it’s one of your ideas.”

“Neil I really don’t-”

“Enough, Kevin. I’m telling them and that’s final. I should have told them all anyway.” Kevin sat back with a huff and Aaron rolled his eyes at the idiot’s dramatics, staring out the window for the rest of the unusually quiet drive back to fox tower, except for the clicking of Nicky’s phone and the quiet giggles he would let out at whatever he and his fiancé were talking about. When they got there, Andrew found the closest parking spot to the building that he could, because his brother preferred not to do any more exercise than being an Exy player forced him to. The others hadn’t waited for them, not that Aaron thought they would have, but he thought at least Allison would have been standing at the doors so Neil couldn’t slip away and get out of telling them anything.

They hadn’t, however, stopped themselves from taking over Aaron’s old dorm room he shared with the rest of the ‘monsters’ before he moved to Matt’s. Dan and Matt were sitting together on the couch, the former tucked into the latter’s side, Allison was lounging in a beanbag while she inspected her nails and Renee was sitting on the floor in front of the small and worn table, sorting Nicky’s nail polishes into some sort of order. “Now that you’re here,” Allison said without even bothering to glance in their direction, “let’s get to this secret you’ve been keeping from us, shall we?” Aaron watched Andrew move over to the window to sit on the sill, lighting up another cigarette. He knew there was no need to worry about the smoke alarm because Andrew had taken it out from the first day they moved into the room. It was clear he wasn’t bothered by any of this, at least Aaron didn’t think he was, which means either he knew what Neil was going to tell them all, or he had guessed early on and hadn’t pushed for a definite answer just yet.

Kevin sat down in the other bean bag, although with how tall he was, he seemed to dwarf the bag. The sight was odd, considering that caused him to slouch more than a chair or the couch would have, something he would moan at the rest of them for when they did it. Nicky sat himself next to Renee, gushing over how she’d organised all of his colours, nodding so enthusiastically that his messy brown curls bobbed with the movement. Aaron went to lean against the wall closest to Andrew, who didn’t acknowledge him other than glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. They were better than they were before, Aaron actually managed to have whole conversations with his brother now and he was no longer hostile towards Katelyn, letting her come along sometimes when they went to Sweeties and Eden’s. He knew it would take time to have some sort of a stable relationship with Andrew but they were trying, and that was okay for now.

Neil stood in front of them all, hands in the PSU foxes hoodie he wore, barely any emotion on his face, as he always was. No wonder he and Andrew worked so well together, Aaron thought, internally rolling his eyes. He got straight to it. “After Nathan was killed, all his debts with the Moriyamas fell onto me. The money my mother took when she decided that we should run belonged to them. In Ichirou’s eyes, they still own Kevin and Jean too.”

“What does this have to do with you turning into a murderous little rage machine?” Matt rolled his eyes at Allison.

“I made a deal with Ichirou.” Dan dropped her head into her hands while Nicky made a choked off sound. Aaron was tired of Josten making dumb decisions and not telling them. This is what happened when the fucking idiot ended up at Baltimore. “I wanted something and to get him to give in to that, I said he could have the majority of our earnings when we went pro.”

“Wait.” Neil turned his head towards Kevin, who was outwardly confused now. “You said he wanted a take of what we earned, that I knew. But you didn’t say it was in exchange for something, what did he give you?”

“I wanted Riko dealt with and he was.” Aaron’s eyes widened at that, as did the others in the room. Kevin went deathly pale and he stood slowly, looking at Neil as if he didn’t even know him. He opened and closed his mouth several times before he gave up and disappeared to his room without a word. Aaron had a feeling there was a bottle of vodka waiting for him to drown his sorrows in. Allison looked mildly impressed.

“We all knew the suicide story was suspicious, but I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I wanted him to pay for what he did. I walked out of that room and I laughed. But that’s why the nightmares have kicked in and I’ve picked up old habits, like sleeping with a weapon under my pillow. If Ichirou notices any slack, he will kill me.” Aaron looked to Andrew again, and his brother was staring back at Neil, as if waiting for him to fall apart. Dan stood, determination on her face and a fire in her eyes.

“Then we help you stay on top of the game. We’ll fit in an extra practice a week and on the free period you share with Matt, he can discuss drills with you.” Aaron saw Matt smile and nod, receiving a dip of Neil’s head in return. “We’ll tell Coach that we’ll have an evening a week at the court, watching old games and seeing what we can take from them. No one gets to ruin this for you, they don’t get to take anything else.”

Nicky whooped and got up to hug Neil quickly, after he got the consent for one. Aaron wasn’t too happy about all this extra work for a sport he wasn’t even that bothered by, but he supposed he owed Neil this. After all, he was the one, no matter how stupidly he went about it, that finally managed their rag tag group work as a team and to become friends. He brought them together, and so Aaron would do this

So that they could stay together.

~~~~~

They did get better over the weeks, and they won their next game, letting them progress further into this season.

The session with Betsy continued, though progress on that front was slow going to begin with. Neil’s confession had broken the ice, and each of them would discuss assignments they were struggling with or the odd everyday problems life gave you. Betsy never pushed them, allowing them to get used to talking first before she tried diving for issues hidden deeper down.

After a few weeks, Allison discussed her parents when she had gotten a phone call from her mother out of the blue. Apparently, they had started to notice how the foxes were on the up and up, and how much more media attention they were getting. Allison’s mother wanted to use her daughter for her own gain, to get their businesses promoted through the foxes and for Allison to start building their incomes through Exy. Aaron didn’t understand a lot of it, other than that his teammate’s parents were some of the most self centred assholes on the planet. After all this time, they hadn’t gotten in contact with Allison to see how she was or to ask about working on their own family issues, but just to see how they could make life better for them. The blonde had said in the one session that she finally told them where they could stick it, and if they wanted to cut her off from the money they could. If they didn’t want to love her as parents should, then she wanted nothing to do with them.

When Allison ended her rant with the words ‘fuck them’, the foxes repeated them- even Andrew, to everyone’s surprise -loud and clear. Betsy tried to be reprimanding, but Aaron could see she was proud and trying valiantly to not smile with them.

~~~~~

Some months or so after that, Aaron was attending one of his sessions where it was just him and Andrew. It was coming up to a year now since they’d first started these double sessions with Betsy, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit he liked coming to them. Yes, sometimes it was bad and they’d end then arguing heatedly, or sometimes, it would leave them exhausted but content that they were managing to get on to the same page with each other. And other times, well, those times managed to bring their walls crashing down.

Today was one of those times.

“Aaron, you don't look as if you’re well. Is everything alright? If you’re unable to sit through this one, you may go back and rest if you like.” He knew he must look like shit, after the night he’d had with his mind torturing him, but he felt as if this is why he’d been so plagued by nightmares the last few nights. Like Andrew had to know about them.

“Nightmares.” His throat felt raw and scratchy, but he supposed that was normal when you wake yourself up by screaming yourself hoarse.

“Are you able to tell us what they were or about?” He nodded, turning on the couch so he was angled to the left, making it easier for him to look directly at Andrew. His brother seemed unfazed as he usually did, but Aaron thought there was something different about him today, though he didn’t quite know exactly what was different. Maybe he felt like today was going to be better for them, too.

“I thought I was already awake, because I was walking around the house in Columbia. It was too quiet, and the house was dark, and it was almost as if I could feel the shadows closing in around my shoulders.” He breathing became ragged and clenched a fist where his hand rested on his thigh. “I thought I heard glass smash and the sound of a thud, like something had hit the hardwood floor. It was muffled, coming from upstairs so I followed the sounds.” He closed his eyes and swallowed hard; it was like he was back in the nightmare and he couldn’t get out.

“Aaron? Aaron, you can stop if you want to.” He shook his head, feeling part of his hair fall onto his forehead.

“The noise was louder up there, coming from your room.” He opened his eyes again, catching his brother’s gaze, hazel eyes that matched his own. And they knew, they knew where Aaron’s nightmare was leading them, yet he didn’t flinch away. “I opened the door and it was back to that day, and Drake…” Andrew did not outwardly show any reaction to the name of his abuser, though Aaron saw his fingers stray to the edge of his armband. As if it soothed him to know he had a way to keep himself safe. “When I tried to get in there, it was like there was an invisible barrier in front of me. No matter how hard I kept hitting it, it never went away. I kept screaming at you, to look at me, so you’d know I was right there but there was nothing.” His cheeks felt wet and brought a hand up to find that those were tears running down his cheeks.

Andrew’s eyes had widened, and the hand that was holding his armband started to drift towards Aaron, but stopped just shy of making contact. He took a few deep breaths before he felt like he could go on. “I closed my eyes after a while but I didn’t stop trying to get to you. Then all of a sudden I could hear laughing, and when I opened my eyes, I was back in that shitty apartment, before you came and Tilda had locked me in the closet. She had her Junkie friends over doing all sorts of shit, music on as high as possible.” He felt like he could breathe, as though someone kept on piling invisible weights on his chest, one after the other. “I had one toy, a couple of granola bars and a bottle of Gatorade, of all things. No matter how loud I shouted for her, she never came to let me out. I woke up screaming after that, scared Katelyn half to death.” He’d kept his gaze on the floor when talking about his mother, knowing she was a touchy subject between them.

