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pyjamaart · 3 months

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A looming presence... (A piece of fan art for Episode 11 of the Christmas Comeback Crisis)

Read more for an essay on all the memes and references ;)

So here it is. Finally. Only one month too late: This piece of CCC fan art I've worked on since the episode came out.

Sorry for the delay, but I just started at my new job this week and it's been a little stressful, so I didn't have much time to work on this. But now it's finally here!!! I gotta say, the hardest part by far was the background, lol. I didn't mean for it to escalate that much. At the end I was honestly running out of memes to draw.

I bet we can all agree that episode 11 of the Christmas Comeback Crisis was so worth the wait, right???? My god. Peak entertainment. I still can't believe I'm getting all this awesome lore and music for free, feels kinda criminal.

I'm so invested in this story, it's unreal. I can't wait to see how it will end. I can already tell it's gonna be pretty emotional. (And not to alarm anyone, but I have a slight feeling that the Voice is not gonna make it out of this story arc alive. I mean, after everything he's done, it's safe to say that he kinda deserves it. Of course I really don't want him to die, cause that would mean…….. Woodman would also have to die??? Otherwise the Voice will just keep coming back again and again because Woodman is keeping his memory alive…….. Oh man wait a moment….. I don't even want to think about that. Forget I said anything about this.)

Anyway, let's talk about this piece of art for a moment.

In the foreground, we have our brave protagonists. I really really like how Nozomi turned out, so I decided to make her my new icon from now on. Don't get me wrong, I love my old icon, but it's kinda zoomed out and you can't really make out any details when it's really small. So Nozomi it is. Meta Knights sword was shockingly difficult to draw, especially because I had to figure out how to draw it when he's holding it at an angle like that. Otherwise, drawing him was actually one of the easiest things about this whole thing. His design is really just two circles with some arms and armor. Figuring out how the circle tool in Gimp works has never felt this good. (Kinda crazy I can just draw him like this now, considering how obsessed with him I was when I was about 12-13 years old. Back then you had to download official renders of your favorite characters onto your computer, then print them out and hang them on your walls all around your room. Yeah I've always been like this.) Drawing Santa was really fun too, just his right hand was a little difficult. But that's just because I still can't draw hands in general. Maybe I should practice drawing hands more. (Naaaaaah I'm just kidding, I'll never do that.) Now that I'm looking at him again, he's also longingly staring at President Haltmann in the background. Doomed yaoi fr.

Speaking of the background, let's talk about that next. There's obviously the title-giving "looming presence" the Voice. I had his hands completely in the background at first, but I thought it looked cooler when they were hanging threateningly around Santa's shoulders. (You may ask yourself, 'man these hands look kinda alright for my usual hand drawing standards', and that is because I traced over pictures of my own hands. I love "cheating" at art.) I also gave him his stupid little bow tie and the colored buttons on his suit sleeves. Not only is that kinda my trademark for drawing him at this point, it's also supposed to show, that under all the threats and the evil villain persona, he's just kind of a loser. A real (male equivalent of a) girlfailure. That's why I made sure that half of the things shown in the background are there to make fun of him a little. I love the Voice dearly, but that's just what felt right.

And now let's get to the actual main course of this essay. I probably spent half the time working on this on the freaking background. I'm just gonna start in the top left corner and then go down each column and explain what each of these mean or what they reference. (Since there are some quite obscure ones in there.)

Let's start with the two ponies in the very top left. They're actually ponysonas of Nozomi Tojo (left) and Takane Shijou (right). Nozomi is an earth pony and has a tarot card as her cutie mark, specifically the ace of cups. Takane on the other hand is a unicorn and has some musical notes as her cutie mark, which you can't really see. I don't know enough about the Idolmaster to think of something more meaningful for her, sorry. ;)

Under that are Susie Haltmann and her father, President Haltmann. They were (after Woodman) the first characters I wanted to draw into the background. Susie has this black bar covering her face, since she was never really there to begin with. The whole story line with her father wanting to bring her back was actually so freaking sad. And when the Voice killed him in episode 11 and that image of Susie flashed on screen as the last thing he saw before he died….. Oof……… That's also why I drew that cursor looming next to her "window" about to click on the closing button. Haltmann himself is also the only character in the background to actually leave his little window, wanting to reach his daughter. He's also glaring at the Voice for causing him all of this grief and anger in the first place with his false promises.

Then there's…. ahem, "Hot robots in your area". With drawings of a random unnamed robot and Mettaton from Undertale. Which the Voice has apparently bookmarked. This is just a head canon, but I like to think he has a thing for robots, lol. ;)

Oh and on the left next to that on the very first column is Simpleflips' logo. Shoutouts to Simpleflips indeed.

Onto the next column. At the very top is Haruka Amami (also from the Idolmaster), who played a pretty huge role in the CCC, especially in the latest episode. That moment at the very end where she saved Grand Dad from certain death was just fantastic. Absolutely goated scene. She's kinda pressing her face against the window she's trapped in. I hope you can even see that from far away, haha.

Under that is one of the more obscure references. It's from a King for Another Day video, specifically one titled "The Hobart Hootenanny - SiIvaGunner: King for Another Day". It's a slideshow made of beautiful Hobart pictures. One that struck me personally the most was a little family picture of Hobart and the rapper Eminem, who was also a contestant in the KfAD tournament, looking lovingly over their son sitting in a cradle. Eminem is seen saying "Our son is beutiful". A truly touching photograph indeed. In that same slideshow is also another scene of Hobart together with the Voice, but we'll talk about that one later.

The next one is a reference to the CCC side story "I wanna thank me" and shows a pie chart with the election results that were discussed in that episode. Under the pie chart itself is a little box containing all the different parties and showing their respective percentages. On the left is a poster for the "Poké Poké Literature Party", showing Monika's head with the words "Just vote Monika" at the top of the poster. The words (and Misha.) are scribbled on the bottom, lest we forget that she's not running this party alone. This side story was first featured in the Christmas Comeback Crisis Watchalong in 2020, which was actually the first time I watched the CCC in its entirety. It all went downhill from there. ;)

Then there's the Voice's… thing? Object? Weird apparatus where no one really knows what it does or what its purpose is? Every time we see the Voice sitting in his office, this thing is sitting on his desk right next to him. There's been loads of jokes about its purpose. They've all been made before. I'm not going to repeat them. Only the Voice himself truly knows what this thing does. Probably. Could just be a decorative piece of art.

Then we have something veeeery self indulgent on the next column. It's Aquaman from Megaman 8 (With a not so subtle skull right next to him). You should all know by now that I'm the founding father of the Aquawood ship. And I also have the head canon that Woodman and the Voice are very divorced. Interpret into this whatever you want.

Next to Aquaman is the internets' favorite panel from the web comic Tails Gets Trolled. I fucking love that comic. If you haven't read it in its entirety, I highly recommend doing it. (Though be warned that it contains some pretty heavy topics, many many slurs and a plethora of gore.) Okay, maybe I don't recommend reading it. (Just read it with all of that in mind.)

Under that is a personal favorite joke of mine. It's supposed to be Spotify, with a playlist open that I created some time ago. I called it "Die Pizza Playlist" (Remember that die in German is just "the") which I always listen to when I'm baking my own pizza. Highlights include "Pizza" by Antilopen Gang, "Pizza Heroes" by Lemon Demon (You can actually see the album art for Spirit Phone on the left of the playlist.), "Pizza Pizza Pizza" from the Ratatouille musical and so on and so on. The first song in the playlist is obviously "We like pizza" by the Pizza kids, which is even playing in the image. On the side are two more music artists, at the bottom is the image for the Veggie Tales soundtrack, which also featured a song called "Pizza Angel". And over that is Mitski. I just feel like the Voice would listen to her music. Do not question me on this.

The audience laughs at the funny 7.

On the Voice's left shoulder sits a single green bean. It's flashing you a cheeky grin and a peace sign. While I didn't intend for this to happen, I accidentally referenced my own Woodman birthday gallery art from two years ago, where the bean also sits atop the Voice's shoulder. I know that next to "Yankin'", the bean is one of the most hated memes on SiIva, but I think he's just a silly little guy! :D

Let's head on over to the next column. Seems like the Voice has an incoming call from one of his guards, but he's ignoring it as he has more important things to do, like hovering intimidatingly over Santa Claus.

Next to that window on the right are the Voice's messages. I almost wrote "messanges". That would have been embarrassing, thank god I caught that in time. This is also (yet again) a little self indulgent, since the Voice apparently has the last message he sent Woodman pinned to the very top of his messenger app. His big triangular head is blocking most of it, but since I'm the artist, I can tell you exactly what it says: "Please call me back", which was sent on February 1st 2023, the day "The Disappearance of Woodman" was released. Yeah, I'm still very upset, how could you tell? :( Under that is a message to his trusty pizza guy asking for a pizza with extra cheese.

Next we have two of my favorite memes on the SiIvagunner channel (My absolute favorite being "Funny budots", since I never wrote that down anywhere.), one being Frisk Undertale becoming uncanny and the other one being the goat. I don't really know how to describe the goat, but apparently it was crafted by the same artist who made the stoned fox that's also very popular online?? I may just be stupid, but I didn't know about that until I looked up a reference for the goat. Since it often appears alongside Undertale and Deltarune, many have made the assumption that this is what Asriel would look like in real life. That's why Flowey is there next to it with an equal sign. Whoever drew up that calculation wasn't really sure of their work, which is why they drew a question mark right next to it. Between Frisk and the goat is a little Soul, also from Undertale/Deltarune.

Onto the next column, where I'm dropping very subtle hints that a specific character in this image might like pizza. Or might even be a little obsessed with it. On the left is a list with the contact details of three well known pizza chains, on the very top is Sonic the Hedgehog who just recently became a brand ambassador for Totino's and on the bottom right of this section is a flyer for some kind of pizza sale.

The next window contains my favorite joke of any rip on the entire SiIvaGunner Youtube Channel. "Peepoona 5. Let us shart the pants." Just typing this out is making me die of laughter yet again. (The rip in question is "Our Beginning - Persona 5".) But as you all know, I am very into toilet humor. That's why Aquaman is one of my favorite robot masters. And why I'm such a big fan of Youtube Poop. And why I watch Minion fart gun religiously. But enough of that, you get what I'm trying to say. I love funny poop jokes. That's why this is here.

Oh man. This next one is why I wanted to write this very detailed essay in the first place. A reference so obscure, even I can't find its origin anymore. And believe me, I tried. Thankfully, I took a screenshot of the original comment thread this was based on. A user called "The New Guy" commented on a SiIvaGunner rip, something along the lines about how much they enjoyed this specific rip. At the time, the comment had 920 likes, so I'm guessing it must have been a pretty popular video. (The comment should also be about 4 years old now?) Anyway, under that comment, someone asks them what their profile picture was from. They simply answered "wagon", since that was exactly what their profile picture showed. Someone on the SiIvaGunner team must have found this exchange so funny that they commented "wagon" as well. And that's the origin of this joke. If anyone knows which rip this is from pleeeeaaaase tell me. I need to know.

I don't think I need to explain who the next guy is. Just the love of my life. I specifically drew Woodman in his getup from the Nuclear Winter Festival, since that was the last time he appeared on the channel. He's looking kinda concerned in the general direction of the viewer, for obvious reasons. And right under him is his trademarked >:] emoji.

And last but certainly not least, the final column! Now I finally get to talk about this other scene from the Hobart Hootenanny. It shows Hobart and the Voice having a romantic stroll at a beautiful beach, while the sun is slowly setting in the background, making the water shimmer with its breathtaking colors. Okay, the last thing didn't really happen, since it's a shitty MS Paint drawing, but I like to imagine it did. Maybe I should draw a remake of this image one day. Now I'd like to quote the video in question: "A man and Hobart were walking together on the beach. He looked back and saw that in his times of sadness and need, there was only one set of footprints. He asked Hobart why he would leave him in his time of most need. Hobart simply turned to the man and said, VVVVVRRRRR SRRRRR RRRRGGGHHHH--" (Thank you SiIva Wiki for the transcription.) Now I don't think I need to explain why I drew Hobart in a bikini top and fishnets. The question answers itself.

The next image is actually quite easy to explain. It's mm5charge and smol Maki. In another universe, Chargeman and Maki might have been integral to the SiIvaGunner lore. This specific image is just stolen from my piece of fan art called "Megaman 5 Brainrot (featuring Acidman)", which I posted in 2022. I still head canon that Megaman and Love Live take place in the same universe. Just because I think it's funny. And because I want to see funny robot masters interact with the girlies from Love Live. How do I explain this? It's like…. balancing out the world? The robot masters are almost all male (with a few exceptions) and the characters shown in Love Live are all female. How would Thanos say? "Perfectly balanced, as all things should be." Don't question my cool head canons, okay?

After that we have a poster featuring the Jazz Cats! I really really love the little animations that showed their backstory when KfAD2 first came out. I don't know if it's okay for me to say this, but I also really really enjoy the song "But Not You" written (in universe) by Doge and Naxx. The text is veeeeeeery questionable, but man, does it sound good regardless… And shoutouts to wolfman1405 for the heavenly vocals.

On the right of that is a missing poster for Wade L.D.. Nothing much to explain here I guess.

Left of that is the Voices shopping list, which lists flour, oil, yeast… Wait a minute…. All of these are ingredients for pizza dough! Guys, I'm beginning to think that this guy might like pizza.

On the very bottom of this column is Mario 7 Grand Dad himself, who has his hostile gaze directed at the Voice. I would be pissed off too if someone kept me locked in a glass tube for 7 years.

The last little window just shows the Vineshroom with the words "fecal funny" written under it.

And with that, it is done. The entire background thoroughly explained. (I may have gone a little overboard this time.)

It's been a while since I posted new art, huh? In the meantime, a lot has happened. As I said before, I started a new job, got a tattoo of Woodman on my leg (best idea I've ever had btw) and I also started watching MLP, which explains the Love Live / Idolmaster ponysonas, lol.

And that's all I wanted to say. I hope that the next piece of art isn't that far off. Jenny out. (I think this might have been the longest essay I've ever written here. I'm so sorry. By which I mean, I'm not sorry at all. I'm not forcing anyone to read this.)

#welp im one month too late #but better late than never #i put my giant ass essay under the read more this time #open with caution its extremely fucking long because i got a little carried away #siivagunner #the voice inside your head #santa claus #nozomi tojo #smol nozomi #meta knight #president haltmann #susie haltmann #thats it im not tagging all of these guys #christmas comeback crisis #if you saw this posted to the wrong blog no you didnt #jumpscaring kirby fans with siivagunner art is my favorite hobby

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firstagent · 6 months

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Spoiler-Free Review: Digimon Adventure 02 The Beginning [Sub]

In this movie, one more troubled relationship between one more kid and their partner threatens the world one more time. The Zero Two kids help… a little.

As much as Last Evolution Kizuna’s message spoke of our need to be able to let go of our childhood fancies, and as much as it would have been an appropriate final bow to the original Adventure canon, it also proved that this world is still capable of turning out some wonderful, thought-provoking stories. Especially when given the kind of budget this movie relishes in throughout. Before we tiptoe around major plot points without actually revealing them, it must be said that The Beginning looks gorgeous. The big action is animated beautifully and minor details in the art go far in supporting the story. It’s important because the movie is all about quality. Quality above distracting subplots, quality above unnecessary fights, and—perhaps more concerning—quality above cherished Digimon Adventure establishments.

The first sign of the movie’s lack of concern about bending the knee to prior Adventure canon: this is 100 percent Lui’s story. If you’re expecting the Zero Two kids to have some deep character growth the way Taichi did in Kizuna… well, it’s the Zero Two kids; half of them didn’t get that in their own season. No, this is all the Lui and Ukkomon show. After tri. and Kizuna you might be thinking “isn’t this the third time now we’ve been introduced to a new character whose partnership issues are a harbinger for chaos?” The answer to that is no: it’s the fourth time if you count Wallace in Hurricane Touchdown. But while tri.’s format allowed the established cast to have full character arcs alongside Meiko’s and Kizuna was still fundamentally about Taichi dealing with the problems Menoa creates, The Beginning is too compact and too tightly wound to give anyone but Lui room for growth.

That’s not a bad thing though! In a relatively short time, we get all the gory details of Lui’s past, where Ukkomon fits into the equation, how things go wrong, why it’s everyone’s problem, and how Lui fixes it. It’s told vividly, and viscerally at times: some of the story is straight-up disturbing and the movie understands the importance of not shying away from it. These are some horrors that would bother even the Ghost Game kids. The facts of Lui’s story aren’t particularly complicated—it’s a surprisingly simple story for a feature-length film—but they’re presented with a nuance that hits the upper echelon of what Digimon has ever been capable of.

Still, it does leave the Zero Two characters a little in the lurch. Character moments are sprinkled in whenever they can get them and everybody’s heard in group conversations (sometimes even making a good point!), but some feel like they’re only there because they have to be. Until the fade out at the end, there honestly isn’t much more of the Zero Two kids being Zero Two kids than we saw in Kizuna. Anyone longing to see these kids tackling their own problems instead of someone else’s will be left hanging. That said, the revamped evolution sequences are fire, we’re still treated to Target and Beat Hit, and there’s even a couple teases for the shippers. And the ending is absolutely a “Zero Two kids being the Zero Two kids” moment.

But yes, one of the trickier conversations will certainly regard The Beginning’s relationship with Adventure canon. On one hand, Lui’s situation suggests a conflict with Adventure and tri., and some could interpret the resolution as incompatible with particular aspects of the epilogue. On the other hand, none of the issues are in any way major, and countered both by references to events in Adventure and tri., and the fact that everybody is still barreling straight toward their epilogue fates. Weirdly, the most dubious point of contention may be with Kizuna. Any direct discrepancies are again insignificant, but the revelations of the prior movie feel like they should weigh more on some minds as they process everything going on here.

To its credit, The Beginning seems fully aware of what it’s doing. It understands how much it’s potentially shaking things up. The characters recognize it! The movie delivers on the things that really matter: the kids, the Digimon, the music, and the heart. Things like adherence to an increasingly rigid and cluttered timeline are more superfluous. It doesn’t dismiss anything for the sake of dismissing it, but it’s not going to let it get in the way of a good story. Even as the kids dutifully stay on track for the epilogue, the ending narration suggests that anything goes from here. We may find out: unlike Kizuna’s sense of finality, The Beginning builds momentum for more stories in whatever interpretation of this world grows them best. If they’re anything like this one, we’ll welcome them.

My Grade: A

Check Back November 10 For the Spoilers/Dub Post!

Thanks to Toei Animation for providing me with an advance screener of this movie.

Want to support my site and/or my work? Buy me a coffee!

#digimon #digimon zero two #digimon 02 the beginning #digisafe

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cafeseoulmate · 1 year

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idk what this lol i wanted to write a proper full-length fic but finals is beating my ass like crazy :”) anyway this happens in the same pjo au as kang taehyun’s hot boy summer destiny and references it a bit

child of aphrodite!beomgyu who’s also been recently declared the new cabin counselor because he has the best leadership skills among his half-siblings and is arguably the best charmspeaker anyone’s seen in camp for decades (as in he can almost rival his own mother it’s insane and his older half-siblings who’ve left camp long ago are really impressed). he’s also the friendliest and bubbliest out of all of his half-siblings (if that were even possible), a true social butterfly like his mom.

but also beomgyu who likes going on quests with child of athena!taehyun and child of hermes!yeonjun until taehyun finally confessed to his childhood best friend recently, so now it’s mostly just beomgyu and yeonjun. occasionally, child of apollo!hueningkai would join them if he’s not on another quest with his other half-siblings along with child of poseidon!soobin who, contrary to popular belief, actually leaves his post at the infirmary every once in a while.

beomgyu who is exceptionally skilled in using a bow and arrow because he has beef with both eros and anteros on who is the best archer since he was a child (though the gods have already long discussed this among themselves before that it’s one of apollo’s children. no one has the heart to tell any of the three, though). his shots are always lethal and precise and he’s been invited numerous times by his own half-siblings and the entire apollo cabin to lead classes in the summer. he only assists here and there, though, since he doesn’t think he’s that good at explaining things, especially something that he’s been doing for most of his life and feels like second nature to him.

(beomgyu underestimates himself. he’s actually really good at teaching, especially the younger kids.)

but outside of duels and fights, beomgyu would rather spend most of his days making music and drawing at the arts and crafts pavilion, getting inspired by his last quest in the outside world or on a long walk in the woods after breakfast. though he is a skilled fighter (and definitely has a big advantage with his mastery of charmspeak), he thinks his strengths lie more in translating his love of people and his surroundings in art and music. he’s just a child of his mother who’s so full of love so of course he’ll channel it somewhere peacefully and creatively. in his free time, beomgyu’s usually playing guitar with taehyun and humming an original song or sketching trees and portraits in his sketchbook where all creative streams of thought go.

oh and, of course, as a child of aphrodite, he’s always receiving all sorts of love declarations regardless of what season it is. love letters, chocolates, sweets, trinkets, gifts, public declarations at every turn on the training grounds, and even a bold, “i love you,” carved to a tree one time (much to the demeter cabin’s horror). beomgyu’s seen it all, he thinks, and he’s very flattered. heck, at times, he even relishes in the admiration people have for him because what child of aphrodite wouldn’t? he’s still his mother’s son so of course it’s a bit of an ego boost.

but these days, he’s only looking forward to a gift (a letter, to be exact) from one person—you, a child of demeter and a long-time friend of his.

you, the kid who first came to camp on the same night as he did because you happened to be getting chased by the same army of harpies. you, the kid he stuck with even after you both got claimed by your respective godly parents because you were familiar faces to each other. you, one of his go-to friends who’d gladly eat some of his admirers’ sweets and keep the gifts he didn’t want when he asked. you, the friend who always gave him your best harvests come strawberry picking season and saved him some of the meals you’d cook in exchange for him letting you see his creative projects before anyone else.

but more importantly, you, the friend who drunkenly declared to all of your peers two years ago that you have a crush on beomgyu. you, the friend who started occasionally sending him your own short letters and simple gifts whenever you felt like it afterwards, much like the admirers you used to help him ward off. you, who kept being his friend first and foremost and never made things awkward even with your feelings always hanging in the air because you knew that beomgyu didn’t feel the same then and that was okay. you, who gladly let him tease you about it every now and then—until he suddenly couldn’t halfway through the summer when demeter called for you to help persephone with matters in the underworld. you who just disappeared the next day, having stolen persephone’s pearl that was previously retrieved by taehyun on a quest and left before sunrise.

you who told beomgyu the day demeter called for you via mr. d that maybe you need this trip to get over him and go back to the way things were between the two of you, before joking about getting him a souvenir from the river lethe.

it’s a bit stupid even for a child of aphrodite, beomgyu thinks, that he only ever started appreciating your presence (and maybe even reciprocrating your feelings) once you left. though to be fair, you’ve never left camp without notice or without telling at least one person a definitive date of when you’ll be back before. your presence in camp, for most of the demigods including beomgyu, is almost like chiron’s or mr. d’s in that you’re never away for too long.

though you can hold your own in battle, you never liked quests, preferring more to stay and maintain your strawberry fields and vegetable gardens. and that agitated all of your friends on the day you left, especially beomgyu.

even worse, suddenly it’s almost christmas now and from what yeonjun’s heard from his dad and what soobin’s heard from his own significant other (a child of hades), you’re still pretty much indefinitely stuck in the underworld—surviving off of food that demeter delivers and, apparently, warding off the advances of an undead suitor that’s been mentioned around your mutual circle of friends enough times to get beomgyu irritated and threaten sneaking off to get you himself.

(soobin has to hold him back and ask the other aphrodite kids to watch him like a hawk after every declaration.)

child of aphrodite beomgyu suddenly finds himself wandering camp borders and the strawberry fields on most nights these days, terrorizing yeonjun about the mail during breakfast, and reading and re-reading the letters you sent before, scolding himself for taking everything for granted. if not, he’s tending to the plants you’ve left behind along with your half-siblings and keeping a voice memo journal detailing everything that’s happening in camp for when you return (making sure to omit all the misshaps he’s gotten himself into in the meantime because he’s not really that proud of some of them—especially the time he drunkenly charmspoke to taehyun’s partner as a dare before they got together. beomgyu thinks—maybe hopes, too— that you’ll find out about it from taehyun’s partner and scold him for it when you come back. he’s this desperate, okay).

choi beomgyu, on top of being a child of aphrodite, the new counselor of his cabin, a skilled archer, a creative artist, and all-around popular camper at camp half-blood, may or may not also be experiencing love for the first time and it’s messing with his head big time. sometimes, he thinks he’ll go insane thinking about how his half-sibling, kazuha, keeps asking about the red string around his wrist and extending all the way to the camp gates. sometimes, especially on quests, he thinks about sneaking off and finding another one of persephone’s pearls to get to you. but sometimes, he also thinks that it’s just from not being used to your absence for a long time, from not having his child of demeter friend joke around with him and name him the flowers growing around camp.

but what beomgyu’s sure of is that he really can’t wait until spring arrives and persephone comes back to the land of the living with you. he needs to see you as soon as possible and if it takes having to sneak off camp the next time that he’s off on a quest and do some outrageous things to land his soul in the underworld, he’ll do it immediately.

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okaurami · 7 months

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cerberus corp has been watching ok jangmi. some of the public has dubbed them aura because of combat specialism gifted by a robbery gone wrong. having been an extra ordinary since 2010, they're doing a good job at hiding their vulnerability against ranged attacks. when they aren't working their day job as a personal trainer, they are fond of bullet journaling and are never seen without their vintage photo of a stranger gifted by her mother. at first glance, they seem protective & empathetic, though their close friends know them to also be obsessive & vindictive. they consider themself a vigilante.

pinterest ╱ playlist ╱ headcanons tasks ╱ socials ╱ interactions.

001. GENERAL

name ok jangmi. nicknames meems ( used in her "normal" life ). aura ( her alias ). age thirty1. date of birth 01 APR 92 @ 0652. zodiac ☼ aries, ☾ pisces, ↑ taurus ( western ). monkey ( chinese ). place of birth brooklyn, new york. current residence brooklyn, new york. gender demigirl. pronouns she / they, though there's no actual preference & she refers to herself as she most often. sexuality pansexual & panromantic. occupation personal trainer.

faceclaim jeon jongseo. height 167cm ( ~ 5' 5" ) tattoos a red & black dragon that takes up the majority of her upper right arm & spreads across half her chest. ( visual ). piercings three lobe & one cartilage on left ear, three lobe, one anti-tragus, one daith, & one industrial on right ear. ( respective visual, visual ). distinguishing features charming smile, monolid eye shape, sharp cupids bow. positive traits protective, empathetic, warm. negative traits obsessive, vindictive, stubborn. labels / tropes the tsundere caretaker.

likes journaling, flowers / plants, all forms of art, thunderstorms, cats & other fluffy animals, cooking, sweets, the smell of rain, working out, sleeping on sheets fresh out of the dryer, discovering new ( good ) novels, rpg / story driven games, comfy clothes / androgynous fashion, puzzles ( mainly crosswords ). dislikes being told what to do, dust, going to the doctor, the feeling of corduroy, personal space not being respected, lies, not being able to help people, seeing fingerprints on surfaces, pork, the feeling of being rushed, popcorn kernels getting stuck in her teeth, people talking over her. fears being unable to protect her loved ones & those who deserve protection, failing her parents ( again ). hobbies bullet journaling, writing short stories & poetry, reading, making floral arrangements, working out. habits chews on her lips & cheek, shadow boxes when she has nothing else to focus on bc she has difficulty sitting still.

002. EXTRA ORDINARY

near death experience…

for some context, jangmi's mother was a taekwondo instructor while her father taught judo. growing up, the two often nagged jangmi to partake in their lessons, both of them believing it best if their child had self defense skills & while jangmi appreciated it, she did what most kids do: refuse to take their lessons seriously, doing the bare minimum just to keep them off her back ( while pairing it all with lots of groaning and eye rolling ). on jangmi's eighteenth birthday, them and their friends sneak into a popular & busy club using fake IDs. it's the most fun they've had in years and the few glasses of alcohol finally silence the warnings she hears from her parents. the stuff their parents worry about.. that doesn't happen to them --- or rather, it hasn't until the group are walking home. their group is approached by another, hooded figures demanding whatever cash they have on hand & their valuables. being her mother's child ( and perhaps with the help [?] of some liquid courage ), jangmi immediately jumps into action, taking on the role of protector and granting their friends the chance to escape. the bad men are angry with jangmi and blame her for allowing their cash cow, her rich friend, to escape them. they also think she needs to be taught a lesson for the disrespect her mouth has tossed their way in the process. the next hour --- maybe longer, jangmi isn't sure how much time has passed --- is grueling & painful and no matter how much she tries to fight back, none of her parents' lessons are coming to her and she's left for dead, eventually found by a homeless person hoping for a reward from the nearly deceased's family. while jangmi isn't entirely sure why their powers are what they are, she believes it might be because all they thought about as they laid there atop the trash was that they refused to die. refused to let those.. men ( derogatory ) win and when she was wins her second chance, she'll become the embodiment of the lessons her parents wished to bestow upon her, as both an apology & out of the respect she hadn't truly paid them until now.

power…

jangmi's power is combat specialism, which grants them the ability to become an innate combat and fighting genius. it wasn't something she could control in the beginning, her brain forcing her body to move in ways it wasn't used to often resulted in injuries like pulled muscles, sprains, breaks, etc. it also drained her stamina significantly, often rendering her immobile for days until she was able to recharge. upon her realisation of all this, jangmi went to her parents for help and, while keeping away from actual combat, asked them to teach her the best ways to train both mind and body through research, meditation, breathing, and physical exercise. on her own, they trained meticulously until they were able to better build their body to keep up & implement her power, training, and knowledge to work for, rather than against, her.

drawbacks / vulnerabilities…

their biggest vulnerability is that she's rendered useless against anything ranged, especially considering their power has a strong emphasis on close quarter combat. the same can be said against anyone who is impervious to physical attacks. and going back to the whole anything ranged thing, ranged weapon proficiency isn't something she's picked up either. while the men who attacked them didn't use it, the "boss" of the group was carrying a gun & jangmi believes that the intense fear she developed of them following her nde is somewhat, if not entirely, responsible for their issues with ranged weapons. jangmi's stamina is also still something of a problem, albeit it doesn't become an issue they truly notice unless they fight a high number of enemies. she's always starving after using it, though, no matter how few or many people she uses her ability on.

(if applicable) cerberus corp…

while not affiliated with cerberus corp, they were approached by them once for recruitment. it was a standard interaction, and her answer was an immediate, and hard, absolutely not. and while jangmi would say there was no real reason as to why they refused the offer, many factors played a part. the biggest reasons being:

1. their absolute hatred for being told what to do. 2. being a vigilante allows her to toe the line between hero & villain, acting on the innate "good" and "bad" that exists in everyone; which also brings about a sense of freedom. 3. their occasional moments of pure, unfiltered rage.

codename…

her codename is aura and it was something they chose themself. while it doesn't directly relate to their ability per se, it's something they're quite fond of. it's the name of a minor deity in greek & roman mythology which means breeze. aura was also described as "as fast as the wind" and something jangmi has always enjoyed is hearing the sound of their fists cutting through the air, so they thought it fit well.

003. EXTRA

--- as i mentioned, their power has a strong emphasis on close quarter combat, hand-to-hand / mixed martial arts being her specialty, but they began training with melees a few years ago. within the last few months, jangmi has finally begun to trust them as an extension of her body and now she's known to carry some with her, they're usually sais or batons as she prefers things that are dull considering they're only things she uses to better pinpoint certain pressure points rather than being things she uses as "weapons". --- and i know what ur thinking.. why didn't i give her a power that was strictly something hand-to-hand / close quarters related and that's bc i imagine them to be capable of all combat specialism, through the proper training ofc, and like the idea of that mental road block they have thx to trauma being the reason why she hasn't tapped into that at all & isn't even aware it's a thing they could master with ease. --- i imagine aura wears something like this ( visual ) whenever she's doing her vigilante stuff, which is just something very sleek, black, and tight fit with a hood and mask that gives her both the ability to move freely and the power of anonymity. she also has a holster on each thigh which hold those aforementioned melees. --- speaking of vigilante stuff, jangmi primarily uses their powers to protect all women, but they'll always protect whoever they think is deserving, too. also, her inability to not see red and go overboard sometimes is exactly why she could never be a hero :/// --- personality wise, jangmi is very soft, warm hearted, empathetic, sentimental, hopeless romantic, etc etc., which is how she was prior to her nde.. but since that attack, they've got what seems like a permanent resting bitch face & finds it very difficult to trust people or let them in. she's also something of an introverted loner, but if you're able to break through her walls, you won't find anyone more loving and loyal. --- as for first impressions, they can either come off as timid & shy or rude & prickly. it all depends on how they're feeling and how they're approached. ( but again.. real big soft gooey marshmallow in reality ). --- their signature scent is fragrance 05's spring. the top notes are bergamot, cardamom, & star anise; heart notes are geranium, incense, & lavender; base notes are moss, patchouli, & vetiver. --- preferred method of transportation is her matte black kawasaki ninja 300, which looks something like this ( visual ). --- as for their sentimental item ( a vintage photo of a stranger ), it was gifted to them by their mother and was used as a way of curbing the fear they felt at night as a youngin. the two would often look at the photo and share fictional stories about the girl's life, what she might have been doing before the photo was taken & after, what her family was like, etc., and they'd do so until jangmi slipped into a comfortable slumber, so it's the only thing they keep in their wallet like a family photo. [ also if u know what drama i used as inspo for this............... lets be besties pls thx <3 ]

as for connection ideas:

--- roomies? ( past or current ) --- workout partners / clients? --- someone trying to recruit them? --- someone who always comes to rain on their parade during their ~activities~? --- exes? ( good or bad terms ) --- besties? ( full ride or dies or just someone who spends time with them ) --- confidant? --- fwbs? --- sparring partners? --- someone who was trained by one of their parents back in the day? ( or is being trained currently ).

etc. etc.? i'm terrible at coming up with these but just gimme everything pls 🥺👐

#cc.intro #i didn't reread a lick of this so if u see mistakes.. no u dont <3

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mysteryman-17 · 2 years

Audio

EDIT (12/2/2022): Be sure to check out the newest (and final) version!

* Moonstache EX pulls the strings!

* (Check) * YOU ARE OUT OF YOUR DEPTH, YOUNG ONE. * YOUR STATS ARE [[Weak Sauce]] COMPARED TO MINE. * TIME TO WAKE UP AND SMELL THE [[PAIN]]!

Time’s End is an AHIT/Undertale crossover AU of sorts, taking place in the aftermath of a timeline where you lose the final boss fight against Mustache Girl. You can find the write-up here! In addition to the AO3 link being updated with lots of new material, you can also find the write-ups for the Neutral Endings and TimeWarp Route requirements over on Google Docs! The art was made by @asterofthedeepforest. Be sure to support his Ko-fi!

Motifs:

The Badge Seller / Moonjumper’s Theme

Oh It's You + Your Contract Has Expired (modified)

Main Theme / Title Screen

Welcome To Mafia Town (modified)

Killing Two Birds (modified)

How Rude! (2:10 - 2:18)

Original

You can also listen to this track in high quality on my SoundCloud here! The rest of the description is underneath the Read More.

Moonjumper replaces Gaster. In the TimeWarp route, after Hat Kid's (well) TimeWarp attack creates a schism in the space-time continuum, Moonjumper is FINALLY able to properly break through back into reality... by overwriting Mustache Girl's soul with their own, becoming Moonstache EX in the process. Skin so blue, eyes shot red, they'll make Bow wish that she were dead.

Commissioned my boi Kristian (Wisteria Bird Studios,) I made changes, etc etc. I'll be perfectly honest tho; if I listed off the entire changelist for this version, this description would be too boring for its own good (cuz even between v5 and now, there have been a TON of adjustments!!) so I'll keep this short and mention the two most obvious ones. (If you do want me to go in depth with any other changes tho, feel free to leave your questions in the replies!) Ye I lowered the track's pitch by one semitone for shits and giggles. Wound up liking how it sounded more, so I ran with it. And also, with big thanks to Adamant's "How to recreate BIG SHOT" series being available to use as reference, I made some sweeping changes to the backing on this track to give it a better overall sound. That's defo just the tip of the iceberg tho. Am p happy with how this version turned out, and I hope you guys enjoy the new mix! (P.S. I do have an idea or two for new Time’s End tracks that aren’t just updates to stuff like this, and some tracks I commissioned for the AU are in progress.)

And for those wondering why the SC link in the first part of the description is the same as the one on the now outdated v5, yeah. I finally had enough of reuploading this from scratch all the time on SC and losing every single stat, so I decided to get a temp SC Pro subscription and replace the file on the original upload.

#a hat in time au #ahit au #ahit moonjumper #moonjumper #time's end moonstache #moonstache ex #non-canon #outdated #a hat in time music #ahit music #music #audio

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leia505 · 3 years

Text

The Sunrise and Your Sins | Tetsurou Kuroo x Reader (street racing AU)

This fic takes place in the same universe as “deciphered” by @hoeneymilktea! Here is the link to the car visuals and spotify playlist, as well as AO3 where the fic is also posted if you prefer to read on there.

Huge shoutout to @aikk00 for creating the fan art that inspired both this story and “deciphered”.

And another shoutout to @hoeneymilktea for pushing me to write this fic, if you’re here from deciphered I hope you enjoy this addition to the deciphered universe!

Pairing: Tetsurou Kuroo x Reader

Rating: Explicit, NSFW(later chapters)

Word Count: 10k

Tags: Street Racing, Alternate Universe - Car Racing, Inspired by Fanart, References to Drugs, Aged-Up Character(s), Original Character(s), Inspired by The Fast and the Furious, Inspired by Tokyo Drift, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Mystery, Drama & Romance, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary: Being a mob boss’s daughter had always been a dangerous life, but Tetsurou Kuroo—street racer and mob henchman—made it all seem easy. Although the mutual attraction between you two was undeniable, the darkness that encompassed your family took precedence over your love. Surrounded by lies and deception, you and Kuroo must work together to uncover the truth of your brother’s death and your father’s shady business.

“Hey there kitten.”

“Is that really how you want to talk to a yakuza boss’ daughter?”

“It’s not like your old man’s here to listen.” Kuroo says, pulling up a chair to sit close to you. You turned your head to stare him in the eyes as he smirked at you.

“You think a man like my father doesn’t have his own office wired?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

Kuroo chuckles nervously, looking around your dad’s office. Just some harmless flirting boss. Nothing to worry about here.” He says loudly, turning to you with a wink. You can’t help but smile, you’ve always enjoyed the times Kuroo came to see your father. You weren’t going to try to deny the fact you found him attractive, but there’s no way your father would allow it. A mafia princess and a drug smuggler? What a cliché.

Your father’s sudden entrance startles you both, and Kuroo instinctively stands up to bow. You remain seated, knowing that the power he held over this city applied to everyone but you.

“Hello father.” You greet your dad as he sits in his office chair at the front of the room. He definitely has a demanding presence, which is to be expected from the man who has the Tokyo underground in his pocket. Kuroo had power, and definitely had some authority, but he was a guppy compared to your father.

“Sit, Tetsurou.” Your father says, motioning for Kuroo to take a seat. He quickly sits down in his chair, attentively looking at the mafia boss for further instructions.

“So, as you could probably guess, I have another job for you.” He says, pulling a file out from the locked cabinet of his desk. He laid the file open in front of him and turned to Kuroo. “There will be a shipping container coming in this Friday from Cuba. I’m going to need a team of your best racers to get it from point A, the ports, to point B, headquarters.” He explains, motioning for Kuroo to stand next to him to look over the details.

“Seems easy enough, standard job.” Kuroo says, studying the papers in front of him. At this moment, you can’t help but wonder to yourself why exactly you’re there.

“Exactly. Nothing new, just the same old.” Your dad agrees. “However, this is a bigger job. And we do have some eyes watching us nowadays. So what I need from you is to take the lead and choose your team. Approved by me, of course.” He says, motioning for Kuroo to take his seat again.

“How many people are we talking?” Kuroo asks.

“You, maybe two others. And your colleague, Snake Eyes, taking the lead on logistics.” Your father explains, leaning back in his chair. “Snake Eyes will be essential to this one, we need eyes and ears on the route. The less run-ins with the authorities, the better.”

‘Snake Eyes.’ You thought to yourself. ‘Isn’t that Kenma? The nerdy looking mechanic?’

“I’ll let Kozume know.” Kuroo says, nodding. “I think Oikawa and Shinsuke would be a good fit for this one. Fast, experienced, trustworthy.”

“Oikawa…he’s the one that calls himself Cypher correct?” You father questions.

“Yes sir, head of Seijoh Brawlers. Shinsuke goes by Sly Fox, head of Inarizaki Bois.”

Your dad let out a hearty chuckle, startling both of you. “You kids and your code names. You would think you’re playing spy.” Kuroo nervously chuckled in agreement.

“No playing here sir, we’re all in.” Kuroo says, giving him a confident grin.

“That’s what I like to hear, Tetsurou. With that attitude, you’ll fit right in at the grown-up table.” Your father says, getting up from his chair. You roll your eyes, bored of the conversation between the two criminals.

“Why am I here?” You ask, causing both of them to turn to you as if they just realized you were there. You rarely sat in on your father’s meetings, so you were confused from the start as to what your purpose was.

“Oh sweetheart! I almost forgot, Kuroo has a present for you.” Your father says brightly, waving his arms at you, motioning for you to follow Kuroo out the door.

You peered your eyes at Kuroo suspiciously as he smirked at you. You continued to follow him out the door of your family’s Tokyo home, with your father following behind you.

As the three of you exit the house, your eyes fall on a bright pink car, with a giant white ribbon tied around the hood.

“Is that-“You begin saying, quickening your pace to get closer to this absolute beauty.

“A Honda S2000? Yes, yes, it is.” Kuroo says, leaning against his car, a cherry red Nissan Veilside 350Z. He holds up a pair of car keys, which he tosses to you.

“It’s mine?!” You exclaim. You turn to your dad, who smiles warmly at you.

“A gift, from the Nekoma crew to our family. Me and your mother have enough cars, so I figured you could claim this one.” He explains, chuckling.

“Thank you!” You wrap your arms around him, embracing your father in a hug. He tightly hugs you back, the same way he always has. You turn towards Kuroo. “And thank you, you and the whole Nekoma crew. How’d you know I wanted pink?”

Kuroo shrugs. “I just guessed. Seemed like your color.” He says, winking at you. He slyly opens his car door, climbing in. “Thursday night, I’ll bring the team?” He asks, turning towards your dad.

“Yes, and make sure they bring their cars as well. I need to see for myself what type of speed we’re working with.” Your dad says, switching into business mode seamlessly.

Kuroo lets out a laugh, closing his car door and rolling his window down. “I can promise you sir, the one thing we will surely not be lacking is speed.” He says, revving his engine, speeding out of the driveway and down the dark street. The roar of his engine could be heard long after he disappeared from our sight, breaking the silence of the upper-class neighborhood he sped through.

“Sweetheart, Tetsurou and his boys are here if you’d like to sit in on the meeting.” Your father says, peeking his head into your room.

“I’ll be right down dad.” You reply, getting up from your bed. You heard their cars coming from miles away, so you were already prepared to meet them downstairs. You were curious as to why your father suddenly invited you to sit in on his business meetings, he never really allowed you to take part in your family’s activities. Nevertheless, you were glad you finally had something to keep you entertained while locked away in your home.

As you walked down the stairs, you heard Kuroo’s voice speaking to his friends, and you were caught off guard by how mature he sounded. He must have known you and your father were coming down the stairs, so he put his big boy voice on to impress your father.

“Hi.” you say shortly, causing all of them to turn their heads to you. You finally got a good look at all of them, and they were all exactly what you’d expect street racers to look like. Piercings, tattoos, just a bunch of tough looking guys with skeptical faces as they looked up at you.

“Is this the one you keep bringing up?” a guy with shoulder length bleached blonde hair asks, turning to Kuroo. His voice was soft, almost a whisper. It was a drastic change from Kuroo’s deep, commanding voice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Kuroo says, awkwardly clearing his throat, tugging at his collar as he avoided your gaze.

“Hola mami.” The brunette one says to you, shooting you a devilish smirk as you descend further down the stairs.

“The fuck is wrong with this one?” You ask Kuroo, opting to stand next to him. You tilt your head towards the brunette guy, who was still staring at you like a luxury car.