There was a quick tap to his knee and, a bit reluctantly, he lifted his head to look at Andrew again. His brother was breathing a little heavier, and Aaron could see the way his chest moved. There was more emotion on his face than he’d ever seen. When he was on the meds it was different, it was just a constant sort of forced excitement. This was real and this was Andrew. His twin. “I’m going to hug you, yes or no?” Aaron almost choked on air at the words. Words he’d never expected to leave Andrew’s mouth. He saw Betsy falter just a little out of the corner of his eye, her own stalling from where she was writing things down.

“Yes.” Then slowly, carefully, Andrew shifted forward so he could pull Aaron into him. His arms went around Aaron’s back, and he hesitated just a little before doing the same. Their cheeks rested against each other and when Andrew spoke next, Aaron could feel the words against his ear.

“We’re okay, you hear me? Both of us. We’re a little bit broken, but we’re doing okay.” Aaron nodded, taking a stuttered breath. And if the two of them, the same yet not the same, held onto each other for just a little longer then that was just fine.

They were just okay.

---------

Again, I’m sorry about the lateness! Hope you liked it:)) I’m also sorry it’s not as long as it was, but trying to remember everything to rewrite was so difficult.

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closer-stars · 3 years

Text

Gut Feeling (7)

Member: San Genre: Fluff/Hopeful, bit of angst Word Count: 7.8k Content: bit of food mention, tables turning, nothing too heavy Notes: Anyways. Nearing the end my dudes. I kept thinking of how to end this part but i think i like how this one went. Not really sure of how to talk about this part but yeh it’s nothing heavy. Links to be updated after 24 hours. Also anyone ready for Fireworks? :D Tag list: @barsformars @hwaberrykiwi @miniyeo @shinyddeonghwa @frankenstein852 @yeotlny @seoultraveller

Part 6

You were grateful that Manager Hwang was back by the time the photo shoots were coming. It gives you the much needed air and space away from the boys. Don’t get it wrong, you love the boys dearly, but with everything that has happened, it was better to stay away for now. You already had sent in a letter to your higher ops requesting for a shift in your position: from being just a manager to the eight boys, you ask to work on externals. Your resume proved you to be able to do so they gave you the green light. The approval also means another schedule shift for you, less time with the boys, more time with the KQ staff and with people who are sending love calls to the company in regards to the boys.

--------

“Hyung, you’re back!” Wooyoung squeaks, thus causing the other seven to look at the direction he’s looking at. They’re too exhausted to properly pester him on his return that they end up toppling over themselves on the floor, elated to have him back.

Things were slowly going back to normal-- or at least, as normal as it can be. The same cycle starts, practice, eat, workout, guestings, sleep, repeat. Everyone’s relieved to have some sort of normalcy again, the schedule’s not as hectic as it was during their promotions.

San feels the same, he’s just as happy to have a sense of normalcy back but a part of him nags.

What about you? He’s noticed that he’s been seeing less of you now. Only when the managers need an extra pair of hands whenever they’re out for a schedule and when that happens, it’s usually when everyone’s too exhausted to pester you, even him. He remembers that you were going to be their manager until Hwang comes back.

He doesn’t want you to slip through his fingers like this.

------

The past few weeks have been you in your work table or out and about with the boys. Even if you were with the boys, you were often on your phone, fixing emails and deals with other brands and press to get their name out there. You despised some of the interview questions some of the press would send you: too generic, too leading, nothing about how they work as a team or who they really are but that’s work. Sometimes you just gotta bite the bullet.

On this particular day, you’re stuck in the office alone, working overtime as you fix an agreement with a brand. They were a horror story in your eyes, why were they so demanding? Understandable if it were in regards to the talent fee, the boys were a rising monster in the industry and with the noise their name makes, it was a must that their talent fee was equal to the work quality they gave, if not more. You’re tired, tufts of your hair sticking out as you rewrite an email, sending the draft to your co-workers as you try to get the other party to finally agree. If only you had a bigger influence in the industry this would’ve been easier.

The previous brands ATEEZ worked with were lovely to work with, understanding how the industry works and its demands on those behind the scenes, even going beyond the agreement by lending some of their clothing lines for their performances. But this one in particular, as much as you wanted to drop the discussion, this would be an amazing opportunity for the boys. So you grit your teeth and work again, bending your back to this god forsaken brand without sacrificing the name of the company or the boys.

Your phone rings, bringing you out of your exhausted stupor. You rub your eyes, and press green. “Hello?” You do your best to make yourself sound awake, as if you weren’t just minutes away from pulling at your hair.

Yelling. That’s all you can understand from the other line. Another representative you assume is asking for updates but all you can understand is a middle aged man displeased to not have his way this time so he resorts to calling you names and airing his frustrations. You place him on speaker, your head buried in your hands as you let him run his mouth and his head. A small part of you hopes his head explodes from how he’s speaking but you keep the frustrations to yourself. You’re younger than him, what kind of junior would you be to talk back to a senior regardless of how illogical they were being? You carry the name of the company on you, a step out of line could pull the company back. By the time the other line quiets down, you take your pen and notepad. “Yes, I apologize for the inconveniences caused. I understand that things aren’t going the way we’ve expected, may I please have your name and company name? I will forward this to my higher op and have them take care of this issue as it is beyond my powers to do anything.” He gives his name and details gruffly, it was a miracle that you got everything down. “Is there anythi--” Click.

How wonderful.

You let out a groan as you lean against your seat. Eyes closed as you try your best to keep yourself from crying. Everything’s overwhelming. You could only imagine if you did this shift before the you and San made up, you would’ve bursted into tears in the middle of the call. You didn’t want to complain, if you were tired, everyone was as well. The boys are just as tired, stretched thin by all the packages and deals they need to do in order to make up for the cancelled tours while trying to keep themselves cemented in a fast paced industry. You’re juggling two types of demands. Your thoughts were tangled, what one word could lead to thought A turns into thought B. The white noise was deafening for you but you let it be, as you feel the tell tale signs of a breakdown looming over you.

--------

San on the other hand had just finished his personal training. His towel hangs over his shoulders as he leaves the studio. At this hour, he’s usually the only one left, save for the trainees who still constantly work a floor below him. So why are the lights in the office still on? As he approaches the room, he hears someone yelling. Incoherent but it doesn’t take him much to know that the words being released weren’t nice. He peaks through the clear glass and he sees you.

He sees how heavy your shoulders look as you listen to the voice. You don’t see him but he sees how your eyes look, lifeless and unreadable. He stays there for a moment and he doesn’t know why but he doesn’t leave. The male can’t seem to move from where he is after seeing how worn you look so he waits for you by the couch down the hall. He doesn’t mind waiting.

He just wants to make sure you’re okay.

--------

Thirty minutes pass until you’ve calmed down. 1:30AM. “Shit.” You mumble as you pack all your things up to head home. As you do so, you give your co-workers the notice that you’ll come in a little late as you need rest. You have a lot of reflecting to do. You’ve hit a wall and you need some sort of direction.

You look back at the office, making sure everything is accounted for and well kept before switching the lights off. Even your footsteps sound heavy against the floor as you bring yourself to the elevator. Legs? Who else was here at this hour? Your grip on your phone tightens as you walk slowly. There’s no other way out of this place, the fire exit was beyond the elevator and that meant you had to get past through the stranger.

Slowly, you see who the stranger is. Your muscles freeze at the familiar features. They’re features that are making your heart run for weird and rational reasons. “What are you doing here at this hour?” You ask, voice too hoarse to sound pointed.

He suddenly looks up, shaken by your voice. Why were you doing this to yourself? “I was waiting for you.” He returns softly, standing up as you walk closer to him.

Your feet keep you from approaching him, opting to stay near the elevator for distance. Being near him at your weakest makes your head spin. It’s too much. “You shouldn’t have waited for me, San.” You state as you jab your knuckle on the down button.

The way his name rolls off your tongue should’ve made him happy but right now, it’s bitter to his ears and to your tongue. “I wanted to so I did.” He’s always been the stubborn one. Seonghwa is right: Wooyoung’s the one who’s been listening well nowadays.

Ding!

The elevator doors slide open and you step in, with San following you quickly. He doesn’t give you the chance to close the doors on him. The ride was stuffy. It was quiet but it was the type of silence that makes you want to bolt out of the room once the chance arrives.

The door opens and your feet already move to get out of there.

“Do you.. Want to talk about it?” San asks carefully, the change in his tone makes you stop on the hallway that leads you to the cool air.

“Tell you what?” He knows you’re not playing dumb, the entire ride down, you’ve been out of it.

“What happened in the office.” He states, standing in front of you.

A sigh slips through your lips and you finally look at him in the eye. “San, you need to get home and sleep. I can deal with my problems.” Not entirely a lie, but what use was it for you to blow off steam at him?