“He lived in Argentina for a few years and now he’s just...like that.” Kuroo says. “You kind of get used to it. He also doesn’t care that no one but him knows Spanish.”

“Tetsurou! Glad you all made it here in one piece. Shall we move this to my office?” Your father says, waving his arm down the hall to the large double doors that lead to his office, the space where all meetings, illegal or otherwise, were held.

The five of you made room for your father to lead and followed him down the hall. You were keenly aware of the fact Kuroo stood almost directly behind you, mainly because the smell of his cologne was too strong to ignore. Kuroo was just like that, a presence you couldn’t seem to get out of your head.

Upon entering the office, you choose to take your usual spot on the comfortable sofa chair you put in your dad’s office over a decade ago. When you were younger, more naive to the truth to your father’s business and your family’s wealth, you frequently accompanied your father in his office on long work nights, falling asleep in the chair that was kept out of the way to keep others from taking your special spot. That’s always how your dad was, making sure to accommodate you. Anything for the princess.

“So!” Your father announces, clapping his hands together, causing you and the blonde one to jump slightly. “Don’t be shy, introduce yourselves.” You roll your eyes at him, thinking that he sounded more like a grade school teacher than a yakuza boss with hundreds of skeletons in the closet.

The 4 men stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, not knowing how to start. Everyone except the silver haired guy wore a bomber jacket, with names printed on the back. The brunette wearing a white bomber jacket spoke first. You noticed the teal lettering on his jacket that read ‘CYPHER’.

“Tooru Oikawa, sir. Cypher.” He says, bowing at your dad.

“Uh, Kenma Kozume. People call me Snake Eyes sometimes.” the bleach blonde spoke next, his voice quiet and skeptical.

“Kita Shinsuke, aka Sly Fox.” The silver haired guy in the plain black hoodie says, giving your father a slight head nod.

“And obviously you know me.” Kuroo says. He turns to face you, flashing his signature grin. “Your turn.”

“(y/n).” you introduce yourself, giving them a small wave. “If you haven’t figured out who I am then you’re pretty slow.”

“My daughter, everyone. Excuse the attitude.” your father remarks, shaking his head at you. “So, I assume you filled them in on the details?”

“Yes sir, they’ve all been filled in on the job. Kenma running point on logistics, the control tower of the team. The three of us running the cargo from the ports to the warehouse. Basic rules, don’t be dumb, and don’t get caught.” Kuroo says. The other men looked at him, nodding slightly in agreement.

“Excellent, I knew I could count on you to take the lead here. Keep this up and you may find some more jobs like this in your future.” Your father gets up from his chair, pulling more files from his cabinet. He hands each of the men their own file, which they all take and begin looking over. “You’ll find all the smaller details in there, as well as numbers to contact in case you run into trouble. You’ll also find a receipt, with your pay for this job highlighted. I hope you find it accommodating to your work.” He says, studying each of them as they flip through the files.

“Definitely accommodating.” Kita comments, nodding his head as he peers down at the file. You begin to wonder when you’ll be able to see the fine tuned details, to truly see everything your father does in a day. So much of who he is still remained a mystery to you, and perhaps you found some comfort in your own ignorance.

“Thank you sir, our teams greatly appreciate your contributions.” Kuroo says, bowing once again to your father.

“It’s really no problem, after all, who doesn’t like a good street race.” Your father says with a smile. “And, in a way, I feel as though keeping your teams afloat helps me remember my son.”

“You have a son?” Oikawa asks, looking up.

“Had a son, yes.” Your father replied sadly. You winced, not expecting to have to relive these memories. “He passed in a racing accident. It was a few years ago. I think it was before your kids’ time.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what was his name? Or, what team was he on?” Kenma asks.

“Keishin. He used the last name Ukai when he raced, to get away from our family name. I believe he raced for Karasuno?” Your dad says, bringing up more and more painful memories.

“Karasuno Killers? They’re getting back on the scene nowadays. I remember someone talking about how they stopped coming to races a while back, but they just recently started racing again because they have a whole new team.” Kuroo says.

“Really? Well, I might just have to come watch a race one of these days. For old times sake.”

‘Old times sake my ass.’ you thought to yourself, knowing the truth about your father and your deceased brother’s relationship. Your father hated racing, and resented your brother for choosing Karasuno over the Sakanoshita name. At the time of your brother’s death, you couldn’t help but wonder if your father was truly upset, or if he was putting on another facade, the same way he was now.

“Well, speaking of races, you wanted to see our cars, right?” Oikawa says, clearly trying to redirect this depressing conversation.

“Oh yes, of course! I want to see for myself what you’re all going to be working with tomorrow.” Your father says, walking out of his office towards the front of the home.

Outside, there were 3 cars parked in the driveway. You recognized the models, and you could guess which cars were Oikawa and Kita’s just from the colorways, white and black, just like their outfits.

“Mi amor.” Oikawa says, looking at his car. “Mazda RX-7 Veilside Fortune. ‘97.”

“He would marry his car if he could.” Kuroo comments, tilting his head towards you. You laugh, looking up at him.

“Nissan Silvia. 2002.” Kita says, walking up to his car and opening the door. The smell of smoke was strong, and he grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the middle console. “Mind if I smoke?” Your father nods, and Kita proceeds to light one and take a puff.

“Kenma, no car?” Your father asks, turning towards him. Kenma seems caught off guard by the sound of his own name.

“Uh, no sir, not tonight. I have cars, but I don’t drive all that often. I don’t see the point in risking my investments.” He says, shrugging his shoulders.

“Yeah, he’d rather be in the passenger seat with me driving and risking my car.” Kuroo says, playfully shoving Kenma’s shoulder.

“That reminds me, I have a proposal for you Kuroo.” Your father says, getting everyone's attention. “Would you be willing to let (y/n) ride with you on this job?”

“Excuse me?” You say, interrupting the conversation. “Why am I going? You never let me go anywhere, but suddenly I’m running drugs for you?” You raise an eyebrow at him and cross your arms across your chest.

“Well, sweetheart, I figured it was time.” Your father says, taking a step closer to stand in front of you. “I was around your age when your grandfather started allowing me to learn the ropes of our family’s business. You are the only one who can continue the Sakanoshita name. I think this is a good first job for you.”

“For the record, it's no problem. She can ride with me. I promise she’ll be safe.” Kuroo says, inserting himself into the conversation between you and your father.

“So, does this mean I finally have something to do? I can start leaving the house again?” You ask, hopeful that this decision from your father will mean more freedom. Things haven’t been the same since Keishin died, and your father kept you under a microscope, claiming it was for your safety.

“We can talk about new safety rules after this job. Deal?” He asks, holding his hand out for you to shake.

“Deal.” You say, taking his hand and shaking it firmly.

“Looks like the princess is growing up.” Kuroo comments, smirking at you.

“Hope we don’t scare her too much.” Kita says jokingly.

You scoffed at him, excitement growing inside of you as you realized this will be the start of you growing into a leadership position in the Sakanoshita family, becoming the face of this giant organization that ruled the Tokyo underground. “Nothing scares me.”

You stared at yourself in the mirror, trying to get your head together before the job. ‘What does a person bring to a drug smuggling? What does someone wear? Fucking jeans?’

‘No.’ you thought to yourself, grabbing a pair of leggings. What if you needed to run? Well then you need sneakers too. And a warm jacket, just in case. Do you bring a phone charger? Would it be weird to ask Kuroo to plug your phone in while you’re smuggling drugs together?

“What the fuck am I doing.” You say out loud to yourself, beginning to question your own sanity. You let out a deep sigh, trying to clear your head.

You eventually decide on leggings, sneakers, and a cross body fanny pack to hold your phone and smaller things. Before exiting your room, you hesitate.

You make your way to your bedside table, opening the drawer and reaching to the back, pulling out a small handgun. You take it out, along with a note that was tucked underneath it.

‘Stay safe. -Keishin’

This was a gift from your brother, before he passed. You kept it close by, both as protection and a heavy reminder. Your family name carried a lot of weight, which the both of you felt smothered by. You both understood the dark side of the luxury you lived with, saw the blood that stained your family’s money. But now, with him gone, it all fell on you. Everything depended on you.

You make the decision to take it along with you, holstering it to your thigh. ‘Better safe than sorry’, you thought to yourself. A regular night could turn deadly in an instant, something that you were very familiar with given the way your brother passed.

You exit your room and descend down the stairs, walking out the front door to where everyone was waiting with their cars. Oikawa was busy on his phone, and Kita was further away smoking a cigarette. Your father stood with Kuroo, most likely discussing the job.

“Where’s Kenma?” You question, walking up to stand with Kuroo and your dad.

“He’s back at the garage. Don’t worry, he has eyes and ears at us at all times.” Kuroo says, pointing at the earpiece he wore. “Here, one for you as well.” He hands you an ear piece, which you put in, immediately hearing the sounds of a video game, most likely from Kenma.

“Are you ready?” Your father asks, turning towards you. You nod in response, and he looks over you, stopping and furrowing his eyebrows when he sees your gun. “Is a gun really necessary?”

“Keishin would have wanted me to bring it. Better safe than sorry, like he used to say.” You say, knowing that bringing up your brother was the easiest way to get your father to comply with whatever it was that you were doing.

He nods, giving you a sad smile. “You’re right. He was always the cautious one.”

“The smart one too.” You say, smiling nostalgically. “Are we all ready to go?” You ask, turning to Kuroo.

“Yup, all set.” He replies, swinging the passenger car door open for you. “I’ll have Snake Eyes let you know when we reach the ports, and again at the warehouse.” He says, turning to your father.

“Perfect.” Your father says. He turns to look at you once more, then back at Kuroo. “Bring her back in one piece.” He says, holding out his hand.

“You can count on me, sir.” He says, giving your father a firm handshake. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, the business your family was involved in was always so masculine, so formal. It was something you would have to adjust to when you begin taking part in it.

Kuroo closed your car door and nodded to the other two racers, who immediately got into their cars, turning their engines one. He climbs into the driver’s seat of his car, turning the key in the ignition, the loud roar of the engine startling you. He chuckles, realizing he made you jump.

“Mic check. Roll call.” You hear Kenma say in your ear.

“Tap once to speak, twice to mute.” Kuroo says, pointing to the earpiece. He taps once, and speaks. “DK here, with Princess in the passenger seat.” He says, grinning at you.

“Ew, keep it PG-13 dude.” Kenma says, making you laugh.

“Cypher, ready to roll.” You hear Oikawa say.

“Sly fox.” Kita says shortly.

“And Snake Eyes. Ready when you guys are. All clear on the short route to the ports, I’ll let you know if that changes. Stay safe everyone.” Kenma says, muting himself.

“Alright, we all know the route, I’ll take the lead, Sly Fox you take rear. You already know the rules, don’t be stupid, and don’t get caught. I’ll check back in when we’re 5 away from the ports.” Kuroo says, taking the parking brake off and switching gears, the car beginning to move.

Everyone mutes themselves and begins driving off, away from your wealthy neighborhood and towards the city’s industrial district. The Tokyo skyline was in your rear view mirror, and your heart beat faster and faster as you went further away from your home, the place that you’ve been stuck in for years now.

“You don’t get out much do you?” Kuroo asks, breaking the silence.

“Not really, no. My father doesn’t allow me to go many places now, ever since my brother died. He says it’s too risky, which I think is bullshit.” You say, shrugging your shoulders.

Kuroo laughs. “I knew you weren’t just some obedient princess. Look at you, all rebellious.”

“I’d be more rebellious if I were able to do anything. This...is my first time out of the house in 6 months. The last time was just for the dentist.” You say, awkwardly laughing at yourself.

“Well, then we better make the most of it, right?” Kuroo says, switching gears, now going 105 km/h on the expressway.

“Kuroo what if we get pulled over?” You ask nervously, knowing the risks he was taking just to show off.

“Relax, (y/n), I know what I’m doing.” Kuroo says, flashing his signature grin at you. Everything about him drew you in, made you want to keep looking, to reach out and know him as more than just your father’s employee.

“Kuroo, stop showing off. Just because there’s a pretty girl in the car doesn’t mean that you get to be cocky.” Kenma says in your ear, catching you both off guard.

“Alright alright, take it easy Snake Eyes.” Kuroo says, tapping his ear piece once, then double tapping again to mute. He begins slowing the car down to 80 km/h.

You let out a small giggle, looking over at him. “You think I’m pretty?” You say in a mocking tone, leaning in closer to him.

“I think you’re beautiful.” He says in a serious tone, catching you completely off guard. You begin to slowly back away from him, retreating back into your seat.

“What?” You ask, not sure if you heard him right.

“You’re beautiful. I’ve always thought so. As a matter of fact, if it wasn’t for my extremely deep fear of your father, I’d want to take you out on a date.” He says, laughing.

You laugh as well, suddenly a little sad about what he said. “Yeah, that’s too bad. I would’ve said yes.” You say, turning your face to give him a sad smile.

He smirks at you, but his eyes drooped, giving them a sad, tired look. “Would’ve been a great first date.”

After that exchange, you both remained quiet, lost in thought of what could have been. Thinking of the undeniable chemistry that drew the two of you together, but also the forces at play that kept you from colliding. What could have been, if circumstances were different, if the two of you were different. Normal.

“Can I ask you something?” You ask him, breaking the silence that had fallen between the two of you.

“Of course.”

“What would you be, if you weren’t racing and working for my dad? Who would you be?” You were genuinely curious, because all you ever knew about Kuroo was that he was dealing before getting pulled into the Sakanoshita business, and that he raced with Nekoma.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He says, a smile growing on his face.

“Try me.”

“Well, I would be a student. Right before I got recruited by your family, I was in college. Chemistry major.” He says, peering over at you.

“Chemistry?!” You ask, surprised by his answer. “You’re a science nerd?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say a nerd.” He says, laughing at your reaction. “In my senior year, I ran out of money. So, I started dealing. It wasn’t anything serious, but I guess I was pretty good at it. I ended up on your dad’s radar, and he took me in as a transporter and dealer. And so, here I am. No degree, but hey, I have a nice car.”

“I’m sorry.” You say, almost out of instinct. It felt like the only right thing to say, even if it wasn’t something that was expected.

“Sorry for what? Your dad giving me a job?”

“You never got to graduate.” After saying this, it seems as though Kuroo realizes it as well, that he never got to finish school. “You were so close, but you got stuck with my family. I’m sorry you didn’t get to finish your schooling.” You say, meaning every word. You were sorry, and you couldn’t help the guilt you felt. After all, it was your family that pulled him into this world.

Kuroo stays silent for a few more moments, thinking over what you just said. He appears to snap out of it, switching back to his usual easy going, casual self. “Nothing to be sorry for, princess. Without your dad recruiting me, I would just be a broke bum with a lame car and no money to my name. Besides, I can go back and finish things up someday. But for right now, I’m exactly where I want to be.” He looks over at you and winks, making you laugh. “What about you? Where would the yakuza princess be if she wasn’t a mob boss in training?”

You paused, not knowing how to answer. “I actually don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it, because there really isn’t a future for me outside of the family business.” You say, unable to hide the disappointment in your voice.

Kuroo frowned, thinking of a response. “Well, hypothetically, what would you be doing? Let’s say, in an alternate universe, where we’re just normal people, living normal, legal lives. What would (y/n) be?”

“A teacher.” You say proudly, without hesitation. “Or a professor. Definitely education.”

“A teacher?!” Kuroo asks, laughing. “How do you go from yakuza boss to teacher?”

You laugh, realizing just how ridiculous it sounds. “What, you said normal! If I had a choice to be normal, I’d want to be a teacher, in a small town. I think I’d be a good teacher!” You say, defending your choice.

“Okay, okay. I guess I can see you as a teacher.” Kuroo says, still grinning from ear to ear. “But, the hot teacher. With a gang tattoo.” He says, referencing the giant koi fish tattoo you have on your shoulder.

“No!” you exclaimed, laughing loudly with him. “I want to be the generic teacher, with cardigans and sensible shoes and house cats to come home to. I’d grade papers and mentor kids, and just be free to be as boring as I want to be.”

“Y’know, maybe I can see it.” Kuroo says, smiling at you. You couldn’t ignore the butterflies in your stomach every time he gave you that smile, the kind of smile that made your day so much better by simply existing. “Maybe someday we can be boring together.”

The profound silence that followed that sentence spoke volumes to the both of you, almost as a silent prayer to the universe, begging for a chance to be boring together. However, that silence was broken by Kenma in your ear, bringing you both back to the reality you both began to dread.

“5 minutes out, turn your headlights off.”

“Going dark. Thanks Snake Eyes.” You hear Kita say. Kuroo flicks his lights off, leaving only the street lamps to light the way.

“What container should we be looking for?” Oikawa asks.

Kuroo replies, reading out a series of letters and numbers. “The boss gave me an idea of where to go, I think we’ll have to get out to look around though. Snake Eyes, you got eyes on the port? Any trouble?”

“Nope, all clear. Limited street lamps though, you may need a car for some light.”

“Got it. I’ll let you know when we find the container. Let us know if anything suspicious catches your eye.” Kuroo says, muting himself once again. As you enter the industrial port, Kuroo begins taking a series of turns, leading you deep into the maze of containers. The further you got, the number of street lamps began rapidly decreasing, and you became very familiar with the reason why it’s called shady business.

Kuroo flicked his lights on, and you kept an eye out for the shipping container, or at least one that was close to the number you were looking for.

“I think I got something.” You hear Kita say, flashing his lights behind you, to signal for everyone to stop. Kuroo turns around, putting his car in park and leaving the lights on, pointing at a shipping container with the exact identification numbers you were looking for.

“Nice work Sly Fox.” Kuroo says, patting him on the back. You stood close by the car as the three men approached the container, Kuroo pulling a key out of his pocket and unlocking the giant lock that secured the container.

As he swung open the door to the container, the scent was strong, but familiar. It smelled like…

“Tobacco?” You ask, walking closer to the container.

“Cuban cigars.” Kita says, laughing as he walked further into the container.

“Hey Snake Eyes, let the boss know we’re in the container. 30 bricks right?” Kuroo asks into his ear piece.

“I’ll let him know. And yes, 30 exactly. He left a note in the file that said you may have to look around a bit for the cargo. Also, Sly Fox, don’t take any cigars.” Kenma says, right as Kita was stuffing a handful of cigars into his pocket. Kita reluctantly returns them to the pile they were taken from.

“Got it, 30 pieces of cargo. We’ll make contact again once they’ve been located.” Kuroo says, tapping his ear piece twice. “Okay, 30 bricks. Let’s start from the back and make our way out, whenever you find one, take it straight out to my car. Princess, you’re the look out.”

“Why do I have to be the look out?” You protest.

“You can’t reach the top of the containers, chica.” Oikawa points out, putting his hand on one of the shipping boxes that towered over you. Kuroo snickered, walking up to you.

“Just stay outside, kitten. Let us know if there’s any big bad guys coming?” Kuroo says, putting his arm around you and walking you outside.

You rolled your eyes and shrugged his arm off. “Whatever, just hurry up, it’s freezing out here.”

You stand outside, staring out to the distant city lights, listening to the quiet waves that lapped against the side of the port. Kuroo came and went, bringing cigar boxes filled with cocaine out to his car.

After the 12th box, he noticed you were crouched down with your arms tucked into your jacket, the arms of your jacket swinging in the breeze. He laughs, walking up to you.

“Cold?” He asks, looking down at you.

“Maybe.” You answered through chattering teeth. You stand up, looking up at him. He towered over you, meaning you had to crane your neck in order to meet his gaze.

“Here.” He says, taking the red bomber jacket off his body and wrapping it around you, using it as an opportunity to pull you closer to him. “Your dad might slice my head off if you catch a cold.” He whispers into your ear, making you laugh.

“How’re we doing guys?” Kenma asks through the ear piece.

“A little under halfway done. Anything we should be worried about?” Kuroo says.

“Nope, still all clear. Just let me know when you’re done and heading out.” Kenma says, muting himself.

“Back to work.” Kuroo says, pulling you in tighter for a moment before letting you go. You stood there, warm under his jacket, wrapped up in the lingering scent of his cologne that remained. You wanted to freeze time, to live in this moment of calm, feeling protected just by the residual presence of Kuroo.

They continued on, carrying cigar boxes out of the container and into Kuroo’s trunk. Every once in a while you’d hear hushed conversations from inside the container, too quiet for you to hear.

“This is the last of it.” Oikawa says, walking out of the container with Kuroo. They each had 4 boxes in their hands, which they placed in the back of Kuroo’s car.

“Ready to go?” Kita says, popping up next to you out of nowhere, causing you to jump.

“Jesus, where did you even come from?” You ask, startled by his sudden appearance.

Kita smirks, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “They don’t call me sly fox for nothing.” He says, walking back to his car. Kuroo was busy closing up the container, securing it and making it appear as if we were never there. Oikawa was leaning over the trunk of Kuroo’s car, arranging the boxes of drugs underneath a spare blanket.

“Snake Eyes, you there?” Kuroo asks, walking back to the car.

“Yup, all ready to go?” Kenma responds.

“Ready when you are.” Kuroo says, walking over to your car door and holding it open for you. You climb in, ready to get out of the cold. Kuroo closes the door, and continues to talk to Kenma through his ear piece. You figured out that Kenma had made it so their communications wouldn’t be heard through your ear piece. You couldn’t make out exactly what they’re saying, but you assumed it’s some info about the drive to the warehouse.

You watch as Kuroo leans in to tell Oikawa something, which he nods in agreeance to before walking back to his car and getting in. Kuroo then walks around to his side of the car, turning it on and beginning to pull out of the dark alleyway of the port.

“Ready to roll, princess?” He asks, turning to flash you a grin.

“The faster the better.” You say jokingly. He laughs, revving his engine loudly.

“Careful what you wish for.” He says, speeding up as the three cars leave the port and enter the expressway.

“DK, stop showing off.” You hear Oikawa say through the ear piece.

Kuroo rolls his eyes, taking his foot off the gas to slow down. “Buzzkill.” He mutters under his breath.

You rode in silence together, heading towards the warehouse your father owns. The warehouse was a front, being used as storage for the goods your father exported in his legal business. For the illegal business, it was used as a storage and distribution center for the underground dealings.

“DK, we have a problem.” Kenma says.

“Talk to me Snake Eyes.”

“We’ve got some cops heading your way. The boss texted saying someone may have tipped them off to tonight’s job. Apparently the king of Tokyo has some enemies.”

“That’s one way to put it.” You mutter to yourself. Your father had more enemies than allies, meaning that there was a constant target on the backs of every member of the family. It’s no surprise that something went wrong tonight.

“Which way are they coming from?” Kuroo asks.

“West. I think they’re gonna intercept you soon. At least 2 cars, and I’m pretty sure they’re looking for you.”

“Shit.” Kuroo whispers to himself. “Cypher, Sly Fox, you there?”

“Heard it all, DK. What’s the next move?” Cypher asks.

“Sly Fox, take the lead. Take the back route, go straight to the warehouse, fast as you can. Cypher, take the rear behind Sly Fox, if you run into any trouble you’re the diversion. Got it?” Kuroo says, his voice taking on a new tone of authority.

“Roger that. When should we check in with you?” Sly Fox asks.

“I’ll make contact when we’re free. Just get in touch with Snake Eyes when the delivery is made.”

“And (y/n)?” Kita asks. Kuroo turned toward you with an expression of deep thought on his face.

“She’ll stay with me. We’ll be fine.” Kuroo says firmly, turning his eyes back to the road. You weren’t sure why, but you trusted him. Given the circumstances, you probably shouldn’t, but some part of you just impulsively put all your faith in him, trusting that being in his car was the best place for you to be.

You hear Oikawa chuckle. “Have fun princesa. I hope DK doesn’t scare you away.”

“Shut your mouth, amigo.” Kuroo says mockingly. “I’ll see you both later. Be safe.” He says, muting himself.

You look behind you to see Kita’s car already in front of Oikawa’s, and you see them both exit off of the expressway, their engines revving as they sped off, out of sight.

“Maybe I’m pointing out the obvious, but aren’t you the one with the delivery to make?” You say, growing worried by Kuroo’s plan.

“Don’t worry about it princess. Just trust me.” Kuroo says, revving his engine loudly, rapidly increasing speed.

“You have 20 bricks of cocaine in your trunk and you’re telling me not to worry?!” You exclaim, turning your body to face him.

“Or do I?” He asks, glancing over and smirking at you. This question caught you off guard, making you wonder if this guy was crazy or stupid, or both.

“On your left!” You hear Kenma say, moments before two police cars appeared behind you two, struggling to keep up with Kuroo’s speed.

You slumped back in your seat, trying to find it in yourself to trust Kuroo. The police sirens grew louder and the red and blue flashing lights started to draw closer, but somehow, Kuroo remained calm, not even bothering to increase speed.

Your heart raced as the police cars began getting closer and closer, nearly pulling up right beside you.

“Hey princess, ever wondered what DK stood for?” Kuroo asks calmly.

“Fucking Donkey Kong?!” You yell at him, having no patience for his games.

He laughed at your stressed demeanor, throwing his head back and shaking his head. “Nope. Not even close.” He switches gears, causing the car to slow down quickly and making the cops draw far ahead of you. He veers off to the side, seemingly to take the ramp that curved to exit the freeway. Suddenly, he speeds up yet again, turning his wheel suddenly as the car begins drifting on it’s side.

“Drift King.” He says with a smirk. The car drifted down the ramp, screeching as Kuroo pulled the emergency brake up and maneuvered the steering wheel to keep it steady. You were familiar with drifting, due to the fact your brother was involved in street racing before his death. You knew that it was something that only experienced drivers could do, and it took a certain level of skill and a lot of practice to perfect. You realized that this meant Kuroo was a skilled driver, far more skilled than you realized. No wonder they called him Drift King.

By the time the two of you reached the end of the ramp and began racing down the industrial district street, the cops just began heading down the ramp, trying their hardest to keep up.

The chase continued on for several blocks, Kuroo barely breaking a sweat. It seemed as though this wasn’t his first chase. After some time, Kenma’s voice comes through on the ear piece.

“Hey DK, you may want to end this chase. They’re calling for backup soon.”

“Got it, I’ll pull over now. Thanks Snake Eyes.” Kuroo replies, beginning to slow down.

“Pull over?!” You ask him.

“Just trust me! You think I’d put you in danger?” He asks you, grinning. The car comes to a stop, and the two police cars quickly pull over as well.

“Give me your ear piece.” Kuroo says quickly, the two police officers quickly approaching the car. You quickly hand it to him, which he shoves in the inside pocket of his jacket.

“Sir, please exit the car. You as well, ma’am.” The officer says, shining his light in Kuroo’s car. The two of you exit the car, standing in front of the headlights.

“Now, what in god’s name were you doing?” He asks, as the other officer begins searching the car.

“He was just being a show off.” You say, lying on the spot. Kuroo looks surprised by your sudden statement, but plays it off, acting natural.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Just trying to impress a pretty girl.” He says, putting his arm around you and kissing the side of your forehead. Although it was just an act, your stomach still did somersaults just with that one simple action.

“I see.” The officer says, shining the light at your gun. “You have a license to carry that ma’am?”

“Yes sir. Just a personal protection piece.” You say, pulling your driver’s license as well as gun registration out. You hand it to the officer, who looks it over.

“Sakanoshita?” He asks with fake surprise, looking up at you.

“Yes, my father. I’m sure you know him.” You say, knowing that the name Sakanoshita held a lot of clout in the city.

“We're familiar with him.” He says shortly, handing the papers back to you. “Anything?” He asks, turning towards the other officer who was peering into the car.

“Nothing. Mind popping the trunk?” He asks Kuroo. Your heart begins to race, knowing what they would find. Kuroo however, remained cool as a cucumber, sauntering over to the car to open the trunk. He walks back to you with a grin, standing behind you and draping his arms over your shoulders, pulling you closer to his body. You grab his hands, bracing yourself for the big reveal.

“Now what do we have here?” The officer says, ripping the blanket off of the boxes. You close your eyes, preparing yourself for the worst. The officers pause, opening one of the boxes.

“Cigars?” They ask. You open your eyes, looking up at Kuroo as he continues to grin at you.

“Yes sir, we were on our way back to her place, to deliver them to her dad. You know, the infamous Mr. Sakanoshita.” Kuroo lies with ease.

“They’re gifts, for some associates of his.” You say, joining in on the lie. “He’s hosting a little get together tomorrow. I believe your boss, the police chief, will be there. It’d be a shame if he heard you pulled over a Sakanoshita.” You knew exactly what you were doing, using your name for your own benefit.

“I see.” He says, closing the box of cigars and putting it back down. “Just some Cuban cigars I suppose.” He closes the trunk, walking to where you and Kuroo stood.

“And I suppose the speeding was because the old man is waiting on these cigars, huh?” The other officer says, standing next to his partner.

“Exactly.” Kuroo says. “Not exactly the best idea to get on the bad side of your girlfriend’s father, right?” He jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

Surprisingly, the cops laugh. “You got your work cut out for you kid. Sakanoshita is not an easy man to win over.”

“Yeah, his daughter isn’t any easier.” Kuroo says, pulling you closer. You laugh along, wishing for this interaction to end already.

“I’ll tell you what.” The officer says, taking a few steps closer to the two of you. The headlights from the car streaked behind him, casting a dark shadow over you and Kuroo. “You two can go ahead home, just make sure not to mention this to your dad. Or our boss. Sound good?”

“Perfect. Have a good night you two.” You say, hurriedly pulling Kuroo back to the car.

“Sorry for the trouble!” Kuroo calls out as the two men walk back to their patrol cars.

Once the two of you are back in the car, you breathe deeply, staring into space.

“You alright princess?” Kuroo asks, turning towards you.

You snap out of it, punching him in the arm. He jumps back in pain, looking shocked at your outburst.

“Cigars?!” You question him, unable to form a full sentence. He laughs, throwing his head back.

“Yes, cigars. I told you I didn’t have any drugs back there, didn’t I?” he says, grinning slyly at you.

“Then who the hell has the coke?” You ask sternly, adrenaline still pumping from that run in with the cops.

“Think about it.” Kuroo says, turning his whole body to face you. “Where do you think the drugs are?”

You thought about it, the entire night, all the interactions that occurred. Only one person stood out to you, which was-

“Sly Fox.” You say, realizing the stunt that they had just pulled off. “Kita. I never would have seen him take anything to his car, he’s too sneaky. I had my back turned to his car because it was up against a container, no one could have come from over there. That’s why you had him go straight to the warehouse. It’s all in Kita’s car.”

“Well look who figured it out. Good job princess.” Kuroo says, leaning back in his seat.

“But why take the cigars? And why not tell me the plan?” You question him, not satisfied with the answer you had come up with.

“In case of a situation exactly like this. Insurance, in case everything went wrong. An alibi.” He says peering over at you. “And, well, I wanted to test you. See if you could take the heat.”

“What do you mean?”

“I wanted to see how you’d handle yourself, with your back to the wall. I wanted to see if you trust me.” He says, with a small smile on his face.

“Didn’t really give me much of a choice but whatever.” You grumble quietly.

Kuroo laughs, looking over at you. “You did great, princess. You’ll be a mob boss in no time. I hope you’ll let me keep my job, though.”

You let out a tired scoff, exhausted by the adrenaline rush that had come and gone. “Just- please keep me in the loop about things like this. If you can do that then maybe you can keep working for me.”

“DK, everything good?” You hear Kenma say through the ear pieces that were still in Kuroo’s pocket. He dug them out, handing you one which you placed in your ear.

“Yup, crisis averted. Have you heard from Sly Fox and Cypher?” Kuroo asks.

“We’re right here boss. Delivery has been made, just waiting on your order.” You hear Kita say.

“Meet us back at the boss’s house, me and the princess have one last loose end to tie up and then we’ll head over.” Kuroo says, starting the car.

Kuroo heads back in the direction of the ports, and you assume it’s so that the 20 cigars could be returned to the container. Once again, the two of you ride in comfortable silence, your mind wandering as you gazed at the distant city lights.

“What’s on your mind, princess?” Kuroo asks, bringing you back to reality.

“My brother.” You answer without hesitation. “If things were different, it’d probably be him doing this job with you. Maybe not in the passenger seat, but still. The family legacy would be his.” You felt a pit grow in your stomach, your eyes suddenly tearing up. You always had these lingering feelings of doubt, but you never realized it was because of Keishin, having to be in his shadow. No one ever bet on you, or thought you were going to be the one inheriting the empire. Regardless, you were there, because your brother wasn’t.

“Well, no offense to the great Black Lung but I for one am glad you’re here. No one else I’d rather have in my passenger seat.” He says, giving you a sincere smile, one that you haven’t seen before. It was different from his flirtatious smirk, or his arrogant grin. It was just a simple, kind smile.

Black Lung?” You questioned.

“Your brother’s racing name. Y’know, like DK, Cypher, Sly Fox. He used to smoke like 6 packs a day, even more than Kita. He was kind of a big deal in the racing scene. After he passed, Karasuno didn’t race for a long time because there was no one that could replace him. They’re slowly getting back on the road, but your brother is definitely still a driver people remember.” Kuroo explains, pulling into the port once again.

“He smoked?” You asked, trying to remember a time you saw him with a cigarette. You assumed it was because he only smoked when he was away from the house, because it was something that your father would have never approved of. You were pretty sure Keishin would’ve been disowned if he smoked or drank in front of your father.

“Yeah, all the time. That was his whole thing. Did he not smoke around you?” Kuroo asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“No, I guess he never smoked around our family. I don’t think my dad knew either if he only smoked when he raced.” You pause for a moment. “Do you know anything about it? The accident?” You ask, growing more and more curious about what Kuroo knew. Your brother’s death was always explained to you by members of your family, and you wondered if there was something that they didn’t know that the racers did.

Kuroo paused, an expression of deep thought in his face. He looked as though he was trying to figure out the exact sentences he would say next. “All I’ve heard is that…there was an explosion. I think his girlfriend was near it at the time, and she got injured. That’s all I know though, no one really talks about it much because of how bad it hurt everyone. A lot of people cared about him.”

“He had a girlfriend?” You ask, turning towards Kuroo as he puts the car in park.

He looks at you, eyebrows furrowed. “Yeah, some chick named Saeko. I think she has a younger brother that races nowadays. I’m pretty sure she’s still a mechanic for the team.” Kuroo pauses, looking out towards the port. “Look, I don’t know too much about the accident. And I assume your dad doesn’t want you looking into it too hard. But if you do want to know more, just let me know. I’ll talk to some guys from Karasuno. Sounds good?” He asks you.

You nod in agreeance, knowing that there had to be a reason why Keishin was so secretive, and why your father is still keeping secrets about his death to this day. “Okay. If you end up talking to Saeko, could I come along? I just...I feel like I’m getting to know my brother all over again. I want to know the side of him that he hid from our family.”

“Of course. Now c’mon, let's get these cigars back where they came from.” Kuroo says, getting out of the car and popping the trunk. You follow him, getting out and standing next to him.

The two of you silently put the cigars back, working quickly to get the job completely finished. By the time Kuroo was closing the container door, Oikawa came through in the ear piece.

“Hey love birds, are you heading back to the house soon?” he asks. Kuroo rolls his eyes and unmutes himself.

“We’re heading back now from the port. Snake Eyes, you told the boss the delivery was made already, right?”

“Yup, I let him know. He’s waiting for you guys at the house.” Kenma replies.

“Sounds good, we’ll be there soon. Cypher, Sly Fox, go ahead and start heading over now.”

“Will do. See you soon DK.” Sly Fox says.

“C’mon princess, let’s go home.” Kuroo says, throwing his arm over you as the two of you walk back to the car. You take the hand he had on your shoulder into your own, squeezing tightly. It was strange how natural it felt, being with Kuroo. It was almost as if it was where you belonged, with him, wrapped up in his arms.

You climb back into the car, watching Kuroo as he starts the car and begins driving off once again. Your head was spinning trying to make sense of everything that had occurred that night, as well as processing all the new information Kuroo had told you about your brother. You knew this day had to come, when you would have to jump in head first into the world your family operated within, when you would have to fully take on the Sakanoshita name and all the responsibilities that come with it.

As Kuroo rolls up to the driveway of your home, you see Oikawa and Kita standing outside with your father, smoke billowing from where the three of them were conversing.

“Tetsurou! (y/n)! I was beginning to wonder when you’d be back!” Your father says, cutting another cigar and handing it to Kuroo, motioning for him to join the group.

“Cubans? What’s the occasion?” You ask your father, standing next to Kuroo.

“Your first job, sweetheart. And with no casualties, no arrests, a clean job deserves a little reward.” Your father says, grinning at you, holding out a cigar for you to take.

“Dad, I don’t smoke.” You say, laughing.

“Oh c’mon, the most powerful man in Tokyo offers you a cigar, you take the cigar.” Oikawa says, smirking and letting out another cloud of smoke.

You roll your eyes, taking the cigar and allowing your father to light it. You thought more about the cigar as you drew the smoke in, about what it meant for you to be invited to smoke with your father. It meant that you were finally owning your family name, you were finally a true Sakanoshita.

You stood there silently, listening as Kuroo explained to your father the decision he made to use Kita as the real transport and to make himself the emergency decoy. Your father listened as well, nodding along with an expression of deep thought on his face.

“Great thinking Tetsurou. That is exactly why I keep you on my payroll.” Your father laughs, smacking his hand against Kuroo’s back. Kuroo laughs as well, putting on his usual submissive attitude that he uses with your father to gain his good graces.

“Let’s just hope your daughter keeps me on when she takes over.” Kuroo jokes, nudging you with his elbow.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve earned your place with the whole family.” Your father says, smiling at you. “Say, isn’t that Tetsurou’s jacket?”

“Oh, yeah.” You say, realizing you still had it on. “It got cold at the ports.”

“It’s funny. You’re starting to look more and more like him.” Your father says, eyes squinting as he smiles sadly.

“Like who? DK?” Kita asks with a cigar hanging out of his mouth.

“Keishin. The racing jacket, the gun. Even the smoking.” The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, remembering the conversation you had with Kuroo about your brother. Your suspicions about your father kept growing, and it became harder and harder to believe his mourning father act, the smoke and mirrors he used to deceive everyone.

“Well, you know how much I adored him.” You say, taking another puff from your cigar. You and your father both pause, staring one another down. There was noticeable tension, but with no clear reason. Nothing more than a gut feeling.

The staredown was cut off by Kuroo clearing his throat, getting both yours and your father��s attention. “It’s getting pretty late, we don’t want to keep the two of you from a good night’s rest.” He says, finding a way for the three racers to leave.

“Yes, it is getting rather late. Oh! Better not forget these. Tetsurou, I put your friend’s pay for tonight with yours.” Your father says, moving away from the staircase leading up to the front door to reveal three paper bags with names on them, which you assume was full of money.

“Thank you sir. I’ll make sure to get it to Snake Eyes.” Kuroo says, bowing to your father. Kita and Oikawa follow suit, bowing before grabbing their bags.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” Kita says, walking back to his car.

“See you next time boss. You too, princesa.” Oikawa says, waving to the both of you before getting into his car.

“So, you’ll let me know when there’s another job?” Kuroo asks as Oikawa and Kita begin pulling out of the driveway.

“Absolutely.” He nods, turning to face both of you. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I better get inside before your mother comes out here and drags me back in. Have a good night, Tetsurou.” He says, going back inside. It was once again just you and Kuroo.

“Oh! I almost forgot.” You say, beginning to take off Kuroo’s red bomber jacket.

“Keep it.” He says, taking a step closer to you. He places the jacket back onto your shoulders. “I’ll be back for it eventually.”

The two of you pause, staring into each other’s eyes. It felt like a moment that you could live in forever, relishing the comfort that Kuroo gave you.

“Thanks for having my back tonight. You sure know how to think on your feet.” Kuroo says.

“Not like I had much of a choice.” You say, remembering the moment earlier in the night. A part of you wished it wasn’t a lie, that you and Kuroo were just two lovers out for a drive. Nothing illegal, nothing scary, just a guy with a car and the girl in the passenger seat.

“Come here, princess.” Kuroo says, pulling you into a tight hug. Your heart skips a beat, startled by the sudden act of affection. You wrap your arms around him, feeling perfectly at home in his arms, being squeezed tightly against his body.

“Please be careful. I don’t trust your father.” Kuroo whispers into your ear. You realize the real reason why he hugged you, so that he could tell you this message in secret. “I’ll talk to some people from Karasuno Killers and see if you can meet Keishin’s girl. He’s hiding something, (y/n).”

“How do you know? What are you talking about?” You ask, holding him tighter.

“(y/n), how would your father know that Keishin smoked? If he lied about that, then we don’t know what else he’s hiding.” Kuroo responds. Your breath catches in your throat, remembering what your father had said, about your sudden resemblance to Keishin.

Racing jacket, gun, smoke.

#haikyuu #kuroo #kuroo testuro #kuroo tetsuro x reader #deciphered #hq #fanfic #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu fanfiction

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hobipaint · 3 years

Text

Graffiti and Chalk - one.

summary: You thought you knew him. You thought him gone. Kim Taehyung was part of you that you had carefully suppressed, keeping his memories to one box near the wall of your mind. That was your fault, though - empty walls demand for art. And who other than your own neighbourhood vandal?

↳ pairing: ex police student turned vandal! taehyung x officer! female reader

↳ genres: angst, eventual fluff?

↳ word count: 4.7K

↳ disclaimers: pg15!, vandalism, police officers, criminal past and heavy discussion of it, mentions of attempted murder.

one | two

a/n: this was supposed to be a one shot, but i decided to make it a two shot because inspiration struck at the twelfth hour. This is based on stigma tae, and has massive massive references to hyyh tae as well!! I'm warning you all. Written for the @bangtanwritingbingo prompt: chalk drawings. Beta read by @vaekth and @kookiestarlight who are possibly the most supportive and appreciative people I could have asked for, thank you so much!!

You'd thought that being an officer would mean solving cases for people who genuinely needed help. Not hunting around for a missing pumpkin.

"It's round, large, and I think it was slightly squishy, Y/N," the kid who had run up to you exclaimed again, while making gestures for round, large and squishy.

If the kid weren't this adorable, you'd squish him for being too loud at 8 in the morning.

You unlocked the door to your office, taking in the sight of the homey little cubicle that you maintained alone. Being the sole officer in a neighbourhood should be hard work, but in a neighbourhood where practically everybody is asleep? Not as much.

You sighed as you pulled the kid in - who by now had told you that his name was Sungwoo, and he was eight years old. His mother told him that if he ever lost anything precious he should head to the police, so here he was.

"Can you find my pumpkin?" He peered up at you as you tried to get the coffee machine started- well, as well as you can with a kid in the way. "It's round, large and squishy."

"Round, large, squishy. Got it." You smiled wearily at him, seeing how his eyes lit up at the sight of your notebook- the one he obviously thought you wrote your cases in. You took your espresso in a mug, running over to him before he damaged it. He ran over to it, picking it up, dropping it because of its weight and picking it up again.

"Can you write a message for Peter here?" He asked you, eyes wide and round as he stared at the brown leather bound book.

"Peter? I thought we were talking about your pumpkin?"

He nodded vigorously- strong enough to make you worry if his head would fall over. Flopping his hair to the side messily, he scampered to you as you settled in your chair, opening the last page of your book - where you had kept your post-its. "Peter is pumpkin! It's made of something- mom told me-" he put a hand to his head, trying to force his small head to think of big words, "Is it pushy?"

"Do you mean it is a plushie, Sungwoo?" You said, sighing and writing it down on a post-it note and sticking it on your desk.

"Yeah!" His eyes sparkled, and he bent his head down to the paper you gave him to scribble a hasty note for Peter. Once satisfied, he raised his head, giving the chit two pats before turning to you. "It's missing, Y/N. Can you find it?"

"Of course I can," you reassured him the best you could while half-asleep. The boy suddenly pulled you into a hug, happy tears spilling out of his eyes as he murmured thank you's over and over.

You held him for a few more seconds, understanding the worry that the kid would have over his plushie. You didn't understand why he had to bring it to you, though.

You felt a soft yet insistent buzz in your pant pockets all of a sudden, realizing it was your phone. You pulled yourself away from the crying child, and caressed his head while picking up the call.

"Good morning, Officer L/N." The coarse voice of your chief barked at you.

You sighed, not wanting to deal with any of his tantrums right after you dealt with the case of Peter the Pumpkin. "Good morning, Chief."

"I'm arriving at your office in about ten minutes. We have to discuss something important."

You sighed again, hand grabbing Sungwoo's as you led him outside the office. Time to clean up. "Of course, Sir."