“You can but isn’t it better to share them or at least, voice them out?” He returns quietly, his hands in his pockets. He tries his best to be patient, he really does. It’s a lot coming from him, someone who keeps his issues to himself but after everything he’s learned his lesson. He’s going to make it a point to lead by example.

You stay quiet, eyes feeling hot, your sight is blurring and for some fucked up reason, the way the lights from the convenience store that shines on him makes him look good. It’s unfair that your thoughts drift there in your state. You hate yourself for thinking like that.

His fingertips reach up to the corners of your eyes, wiping the tears that have fallen down your cheeks. San never liked seeing his loved ones in pain, especially if he can’t take the pain from them.“I’ll buy us ice cream and we can eat it in the car.” He offers. Judging by how you look, you don’t like the idea of being in the open in this state. “Wait for me in the car, okay? I can get you coffee milk too.” He adds softly. While he looks at you with the utmost care, his tone gentle, his words don’t leave room for you to argue. You don’t want anyone to see you like this, so you nod, putting your hoodie over your head. You use the tips of your sleeves to wipe away the tears before heading into the car.

He follows behind you then splits towards the convenience store. He takes the chance to get the two of you some snacks, water and ice cream. His schedule tomorrow starts in the afternoon so he wasn’t too concerned about missing out on sleep.

As he goes through the assorted products on display, he wonders which ones you would like best. He still hasn’t figured out your favorite flavors and comfort food and he feels bad for it. He does know you love your coffee but at a time like this, your go-to isn’t recommended. He does make a point to grab a bottle of water as you’ve had a rough day and crying is usually a pain for the eyes. Eventually, he picks a few flavors that he and the members like that he thinks you might like as well. He couldn’t leave you alone in the car for too long. Eventually, he’ll know what you like and don’t like anyways.

You sit on the driver’s seat, warming the car up as you wait for San to return. Deep breaths, you tell yourself. Crying too much would give you a headache, and it’s not a good idea to let everything out now. San didn’t even have his license yet.

Two knocks against the window startles you out of your thoughts, but it’s a surprise needed to stop yourself from crying. You lean over to open the door for him and he climbs in with a small bag of snacks, drinks and on both hands were the ice cream.

“I got you the one in a cup since, you’re driving…” he trails off, the plastic bag rustling on his seat before hopping in.”...and a bunch of other snacks...” San explains as he settles down and buckles up for the ride. San connects his phone to the car’s sound system. You’re grateful for some sort of distraction from your thoughts as you make sure the two of you come home in one piece.

The entire ride home, San sings to all the songs with his entire heart. You know how loud he can get but in an enclosed space like a car, it’s amplified. Some parts, he goes off key, some parts he mimics the singer perfectly, both times have gotten you laughing at how unexpected it becomes. The voice imitations he does that usually puts a pained look on your face, now brings out a smile. Yet, even in his goofy antics, his range as a singer shines, it’s really only a matter of time before he shows all of it to the world.

San on the other hand, did all of those on purpose. While you can’t talk about what’s been bothering you, the least he can do is make you laugh and ease your heart with his antics. At red lights, you eat your ice cream, which he would often hold for you when the light turns green.

The two of you arrive at the complex safe and sound; your ice cream already melted in its cup, not that you minded. “San?”

He stops his actions and looks at you, raising his eyebrows in confusion. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.” You say simply with a tired smile. “Today has just been too much that I caved earlier.” You were about to talk about it when you saw the time.

He sees how you’re about to close yourself up for his sake that he immediately butts in. “I got time.” He jabs the button that leads to the rooftop. At this hour, he assumes no one would be there. It’s far too late for a regular person to be out at this hour but should there be someone besides them, he wouldn’t judge.

The small screen flashes the numbers going up as you head to the rooftop. For a moment, you frown at how he doesn’t relent to your wishes of him getting his rest but it only takes a few moments for it to melt away. It’s been too long since you properly shared your worries with someone. Hell, Jiwoo has been too busy dealing with rumors surrounding her own artists.

That’s how the next few hours go. You share your worries and stresses in work with him. Admittedly, it was still rather filtered, since he’s been in the company longer than you have. He catches on to this.

“I know you tell me to treat you like a friend, so treat me like one too. It’ll be easier on you.” He reasons gently, finding himself munching on a jelly pack the two of you were sharing. It’s his sharp intuition that also intimidates the living lights out of you sometimes.

Maybe it’s the fact you’ve shouldered so much since your first day that you bare a lot of things to him. Your worries, apologies, and wishes. You don’t have it in you anymore to be private about yourself, you tell him stories that answer his questions about you. In exchange, he tells you his stories, though some of which you knew from the mouths of the other boys and staff but to hear it come from his mouth was an experience in itself. A lot of layers were revealed to each other and it made your heart squeeze a bit; remembering your conversation with the two oldest members. Would you have given him a chance if things had gone a little differently?

The thought is cut short when the two of you notice that the sky has come to light purple shade, the sun peeking out of the horizon. With that, you stand up and San looks up at you in confusion.

“You need to get some rest, today’s your rest day from all activities.”

“What about you?” He questions as he stands up as well.

“I’m still going to work, d’uh.” Your answer causes him to look at you in alarm. You still haven’t slept, what do you mean you’re working still? “Just later in the day, I told my team I’m coming in late after working overtime.” Your quick explanation softens his features but doesn’t change the fact he’s concerned for your well being. He nods and has you walk back in first, bringing you to your floor first before him.

“At least get five hours of sleep.” He chides. The shift in your relationship was a surprising one but you’re too tired to really give it any proper attention. At his concern, you nod, promising your best to do so.

“You too. I’ll…” A yawn cuts through your words. “... see you whenever. Good night.” You greet, waving to him as you head inside your apartment.

San doesn’t leave until he hears your door lock. He’s reassured in knowing that the two of you are in better terms even if he won’t see you as often anymore.

--------

Several days have passed since that exchange and you seem a lot lighter. San has mellowed down too and while the boys can tell something has happened they can’t really place what it is.

The boys see you from time to time, but they notice the slight hints of exhaustion on you. You enjoy what you’re doing, yes, but having to deal with other brands that weren’t cooperative were the bane of your existence. You didn’t like this brand partnership but you grit your teeth. You can only imagine how hard it was for your boss who had to deal with immature leaders from more than just the brand deal.

Now, it was you who was bringing them to the photoshoot venue. You were the point person for this deal and schedule, and considering that it was going to be a whole day one. At least, it’s Hwang was going to be the one in charge of the ride home.

Upon arriving, you greet the stylists and photographers, letting the boys introduce themselves before everyone’s ushered to the dressing rooms. You keep watch of their personal belongings as the stylists did their work on them. You can tell San’s keeping an eye out for Mihyun, and you eventually do the same. The team did tell you they’ll respond accordingly but never gave you an update as to what the response would be. Half an hour passes, everyone’s already made up for the first concept and Mihyun’s nowhere to be seen.

Now, what you didn’t expect was how well the stylists would work on the boys. They’re of age already to look mature, their performances and how they carry themselves tell you that. Yet those have a youthful vibe, the current look they have gives them a different air around them. Maybe it’s the clothes and make up but they carried themselves a little differently. The colors were the usual dark colors they’re most comfortable in, with a pop of bright colors here and there. The hair styled up, with makeup that made the boys appear more like men. Truthfully, you knew how this photoshoot would go, but seeing it in its entirety play out in front of you took a lot of wind from you.

San looks at himself at the full body mirror away from the setup. “Manager-nim!” He never really got rid of that habit despite you not really being their manager anymore. “What do you think?” He asks as he fiddles with the stray strands of hair that fall over his forehead, barely grazing his eyebrows. The male shifts and looks at you, giving you a better view of what he wore: a purple polo with a few open buttons, a dark blazer with slacks. It looks normal but this is San, he somehow knows how to make it stand out.

It takes a few blinks and a quick gathering of your slightly scattered brain to make an acceptable answer. “Purple fits you.” You say simply and it’s enough to make San beam at you, the youthful boy still peaking through the intimidating look.

“What do you think of Jongho’s shoot so far?” He asks, and you tear your gaze away from him to look at the youngest pose through the flashes.

They’ve grown so much. This photoshoot is a huge whiplash to you who often saw them as just young boys (even if they were roughly around your age) still living their life. A small part of you feels proud to see them mature. “Time really flies doesn’t it?” You muse. You remembered how this magazine was one of the first magazines ATEEZ worked with in their early days.

San catches the references and flushes in embarrassment. “Oh my god, you saw the photos?”

At his shock, you laugh softly and nod. “Yeah, while you guys got ready, some of the staff and I had a chat and they told me about your first photoshoot with them.” His ears are burning a bright red at your words but a smile graces his features. “Nothing to worry about, they have nothing but praise for you and your group.” The photographer calls for San’s name, thus cutting your conversation short. “Go, Mr. Kyungil is already calling for you.”