"Why is this place so messy?" was the first thing you had to hear in the form of a greeting. When your chief said ten minutes, he clearly meant half an hour.

You'd spent some time clearing up cookie crumbs from your table, dusting any evidence of your multiple ramen packets, arranging the tables in proper order, lining the chairs up, and stuffing all the stuff you couldn't clear into a closet. It seemed clean enough to you.

"I shall clean it, Sir." You bowed your head once, carefully maintaining your expression so that the chief doesn't think of you as any more insolent than he already does.

"It doesn't reflect well upon the force to have a messy office, Y/N. I'm sure you were taught that," he said, pressing his finger to a certain spot on a table, and raising it up to show you. "Dust in our offices speaks of nonchalance. That is the last thing we'd want anyone to think of us is that we're nonchalant."

"I apologise, sir. I shall rectify it."

"I expect you to. Anyways," he said, dusting his hands and moving to another corner of the office, "that is not what I came here for." He settled into the chair- your chair, with the note for Peter the Pumpkin intact.

You prayed for him to ignore it.

"There's been growing signs of vandalism in the neighbourhood you're patrolling, Y/N," The chief said to you in a gruff tone, looking like an angry cat with his whiskers trembling. He wore a scowl to match the whole look. Luckily, his pondering eyes missed out on the missing pumpkin report. "I want you to catch that person. Why isn't it done yet?"

"They were untraceable, Sir. All we could capture was a navy blue hoodie and jeans. Nothing else. There's only graffiti and chalk all over the places he's been at, Sir. I tried looking for clues-"

"Keep looking, then."

"I'm trying, sir. I have asked the owners of all the shops on the street to hand over any CCTV footage they have of the person so that I can analyze it and try to nab him. It is a futile task till now, though."

The chief rubbed his hand hard on his thigh, the sound of his palm scratching against the coarse trouser fabric reaching you. "They are being a menace, Y/N. A nuisance to those who want peace in this neighbourhood. You are supposed to bring that peace for them, not complain about not being able to get that person. That is your job." He looked you directly in the eye, anger clearly visible. "Or would you wish to leave?"

You twitched in anger, forcing yourself to remain calm. The chief had a penchant for transferring those who were unsuccessful in their cases to different stations- the more transfers, the more incompetent you seemed. You had already begun at a relatively low level, and you couldn't afford going lower. You nodded stiffly.

"Any more complaints, and I'd be forced to transfer you somewhere else and hand this case over to someone competent. And you know it wouldn't be safe for your career, Y/N." He rose up from the chair, heading towards the door. "I want it resolved. Soon."

You bowed your head, in a sense of respect for your senior you'd actually never felt. It was annoying, honestly, and your hatred for this man just grew more and more. You had requested since the day of your graduation from the academy to be put in the forensics department - something that actually was your specialty. But no, here you were, patrolling a neighbourhood where the only problem was a kid scribbling on walls and leaving an alphabet behind.

Taehyung kicked a pebble aside, letting it roll aimlessly along the half-paved, half-broken road. "I'm out of green paint, again."

He glanced at the aluminium shutters he had decided to vandalize- no, beautify- today, deciding that the subtle decor of the florist's shop and the grim outside of the tattoo shop - both needed redecorations. He didn't care who was the owner. He didn't care how many reports they filed about the eerie similarities of the vandal to Mrs. Kim's son - they never cared about him before, so they'd never care about him now. That, he was sure of.

His red paint had been used to make the outer petals of a rose that he had dedicatedly been drawing the previous day, until the owner had yelled from his house above for him to stop. That was early, though. 11 AM was a predictable time for a vandal to walk through the streets, spraying graffiti and dusting chalk over every nook and corner until he was satisfied by the art he had created.

His wristwatch ticked three as he picked up his blue paint can. Just a few hours later, but effective enough for the owner to have fallen asleep - Taehyung could definitely justify that by the snores that echoed behind the shutters.

"Reporting. Reporting. Vandal. Street 13. I repeat. Vandal. Street 13."

The cuckoo clock that your mom had gifted you to decorate the less than neat office struck three just when the report came through. Just when you were about to settle for the night.

You pushed your papers aside, leaving the missing car complaint on your table. Holding your baton, slipping your ID into the pocket of your jeans and dusting crumbs off your chiffon blouse, you picked up the radio.

"Street 13. Officer Y/N reporting."

The gruff voice of your chief growled back at you. "The vandal has been found on camera, finally. The florist's CCTV; he sent a complaint. In fact, he's been wandering the streets for half an hour now, Y/N. Where have you been?"

You were about to form a legible enough response, say that the paperwork he had set for you was what consumed your time, but he beat you to it. Sighing into the phone, he said, "Nevermind that. Get to his location immediately, and capture him." His voice stumbled for a second. "Take the taser, just in case."

"Yes sir," you responded meekly, and disconnected the radio.

You looked around for your keys, going past a board full of cases that were never relevant enough to be solved - especially the one of the missing pumpkin. The types of cases you received here made you shudder, this wasn't why you had spent so much time training at the university. You tucked your radio into your jacket as you pushed it on your shoulders, grabbing onto a half-eaten sandwich to satisfy your hunger along the way.

"I have to get that person before he robs me of a chance at the forensics department forever," you thought while speeding towards the location told to you - while maintaining the speed limit, of course. No space for nonchalance.

You'd wanted to finish all your paperwork today and get back to an analysis you were working on - preferably get a nap too. Capturing a neighbourhood graffiti artist- this isn't what you had wanted to do.

This wasn't what Taehyung had wanted to do.

The paint dried off slowly on the metal surface, a small drop of ink trickling down where Taehyung had stopped. The design wasn't matching what he had thought at all, he thought as he stared at it. Time to switch it up.

He picked up the painting from right where he had stopped it - merging blue into the red petals as he was on his way to the centre of the flower. Painstakingly, he traced lines that would capture the delicate curves of the outlines, serving to further merge into the picture.

His vandalism wasn't ugly drawings, nudity, or someone just spraying 'SUCKAZ!' all over a wall. That is for amateurs. His was nuanced art. Art that he couldn't do in the day. The ones he could never showcase in the galleries. The ones he buried in the deepest recesses of his mind, burning a hole into the boxes he stuffed them into. This was his freedom.

Taehyung picked up the black can. Fixing the nozzle in the proper direction, he shook the bottle- once, twice. The paint came out in spurts at first, before settling into a steady spray. Black always enhances everything, doesn't it? Enhancement that never seemed beautiful - it was just there to make it stand out. Be noticed. Be shamed. Be suspected. Look deadly, or even look dead. Even the most innocent faces look devious with black. What's to say his flower would still look alive?

The black slowly spiralled across the expanse of the shutter, coiling over and over in what Taehyung thought could be the leaves. The thorns that held the flower back from reaching the epitome of beauty- at least, outwardly beauty. He detested how overhyped a rose was- just as destructible as all other flowers. Where's the beauty in something temporary?

The green paint can had been used up last time when he had sprayed ivy all over the fashion boutique's doors- all of which had been washed away. A shame, Taehyung thought, and picked up his airbrush. Filling a little green into the small holder, he tested it a few times on the footpath - he'd scrub chalk all over it later on, he still needed to add more to beautify the shops. He carefully painted leaves all over the black he had sprayed, letting them flatten out against the metal at the back and form a protective layer around the rose. Unnecessary by all means.

He then switched to a darker green, picking up the airbrush once again to add some subtlety in the leaves. He watched the spray slowly settle right where he wanted it - paint, unlike his life, was something he had full control of. It was liberating.

Standing back and twirling the can over and over in his hand, Taehyung was somewhat satisfied with what he made. A rose. Simple, overrated. Just like flowers. The leaves stood out more to him, along with the thorns; their prickly points being the focus of the picture. Perfect.

He picked up his personal favorite - a small can of black paint who's nozzle had been crafted by him. Stooping down to the corner of the shutter, he slowly sprayed across it. Black settling on silver gray, one single alphabet. V.

That's it. He was done. Just an hour's work.

He turned to the tattoo artist's shop, the shutter a colourful mess littered with messy black stains and drawings the owner probably thought was hip. Taehyung cringed. How was it possible for an artist to be that bad at decorating their own shop? He walked a few steps back, admiring the size of it and thinking of what he could fill there. Something that would really annoy a tattoo artist- he deserved it after having ruined the shutter like that. Picking up a blade, Taehyung set to scrape away the skulls- which, he found, were stickers. Gross. Peeling them off, he set to chip away at the paint- the soft thunk, thunk of the blade slapping against the metal echoed around him. Hopefully, not too loud.

The metal loudly protested as Taehyung pressed his blade against what seemed to be an outline of a body, done with black, and some random inscriptions that he could notice were wearing away. This had to be really old.

Scratch, scratch, scratch. The blade kept pushing at the layers of colour, forcing them off the metal. He could see glints of silver shining underneath it, dim under the streetlight.

Scratch, scratch, scratch. He kept pushing at the paint, tongue poking out as his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He had to do it now. There was no other time for him to do this. Now. Now. Now.

The silver suddenly glinted more brightly- a shade impossible under the dull, flickering yellow of the streetlights. White lights created a halo of sorts around him, and Taehyung knew his time was up. He smiled. At least one place got the beauty they deserved.

"Hands up!" A voice yelled behind him, and he could hear a click that definitely sounded like a taser gun.

Looking up, he cursed loudly at everyone and anyone. He could have finished it tonight. His work would have been done, and he would have been on his way. He turned around, annoyance sparking in his eyes with sarcastic acceptance lining his lips in the way they curled. "You found me," he murmured, before letting himself get slammed against the very shutters he was painting.

Fate played wonderful games, and for now, you were its newest loser.

"Name." You spoke, your voice monotone yet clear.

"You know me, Y/N. Don't pretend you don't." Taehyung crooned, smirking while he rotated the glass that rested atop the table.

Your annoyance only grew. When you were told that there was a vandal in the streets, you didn't expect it to be a familiar face.

Kim Taehyung was known to you. Someone who had lived right next door. Someone who had been known as a lovable, obedient boy by the neighbours- you still remembered how your mother would gush about him. Someone you knew, and once, cared for.

Someone who was later only known as the kid who flung a bottle on his stepfather's face and was sentenced for five years - which, in fact, was a misjudgement. He was innocent, and the video of him attacking the man was manipulated. Fake. Edited. Whatever you chose wouldn't be enough to change anything in the past.

Taehyung had come out of jail a changed man, weeping openly in the streets when he heard of his family's fate- what he had heard, though, was something you were unaware of. Two years had since passed, and you no longer heard your mother talking about the Kim's boy. He had simply vanished, for you. No traces anywhere.

But here he was. Kim Taehyung. Alive, breathing. Smirking. And spinning a glass over and over.

"Give that to me." You said, snatching the glass away from him and keeping it aside. Settling into your chair, you pulled your laptop closer once again, mustering the most serious look you can. "I'm not playing around, Taehyung. Talk properly. Behave. You're already in a rough spot."

Taehyung laughed; a mirthless, almost painful laughter. "I can't see how anything can be bad here, officer. With all due respect, of course." He straightened up, still keeping that smirk on his face.

You exhaled your breath slowly, holding back all the words you wanted to hurl at him. "Name?"

"Kim Taehyung."

You typed it in, feeling the way each letter pad was pushed down before you moved over it- momentary, but fulfilling. "Age."

"As of today, 25."

"Job."

"Nothing. Add the official vandal of Street 13 if you want."

You raised an eyebrow, fingers abruptly coming to a stop. "Behave."

"No job, officer." Taehyung said, settling further ahead in his seat and pausing, before speaking again. "Why do you need this though? I already have a criminal record, don't I?"

You turned your face to him, the sudden change in light exposure hurting your eyes. The hurt they felt couldn't possibly fathom the depths of pain you saw churning in Taehyung's eyes, like pits of fire. They were seemingly blank, but you had known him. Known him long enough to know that this wasn't who he used to be. This wasn't him.

"Once you were proven innocent, your record was wiped clean. The manipulators were given the charges that you had." You looked at him while saying this, trying to notice any emotions that would make way to his face. None. No twitching lips, no annoyance in his eyebrows. Just his eyes that seethed anger. "Family?"

"None."

You raised an eyebrow. "None?"

Taehyung groaned, getting up from the chair and turning around, hands on his waist. "Don't make me repeat all that shit again. You know it, Y/N."

"Sit back down, Taehyung." You said, irritated by his tantrums. It was four in the morning, for God's sake. You didn't have the energy to deal with him. "I need details if you want to get out of this without any charges."

"Dead. Most of them. Those who aren't, disowned me as soon as I got into jail. Something about not wanting to be related to a criminal." He said lowly, a gruff tone to his voice as he spoke the last words.

You hummed lowly, not knowing what to say. How do you possibly respond to something like this? You weren't trained for interrogation at university. You specialized in forensics. This wasn't supposed to be your job.

"I'm sorry that happened, Taehyung." You managed after a few moments of silence.

"Don't be." He shrugged, then looked up. "You don't mean it."

"I still need a reason as to why you are destroying the places around here with your graffiti and chalk drawings, Taehyung." You ignored him and continued, rising from your chair to let your sore limbs relax. "Unfortunately, I can't let you leave till you give me a reason."

Taehyung stayed mum, much to your annoyance.

You slammed your hand on the table, a loud slap that stung your hand, but also Taehyung's ears, it seemed. "Reasons. Now."

"I just wanted to."

"Wanted to? So you were voluntarily damaging someone else's property?"

He raised his head to look at you; once, twice. Then with a resigned sigh, he responded. "Yeah. But I was beautifying it."

"A beautification they never asked for?" You said, as Taehyung groaned behind you.

"No one gives a damn, Y/N-"

"The police do." You say, preparing to send a message to your chief over the radio. "Got him."

"The police didn't care when I was innocent in that case, Y/N. Stop pretending like they'll care for me when I'm actually guilty of something."

"That case was mishandled."

"Yeah, Y/N. It was mishandled. But only for you." You turned to him, shocked at the venom that suddenly laced his voice.

In the few seconds that you had turned away from him, his eyes had turned bloodshot. Red rimmed the remaining white of his eyes. "You wouldn't know what it is to be locked up for harming people you loved, Y/N. You wouldn't understand that pain," he murmured, loud enough for you to hear him in the echoes of the office.

You wanted to scream at him. Tell him how he had hurt you. Remind him of all the things you had forced yourself to forget over seven years. The way your heart still hurt for him.

"You're right. I won't understand. So sit here, and explain yourself." You pulled your chair back, seating yourself in it and gazing up at him expectantly.

He was just staring at you- you couldn't say whether his gaze held expectations or disdain. Then, shaking his head, "You're still just as stubborn, aren't you," he said, softly smiling as he slipped into his chair. "Adamant, and so, so confusing."

"You don't know me anymore, Taehyung. Don't pretend. Anyways," you said, turning to your laptop again. "I need-"

"No." He stood up once again- why was he standing? "Answer me, now."

He rested his arms on the table, chest leaning forward to balance himself- and now, you could see the changes he had brought in himself. In place of lean muscle there were defined biceps you could see being flexed. In place of short hair was curly locks that fell until his crown, now hanging over. In place of a cheeky grin that sent your blood rushing to your cheeks was a pair of lips, set tight in one line that sent chills down your spine. There was warmth to him, yes, but it was different. This wasn't the Taehyung you knew.

"You knew that I was back." Your eyes moved back to look into his. And you noticed more changes. Instead of a carefree twinkle, there was dark, brooding black filling his pupils. "You knew. I'd seen you that night."

The night when you had seen him falling to his knees, soaking himself in the rain as he gave his tears as a tribute to the gushing skies. The night he returned. The night you thought he didn't know you.

"I'd seen you after that as well. That day at the convenience store, I'd seen you buying candies. You still buy the same kind, don't you? Lemon flavoured."

The night you gave up on your dreams to become an analyst in the forensic lab for the police. The night where you stared up to question everything you did as your feet soaked in the snow. Two years ago. The night he thought he knew you.

"You're hurting me by not remembering us, Y/N."

"We were nothing to begin with." You cleared your throat, settling further back into your chair. "You asked me on a date, and stood me up. We're nothing. Absolutely nothing."

Taehyung opened his mouth to speak again, but leaned back, standing tall, straight. You almost missed his warmth - no. This wasn't the warmth of a person you had cared for.

"It's so cold outside, Y/N, why haven't you turned on the heater?" Your chief's voice filled the room after a few minutes of absolute silence. Taehyung had taken to leaning on the wall, now, maintaining an anxious distance. "Did you get the man?"

You simply pointed towards Taehyung, watching the chief's face flash with recognition, brows hastily furrowing as a frown formed on his face.

"Kim Taehyung?" Your chief asked, coming up to the two of you. "Is it really you? Are you the vandal?"

Taehyung remained silent, head hung.

The chief inhaled, then exhaled; loud enough for you to hear him - "It is you, isn't it. What happened after the attempted murder case?"

"Proven false, Sir." You informed your superior. For some odd reason, you felt like you had to come to Taehyung's defense.

"I am aware of that, Y/N." The chief said, looking Taehyung up and down. As reported, he was in the navy blue sweatshirt and ripped jeans- and you could see in the clear light of your office that he had ripped the holes into them himself. Something he did before to look fashionable, he used to say.

"I don't really want to put any charges on you, Taehyung. Why did you do it?"

Taehyung spoke, voice gravelly. "It was liberating, Sir."

"You broke the law, though."

"The law broke me, Sir."

The chief took another deep breath and settled onto the chair where Taehyung was sitting just a few moments ago. His wrinkled skin seemed to age even more. Taehyung was close with the chief as a student, that you knew- you had seen him going multiple times to his office to get clarifications after class. You wondered how the chief felt - did he feel the same sting of recognition you had felt?

"I don't want you to get any charges, Taehyung," he said, before laughing and adding, "all these years, and I still have my student in my head."

He stood up and turned to face Taehyung again, worry reflecting in his eyes as he held him by the shoulders. "You're still the Taehyung I know, right?"

Taehyung looked away, down, his face coming in your line of vision - you could see the small rivulets that flowed from the pool of emotions in his eye, down the lines that worry, anger and disbelief had formed on his face. Sniffing softly, he turned back to the chief. "Yes, Sir."

The chief visibly relaxed, his arms coming down to his sleeves, gripping Taehyung. "Good. I hope it remains that way."

He returned to his stern stance, and faced you. "I suggest you keep him here for the night, Y/N." he looked outside, the sky just turning sapphire. "I shall return in the morning to talk. Get some rest while you're at it. And Taehyung? Eat something."

The chief swiftly departed the office, and Taehyung slumped into the chair. "Seven years, and the old man still remembers me," he laughed mirthlessly, lips twisting in an amused smile. "Always appreciated him."

"And so did he," you mentioned. Taehyung was always brought up as a comparison for your batch of officers to emulate. Even when he was in jail, he was remembered among you as a diligent student and worker. "'Remember his good', he used to say. He always remembered you."

"And you?" He suddenly looked at you. His eyes were no longer bloodshot - there were small remnants of anger, but all you could see was wistfulness. "Did you remember me, Y/N?"

a/n: yup, I stopped there. Do leave some feedback if you liked it- in the comments, or as an ask! Also, if you wish to be tagged for the next part, you can ask for that too! Thank you for giving your time to this fic,, and I hope you enjoyed reading it! love, hazel💞

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otonymous · 4 years

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“The Most Beautiful Girl In The World”: The Guys As Fathers (MLQC Headcanon)

Hi dear Nonny!

What a wonderful idea! We could all use a bit of fluff every now and then 🤣 I hope you’re doing well too! Sending you much love along with these headcanons! Hope you enjoy the read! 🥰💖

Victor:

Daddy’s little princess - this little girl is the CEO of Victor’s heart

She is also the unofficial CEO of LFG: Victor loves to bring her to work with him every now and then, and all the office staff go absolutely ga-ga over her

Goldman. Is. Smitten. (Especially since she has a way of softening Victor’s hard as nails exterior)

Victor likes to front like he’s strict, but he’s not fooling anybody. Just one look at the tenderness in his eyes when he’s looking at his daughter would tell you who’s really the boss

Psst! He loves to spoil her!

And by spoiling, we don’t mean that she gets whatever she wants, all the time (although daddy’s heart DOES thrill a little inside to see her all bubbly with happiness after he presents her with a gift) — Victor will also ensure that he carves out time from work to spend with his family (there will definitely be a shift in work-life balance)

He won’t let her get away with everything though! The man will still insist that she be on her best behaviour when necessary, but he is a lot more lax than you would’ve expected from him

Family time would consist of: horseback riding lessons, teddy bear picnics and tea parties (best believe she will be sending an actual invitation in the mail to Mr. Mills) — you will absolutely melt the first time you see Victor perched uncomfortably in a tiny chair, holding a mini plastic teacup to his lips and asking a stuffed cat if it would like another scone

She LOVES to be Victor’s sous-chef in the kitchen, and when she gets a bit older, she’ll also become daddy’s jogging buddy

Victor will always, always read her a bedtime story, even when he’s away from home on business, even if it means interrupting a meeting (Victor will establish a new norm; his peers will come to respect his family values)

The absolute apple of the eye of Victor’s father and aunt: this munchkin can do no wrong. If she is to be spoiled rotten by anyone, it would be by these two.

Every time you go over to their place for dinner, it’s pretty much guaranteed that you’ll be leaving with a trunkful of new toys

This little girl would be a good mix of her mother and father: she’ll inherit her father’s jet black hair, but the intensity of her eyes will be softened by your genes

In spite of all this generosity, your little girl will grow up to be far from spoiled

She will be incredibly compassionate, and will go from donating her many, many books and toys to other less fortunate kids as a child to organizing charity functions, etc., as a young adult.

Victor couldn’t be more proud.