“At least, monitor my work!” San pleads.

“Wooyoung?” You offer, but he pouts, adamant in having you instead.

“God, fine. Don’t want Mr. Kyungil to wait too long.” You relent, pushing him gently forward.

At least, Wooyoung is the next one in line as he comes out of the dressing room in a sleeveless black top and leather pants. You raise an eyebrow at him, and he flashes a cheeky grin and wink at you. “I look good, don’t I?” You shake your head, tickling him immediately to console him from your joke.

“Your fans aren’t ready for this photoshoot of yours.” You muse as the two of you look at San and at the computer screen as each photo is immediately uploaded. Where you lack in volume, Wooyoung makes up for it. The two of you were clearly impressed with how the photos were coming out, though with some of them being San joking around with the photographer. Being born with good looks really gets a long way, you think. You take a quick glance at your phone to see how many concepts and clothes they’ll go through.

You’re in for a long day.

He finds himself sulking inside when you talk and mess with Wooyoung for a moment but he doesn’t have enough energy to outwardly show it when a camera is a few feet away from him and he’s got spotlights bearing down on him. As he hears you and Wooyoung react to each of his photos, he feels his confidence grow. Admittedly, he’s alright with you and him being just friends, he also can’t deny his feelings for you still. He sees how impressed you are and how flustered you get when he looks at you with this kind of makeup. With how you react, he wonders if what you really want is someone mature and not someone as inexperienced as him. He catches himself in this thought process and shakes it away with a roll of his shoulders, shifting his heavy gaze to the camera. Focus, you’re at work. He reminds himself.

The way you clap, how your eyes widen, and nod approvingly at his shots makes him proud. It doesn’t matter to him if that’s how you react to the other members too. If you were genuinely impressed with his work then that was enough for him.

It’s the same cycle for the rest of the day: solo shots, unit shots, group shots, change then repeat. Halfway through the third cycle, you get up from your seat. The exhaustion starts to set in, from the emails you do as you watch over them. From time to time, the stylists would chat with you, keeping you company.

[ Manager Hwang to You ] What do you and the boys want? I’m on my way and passing by a coffee shop.

You look up from your phone and ask the boys what they want. They had enough time for a meal along with taking a breather from the constant changing, lights and everything in between. You can only imagine how difficult it is to be in front of hot spotlights. It eventually becomes four orders of tea latte, two orders of americano, three orders of mixed fruit juice. Once you get everyone’s, you relay the message to Hwang. Instead of going back to your spot, you take the chance to walk around for a bit, stretching your sore muscles. You’ll probably take a nap once Hwang arrives.

When you settle back in your seat, you stretch once more before a yawn slips through you. “Please tell me you have your own jacket this time.”

The voice startles you and it’s San again. This time in a grey sleeveless turtleneck. His makeup was different this time, less red and more natural tones. He drops himself next to you, as you massage your own shoulders. “I do, don’t worry about me too much.” You chide gently, pulling out your denim jacket.

He notes the style and giggles. “I didn’t know you and Hongjoong have the same taste.” He teases. As you shrug on the jacket, you look at the sleeves: acid washed with bright colors over the bleached spots. It did kind of look like something Hongjoong would wear.

“He has good taste then.”

“I didn’t say anything about him having bad taste.”

The two of you share a look, waiting for the other to cave but neither of you do and instead, the two of you break into a fit of laughter. A much needed wake me up as you wait for Manager Hwang.

You hear the photographer call his name again and you nudge him to move. “Your turn, purple boy.” You tease. With a wave of your hand, you shoo him off. By the time none of them are in the room, some of the makeup artists even sneak a few minutes of shut eye.

[ You to Manager Hwang ] I feel bad for the stylists, they’re so tired ;;

[ Manager Hwang to You ] Leave it to me.

[ You to Manager Hwang ] ???

He doesn’t reply to your confusion. You lean against the wall, resting your eyes from all the harsh lights you’ve been exposed to.

When you open your eyes again, you’re leaning against someone’s shoulder. You push yourself up to sit up properly and you’re greeted by Manager Hwang on his phone. There were bags of coffee and some snacks rest on the table and your computer’s plugged to an outlet. That’s when you realize that you inevitably fell asleep. “What time did you get here?” You ask as you try to wake up.

“Half an hour ago, your head was just a few inches above the seat.” He teases. It takes a lot out of you not punch his arm: even the managers take the chance to tease you. You peek out of the dressing room and see that the boys are in their fourth set of clothes. Some of them were being interviewed based on the small cameras around them as they wait for their turn. Judging from the food in the other room, it’s probably around dinner time already. You make the guess that you’ll finish past midnight. At least, Hwang got everyone something to eat and drink to last through the night.

--------

Everyone goes through the photos of the last cycle. Some of the boys hollering and cheering at certain photos. San takes a few photos of some shots of him and his members: if it’s for blackmail or for their birthday, no one knows. The staff reacts just as warmly as his members to some of the shots the photographer took. Once everyone is satisfied, a chorus of praises and thanks are thrown back and forth from ATEEZ and the staff as each party helps the other pack up after the long day.

As the members rustle about the photos before changing out of their clothes, he can’t help but look back at how far he has gone. Gone were the days of the scrawny kid with the high pitched voice who was chasing after a dream. Now, a toned man who is living his dream gazes back at him at the mirror. How fast does time fly? He glances at you through the mirror, you’ve been stretching a lot to push off the exhaustion. You seem to be getting used to the hectic, long days outside the office at least. Everyone’s saying their parting words for the day. After getting out of the dressy clothes and into something more casual, he’s excited to go home.

He and the rest wait for you by the door as you discuss when you’ll be able to receive a copy of all the photos plus the final choices for their magazine. Without Seonghwa paying attention, he sneaks a bite out of his cream puff, before hiding it quickly with a sip from his tea. It’s 2AM, he’s not reckless enough to take coffee at this time. Wooyoung becomes a spectator of the event and tries to hide his snickers, only to fail and for Seonghwa to catch on. Hongjoong doesn’t even bother to control the bickering, already leaning against Yunho’s back as he waits.

“Sorry to keep you guys waiting.” You say as you rush over to them. Your coffee was already finished by the time their photoshoot was finished. Once you catch up to them, the group walks towards the car. You hand the keys to Manager Hwang after a moment of rummaging through your bag.

“Manager-nim, how are you going to sleep? You just had coffee..” Mingi wonders, San could hear the pout in his voice. It was a good question.

You cast a glance at them and while you flash them a smile that’s meant to reassure, San catches the lines of exhaustion. He wonders what else do you have to do after this. “Don’t worry too much, I can flush it out with water.”

At your words, the male says nothing but takes another sip from his tea. He’ll probably just walk you back to your apartment again, just to make sure you’re not faking it again.

The ride back home was a lot quiet. You immediately fell asleep in the passenger’s seat and so did the other members. He started feeling sleepy in the middle of the trip. The only ones awake were Manager Hwang (d’uh) and Yunho. The two fill each other in on what has happened over the past few months. San’s head was lolling about in his spot, up until he lands on Jongho’s shoulder.

He wakes up to the harsh lighting shining against his eyes. He looks around and realizes that he’s in the parking lot, some of the members trying to wake themselves up as they wait for the elevator. You were there with them too, blinking constantly to gain your bearings. Manager Hwang stays by the door. “Sounds like you had some good sleep.”

That could only mean one thing.

“Did I snore..” San mumbles as he hops out of the car while straightening his clothes. He shuts the door behind him and Hwang nods.

“Yeah, it’s nothing new. You had a long day.” He hands the male the car keys. “Manager Yoon, tomorrow.” He says.

There’s still that small part of him that wants to put his best foot forward for you but he knows better than to do that. He can’t help it, he just wants to show that he could be the man for you. Another part of him thinks that it’s normal, the managers and the rest of the group has seen and heard him snoring in the past, it’s about time you saw him without the spotlight and makeup. He follows the rest of the group to the elevator. He spots you leaning against the wall, clearly exhausted from today’s schedule. “Are you okay?” San asks softly. Even though you nod, he doesn’t really buy it. He drifts carefully to Hongjoong. “I’ll bring them to their apartment first.”

Hongjoong glances over at you and catches you practically sleeping on your feet. It would be wise to make sure you get to your apartment safely and not pass out on the hallways. The leader nods at San’s idea. At his approval, San hands the car keys to him. “Manager Hwang said it’s Manager Yoon tomorrow.” Hongjoong hums again, a small grin on his lips. That’s the only thing that tells him there’s going to be a game night tomorrow.

The elevator doors slide open and everyone inches in. From the size of the lift, you’re stuck next to San. He could already feel exhausted you are: since Day one, you never really liked leaning against someone to catch on shut eye. The only times he remembers you leaning on someone as you slept was during the first K-Con and earlier today when Manager Hwang had arrived. Right now, you lean your forehead against his back. He says nothing about it though, you need to rest soon.

When the elevator rings of arriving on the designated floor, you lift your head up, thinking that it would be the boys first. Instead, the boys pile out and let you and San leave first. “Manager-nim, you need the rest more than we do right now. You’ve had a long day.” Seonghwa explains in the best way possible, hoping the words stick in your sleep fuddled head. You feel someone’s arm wrap around you to keep you up on your feet. You mumble something and wish them a good night as you’re guided to your apartment.

It takes seconds for you to realize that it’s San who’s walking with you. Were things going back to normal? It’s a question that rings faintly in your head as it’s overpowered by San’s hushed worries and praises. “You’ve worked so hard lately..” He mutters while walking carefully. He doesn’t really think you’d respond as you shuffle your feet forward. “I worry about you a lot. It’s rare to hear you talk about your worries…” San has more thoughts he wants to express but the walk from the elevator to your apartment is a short one. He stops infront of your door and lets you punch in the lock code before letting go of you. Out of habit, he brushes his tiers against your temple. He’s always been openly affectionate, especially when he knows someone has had a long day. “Get some rest.” He mumbles softly before stepping back.

“Good night, San.” You breathe out, tipping your head in thanks to his words and returning them to him. He catches your timid smile before the door closes on him. It takes a moment for him to gather his thoughts before heading to the elevator, waiting for the lift to bring him to his floor.

He thinks back to the peck, and it only dawns on him then what he had done.

[ San to You ] Hey okay, so I just realized I pecked you before you headed inside your apartment. I promise it doesn’t have any weight on it, it’s just something I tend to do with my members as well after they had a long day.

He doesn’t hesitate and presses send.

[ You to San ] It’s okay. It’s been a long day working. Good night!

While your words bring a bit of reassurance, he can’t help but wonder: how much more will he fuck up what you guys have left?

--------

“They didn’t tell you?” Manager Yoon asks, incredulous. He stares at the boys who had now stopped what they were doing to stare back at him with wide eyes.

“No?? They never told us anything.” Wooyoung returns with a sulk. His eyebrows furrowed together, concern lining his features. The same could be said for the rest of the boys. San on the other hand freezes in his spot.

Why did you leave?

Why was he even asking that question, he already had a few guesses.

This makes Yoon think for a moment, observing their reactions, then sighs. “Yeah, they left a few weeks back.” He continues, saying that you had to leave due to health reasons-- that was something San had a feeling about. He couldn’t help but think it was his fault but he keeps the guilt to himself. “Let’s continue this during lunch. We can’t get behind schedule.” Yoon reminds them carefully as he senses the drop in mood. They had a meeting with a production company after lunch, but right now they have rehearsals for an upcoming comeback.

No one else knew of San’s feelings for you save for his members. The eldest ends up looking over at the male from time to time after each run of the choreography. The younger’s frustration isn’t seen in his movement. It’s in his features. What During downtime, he’s a lot quieter. A storm goes on in his head and Seonghwa carefully makes his way to his side. “Let’s talk about this later okay?” The ash haired male says softly and San who’s still in shock, merely nods.

San stays in the studio a little later than usual today. He reasons that he wants to practice his vocals. Seonghwa sighs, knowing the truth, but he lets him be. He knows San needs his space before he lets himself open up. So here he is now, in the booth, looking for a song to sing.

A certain song catches his attention, rather fitting for his position. He listens closely, eyes closed as he focuses on the lyrics. It was the song to let out frustrations he can’t properly express so he gets to it. He reads the lyrics a few times. It’s not that he needed to do this perfectly, he just needed some sort of release. What was supposed to be only an hour turns into three. What was supposed to become a cathartic release became him in his zone. He has ended up writing the lyrics down with small notes on where he should lengthen his breathing, when to project, what to emphasize and so on. Once he was satisfied, he gives it a go.

The instrumentals ease in. He sings softly at first, breathy and unlike his usual style but it was a challenge he needs; something that didn’t have him physically exerting himself the way dance does. His voice raises and strains slightly at the change of notes and range. As he sings, memories he’s shared with you flash through his mind.

He spots you coming out of the small room, trying to wake up after a nap. His hoodie hanging over your arms. “Good sleep?” He asks, putting his phone away. You were about to hand his hoodie back to him when he shakes his head. “You need it more than I do today, use it as much as you need.”

--------

“Hey, monitor me please?” He pleads, doing his utmost best to get you to give in to him. He wants you to see him do his best because you bring the best out of him. You relent and he hops about in joy. You were the only one monitoring his scenes, Wooyoung wasn’t even with you. After four runs, he asks you how he does.

“As expected from ATEEZ’s charm and Namhae’s pride, you don’t disappoint, San.”

--------

The fleeting kiss.

--------

As the song reaches its climax, he remembers the last conversation he had with you. He remembers how you looked so worn in front of him and how he couldn’t bring himself to give you a hug. He feels frustrated at how he couldn’t protect you from life’s troubles. He realizes his faults in this and for once he doesn’t feel angry. He just feels disappointed in himself for being selfish. Maybe if he didn’t think with his emotions this wouldn’t have happened.

He doesn’t want anyone to see him like this, crying over someone who deserved better. He eventually sings from his heart; depths he didn’t think he could reach were reached from the emotions he’s experiencing. He doesn’t realize that his cheeks are wet but that doesn’t deter him from his singing.

--------

He was looking outside the studio, expecting you to be there, instead he’s greeted by Manager Hwang. He covers the flash of disappointment with how exhausted he feels. When he asks if he’s done with practice, he nods. He wants nothing but rest at this point.

--------

He catches himself pressing the button to your floor, even when it’s only him. Once he realizes his mistake, he shakes himself awake, pressing the button to his floor.

--------

Another music video shoot and this was out of his comfort zone. ‘I’m scared.’ San thinks, and he realizes that you’re not there to reassure him. You’re working in another department this time, managing them wasn’t your job now. He’s back to being on his own.

--------

When the song ends, his breathing is heavy. He never liked crying, even though he tells others that it’s okay to cry. He lets himself calm down, wiping his tears away. He couldn’t leave the booth looking like this. San takes all the time he needs to regain his composure. When he stepped out of the booth, he didn’t think Seonghwa would be a few feet away, busying himself with his phone.

“Hey kiddo, I think we should talk.” He raises a plastic bag of some snacks and drinks. He wasn’t sure if he could see their dinner in the bag as well. “Let’s head up to the terrace yeah?”

It’s going to be a long night.

--------

Seonghwa listens as San recounts everything since you became their manager, since he started looking at you differently, since he confessed, since you started catching feelings, since things got worse up until you left. This has been the most unfiltered he has been in regards to his feelings about you.

“They care about you.” Seonghwa says softly. “Now don’t quote me on this but I really think, if things went differently, the two of you would’ve worked.” San looks at him as he eats his dinner.

He couldn’t go against that.

“San, they like you enough to think about your situation first. They know how fans can be if they find out their idol is dating. They didn’t want you to go through that. They could’ve given the dating a shot but they did what they did. Maybe it wasn’t the best execution of the plan but it’s within good reason.” The elder explains.

San looks away from him and shifts his gaze to his meal. He wants to apologize to you but he doesn’t know if that’s possible. “Do you think we’ll see them again?” He asks, voice barely above a whisper.

The older looks over at the younger, and it’s times like this that reminds him that San’s still growing. “It’s really just a matter of time. If they’re really for you, you’ll meet each other again.” Seonghwa ruffles the younger’s hair much to his dismay.

San whines and tries to move away from his reach. “You really need to stop watching dramas with Jongho..”

The complaint makes Seonghwa laugh, shooting the younger a sympathetic smile. “Hey, those dramas do have some notable thoughts.” He defends, gently bumping his forehead against San’s. “You’ll survive this, San. Maybe not now, but eventually.”

San’s thankful for the faith but in his heart, he has his doubts.

--------

It’s been roughly over a year since you left the company and things have been back to normal now. San’s back to his usual antics-- well as normal as he can be. If he could compare the pain, it was like a scar. You’ve healed from the pain but sometimes you see the imprint of what was. There were times where things that remind him of you didn’t affect him and there were times were things that vaguely reminded him of you subdued him. Healing was never linear and for Choi San, a man who gave his everything into anything, it will take a long time before he has faith in himself to do it all over again for someone else.

The entire group’s on the way to the shooting location for their next comeback. A month and a half from now, they’re dropping the next album. The past few surpassed their expectations but even then, they know where they needed to get better. They’ve matured: both as their respective selves and as musicians. There were times where some members were out going on secret dates with their respective interests but San hasn’t taken any chance at romance since you.

They arrive at the production house’s venue, already the sets are prepared with some of the staff lugging around some of the cameras and lights, their stylists busy themselves with last minute alterations to their outfits. Everything was pretty much set for the next few days.

Manager Bae looks around for their point person. They knew where they should be but for the sake of propriety and respect, they look for the point person who’ll introduce them to the director. “Hey!” He calls out and everyone directs their eyes at the direction their manager looks at.

His heart jumps in his chest and he needs to hold on to Seonghwa’s shoulder. “Hyung.”