Lucien:

The shift is seismic the very first time Lucien holds his newborn daughter in his arms

“She looks just like you,” he whispers to no one in particular, careful not to wake you as you get one night of precious sleep immediately postpartum before your nights become interrupted by endless wake-feed-soothing back to bed cycles

Lucien doesn’t sleep that first night in the hospital; he spends it cradling your daughter by the light of the moon seeping in through the thin slats of the blinds

The cool rays illuminate every single feature that Lucien sets his mind on memorizing: her eyes — still a little bit swollen, the flare of those tiny nostrils, the sharply defined cupid’s bow of the most perfectly shaped lips

He is putting his face to the downy soft hairs on the crown of her head, nose pressing to cheek to inhale the scent of his newborn daughter

A tiny seed of anxiety begins to sprout from deep within Lucien to know that he will never have this moment again with her, and it feels like time is already slipping from the tight grasp of his hand

But then suddenly, she opens her big, bright eyes. Quietly, she stares at her daddy, her irises the same colour as the ones drowning in her gaze, and the nervous clench in Lucien’s gut dissolves

And when she opens and closes her mouth in a soundless gape as if to say that everything will be okay, Lucien knows he would give his life in a heartbeat to protect hers

This little girl is wise beyond her years, and will often say things that surprise the adults around her; family friends will refer to her as an “old soul”

She is far from a little chatterbox, preferring instead to listen and observe those around her, her big, bright eyes patiently taking in every detail

Initially, you’ll be concerned that she isn’t speaking as much as other children her age. Lucien will take his time reassuring you, an almost knowing smile on his lips.

When she does finally speak, she blows everyone away with the relative complexities of her sentence structures

Little genius: your daughter shares her father’s intelligence and can often be found snuggling up under her favourite camphor tree, books and sketching pencils in hand

She loves flying kites with her mommy and daddy

Quiet but kind, she’ll have no shortage of friends and admirers

You might be surprised, but she also has a wicked sense of humour. Enjoys delivering jokes with the cutest wink in the world.

Her favourite place in the world is daddy’s laboratory. The noisy whirs of those big, fancy machines make her jump for joy and Lucien cannot help but smile

There are times — especially when you guys are at your happiest as a family — that Lucien has to fight back the anxiety that all this could be taken away from him. The melancholic tinge in his smile is so slight that even you could miss it at times. But your daughter will always catch it. And when she does, she’ll slip her tiny hand within her father’s much larger palm, look up and give him the biggest smile she can muster. It’ll always bring him back to the moment.

Little though she is, she gives him strength beyond compare

And on the day of her graduation from university at the top of her class, she’ll be given a priceless gift from her parents: a silver pen named Iridescent.

Gavin:

Usually so calm, cool and collected in even the most stressful of situations, Gavin is a nervous wreck when you go into labour

He is pacing back and forth and back and forth in the hospital room. You almost want to send him on an errand to get some popular street eats with a guaranteed long line up just so he can calm TF down and not get in the nurses’ way

He is offering you ice chips before you even ask for it, patting at your forehead with a facecloth even though you’re not sweating, giving you his hand to hold every two minutes even though you haven’t started pushing yet

When you mention that he should probably try to calm down since you likely have at least another hour to go before your cervix is fully dilated, he nods in agreement and starts doing push-ups and sit-ups on the floor

The battery of Gavin’s phone dies from all of Minor’s messages asking if the baby has arrived yet

Birdcop is fit to burst from all the joy his body just simply cannot contain the moment his little girl arrives

Because now he has not just one, but TWO of you!

Your daughter will be the splitting image of you, except for her striking amber eyes

The names she gives her stuffed animals will be strangely familiar: Fluffy, Softy, Pearly Jr., etc. (you’ll have to ask her whether daddy helped with the naming 🤣).

Minor’s enthusiasm cannot be dampened: he is over so often with food, diapers and offers to do the housework that you basically have to make him your child’s godparent LOL

Gavin is a giant teddy bear when it comes to your daughter: he cannot say no to her and lives to see her smile

She is gifted with her father’s athleticism, and Gavin won’t hesitate to personally instruct her on the art of self-defence starting at a very young age (needless to say, any future suitors will be given very intense once-overs by Gavin, even little boys at the playground; you can never let your guard down)

Eli is on Gavin’s watch list the moment G-man overhears her shyly asking you about “daddy’s handsome coworker” the year she turned 8

Yes, she will also be getting a bracelet with a GPS tracker LOLOL

She is incredibly strong: could probably toss Minor around like a burlap sack by the time she’s 12

This little girl is all about the thrills, screaming, “Go higher, daddy! Higher!” in Gavin’s ear as he flies with her on his shoulders

He will take her to the BEST places for stargazing at night (when she’s old enough to stay up) — best believe this is something G-man will lament the loss of when she’s all grown up

Yes, the motorcycle will be her ride of choice the moment she gets her licence (much to her parents’ chagrin)

Gavin cannot help but tear up every time he watches her play the piano, especially if she plays with her mother at the same time

Psst! He has a photo in his study of the two of you sitting next to each other on the piano bench, the late afternoon sun streaming in through big, French windows, dappled by leaves falling from the ginkgo tree planted in the backyard

He only wishes his mother could’ve been there to see his beautiful baby girl

Kiro:

This little star charms absolutely everyone at first sight: the doctors and nurses that help deliver her are completely enamoured with this little bundle of joy

Tears are streaming from Kiro’s bright blue eyes the moment she is placed into his arms for the first time; he’ll bend over to give you the biggest kiss while gently cradling the baby, the salt of your tears mixing together

This little girl has the best laugh: clear and bright and like music to the ears of anyone lucky enough to hear it.

And she laughs often — daddy is hell-bent on filling her childhood with love and joy and will do anything to make her smile

You’ll often see Kiro crawling around the house on hands and knees, your daughter shrieking with laughter as she tugs on his golden hair, yelling “Giddy-up!” over and over again

Genetics aside, let’s just pretend that her hair is long and golden like her father’s. At times, she literally looks like a doll come to life, especially with those azure eyes

Budding superstar: this girl has inherited her father’s talents when it comes to acting and music. She is hitting those high notes, projecting that beautiful voice and basically hamming it up all the time just to get a laugh from her adoring family.

Kiro will “complain” about double standards because Savin will always have a tasty treat for her whenever he sees her, saying “Make sure your daddy doesn’t get any, okay?” LOL

At the same time, Kiro decides to (gasp!) cut down on his junk food habit when his daughter is born. He actually already started out of solidarity during your pregnancy, and wants to be healthy so he can have as much time as possible with his beloved family

Kiro also cuts back on his workload when his little girl arrives. This daddy is super involved in all aspects of taking care of his baby and his wife. You’ll never hear him complain about having to change a dirty diaper. In fact, he even does it better than you do — no leakages here! LOL

Kiro LOVES to dress his daughter up and will often wear matching outfits with her. Baby and daddy denim overalls? Check. Father-daughter couture? Check.

Baby globetrotter: you guys will tag along with Kiro when he flies overseas to shoot on location. Kiro loves having you and the baby near.

When she gets a bit older, you can bet that they’ll be the best gaming buddies (you’ll insist on her having completed her homework first, but Kiro will secretly let her play one game before she starts - “just don’t tell your mom, or else we’ll both be in trouble!”)

Charming and bright, your daughter is also a bit of a tech wiz. Learns to code at a very young age under her father’s tutelage, and enjoys building computers from scratch as a hobby.

This little girl carries joy with her wherever she goes, spreading it around like warm sunshine

Shaw:

Shaw is soft, soft, soft the moment he becomes a father

He could be blasé about everything else, but not when it comes to his daughter, the absolute treasure of his heart along with his wife

There will be times that you wake up in the middle of the night and find his side of the bed empty. You’ll hear his footsteps, softly pacing back and forth before a large window as he tries to sooth your infant daughter back to sleep. Shaw will look like he literally stepped out of a ‘90s Calvin Klein ad campaign, topless and clad only in low slung pyjama bottoms as he cradles your daughter in his arms, the muscles of his biceps bulging in the pale moonlight that casts a silvery glow on his lavender hair.

(Example of a Calvin Klein ad from the 1990s)

Guess your thirst will have to wait till your daughter falls asleep again to be slaked LOL

This little girl will have her father’s amber eyes as well as the fine features of his face — she will slay all the kids in school with her beauty

Loves to snark her dad but is all sweetness to you (Psst! Shaw (not-so) secretly loves it!)

A fast-talker and quick-witted: sometimes, you think you can actually hear her mind working

Absolutely loves her daddy’s skateboard and would much rather learn new tricks on her own board than play with more age-appropriate toys

She is also a bit of a bookworm: loves to read and is often surprising you with new topics of interest, everything from ancient civilizations to meteorology

Your little girl will often snuggle up to him and ask him what he is reading. Shaw will then proceed to read to her, even if it’s a paper or a textbook. Her quick mind has been able to grasp even abstract concepts from a very young age. She’s a bit of a genius in that respect.

Inherits her dad’s love of music. The two of them will enjoy rocking out in the basement the moment she is big enough to properly hold an electric guitar (with you sneaking peeks every 5 minutes to make sure she’s still got her protective headphones on LOL)

She’ll take after her dad in that she’ll seem uncomfortable with the concept of authority starting at a very young age. She questions nearly everything and will drive many of her teachers up the wall, although they will also recognize the extent of her incredible intellect. She’ll set herself apart at school as a leader, having also the charisma to charm those who would wish to follow

Her dad, of course, is absolutely ecstatic to have a daughter capable of thinking for herself instead of blindly following others (and you will be too!)

🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣

Thanks so much for reading! Check out more of my work here! 📚

(Please do not copy/alter/edit/repost my work - thanks!)

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beelovesnct · 3 years

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𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩 [𝐞𝐩. 𝟑]

— episode 3

The episode begins with the introduction of the two trained professionals who will be evaluating the personalities of the members; Aiko could be seen bowing and clapping respectfully together with the boys.

They began by introducing what the HEXACO test was, and when asked if they had any idea of what it could be, Jisung answered that it might be related to the MBTI, while Jaemin and Jeno revealed they thought it was for psychopaths (with Aiko scoffing and commenting, "You're both crazy," under her breath.)

Before proceeding with their assessment, both professionals put out a disclaimer that the test was not one hundred percent accurate, rather simply something that a person could relate to and say, "Oh I feel that way sometimes,"

Jaemin's assessment: Mr. My Way

They first examined Jaemin's character, explaining that he's someone who abides by his own rules and standards, and makes it clear whenever those are not met. In short, he's a character who does things his way.

Immediately, the dreamies reacted with subtle shock, amazed at how close the results were to his actual personality; even Aiko was nodding her head along with their explanation, especially about how he was such a complicated character overall and had a hard time dissecting what he was actually like.

The host noticed this, and asked why she was nodding so much; Aiko then stated that "Even I'm surprised by Jaemin every time; he's like an onion that can reform its layers, sometimes he shows everything and other times nothing at all."

The professionals and even Jaemin himself were surprised by Aiko's specification, "That's exactly how we would point it out." They complimented her use of words.

Jeno's assessment: A scholar who gets hurt easily

For Jeno, they revealed that he's the type of person who holds everything in; so when asked about his infamous nickname, "Jeno-jam", he revealed that he was actually hurt the first few times when he was teased as such, only getting over it when he finally viewed it as a positive thing—something that was unique only to him.

When asked who called him that name, Renjun admitted that besides Aiko, everyone called him that even way back in their trainee days to which Jeno then confirmed.

Aiko was suddenly asked why she didn't tease Jeno, she replied with a stutter, "H-He was funny then," to which Haechan immediately responded with "Don't lie," bringing laughter to everyone.

Regaining her flustered composure, Aiko tried explaining again, "Just, he's reminded by them anyway, me teasing him would be a waste of time," She shrugged her shoulders cooly, but it failed to conceal her true emotions as the tip of her ears started turning red; especially with Mark's revelation,

"Actually, Aiko came to me one night when we were preparing for debut, she told me if I could tell the kids to stop teasing Jeno because she was worried his confidence would decrease,"

A bunch of oohs and aahs came after the confession; Aiko rolled her eyes but covered her face after, earning a "Tsundere!" comment from Jaemin.

Jeno simply smiled and side-hugged Aiko who was still crouched over with her face in her hands.

Ako was once again complimented, making the host joke if she was doing this to get more screen time, to which the boys denied altogether, "Aiko is really like that, she's observant. She knows when we're having problems without us having even to tell her, she has like a detector of some sort." Renjun said with much sincerity, making everyone nod in understanding (and Aiko embarrassed again so she settled on putting her entire face on Jeno's shoulder).

With such timing, the professionals intervened that that was exactly what they got from Aiko's personality test as well, and so the segment moved to Aiko's examination.

Aiko's assessment: Individualistic Tsundere

After seeing Aiko's HEXACO results, the members let out a sound of surprise, as much like Jeno's, Aiko's chart was very unconventional.

"As we can see, Aiko-nim's results were a 3-3 situation; her humility, emotionality, and conscientiousness were very high, but her extroversion, openness, and agreeableness were all lower than what is of standard."

"This is the reason why we gave you the title, 'Individualistic Tsundere'", they continued, and once again, even just from the title, the members gasp and showed their agreement.

"You are very individualistic, and that simply means that you enjoy being alone, and you actually value your alone time. For that reason, you are very independent and often won't turn to others for help." They began their explanation, the set quiet as all of the dreamies paid attention to what they were saying about their precious member, only nodding whenever they agreed with what was revealed.

"Wah, why is that so accurate," Renjun commented, his voice low as he glanced at Aiko who has kept silent right from the start when her results were shared.

"I've heard that you're lazy, right? Fans call you a cat because you laze around too much," The comparison brought a smile to Aiko's face as she nodded, confirming their thoughts.

"But I think that you're not lazy at all; as a result of your low extraversion and high conscientiousness, you're very picky with what you put your efforts in. In short, you're practical. You share the same 'My Way' attitude with Jaemin-nim, that if something does not interest you, you tend to back off completely."

The dreamies, once more, portrayed an appalled expression; this time, even Aiko was not excused as she felt immensely exposed to that particular revelation.

"Yah, this is so crazy," Mark chimed in, shaking his head in disbelief.

The professionals continued, seemingly pleased with the reaction, "There were some essay portions in the test, and Aiko-nim answered some of them—which I assume was in line with your interests, with essays that were good enough for college applications."

"Like with the David Statue, she made references to the art of human anatomy, and even stated possible reasons as to why Michaelangelo sculpted it; it was an amazing read,"

"But for those that she might have not found so interesting, she simply stated some simple phrases that weren't at all expounded."

"One question asked if you would steal money in the instance that you would never get caught, Aiko-nim simply stated, 'I'm rich enough, so no thank you.'" The disclosure didn't fail to bring smiles and laughter to both the members and hosts, finding Aiko's savage response too amusing. Aiko simply shook her head as she hid her face behind her hands once again, only regaining her composure once the topic was changed.

"It's also because of your lack of extroversion that you tend to hide how you care for others. You have really high emotionality, which means you have the tendency to be an empath—detecting whenever a person is down even if they don't show it; so you help them in any way you can—especially if they're important to you, but often would brush it off as nothing, hence we gave you the title, 'Tsundere'"

Jaemin nodded vigorously, displaying full-on his 'my way' attitude as he screamed his thoughts, "That's RIGHHHHHT."

The dreamies, though amused with Jaemin, sided with his thoughts, with Jisung declaring one particular story from their trainee days.

“Noona always sees right through any of us. She'd buy medicine from across the street during break times just so we won't have to suffer. She would then always lie that she already had those medicines with her, but she didn't know that we could see her right from the window."

At Jisung's confession, everyone visibly cooed; adoration in their eyes as they looked at Aiko (who waved her hands in front of her, trying to deny the accusation, but the dreamies won't let her have it). Jaemin, who was beside her, ruffled her hair fondly.

"With that, there are a lot of benefits with having you on the team, one of which is making sure that everybody's doing okay behind the scenes, but I do have a tip for you, Ms. Tsundere." The laughing seized, as the professional's tone was somber; Aiko listened intently, her face morphed into seriousness.

"Since you value independence, you have a tendency to keep all your problems in. You have no problem helping others, but you have a problem with them helping you. Remember that you are never a burden, so you can lean on others too."

For the nth time, all the dreamies portrayed an immense gesture of agreement, either commenting, "That's right, Aiko, stop holding everything in," "Be more like Jaeman"; or simply nodding their heads as they glanced at the neko-member, relieved that she heard those words outside of their own team (which means she'd probably take their advice since she views that there are no biases).

Aiko simply showed a smile, "I'll take that to heart, thank you." She responded politely.

The personality examination finished for Aiko and then continued to the other members until the host told everyone that it was the time for the next activity.

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wall-maria-fritz · 3 years

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Calm the Fuck Down, Itadori

Yuuji Itadori x Jennifer Lawrence

Summary: Where Yuuji manages to drag Megumi and Nobara to a Tokyo Comic Con.

A/N: I took this way too seriously, jeezus.

“Calm the fuck down, Itadori”

Megumi wanted to shoot himself in the foot.

He absolutely loathed conventions.

Especially when you got a bunch of idiots with a complete disregard for deodorant and personal space simping around in costumes as if they aren’t fully grown men.

Idiots like Itadori, who was currently wasting his life savings on X-Men stickers.

“Yeah,” Nobara piped in, already side-eyeing a man in a green cape with white and blue wings, and funny looking swords that look like box cutters—he was asking her if he could take a picture with her Petra Ral look.

Who the fuck is Petra Ral anyway? Nobara is SURE she looks way cuter though.

“How are you still so gaga over X-Men anyway?” she continues, with a flip of her ginger hair. “You’re literally a sorcerer, Yuuji. You fight curses in real life.”

Almost like whiplash, Yuuji turns on Nobara with an intensity she’s only seen in battle.

“Never. Disrespect X-Men.”

Yuuji was wide eyed; one hand pointing at Nobara, another clutching a handful of stickers and keychains (when did he buy those?) with a very blue woman on them.

Is she… naked? Nobara wonders, but is immediately interrupted by Yuuji’s incoming sermon.

“X-Men is a poignant commentary on society, Kugisaki. It is a masterpiece that only people with taste can appreciate, with characters so well written—“

But Yuuji’s fanboying gospel was cut short when a smattering of whoops and applause erupted from onstage, as a man dressed as… Thanos in a thong—Thongos, he called himself. Ok.—officially started the day’s most awaited event, and that was to meet X-Men’s Hollywood actors, in the flesh!

It was then that Megumi verbalized what everyone was thinking at this point.

“I didn’t know Itadori knew what ‘poignant’ meant”

Yuuji Itadori raced towards the front of the crowd like it was an orgasm out of reach, tightly clutching onto the barricade (also like he was clutching his [redacted]).

He didn’t know when and how his friends managed to catch up to him, but when X-Men’s glittering line up of beautiful people came out on stage, both Nobara and Megumi looked to each other in complete understanding beside him-- of course Itadori was here to simp for Jennifer Lawrence.

And of course he’d spend every yen to his name just to catch a glimpse of this woman in nothing but a skin-tight blue spandex that left no curve nor valley to the imagination.

“I LOVE YOU JENNIFER LAWRENCE”

Yuuji proceeded to fucking shriek in broken English.

“I EAT AMERICAN FOOD FOR YOU”

Megumi and Nobara both took a step from Yuuji.

‘Nope! The weird guy? They don’t know him.’

To their horror, they watch a grinning mouth appear at Yuuji’s cheek, already salivating.

“Gotta give it to ya, punk. That IS one fine ass,”

Sukuna’s mouth let its long tongue lick around his lips.

“I hope you got us some backstage passes, kid”

Megumi and Nobara shivered.

But clearly, Itadori and Sukuna weren’t the only ones going absolutely bananas for the X-Men, it might have very well been the entire building cheering for the cast.

It was until a bald guy in a wheelchair signaled for the audience to quiet down, did the sea of sweaty geeks calm down.

After a few introductions, and further hyping, the mic was finally passed to Jennifer Lawrence, whose character was apparently named Mystique.

Like a child showing off to his parents, Yuuji looks at Megumi and Nobara, pointing at Jennifer Lawrence as if saying, “Look! It’s her! That’s her! It’s actually her!”

Yuuji then proceeds to kiss three fingers raised up like he was doing a Boy Scout’s pledge, and raised those three fingers in there air, whistling three drawn out notes.

The idiot was giving her the Hunger Games salute, Jesus fucking Christ.

“Ehehe. Yeah, show her which fingers you’re gonna fuck her with,” Sukuna chuckles.

Which Yuuji responds to by forcibly jockeying Sukuna’s mouth off his cheek, shutting the curse up;

Yuuji Itadori drinks enough Respect Women Juice to give the Sahara a year of rain, alright.

Soon, everyone was giving Jennifer the salute.

Jennifer waves away the salutes, and stage-whispers into the mic with that raspy and sexy, according to Yuuji, voice of hers, and says, “Psst! Wrong fandom guys!”

The crowd laughs, as Jennifer awkwardly prattles about how she’s contract-bound to only talk about X-Men today, and that she really needs her job, ok?

And to be honest? Megumi and Nobara are starting to like her! I mean, who wouldn’t? Jennifer’s such a sweet, and down-to-earth girl. They’re glad that if there was anyone Yuuji was going to simp for, it’s Jennifer Lawrence.

“It’s such an honor to meet you, Tokyo!” Jennifer greets charmingly. “I was so excited to meet you guys, I didn’t even need to take a shot before I got here!” Jennifer shrugs with an exaggerated look on her face.

The crowd ate it all up.

“In fact, I was SO excited that I pumped myself up with enough anime references to say,” and in that magical moment, Jennifer Lawrence send finger guns down Yuuji’s way and winks--

“That’s one HECK of a JJK cosplay, man!”

And oh my Lord, it was like Yuuji died and went to heaven.

Even Sukuna was speechless.

But if Yuuji had to guess, Sukuna might have even been proud of him if only wasn’t you know, a jackass.

Megumi and Nobara couldn’t really remember what happened for the rest of the segment, because they might as well have leashed Yuuji with the way he was going crazy for Jennifer, hollering to her that he got her lasagna and Cheetos in his backpack in more broken English.

In the end, the two are left to rein Yuuji in as he eagerly waits for Jennifer out the backstage entrance, fully armed with an X-Men comic book and that lasagna he promised.

Yuuji was practically vibrating in excitement.

“Yuuji, it’s been two hours. Let’s go back to campus,” Nobara groaned, moaning to Megumi how Gojo better pay for their babysitting hours.

“She's almost out, you guys--!” Yuuji cries back, as the stage doors finally open to reveal Jennifer Lawrence in a much more sensible outfit of dress pants and a smart, low-neckline blouse.

“Eyes up, Itadori,” Megumi mumbles at Yuuji, who was already getting slack jawed at the sight of Jennifer’s cleavage.

Yuuji swallows the massive lump in his throat, and snaps his eyes back up to Jennifer’s hooded ones.