“Yeah.”

You’re the point person.

Part 8

#ateez fanfictions #ateez fanfiction #my writing #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez angst #san fanfiction #san scenarios #yeah i'm just too sleepy to consider anything else

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kageyama-tho · 4 years

Note

Suppp can I ask for hcs for Kuroo, Tsukishima and Kageyama of how they would act around their crush? Thank you for your time ❤️

Suhh

Thank you for your support <3

Kuroo :

- You have a granted friendship with him, because he wants to get to know his crush to see if there’s a point of moving forwards. He genuinely doesn’t take his crushes seriously since he doesn’t really have time for it. Sometimes he’d flirt with his previous crushes, but only to find out they weren’t that compatible.

- Clearly, you are very special and managed to catch his attention. Kuroo was willing to put in the effort from the very beginning. You must’ve done or said something that shocked him and it piqued his interest. The thought of you makes him smile. He outs himself and his little crush to his teammates, because you’re constantly the subject of his conversations. He doesn’t regret it.

- Shows pictures of you to his friends or points you out if he sees you somewhere. He’s proudly taking in all the “Wow, so beautiful!” and “You don’t have a chance, Kuroo!” Even though they’re all poking fun of him, he’s still prideful.

- Often, when he’s talking to you, he finds himself dissociating as he’s captured by your beauty. He’s just staring at your face and smiling. He laughs and cutely apologises when you scold him for not paying attention.

- Always searches for any excuse to touch you. He’s going to lie that there’s something in your hair so he can pluck it away or poke your sides to annoy you. Kuroo is 10x more annoying because he thoroughly enjoys teasing you. He wouldn’t be annoying you if he didn’t like you. There’s always something cheeky he says that makes you roll your eyes and it just makes him laugh.

- He will never admit it but whenever you’re close to him and there’s a big chance for a kiss to finally happen - the captain is engulfed by nervousness. He tries not to turn his head towards you or moves around. He wants to kiss you or hold you really bad, but looking into your eyes intimidates him. Our boi turns a little shy.

Tsukishima :

- It’s a rare occasion that he catches feelings for anyone so he pretends you don’t exist - unless he’s pretty much stuck in a one-sided friendship with you. He denies any possible love related feelings he could have for you, therefore he never mentions it. He doesn’t really care about being in a relationship. But he eventually finds himself imagining being in a relationship with you. He quickly scraps that and shakes his head at himself. “So dumb.”

- Tsukishima is certain that he doesn’t actually care about you. But as soon as he hears your voice or the sound of your walk that he oddly memorised - his eyes snap in your direction. He almost smiles upon seeing you but he remembers who he is again. So instead he makes fun of you. He just hopes he hurts your feelings and you start hating him so you leave. He doesn’t want to deal with his feelings.

- At some point he can’t deny he enjoys your company and even though he doesn’t realise it, he grows soft on you. He starts holding the door open for you even though before he’d close it on you (still asked if you’re okay lmao). He listens to a lot of things you say and mentions it later, not noticing how much attention he pays to you.

- Tsuki replies to your texts and often texts only you for an hour straight. He texts you ‘goodnight’ in the most simplest and nonchalant way, but you’re the only one he says that to.

- The thing that irritates him the most is that when you cheer him on or compliment him, he blushes. Whole face turns red. He’s in utter disbelief and freezes momentarily when his face heats up. He turns to you for a second just to stutter “Sh-shut up!”

- Gives you compliments. “Your hair looks good that way.” He doesn’t think much of them because he’s just being honest. But Yamaguchi actually screeches when he hears that Tsukishima gave you a compliment. He never does that.

Kageyama :

- Okay he’s well in if he can even say more than one word to you. He’s uncomfortable with all those emotions hitting him all at once so he tries the good old denial. But that only makes him feel everything stronger within time. Unless he’s somehow forced into talking to you or if you make the move - nothing will happen. He’s possibly going to talk to Sugawara about it or Tanaka. One is a bad option. He’s overwhelmed with Tanaka’s advice.

- He gives you the weirdest compliments. You need to understand him a bit and thank him because if you’re like “What?” he’s going to never speak to you again lmao. He needs someone open-minded and nonjudgmental. He needs that built up of confidence, to see if he’s doing something right.

- Invites you to his games or practice and promises to walk you home afterwards. He’s not sure how to ask you to hang out with him so he feels that walking you home is an opportunity to spend time with you.

- If you’re really good academically, he asks for help regarding his own studies. You can bet he’ll try really hard to impress you. He doesn’t want you to think he’s a complete dumbass. It’s embarrassing to him. But bonus if he manages to make you laugh?

- Kageyama shares his things with you. He’s willing to give you his pen when he himself has nothing else to write with. He’s lowkey whipped, just because he doesn’t know how to act since he doesn’t have relationship experience. He will literally carry things for you, despite his teammates making fun of him.

- He gets invasive thoughts in the middle of doing anything at all where he just wants to kiss you or hold your hand. Even the thought of it makes his face heat up. God if you wish him luck at his practice or game he’s going to melt. This cutie stares at you a lot, even when you don’t see him. He tends to admire every feature of your face and he notices small details about you.

#kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #headcanons #hc

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princeneito · 3 years

Text

With No Affections-- Tetsuro. K

Genre: fluff

WC: 1.2k+

Tags: fluff, one-shot

Warnings: use of the word “fuck”

Characters: Kuroo Tetsuro, You.

It was 3:36 am exactly when you addressed the letter. The whole thing had been written in a flurry of feelings and messy penmanship. Your black ballpoint gliding across the expensive stationary paper your mother had been sure you wouldn’t use. She’d been wrong, funnily enough. Even as you signed it with an annoyed flourish, your mind flickered back to catlike eyes sitting next you in chem lab.

You read it over a final time, wondering for the hundredth time if you were even going to send it. The answer was pretty obvious already.

Dear To Kuroo Tetsuro,

I hate you.

Okay, so the opener was a little strong. You just hoped he’d read past the rest, and not just throw the whole thing away.

I hate the way you smile and the stupid butterflies you give me. I hate your stupid, sheepish laugh like I’ve caught you off-guard and you’re just pure joy. I hate your easy way of talking. I hate how naturally your charm comes to you, and how little you have to do to get my heart racing.

I hate your stupid face, and how much I want to kiss it. I hate your cool, almost casual niceness, and how annoying yet utterly endearing it is to me. I hate how quickly and easily you return compliments without it sounding fake.

I hate your kindness, hate how you can get away with being the perfect image of a gentleman but not seem stupid or tryhard. Hate how real you are. Hate the way that I get tongue-tied around you. I hate that you can make me flustered, and how I can never think straight around you.

Urgh. Yeah, if the point wasn’t clear by now, he’d have to be denser than a brick.

I hate the way you can so easily lead an entire volleyball team of teenage boys like it’s second nature. I hate how you make it seem fun. I hate how I’ve only started going to the games since we got paired up in science class, and that it no longer makes me tired thinking about attending. I hate how I actually want to cheer you on, or bring you water and snacks.

I hate how you have the entire ASAP Science discography memorize and how it makes me think of you. I hate how good you look in science goggles, when everyone else looks stupid. I hate how you can make me laugh at dumb science jokes, how chemisty is suddenly something I look forward too with you.

You’d been paired with him at the start of the semester, and while originally not even wanting to cooperate at all, he made a good lab partner. You didn’t want to admit it, but it almost seemed like a friendship, sometimes. Or more, but you couldn’t tell.

I hate the way you sweep your hair back and how amazingly good it looks on you. I hate your eyes, and their twinkle and shine and joy. I hate your hands, and how much I want to hold them. I hate your lips, for saying all the right things and smiling at all the right times and for looking so soft and perfect. I hate your stupid, perfect height, and your stupid, perfect build.

You’re far too good for me, you’re far too perfect, and by god do I hate it.

I hate you, but that isn’t the problem.

It’s that really, I don’t hate you at all.

Sincerely

With No Affections, {l/n} {y/n}

It was 3:34 pm and a bit when you slipped a crisply sealed envelope into his locker. He’d be in the gym now, running drills or whatever it was Nekoma Volleyball Team did in practice. It wouldn’t be over until you were long gone on the way home. You sighed, staring at the place you’d slotted the letter in through. Fuck, was this going to be a mistake.

You hoped he’d asked you out. You hoped he never spoke to you again. You hoped this was all a fever dream, and you’d wake up never having fallen in love with Kuroo Fucking Tetsuro of all people.

The trek home felt longer than usual, cheesy love song blaring embarrassingly loud in your ears as your mind wandered back to the hazel eyes and lazy grin of the Volleyball Captain. The recollections pushed back further, recalling his laughter in the science room, the genuine smile on his face as you two talked cellulites and DNA in the library. He’d helped you calculate light years and significant figures over video call past eleven for homework. You’d brought a water bottle to his game once, then left in on a bench with his name scrawled on a sticky note because you didn’t want to make a show of caring for him. The two of you had studied together for hours on end before a biology test.

And yet, you never interacted past science and watching his games. You knew little about his life, he knew less about yours. For however many optics questions you tackled together, you had a million more about him. His favourite colour, or how he liked his coffee. Did he have siblings at home? What music did he listen to?

The bus doors opening cut off your thoughts as you disembarked, mind still full of dark hair and shining eyes.

It is 4:05 pm, and the envelope that falls out of your locker is highly unexpected. It’s very clearly supposed to be for you, your name penned on the front in a handwriting all to familiar to you.

It seems he decided to write back.

Dear {l/n} {y/n}

I, for one, like you very much.

That came as a surprise. You were sure he just saw you as his lab partner. Or maybe a semi-close friend.

While my list is a lot shorter than yours, and I don’t have six paragraphs and a bit detailing all of my affection for you, I can sum it up pretty well.

I’ve liked you since we started the solubility assignment four months ago. See, you had this really concentrated expression on your face, with your eyebrows all scrunched together and your tongue sticking out of your mouth. And while–

You blinked. How the hell did he find that cute?! You hadn’t even realized that was what you looked like when you were thinking. Why had no one told you before? Unfair.

And while that shouldn’t be cute in any regard, I thought it was. I got your water bottle, by the way. Yaku thought you were my girlfriend. Crazy, right?

Although, if you wanted to be my girlfriend, I wouldn’t say no. I mean, I figured you might like me. I didn’t want to jump the gun, though. Imagine if I was wrong.

It was a great thing he was right. Then again, with people and science, he usually was.

So.

Be the electron to my proton? I swear that opposites attract.

With all my Affection, Kuroo Tetsuro.

“Was the electron joke a bit too much?”

You looked up from the page to find none other than Kuroo himself leaning against the locker wall, grinning at you.

“I was going to wait for you to write back, but I figured I’d just come by and get the answer myself.” he continued.

Cute. He looked expectant, as if he’d already gauged you were going to say yes. Even if he had, there was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. Doubt, you realized. Doubt that he’d read you quite right.

“Fine. But you better be taking me somewhere nice, okay? Idiot.”

#the heir's library #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro #tetsuro kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #tetsurou kuroo #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsuro x you #haikyuu x you #kuroo x tsundere reader #kuroo one shot #haikyuu one shot #kuroo tetsuro oneshot #tsundere reader

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toplinetommy · 4 years

Text

Four Times You Ask Travis to Fill In + The One Time He Asks You

Words: 3.4k

Warnings: language, a guy being a dick in the first part

a/n: literally got inspo from this out of nowhere and sat down to write it after a two 8 hour work days, pls dont hesitate to give me feedback!

one

“You want a refill?” Travis asks you as he sees you stirring your straw in your now empty glass.

“Yes, please!” You answer, smile on your face.

“The usual?” He double checks, regarding the light yellow liquid that was previously in your cup. You nod your head yes and he walks away through the crowd towards the bar.

As you wait, you pull out your phone to check your Snapchat as you lean against the wall where your small group was formed.

As you switch to texting your roommate back, you feel a much larger presence that couldn’t possibly be Travis. You offer the large stranger a soft smile as you turn your full attention back to your phone.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” The man asks, making you turn to him to fully take his appearance in.

You roll your eyes as you look at him, clearly not knowing him and clearly figuring out that the statement was just a line. “I don’t think so.”

“You sure? I feel like we’ve had to have met before. I’d remember someone as pretty as you,” The guy smirks, taking a step closer to you.

You roll your eyes once more at the comment before turning your attention towards the bar across the room. The dim lighting of the bar combined with the overcrowding made it difficult for you to find your best friend.

“And I think I’d remember a guy that used that lame of a pick-up line.” You clap back, a tight lipped smile falling on your face once you’re done speaking. You go back to your phone, trying your best to get the guy to take the hint that you’re not interested. Instead, he doesn’t, and he begins speaking yet again.

“You’re sassy, I like that.” He says, his gaze moving from your eyes down the rest of your body. The path of his gaze is painfully obvious to you as you try not to gag at both his actions and his attempts at flirting. He moves his hand to place it on his waist and the second you feel it, you’re shoving him off of you.

You turn your body once again to see if any of your friends notice the situation you’re in. All of them are either in their own worlds or out on the dancefloor, so you start looking for Travis who you still can’t find in the large crowd.

However, the shove doesn't stop him as he moves towards you again, closer than he was before. He starts to crowd you closer to the wall before a warm hand grabs you and Travis is suddenly between you and the stranger.

“Aye, you better not be hitting on my girl.” He interrupts, linking your fingers with his and fully placing his body in front of yours, blocking you from the much taller man.

“You better keep your girl in check then, man, she was all over me.” The stranger counters, puffing his chest trying to intimidate Travis.

“My girl wasn’t flirting with you. She can do whatever she wants anyways.” He shrugs, puffing out his smaller, but still broad chest. The stranger finally takes the hint and walks away, making sure to shove Travis as he turns.

“Thank you for that. I barely even talked to him but he wouldn’t leave me alone.” You thank Travis, once he turns back towards you. He hands you your drink before pulling your head into your chest, rubbing the back of your head in comfort.

“You’re okay,” He assures you, pulling away to look at your facial expression.

two

“Hey, you know that Luke Combs concert I bought tickets to, like, months ago?” You ask Travis, sitting down at his island as he moves towards the fridge to get a bottle of water out. He shuts the fridge before turning around and leaning against it. “Yeah? You’re supposed to go with Rilee, right?”

“That’s the thing,” You start. “She was supposed to go with me but I guess her boyfriend is having surgery so she has to be there for that.”

Travis takes a gulp of his water as he listens closely to your predicament. “So what are you gonna do?” He swallows.

“Well,” you start, the pitch in your voice higher than normal. It’s the same voice you use with him everytime you ask him for a favor and you can tell he knows as he dramatically sets his water bottle down on the counter and throws his baseball hat covered head back. “I was thinking you could come instead. I already checked your game schedule and you don’t have a game and you’ll be in town!” You exclaim.

Travis just looks at you silently as you speak. Your body is leaning over the island you’re sitting at, trying to get more of his attention and trying to make him understand how big of a deal it is to you.

“You know how much I love him! Please!” You beg further.

“What day is it exactly? I’ll make sure to clear my schedule.” Travis agrees, pulling his phone out of his pocket to double check his calendar. A squeak leaves your mouth and you jump out of your seat, running to him to give him a hug. You kiss his cheek loudly, leaving a wet spot on his cheek and mutter another thank you.

“Yuck.” Travis groans, wiping the slightly wet spot off of his cheek, a smile still covering his face contradicting his verbal discomfort of your actions.

Pulling away from him, you move a step back opening the fridge to grab a drink for yourself. “You love country music, you can’t not have fun.” You argue, as you close the fridge, staring him down as you do so.

three

Thanksgiving was just right around the corner, which in Philadelphia meant the full effects of Fall were coming out. The streets were littered with orange leaves, pumpkin spice lattes were at all of your favorite coffee shops, and football and hockey was back in full force.

It also meant the dreaded yearly company dinner your office had around this time. You were one of the younger people working at your office, which meant you didn’t fully immerse yourself into the office culture, and instead only talked to people directly in the same department.

“So, it’s almost American Thanksgiving.” Travis remarks, looking at you writing things down on the calendar that’s stuck to your refrigerator.

You turn to your friend, hand still writing, “do you know what you’re doing yet?”

“We have games the day before and the day after, so I’ll probably just go to Haysie’s place since you’re going home.” He shrugs.

“That doesn’t sound too bad. What sounds bad is my drive home and seeing people I haven’t seen in forever asking me the same million questions.” You say, capping your pen and placing it on the countertop next to you. “I also have a company dinner the weekend before, which really doesn’t sound fun.”

“Why?” Travis laughs. He knows you love your job so he’s confused as to why you don’t think you’ll have a fun time.

“For starters, the company is way larger than you think it is so it’ll be a fuck ton of people. Secondly, I only talk to the people in my department and everyone is significantly older than me.” You explain.

“Do you have to go?” He further questions.

“I don’t think so, but they’ll know if I’m not there.” You shrug, “Think of it like all those dinners you have to do with the Flyers. You could not show up but it wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“Ahh, I see, okay, yeah, and if it’s anything like mine, it seems like they’ll be stuffy.”

“Exactly.” you point, moving to sit next to him at the kitchen table. “And, I’m pretty sure all of the people I’m friends with are bringing their significant others.”

He nods his head at your complaints, thinking of positives to bring up about why the dinner will in fact be fun.

“Unless,” You start, dragging out the end of the word which fully grabs Travis’ attention as he sets his beer down to the table. “Do you want to come with? You can be my entertainment for the night!” You suggest, hint of begging in your tone.

Travis stares at your suggestion dumb-founded, “What.” The stiff tone in his voice makes it seem like he’s not even asking a question, and is instead stating a fact. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“What do you mean? It’s a perfect idea!” You clap your hands together before they start moving frantically as you continue to ramble. “You already have a suit, you probably won’t have a game, you’re already used to talking to those fancy people!”