“Oh hey! You’re that JJK guy!” Jennifer greets good-naturedly. She was smiling radiantly at Yuuji and his friends, first shaking Nobara and Megumi’s hands as she laughed, “Damn, you even dressed up as the main character’s friends! You’re all like Hermione, Ron, and Harry Potter except… well, your characters won’t actually die, eep”

“Do we tell her?” Nobara nudges Megumi.

“Don’t you dare.” Megumi hisses back.

The dark-haired sorcerer then turns to Jennifer with a polite smile, and says in perfect English,

“Ooh, we’ll try not to spoil it for you, Jennifer.”

Nobara snaps her head to Megumi.

“Since when did you speak White???”

“Shut the fuck up, Nobara,” Megumi grits out.

Jennifer winked at Megumi, giving him an ‘I-get-you’ look and finally turned to sign Yuuji's comic book, only for him to freeze.

They both blinked at each other for a moment. One almost as awkward as the other.

Jennifer Lawrence though, god bless her, took this all in stride.

“No worries, dude, I freeze up, too,” she says while pretending to freeze up in jest. “Do you want me to sign your comic book?”

And if Yuuji wasn’t absolutely head over heels in love with Jennifer before, he certainly was now.

“I-- I…” Yuuji stammered.

Megumi and Nobara looked worriedly to their friend, there was no way in hell they were gonna let Yuuji fuck up now. Not after a whole afternoon of body odor and overpriced tentacle art, no way.

“Calm the fuck down, Itadori and give her the comic,” Megumi whispers to Yuuji.

And in a snap, Yuuji Itadori was bowing as low as possible, arms out with his offerings, exclaiming to the highest simping power-- “I BROUGHT YOU YOUR FAVORITE JENNIFER!”

Jennifer’s face lit up at the sight of the lasagna, “Oh wow! You got me food! Thanks for remembering!”

She takes the lasagna gratefully, and quickly signs the comic, “What’s your name?”

“Errr… Y-Yuuji.”

Jennifer returns the comic book to Yuuji, now signed--

‘Thank You for the Lasagna, Yuuji! You know me soooo well!

Stay Sweet <3

-J Law.’

And as if each and every one of Yuuji’s dreams came true, Jennifer leaned forward and gave Yuuji a quick peck on the cheek.

Yuuji couldn’t even react, because in a whirlwind, Nobara was taking a picture of Yuuji and Jennifer, a coral kiss mark on Yuuji’s wide-eyed face.

“Calm the fuck down, Itadori,” Megumi groaned for probably the hundredth time now.

But Yuuji didn’t care.

Jennifer Lawrence just kissed him.

He’s pretty sure he can be a little manic with disbelief.

“Yuuji, I swear to god, if you don’t stop, I’m deleting the photo from my phone.”

Nobara was done.

“NO--”

In the end, Yuuji may not have anything to eat for the next two weeks, but it was totally worth it.

He managed to convince Megumi to lend him some money.

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reki-of-the-valley · 3 years

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Fairy Tale Renga AU pt. 1

Part 2

Reki is our wandering hero. Having received a quest from a magical queen via a dream, he has to travel to get to her. If he gets to her, well, he isn't sure what he gets, but he knows he has to get to her. And if he leaves on this quest, Reki knows that his family will finally be guaranteed the good life, no worries whatsoever.

So, after kissing his mother and sisters goodbye, Reki is off. He's off to find this mystical queen, the one who promised him glory of some kind, he believes. Usually, that's what magical queens promise their heroes, so? It would make sense.

Things start off pretty normal. Reki first encounters a fair maiden sitting by a brook. Obviously, he goes to her because who leaves girls all on their own? And there's something about this veiled maiden, pink hair loosely tumbling over her shoulder. There's something heavy with power in the air that surrounds her.

Reki doesn't get too close too quickly. He watches as the maiden paints, dipping her paintbrush in the brook before putting it to her canvas. And Reki is more than surprised to see the explosion of color that blooms from the paintbrush. The maiden must be magical or blessed by the gods for that to happen

Finally, approaches the enchanted painter. And he asks if she alright, if she is lost. And the maiden just looks at Reki and he recoils. Gold eyes pierce right through him. A muse. A divinity. This maiden must be divine, a goddess of the arts.

The goddess doesn't say anything, just stares at Reki. And he's too stunned to say anything back, too afraid because he's never been face to face with a divine being. He's heard of rumors, but they were just that, rumors, tales told as entertainment back in the village. He never really thought people actually came in contact with the gods, at least not until the gold eyes were pointed at him.

Finally, he says something. He bows his head as he was taught to do, "Good evening, Divine Painter."

"Cherry Blossom. Refer to me by my name, child."

At the voice, Reki looks up. The maiden- no, no, it's a god. A man who towers over him. And Reki is struck with fear. Did he offend the god by believing he was a woman? Is he going to kill him for his mistake?

"Kaoru! Are you scaring the village children again?" "What did I say about calling me that?"

Another man appears, another divine being given the deep red of his eyes. He's got a gold helmet tucked under his arm, but his armor is stripped. A divine knight? A divine knight of the forest, given the green of his hair, a color that blends in with the scenery?Reki doesn't know what to do, being faced with not one, but two divine beings.

The Knight-God smiles at him, patting him on the shoulder. "Got lost wandering in the forest, kid? You know, that's why we don't play in the Forbidden Forest."

And Reki's shaking his head, because, while he isn't a knight, he is a wandering hero. He has a quest, a quest given to him by this divine queen. And-- she's divine, he's faced with gods. Maybe they know more about his quest. So he asks them about it, asks if they know about the queen of his dreams.

Both gods glance at each other, a worried look passing over their faces. But before Reki can ask what that look means, the Knight-God is smiling at him again, ruffling his hair

"Alright kid, since the Rainbow Queen is asking for you, I guess I can make an exception. Come with us, we'll guide you to the other side of the forest and from there you can continue your quest to find her." "We? You expect me to follow you, you brute?" "Now c'mon, Kaoru. Isn't our job to help heroes on their quests?" "Our job is to not lie to them. The Queen has requested many heroes over the years and none have survived the journey. What makes you think this one will?"

And suddenly Reki regrets leaving home. He doesn't want to die on this divine quest. He didn't sign up for a death wish! He should have remembered what the village lady used to say: "The Gods are ruthless with mortals. Their wishes are our commands but more often than not we pay with our lives. Fallen heroes are far too common among these lands." What made him think he'd be different?

"Kaoru! Look what you did! C'mon, kid, chin up. If you're not prepared to break a bone or two, you shouldn't be going on heroic quests. So, you in, or you wanna go home?"

And, be it through divine encouragement or the humanity of the god, Reki is ready. He's ready to take on this quest. "Let's do this. I have a queen to find."

And with that (and with a lot of reluctance from Cherry), the three begin their journey through the Forbidden Forest, under the protection of the Forest Knight God Joe (not that that will stop the many threats that will come to Reki)

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suspiciouslybluemilktea · 3 years

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Pairing: Suit Saeran x Non Gendered Reader

Description: A little fic based on that gorgeous Suit birthday title screen CG we got this year. Go on, put on that dazzling outfit. There is one problem here with Suit’s plan though…you don’t know ballet to perform for him. Guess you’ll just have to dance together </3

Little note for readers who don’t identify as female: On stage, EVERYONE wears makeup (lipstick, eyebrows, all of it) in order to emphasize features for the audience to see. And costumes are also very important, including ones with glitter! Suity here doesn’t discriminate, everything here is following performing arts rules. Feel free to think of the costume in any way you like as it isn’t referred to as a dress! It’s anything! Local theater kid here isn’t a lier promise.

I wrote this pretty much exactly after the CG was revealed :3 so it’s older

————————————————————

“Perfect...what a well behaved doll~”

Saeran crossed his arms in front of him, showing you his signature smirk in a smug look of victory. He studied you, traveling down from your face to the outfit you so graciously modeled for him, admiring the way it hugged your waist and fell with such a poof at the bottom, black feathers adorning the soft silky material. He coughed upon noting the exposed bit of skin the outfit left in your chest area, and he made it painfully obvious that where his glance landed up was the cause of the tiny loss of composure.

You couldn’t help but feel rather flustered under his gaze, relief washing over you as his eyes finally met yours again.

“So...it took it being a special day for you to finally listen to me? Well? Did you enjoy the show at least, toy? Wasn’t it cute? The little dolly made of my little doll finally doing what you’re supposed to do. Entertaining me! That is your purpose! And today…,” he huffed through his nose with laughter. “You’re finally going to do that properly! That wasn’t just any old puppet show...but a demonstration of how today is going to go. You’re going to dance for me as I sit back and enjoy my cake in front of you...and if the performance is good enough, you can have a bite. Aren’t I generous today?”

He snickered as you tried your hardest not to sigh tiredly, not necessarily completely annoyed by him but…needless to say this wasn't something you’d have planned. There was a short pause as he tapped his foot a few times impatiently. Clearly you weren’t getting his message.

“So then, toy? Dance for me! And dance for this sugary treat~”, he cackled, sliding the small plate in your direction before pulling it back, taunting you much like a toddler. Perhaps waving a reward in front of your face would light a fire under you.

It was moments like these where you found yourself wondering what good you initially thought you’d get from blindly following a complete stranger to a hidden location in the mountains. Truth be told, today you were mainly humoring his whims because of the sheer amount of detail and effort he put into this charade, and because you were curious to try on that exquisite costume. Birthday boy or not...this couldn’t become a regular thing of his.

“Oh..oh oh oh and one more thing.”

Saeran rather excitedly crouched down for the blue present box underneath the table, easily popping its lid off and pulling out the final piece of your outfit; the same feathers and golden crown worn by your doll.

“Aren’t you excited? You get to be royalty for the day...my prince(ss)..my birthday present to play with! Why else did you think I’d instruct you to wear your hair like that before I came?”

Sending someone in to do your hair for you that evening and pamper you was the proper explanation for what actually went on. It wasn’t like it would be an easy feat to add such a lovely jeweled hair piece to your do alone. The timid believer who assisted you even brought you a perfume sent by him...so you, according to the note attached, “wouldn’t smell so awful”. On the bright side, you really did feel dazzling, the pearls in your hair matching the ones on your new attire.

“Well...come closer so I can put it on you. I won’t bite...as long as you listen,” he teased, bringing himself forward to close up more of the gap between you two.

You bowed your head slightly in response as he fiddled with how the headpiece sat, occasionally feeling his hands smooth down and readjust little parts of your hair. Once he was confident the job was done, he took a step back to admire his work of art. He seemed proud of his accomplishments; his ability to get you to play dress up for him and how the puppet show went so perfectly after so much practice...and now was the time for his hard work to pay off. He expected you to make every bit his birthday fantasy come true, which was evident in everything from his expressions to body language. But there was a problem. You didn’t know ballet.

Saeran took his birthday hat and placed it upon his head grumpily before plopping in the seat you once previously enjoyed his performance in. He sat with a slouch, bringing his plate of cake to him, noming down on a small bite before speaking again with his mouth a bit full.

“Come on, toy! I’m waiting now that you’re all ready!”

He tapped his foot impatiently again.

You decided to address your concerns slowly.

“Uhm...Saeran..? The dance you made the puppet do was ballet…”

“Yes, aren’t you clever? So do some ballet for me.”

“That’s the thing...I haven’t done ballet since I was practically a baby. I’m not sure how to...and you’d have to turn on the music-”

Rational thinking interrupted your nervous attempt to reason a proper way to do this. “And hey...why am I dancing for you anyways?”

He tilted his head, raising a brow in disapproval.

“Because I say so, and because you value your life and your stomach. Remember? I can toss you out at any time,” he puffed, “and this cake will save you from your misery of having an empty belly. You will work for your food and convince me you deserve it!”

“...Ok..? But again...I don’t know how to do ballet anymore-”

Saeran cut you off with the sharp screeching of his chair’s legs dragging backwards against the ground, standing swiftly.

“Did I ask for excuses..? Hahaha...most people would be more pleasant on their birthdays..”, he stepped towards you. “...Is that what you’re expecting from me? Hmm? To be all sweet and sappy because it’s my big day? Extra nice to you? I still won’t tolerate disobedience...in fact, I have less patience today!”

He finished his march to you until he could make certain his dominance was well established through a face-to-face threatening scowl, towering over you best he could. He cupped your chin, tilting it up so you were forced to meet him in all his fury.

“You’re going to dance today. You’re going to dance today because I ordered you to do so, little airhead. Even if I have to force you!”

Releasing his hold on your face, he then grasped your left hand, intertwining your fingers, giving you a good yank forward into him. He caught you on his chest as you gasped in slight shock, the feeling of his hand making its way to the side of your waist; the unexpected cold touch making you shiver as you felt it through the fabric of your outfit.

There was an awkward pause as the two of you stood together in silence for a moment, Saeran just watching you with bated breath. The quiet was eating at you, feeling your heart clamoring against your ribs as you waited for him to initiate something. Your stare drifted down to his chain which sat within your outfit’s front feathers before moving back up. It was cute that he’d pick out a gold one for his birthday. You piped up as you heard him finally swallow saliva.

“We uh...need music..if you want to dance together. I think this is a good solution, actually.”

You gave him a smile, the same gentle look he’d cursed dozens of times before for making him feel so gross in the stomach. He kept quiet this time, but your expression made him feel no different than usual, if not more so.

“I knew that. Obviously we can’t dance to nothing. Tch, don’t get smart with me…”

Sure he knew that.

He let go of your hand to reach out and press play on the little radio he’d tucked away behind the little stage, contorting himself to stay close to you before returning to your old ready to dance position. He pulled you to the right with a shuffle together away from the set to a clear space in the room, closer to the window, the glow of the soft moonlight catching on the intricate glittery details of your costume.

Saeran stared for a mere moment, stiff as a statue as you placed your free hand on his shoulder. You could tell from the shifting of his eyes he was trying his best not to gawk now that he was getting a solid look at you up against him, clearing his throat with an “akhem” to collect himself. He’d never admit the tips of his ears felt hot to the touch.

Finally, with your prompting, the inviting melody which drifted through the room allowed the two of you to begin swaying together; Saeran watching your feet to understand the 1-2-3 step movements you did. He got the hang of it pretty quickly, grinning confidently as he took more lead and a firmer hold on your waist. It was a simple dance, rocking a tad and moving in a circle, the expression you showed him sweet and caring as he peered into your reflective (e/c) pools, (and perhaps it was flustered and nervous too). He, on the other hand, wouldn’t allow his mask of cocky satisfaction to be taken off so easily, despite the rosy hue his pale cheeks took on.

“My my...such a warbled little smile I’m receiving from you~ are you enjoying this, doll? Don’t lie, I can see just how red you are..pfft- is dancing with your prince something you’ve day dreamed about before? You and your delusions-”

You decided to outright call him out. He can’t just tease you like this when he came up with this whole plan in the first place, now can he?

“Says the one who made a detailed puppet set of the building we’re in. And two dolls of us. And got me a costume. And got me ballet shoes, which my whole outfit matches the doll’s exactly, by the way. And you even put on a whole show, plus made me do my hair the way you like...who’s day dream are we actually living out? Oh and don’t forget...you’re the one who took my hand to dance too~”.

You winked at him, eliciting a low growl which rumbled in his throat. His face grew redder, perhaps with rage.

“Hey...I never said I didn’t like it. The detail is incredible, and I’m being honest. I’m not sure how much work you put into it all...but I can tell it was a lot. You, sir, have a hidden talent. I’d like to see what else you can do with more free time for yourself….”

He sneered, “I’m not going to keep humoring you with more stuff like this, if that’s what you’re implying. Maybe with more free time, I’ll only find myself coming up with new ways to make you bend and break! But, I will take your compliment as you can at least appreciate this all as a work of my geniusness. I’m a busy busy man, but I found free time to set up a playdate with my toy. So stop pushing my buttons! You should feel lucky I graced you with my presence! It’s my birthday...and I’m stuck looking at your stupid face!”

“Hmm...again, with all that planning I think someone wanted to see ‘my stupid face’. And I do feel lucky, because I get to spend your birthday with you, although I wish I could have organized something myself. And what I meant was...Saeran this is a work of art. The dolls look hand crafted and painted, including the outfits which must’ve been sown for today in order to match perfectly. I also noticed the pearls on my costume match the ones on your birthday hat. And the set...some of the paint even appears as if its liquid leaf...which it might not be but still. Once we’re finished dancing, I want to go and admire your efforts. Especially the cute little replica of yourself you made~!”

Saeran sputtered angrily.

“You….are certainly an A grade weirdo. Don’t you hate this, even a little? Isn’t it sucky for you? Having to be my puppet today!”

“I’m no one’s puppet. I’m enjoying myself because I get to dress up, dance with you, and learn about a new skill of yours.”

He stopped your swaying with a halt, and you could feel his once icy hand in yours growing hotter by the second. His grip tightened as if to warn you he might hurt you with a squeeze, but within a second, it softened, and he let go momentarily to run it through his poofy locks. He grumbled.

“I don’t know why I even bother with an airhead like yourself. You didn’t even use the stamps I left so clearly out in front of you.”

You grinned at the opportunity suddenly presented to you. You hadn’t given him a birthday gift yet, and here was the chance to give him something small, but memorable.

“Hey Saeran...do you like the shade of lipstick I’m wearing today? It’s kind of purpleish..you know, a combination of red and blue. Like your stamps if the ink is mixed.”

He gulped, furrowing his brows.

“What are you getting at? I don’t care about your silly stage makeup I instructed the believer to do...”

You faked a sigh, “Sorry, sorry. I’ll make sure to get on that last bit right now about the stamps, since we’re no longer dancing.”

Without hesitation, you took him by the open sides of his striking suit jacket, pulling him to you to turn and plant a quick but firm kiss on his cheek. You then let him go, drinking in his wide eyed blushy appearance, raising his hand to touch the prominent lipstick mark you left on him. He wiped the area as if to show he didn’t like it, only to look down at the swipe of purple on his fingertips.

“See there? A stamp! And there’s more where that came from~”

#suit saeran #ray mystic messenger #saeran x mc #saeran choi #unknown saeran #saeran x reader

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onebatch2batch · 3 years

Text

Karen as an art student reacting exactly how I would to seeing Frank Castle in a coffeehouse AU

As an art student, Karen prides herself on what she produces. She’s won scholarships, she’s sold paintings, she has an Etsy shop—she has done everything she can to establish herself as an artist. But she also hasn’t drawn anything worthwhile in months and she’s going fucking crazy. Around her, the coffee shop is an ASMR in live action; cups clink against dishes, muted conversation eclipsed by grinding beans, paper rustles. Karen sits alone and stares into her coffee mug, trying to think of the last thing she created and actually applauded herself for.

It’s too far back for her to be pleased about. She sighs and takes a sip of her coffee. As she does, she takes a slow glance around. There’s a couple across the room who have their heads bent close together. The girl looks guilty, the boy unhappy. An older gentleman sits at the bar with the newspaper, shoulders hunched. There’s some college kid with a laptop a few seats away from her, headphones in. And in the corner—Karen pauses. In the corner is a man.

He’s in a navy sweater—that’s what she notices first. The color goes beautifully with his tan skin, and she’s a little jealous considering she’s been pale as a ghost since August. His jeans look worn and comfortable, and his boots thick and heavy. There’s a large cup in front of him that he seems to have forgotten about. His elbows are braced on the table, thick fingers holding his paperback book aloft. The cover looks familiar, and after a moment she realizes it’s Catch-22. Karen absorbs all of these small details before allowing herself to look at his face.

Karen likes to think she has a good, albeit unorthodox taste in men. She’s always liked a man with striking features. This one is no different—his sharp chin meets an even sharper jawline and there’s a five o clock shadow on his face that makes him look a little rugged. His nose is a bit on the larger side, and crooked like he’s broken it once or twice before. A high forehead gives way to a thick head of short, dark curls. And finally—his eyes. From this distance she can tell they’re dark but nothing more. His brow is lax as he reads, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Karen zeros in on his mouth, on his defined cupid’s bow, as her hands reach automatically towards her sketchbook.

She needs to draw him. It would be a crime not to.

Coffee forgotten, Karen takes her fill of examining him. Her hand begins quick, soft movements as she creates his general outline. And then, glancing between her page and the way his shoulders move as he absentmindedly stretches, she begins to sketch with more surety. The man keeps his eyes on his book, eyes flitting back as forth across the words. As she draws, Karen wonders what his name is. He looks like a John, maybe. Or a Pete. Something simple and plain to juxtapose his features. Something that he can hide behind when he wants to go unnoticed.

He seems like the kind of guy who would prefer to be unnoticed.

Karen finishes one sketch and makes a face. Absolutely not—she’s gotten the nose all wrong. His forehead is too low. His shoulders too slumped.

She starts over.

On and on it goes. She draws four sloppy versions before she realizes he’s put his book down. By the time she registers that he’s watching her, it’s too late. Her pencil falters in her grasp. Their eyes meet.

Oh no. Mortified, Karen looks away, into her coffee mug. Maybe he just happened to glance at her when she glanced at him. Maybe it doesn’t have to be awkward. Or maybe she’s made him feel awkward and he’ll leave. The thought causes a pang to echo in her chest and she looks up to ensure that’s not the case.

Hot man with striking features is coming towards her, mug and book in hand.

Ohh no.

“Hey,” the man says once she’s standing before her. His voice is raspy, almost hoarse, and undeniably sexy. It makes her spine tingle. He cocks his head slightly, glances down at the sketchbook. “What’re you doing?”

It’s too late, he’s seen the sketches. Karen can’t tell if she’s more embarrassed at their slipshod quality, or that she’s been caught. She habitually rubs the corner of the page between her fingers—a nervous gesture.

“I’m just sketching, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” There, that’s a good way to put it. Casual. Apologize. Don’t stare too hard at the way his brows raise, mouth pursing to the side.

He blinks. “Sketching me?”

She must be flushed pink now. Karen clears her throat and straightens her posture. “Yes, I won’t anymore if you don’t want me to.”

“No, no, I don’t mind,” he says quickly. “I just—what for?”

She blinks up at him, at his genuinely confused expression, and it all clicks. “Well,” she says carefully, “because you’re attractive and gave me some inspiration.”

Now it’s his turn to blink down at her, and then he laughs once. Then again softer, dropping into the chair in front of her, rubbing his jaw. “Sorry, ma’am, I mean—you think this face is attractive?”

It’s self-deprecating, but gracious. He’s comfortable with the thought that people don’t find him attractive--and that won’t do at all. Karen raises her brows, her embarrassment forgotten. “Want me to show you?”