“You should bond with the people you work with.” Travis counters.

“I can still do that if you’re there.” You state, putting on your best puppy dog eyes.

You stare him down and you can see him start to crack before he responds, “Fine, but if more than five people ask me about what being an NHLer is like, I’m ditching you.”

four

A loud groan leaves your mouth as you walk back into your apartment, a stack of mail in your hands and a confused Travis sitting on your couch. He looks up from his phone with knitted eyebrows, silently asking you what the groan was for.

You set the stack of mail down on the table by your front door before tossing him a pristine white envelope with neat, black handwriting on the outside. “Who’s Emma?” He asks, handing the mail back to you.

You begin opening the envelope as you speak. “You know that one girl in my sorority that I would constantly complain about?” He nods his head, urging you to go on. “I saw a while ago that she got engaged on Instagram and I guess she’s inviting me to the wedding.”

“Literally who gets married in the winter anyways?!” You groan dramatically, setting your full weight into the couch next to your friend.

Travis laughs next to you at your dramatic body movement before he turns to you.”So?” He asks, somewhat confused at your groaning.

“Why would you want to get married in Philly when it’s below freezing? Like who wants to do that!” You complain.

“You know you just don't have to go?” Travis suggests with raised eyebrows. Another groan passes your lips at your oblivious friend.

“I can’t just not go! She was my roommate when I lived in the sorority house.” You state in a straightforward tone.

“When is it?” Travis questions further.

You toss him the formal invitation, “Early December.”

He reads over the invitation before looking up to you to hand it back to you. As he reaches his hand to hand it over, a light bulb goes off in your head.

“Oh no.” Travis starts.

“You can come with!” You suggest excitedly.

“No, you don’t need an NHL player crashing your friend’s wedding.” He argues.

“Oh yes, I do.” You argue back, voice stern. The two of you stare one another down for what feels like minutes before Travis finally caves and agrees to go with you.

“See what I mean?” You start turning to look at Travis. “It’s fucking freezing why whould you want to get married in this? There’s literally snow on the ground.” You complain, gesturing to the inches of snow surrounding the sidewalks as you walk from the ceremony to the reception.

Travis wraps his arm around your shoulder, rubbing your arm to try and give you some sort of warmth. It isn’t as successful as you want it to be, but you appreciate the gesture as you lean into his warmer side.

“It’s not fair though, you get to wear an overcoat and still look nice. If I put on my winter coat I would like a marshmallow.” You scoff, causing loud laughter to erupt from Travis.

“You know damn well you wouldn’t look like a marshmallow.” He starts in between fits of laughter. “And, besides, your sexy legs would take away from your marshmallow-ness.” He jokes poking at the bottom of your thigh where you dress ended and the bareness of your legs started.

A light blush comes to your cheeks and your stomach tightens as you scoff at his comment and push him away jokingly.

You guys walk the rest of the short distance to the reception in quiet chills before finally finding your seats. You had to admit the wedding so far had been beautiful, even if you had a slight distaste for the bride herself.

You’re still sat after the both of you finish your meals, the both of you taking a break before joining the dancefloor again.

“Not too bad, eh?” Travis questions you. His arm is resting comfortably over the back of your chair not quite directly landing over your shoulders. You turn your attention from the large mass on the dancefloor to Travis before answering, “Yeah, better than I thought it would be. I’ve gotten to see a lot of people from college I haven’t seen in a while.” A good chunk of your sorority sisters had also been in attendance as well as a few other people you recognized as Emma’s close friends.

He nods his head slightly before you ask him if he too is enjoying his evening. “Of course, it’s an excuse to hang with you and get you to dance without begging.” He remarks. “Speaking of, I think it’s time to go out-dance everyone out there.” He stands up, offering his hand for you to grab. You take a hold of his hand as you stand up and follow him to the middle of the room where the dancefloor was located.

The two of you dance for a while, and by two of you, it’s Travis dancing like an idiot while you kind of just bounce and sing to the songs. A slower song comes on and you turn away from Travis, intending to make your way back to your seats. Instead, Travis stops you, pulling your body flush against his as he rests his hands on the small of your back. “Not so fast there, killer,” He smiles, looking down at your face.

You slowly move your hands to his shoulders, playing with the ends of his hair with one hand. “You should really get a haircut soon.” You chirp, knowing all too well he won’t cut it just because you told him to. He playfully rolls his eyes at your joke and lets the two of you dance to the song in silence.

As the song ends you begin to slightly pull away from him. “Thanks for filling in as my date today, Travis. I know you get your fair share of weddings in the offseason.”

“You know I don’t mind, y/n” He replies as the music completely cuts out before the next one starts.

You leave a soft kiss on his cheek before you’re pulled away by a few of your friends you haven’t been able to say hi to yet.

plus one

Your phone starts to ring, pulling your attention from your computer. Picking it up you see Travis’ face covering the screen so you answer it.

“Y/n!” He cheers loudly into the phone, causing you to erupt in a giggle. “Have you checked Instagram in like the past five minutes?”

“No?” You answer, infliction in your voice. You move your phone away from your ear, putting it on speaker before opening the Instagram app. “I’ve been pretty busy at work today.”

“Well, look!” He says, just as loudly. You scroll on your feed, trying to find what Travis is silently asking you to look for. You still don’t know what he’s talking about and you open your mouth to ask him and that’s when you see it.

“Holy shit!” You exclaim, liking the post by the Philadelphia Flyers. You read the caption a few more times as the news settles in. “You’re an all star!”

“I’m an all star, baby!” He repeats back to you. Your smile widens even more hearing the excitement in your best friend’s voice. “Chuck pulled me aside before practice this morning.” He explains.

“Congratulations Teeks,” You compliment. “I’m really proud of you. You’ve been working your ass off all season for something like this.”

“Thank you, y/n, means a lot.” He starts, a softness in his tone replacing his previous excitement. “I’ll let you get back to work, though.” He finishes.

“Want to celebrate after your game?” You suggest. “I can come over and bring some food?”

“Sounds perfect. See ya later.”

“Good luck tonight! I’ll talk to you soon.” You conclude, hanging up.

You knock on Travis’ front door before opening it and letting yourself in, announcing your presence. You go to set the bag of take out and the bottle of wine you brought over for the occasion onto his island before you see him emerge from his bedroom hallway.

Once you see him you smile and run over to him, tackling him in a hug. “Congratulations!” You shriek with glee. Your arms wrap tightly around his neck as he wraps his tightly around your torso, slightly lifting your body off the ground.

“Thank you!” He cheers once he pulls away from you.

“I brought Five Guys and some wine to celebrate,” You start, leading him back towards his kitchen island. “I thought you could ditch your diet for one night.”

Your joke causes Travis to let out a chuckle as he closely examines the bottle of wine you brought. Instead of opening it or even pulling out the to-go containers from the bag, he leans against the island turning to look at you.

There’s an unreadable softness in his eyes which has you confused. Not only did he find out that he was going to be an NHL all-star at such a young age, the Flyers had also won their game that night, so he should at least be filled with glee.

“What’s up?” You ponder from across the spacious kitchen.

“Just thinking about everything I guess, everything it took to get here.” The sudden turn from Travis’ normal cheerfulness to openly talking about his emotions has you even more confused. He looks into your eyes from where he stands and holds out his arms, leaning towards you to pull you closer.

“Like, you’ve been here when we were dog shit - when I was dog shit, and now you’re here.” He starts. He’s holding both your hands now, lightly rubbing his thumbs on the back of them. He looks down at your joined hands before continuing. “Like, I feel like I’m in a dream, like how the hell am I an all-star?”

“Because you’re an amazing hockey player Travis, and the league knows that.” You comfort him, taking a step closer to him. It feels as if the air around is lighter as you look into his eyes and feel his body closer to yours than it normally is.

He stays quiet a little while longer, glancing at your mouth every so often. “I was thinking today, you should come with me to St. Louis, eh?” He suggests, pulling your body so that your thighs are touching his. His rough hands disconnect from your hands, as he places one on your waist and the other on the junction of your jaw.

Your mouth slightly drops open at his suggestion, “Don’t families just go? And like girlfriends?”

“Yeah, that’s kinda what I’m getting around to asking you.” He whispers, head leaning in towards yours. His mouth is millimeters away from yours, and you’re sure he can feel your deep breathing on his face. “I kinda like, really like you.”

“So, you’re asking me out then?” You question, your hands moving to the back of his neck where his longer hair rests.

“I mean, I kinda thought all those times you asked me to go to those things where dates,” He shrugs, his nose brushing against yours. “I was hoping we could skip that part and you could just be my girlfriend, yeah?”

Your eyes momentarily move from his, down to his mouth, and back up to his eyes before you respond in a whisper, “Yeah.”

That’s all it takes for Travis to close the small gap between the two of you as his mouth moves against yours softly.

#travis konecny imagine #travis konecny #alex writes

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