The man takes a long pull from his mug, eyes never leaving hers, and then he nods. Karen grins, flips to a new page, and begins to draw.

—

She gets lost in the marks of her pencil as it scratches over the thick page of her sketchbook. Her soft graphite circles give way to darker, stronger lines that slowly form into the man sitting before her. When she glances up to reference him, he’s watching her curiously. She’s pleased to note that his ears are a little pink, but he doesn’t move much. Occasionally he lifts his mug to his lips, causing her pencil to falter as she watches, and then once his face is revealed again she continues.

This goes on long enough for her to develop a cramp, but Karen powers through until she’s finished. This could be the last time she ever sees the man before her, and she wants to get it right. She needs to prove to him that he’s wrong about himself.

“It’s the nose, isn’t it?” He jokes when she finally stops, staring down at her page. The likeness is as close as she will ever get to him with this medium, and she wants to keep it to herself just one more moment before giving it away.

“I like your nose,” she tells him after a beat too long, and then shoots him a look that tells him she means it. And then she turns the sketchbook to show him.

The man rips his stare from her face and looks at the drawing in silence. After a moment he reaches out to take it from her, holding it delicately between his hands. She searches his expression for a clue of what he’s thinking, but his brow is smooth and mouth unsmiling. Finally, he hands back the drawing and folds his arms loosely on the table.

“That’s fuckin’ incredible,” her tells her, and the air whooshes out of her lungs in relief.

“Thank you. I’m Karen Page, by the way.”

He accepts her handshake. His palm is dry and warm. Calloused. “Frank, Frank Castle. Nice to meet you, ma’am. But I still think you’re crazy.”

He says it with such a rueful grin that she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. “Well, think I’m crazy all you want. That doesn’t stop me from knowing that the couple in the corner are fighting because the girl was staring at you, and it doesn’t stop me from wanting to draw you again.”

Frank glances at the corner, where the boy is shooting him daggers. He huffs, then turns an amused look on Karen. “Well, can’t say I know what to say to that other than thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Would you like to keep it?”

Frank taps his finger on his coffee mug consideringly. His eyes trace the online of her drawing. “Only if I can buy it.”

“No way, Frank.” She likes the way his name fits in her mouth. It suits him far better than Pete. She wants to say it again, but she settles for: “I was just practicing, is all. It’s yours.”

He takes the drawing and slides it carefully between the pages of his book. Then he looks at her again and smiles. “Then how ‘bout I buy you dinner tomorrow night?”

It catches her so off guard that she’s already nodding before he’s finished talking. Once it sinks in that he’s asked her out, he’s already plucked her pencil from her hand and written his number on a napkin. He pushes it towards her and grins again.

“No pressure. You call me, if you decide you wanna.”

Karen takes it and carefully writes his number next to her previous sketches of him. She glances up at his pleased look, and instantly knows she’d gladly spend a lifetime trying to catch that expression on paper.

But she’s happy to start tomorrow, with dinner.

#kastle #kastle fam #mine #my writing #kastle ff #kastle fanfic

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rex101111 · 3 years

Text

For a glass of Cactus Wine

Summary: Migelo does both his duties at the fete, one to the Empire, and the other to his kids.

Rating: T

Fandom: Final Fantasy XII

Well! Been a while since I wrote something substantial, but @sevi007 has been doing a live blog of this game, thus reminding me how much I love it, and so here’s a fic depicting the one missing scene in this game I really wanted to see, also to give Lizard dad the content he deserves. Enjoy!

Seeing Arcadian troops stomp in the halls of the Royal Palace made Migelo want to crawl right out of his hide. It’s been two years since those bastards in their tin plates stomped into his home and his city and still he could only barely keep his anger in check at how disrespectful the whole lot of them were.

Leaning on pillars built centuries past, wiping their feet on rugs that took months to weave, pointing and laughing like children at art that they would never understand the importance of. If he heard another one of these piss-drunk bureaucrats call one more thing in this palace “quaint” he’s going to use that same thing to break it over their heads.

Still, years of experience in burying his feelings and opinions about his costumers helped him plaster a smile on his snout. This was simply business, he was providing sundries and food for an event, like he’s done dozens and dozens of times over his long career.

“Watch that crate!” He yelled out to one of the servants, “it’s got wine in it, worth more than ten of your lifetimes! Handle it with a bit of care why don’t you?” The servant sheepishly apologized and asked for help from another servant as Migelo turned his gaze elsewhere, “dear girl, you’ll break your back like that!” He went to a maid and corrected her posture and how she held her tray of food, “there we go now, better?”

“Thanks Migelo.” The maid smiled gratefully, before her face turned sour, “these imperials get nasty when they’re drunk, they keep asking me to run back and forth for all sorts of nonsense.” She sighed harshly, “probably just want a peek up my skirt.”

“You let ol’ Migelo handle them, Meina.” He soothes, turning her to a different direction, “empty that tray and take a break for ten minutes, I’ll have someone else make sure they don’t notice you gone, yes?”

She went off with a smile and Migelo continued like that, his time cleaved cleanly between ordering servants this way and that soothing fraying nerves. This fete needed to go flawlessly, with the consul himself attending every hand on deck needed to give it their all and then some. If the pompous royal left this evening with a good opinion of his food, he might transfer said opinion to the rest of the city. If he did that, maybe his boys and girls could have more room to breathe.

He looked ruefully over the staff, some of the younger ones he’s known since they were children, helped them train for applying for work in the palace. Rabanastre was a small city, everyone knew everyone, and that only became stronger as the plague and the war ravaged the place. Seeing these kids, his kids, running around like cockatrices with their heads cut off for the sake of their invaders made a lick of fire burn in his gut, no matter how hard he tried to douse it.

Worse of all was that he knew he was delaying the inevitable, he had an invitation to answer soon, and the longer he ignored the worse things would get not only for himself, but everyone else living in Rabanastre.

He took a few long breathes, practiced his best servile smile in a nearby plate, pictured the smiling face of every single child under his care in his mind, and went off to sit at the right of the eldest living son of Emperor Gramis, Vayne Carudas Solidor.

The consul was deep in debate with the others sitting at his table, something about tax rates and territory dispute that went right over Migelo’s head, but as soon as the old bangaa drew close enough, as if he could hear his footsteps over the rancor of the room, Vayne stopped talking and turned his head to meet his gaze.

“Ah, Sir Migelo, so nice of you to finally join me.” He motioned for one of the nearby soldiers to pull back the chair at his right side, “please, sit.”

With practice ease, and complaining stomach, Migelo bowed in apology, “I hope you would forgive me, Lord Consul, I had so many things to fix and move, my responsibilities nearly made me forget your most gracious offer.”

“Think nothing of it good Sir,” Vayne waved off easily, “We should all wish to have your work ethic Migelo, so we could accomplish our own work half as well.” Vayne complimented him smoothly as Migelo finally sat, the others at the table nodding sycophantically, before beginning to pour the store owner a glass of red wine. “But, let me remind you that I asked of you to refer to me by my first name.”

Taking the glass with all the grace he could manage, Migelo bowed his head again with an outwardly warm smile, “ah, forgive this old lizard sir consul, I still feel ill at ease referring to one of your station so informally.” The other reason was the only people he called by name were his friends and his kids, and Vayne is not, would never be, either. “Perhaps I’ll manage that better,” he made a show of laughing from his belly, “with a bit of fine Arcadian wine in my system, eh?”

“Of course.” Vayne’s sharp eyes and sharper smile made Migelo feel as if he were strapped to a table, “please, indulge as you please, we have all night after all.”

Nodding, Migelo started to drain his glass, and had to fight his gag reflex with every gulp. Arcadian wine made you feel like someone was trying to prove something to you, too rich, too fruity, too damn much. Seeing the people around him gulp this stuff down was aggravating as it was confusing, you could stuff as many flowers into a bottle of Slaven piss as you wanted, it was still a drink of cold piss.

Decades of honing his poker face in the interest of more returning costumers made sure none of that disgust was visible on his face of course, to any casual observer Migelo savored every drop of the expensive Slaven piss, finishing his glass with a pleasured sigh. “Ahh, what an excellent, uh, flavor profile! So full of life and character!” He turned to the consul with a toothy grin, “How’s about you give me another to loosen my tongue?”

“You are a man of great taste, Sir Migelo.” Vayne complimented, smiling thinly as he filled the offered cup before filling his own. “I’ve heard Dalmascans do not have a high opinion of my home’s signature brew.”

“Bah.” Migelo scoffed easily, “children with no experience on their tongues Lord Consul, nothing to be offended by.” He internally grits his teeth, he heard some of the younger men voice some of their very loud opinions about Arcadian wine in a place where a couple of soldiers could hear them. It ended well for absolutely no one, and he was only glad to make sure his kids didn’t see or hear it. “We Dalmascans are very proud of our own drinks, I think you would see it would make sense to be a bit defensive.” He took another gulp, “pardon m’candor, of course.”

“Indeed.” Vayne nodded, finishing his own glass, “and you have a great many things to be proud of, I’ve heard a fair share of good things about Dalmascan cactus wine.” He looked at Migelo with a gaze that made his scales itch, “have you tried it before?”

He was almost insulted the man had to ask, “o’course I did lord consul!” He tried to be casual about it, but a bit of hometown pride seemed to seep in every other word, “Cactus Wine is easy to brew in large amounts, made from Cactoid fruit and the sands are absolutely littered with the little buggers, it’s what you order when you have something to celebrate or as a victory drink.” Migelo could go for an entire barrel of it right now. “It’s a…simple drink. Simple but hearty.”

Vayne nodded politely as the bangaa went on, before he took the bottle of his expensive wine and looked at it quietly, “…I suppose there hasn’t been much call for it, lately.”

Migelo nearly swallowed his tongue, for all his talk of taking in all of Dalmasca’s hatred onto himself, the consul seemed adept at choosing words to inspire said hatred. “Y-No, Lord Consul, not a lot to celebrate.” He quickly recovered, smiling again as he waved his glass about, “b-but fret not! Us Dalmascans find reason to celebrate no matter the weather! You’ll have your taste of cactus wine before long don’t you worry!”

“Why wait my friend?” Vayne said smoothly, Migelo barely exerting the restraint he needed to stop himself from cursing the consul out on considering himself something he is not, “I have found myself a few bottles for this grand occasion.”

Migelo was stopped short, he had double checked every scrap of food and drink meant for this fete, triple checking the alcohol in particular, and he was sure there wasn’t a drop of cactus wine in the whole palace, he figured the imperials wouldn’t want to touch the stuff. “Y-you did? F-from where lord consul?”

“From the palace cellars of course.” He replied, motioning with his hand to another maid, Kayta if Migelo remembers right, who held a very familiar clay jug in her hands. “If one kind of wine isn’t enough to call me friend, perhaps two would suffice.”

Migelo held Kayta’s conflicted gaze for a moment, before he turned to Vayne with a doubtful expression, “the cellars my lord? Those haven’t been disturbed since the war ended! Who knows what kind of vermin have found their way to the stores?”

“I had my men carefully inspect each bottle.” Vayne assured, which only made Migelo more ill thinking about what Imperial soldiers considered inspecting. “Please, do not be reticent, I find myself curious what a man of your expertise has to say about the difference between one wine and the other.”

Kayta poured Migelo a glass with a sorrowful expression, Migelo soothing the girl as best he could with a smile only she could see, and the bangaa took a long whiff of the drink, before slowly draining his glass.

Cactus wine was sweet, almost sweet enough you could give it to a child without them puffing their little face. Its taste was subtle, airy, doing nothing more than what a wine ought to do and made your face and belly warm. It was cheap drink, cheap enough that working folk could indulge in it without endangering their pay over-much.

It was Dalmasca to the last drop, warm and honest.

“So, sir Migelo?” Vayne inquired when the bangaa finished and had not said a word, “how is your home’s brew compared to mine?”

He was quiet for a few more moments before he turned to the consul, “I must admit to having a bias sir.” He put the glass back down on the table gently, reaching over to grab a grape nearby to soak some of the alcohol in his system, “I’ve been drinking cactus wine since I was a whelp, y’see, it’s a drink for the heart as much for the stomach nowadays.”

Vayne chuckled good naturedly, “well, now you have me curious.” He picked up his own glass and motioned for Kayta to fill it, the girl nearly tripping over herself to bow as she poured without spilling it on him. He took a careful sip…and stopped, an emotion Migelo could not name fliting across his face. “…it tastes…” The consul was quiet for a moment, the rest of the table perfectly silent to await his judgment, “…honest.”

Migelo released a breath he didn’t know he was holding, allowing himself the tiniest amount of pride as he looked at Vayne, “Dalmasca knows no other way, Lord Consul.”

“Pritas.” Vayne looked at one of the people sitting at the table, some peacock in a stuffy red shirt with a pencil moustache, “you should try it, I am certain people in Archades would flock to try this, exotic yet gentle on the tongue.”

Pritas hurriedly motioned for Kayta to pour him a glass, and no sooner than he had a drop of it he was nodding enthusiastically, “y-yes Lord Vayne! You are absolutely correct; everyone will want a bottle of this for any price!”

Migelo, despite his mood and the alcohol in his system, found himself smiling at the sound of it, feeling someone patting his shoulder. “Migelo, after the fete be sure to grant Pritas here the information for whoever you get your cactus wine from, they’ll find more business than ever.”

Migelo could picture the family of brewers in his head, nearly jumping for joy at the chance that fell into their laps, a contract to sell cactus wine halfway across Ivalice. He then imagined their faces when he told them to which half of Ivalice the wine would go. He imagines the shock, the outrage, the sorrow.

He imagines the table with one more chair then they needed, the extra gathering dust for two years now.

“Yes, Lord Consul.” He said as calmly as he could manage, looking into the face of a man whose night has gone exactly as he had planned, down to the last detail, painting a smiling on his snout. “Thank you for this opportunity, I’m sure they’ll see this as a chance to build their life back up to how it was…” He could feel his lips curling over his teeth. “…before the war, that is.”

Vayne’s face drew downwards slightly, an almost robotic motion, “yes, the war has devastated both sides long enough,” He squeezed the shoulder he was holding, in a move meant to be reassuring, “it is past time we helped each other back onto our feet.”

Vaan crying into his shoulder, cursing and yelling and screaming every curse he knew. Penelo holding him tightly as she sobbed. Fire in the sky, visible from his window.

His home, under siege and under iron boots.

Migelo bit his tongue, brought to mind every orphan he and Old Dalan have struggled to keep fed and working and warm, and managed an impossible smile, “yes…way past time…Lord Consul.”

Vayne shook his head with a fond smile, and poured Migelo another cup of Arcadian wine. Migelo drained it without tasting a drop.

(Not long after, barely an hour after, he sees his boy in chains and his girl crying for his freedom, and all the wine in his veins is cold and freezing.

As they dragged his boy away, as his girl fell into the arms of Kayta as she sobbed, Vayne Carudas Solidor came to him, smiled, and clapped his shoulder.)

#Final Fantasy 12 #Migelo #Stuff rex wrote #Cactus wine #Migelo has a hell of a time taking care of his kids

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lobster-tales · 3 years

Text

Dancing

Day 14 of @marichatmay. This fic is available here on AO3.

Summary: Chat Noir crashes a wedding and waltzes with the girl serving cake. Also this is a song fic: the tune is If My Heart Was a House by Owl City

Chat Noir had escaped hundreds of times, just never from a wedding.

Stealth missions taught him how to weave through the crowd, away from the dancefloor. Behind him, a little girl’s voice called his name. Originally, he had promised Manon one dance, but that was seven songs ago, and he had finally managed to break free.

Chat Noir fled into the sculpture garden and ducked behind the hedges, skirting around the Musee Rodin. The building was small in comparison to some of the other art museums in Paris. Because of this, the wedding was hosted instead on the structure’s south lawn.

He arrived at the silent north facade of the building and pulled on one of the doors, ecstatic to find it unlocked. He slipped inside the museum, slumping against the door as he caught his breath.

While the outside of the museum was alight, the inside was still and moody, sculptures and paintings lining the walls. The noise from the party was audible but muffled, echoing strangely off the tile. Kinda creepy, he thought, rising to his feet. The eyes of the statues seemed to all be looking at him.

Chat Noir moved past the artworks, casting each one a wary look. He turned to enter the next room and froze.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng stood there with her back to him. Chat Noir saw her at the cake table earlier, serving the pastries from her parents bakery. When did she leave the party? he wondered. Come to think of it, she’s the only one here who didn’t ask for a picture with me.

She faced a bronze statue of a man, his muscled arm raised to push back his cropped hair, the other hand suspended beside him. Seizing the opportunity, Chat Noir crept forward. He reached out and gently tapped her shoulder.

“AH!” Marinette whipped around, grabbing his wrist, her other hand raised to punch him. She tensed, staring into Chat Noir’s green eyes. “Chat Noir?”

“Good reflexes, princess.”

She scoffed and released him. “Well, you shouldn’t sneak up on people like that! One of these days you could end up with a black eye.”

“I’ve had worse,” he shrugged, standing beside her. He placed his thumb and index finger on his chin, considering the statue. “I see you’re a fan of the male physique,” he said coyly, referring to the sculpture’s nudity.

Just as he hoped, her face flushed pink. “No!” She looked away, embarrassed. “I’m just a fan of… art.”

“Riiiiight, art.” Chat Noir moved in front of the sculpture, turning to Marinette and mimicking the statue’s pose. “Alas,” he said dramatically. “I sold all my clothes to pay the barber, and now he’s cut my hair too short.”

She fought back a laugh, her giggles echoing in the empty room. “Stop that!” she said, swiping at him.

Chat Noir broke character with a smile. “You know, I missed you at the reception.”

Anger flickered across her eyes, disappearing before he could wonder what it meant. “Seems I was the only one.”

“Eh, I’m used to fans.” The sentiment was true: his secret identity, Adrien Agreste, was a model. But no one could know that, he realized, and said quickly, “Y-you know, being a superhero and all.”

“Yes, it must be so hard for you,” she mused. “Everyone fawning over you wherever you go.”

“Well, not everyone. My lady doesn’t.”

“Good for her,” Marinette said with a smirk. “One less person to stroke your ego.”

And neither do you, he thought, but brushed the idea away. “I’m a man of the people. If the citizens of Paris want to snap a few pictures with their favorite superhero, who am I to say no?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, are you crashing the wedding or were you actually invited?”

“I just happened upon it,” he said, feigning nonchalance. “I tried to stay hidden, but Manon found me out.”

“... So you saw when I..?”

“Showed up late?” He grinned. “Hard to miss.” He remembered Marinette dashing through the party, skidding to a stop in front of Nadja and her new wife. Marinette had apologized profusely, but the brides only responded with reassuring smiles. Anyone that was acquainted with Marinette knew her tardiness was unavoidable. Even Chat Noir had come to expect it from her.

“It wasn’t my fault!” Marinette faced him, her fists clenched.

He raised his hands. “No need to get defensive, princess. Manon was the only one who got upset.” Chat Noir chuckled. “She really wanted that cake.”

Marinette pressed her lips together to hide a smile. “I know. She’s been asking about it for days.”

“Seeing as it’s from your parents' bakery, I don’t blame her.” He watched as she turned away. “So are you a guest or are you working?”

Marinette drifted into a different room. “Both. Neither. When Nadja ordered the cake, I offered to serve it.”

“That’s nice of you,” he said, following.

“Well, she is my best customer.”

“Right, the babysitting.” Chat Noir paused at a sculpture of a centaur. “Manon’s a sweet kid. At least, when she’s not hungry.”

Marinette chuckled. “Let me guess; she’s still looking for you?”

“How did you know?” Chat Noir peered out the window. Manon had returned to the dancefloor, laughing as she danced with her new stepmother. “Actually, it looks like she gave up. Guess we’re both wrong.”

“Guess so.” Marinette stopped to stare at a painting. The light from the party wafted in, illuminating her in a soft glow. Chat Noir felt a flutter in his heart just looking at her, but forced the feeling away. He was in love with Ladybug, and besides, his duty as a superhero meant no dating.

Still, she looked so beautiful. He noticed now that Marinette was not wearing her usual jacket and pants. Her dress was a soft pink, with short puffed sleeves and a bow in the center of her chest. The waist clung to her, fabric spilling out around her thighs. She looked like a fairytale. Or a wedding guest, he thought dumbly.

“I like your dress,” he said.

She kept her eyes on the painting, but smiled shyly. “Thanks. I made it.”

Of course she did. Classic Marinette, overflowing with talent. “You did a good job.”

“Thanks,” she said again.

They admired the sculptures in silence, until she asked, “Doesn’t your… costume thingie have a timer or something?”

He looked at the ring on his hand. I still have time. “Yeah, but the battle today was pretty easy. By the time I got there, Ladybug had already done most of the work. I didn’t even use my cataclysm.”

Marinette searched his face. “That’s good.”

“Right? She’s pretty incredible.” He sighed dreamily. “Milady always has a plan; she’s a master strategist. Not to mention she’s beautiful and daring and kind and-” Chat Noir caught her looking at him with a funny expression. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said, averting her gaze. “You’re just… sweet.”

His shoulders slumped. “I know what you’re thinking. I’m a hopeless romantic. Someone as amazing as Ladybug could never be with someone like me.”

They entered the next room. In the center stood a marble statue with an embracing couple. The man’s hand rested on her hip while her arm linked around his neck, both seated and leaning into each other. Marinette and Chat Noir stared at the statue, enraptured.

“Maybe… it’s not you,” Marinette said quietly. “Maybe it’s just that… love is hard.”

“Yeah,” Chat Noir murmured. “Maybe.”

They exchanged glances, then looked away quickly. In this room, the party music came through clearer. A beat pounded as the crowd whooped outside.

Marinette cleared her throat. “I should probably get back to the party.”

“Oh yeah? Gotta go bust a move on the dancefloor?” He did the robot poorly, and she laughed.

“As if! I’ve got two left feet.”

“What a coincidence,” he quipped. “I’ve got two right ones.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure you do.” Marinette took a step towards the door. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to plant myself on the edge and do my best wallflower impression.”

“You’re really not going to dance?”

The sincerity in his voice shocked her, and she stopped to consider him. “So everyone can watch me fall on my face? No thanks.”

“Oh come on,” he groaned. “You know how many songs I danced to? And my partner was three feet shorter than me!”

“You got yourself into that mess,” she giggled.

Chat Noir extended his hand towards her. “What if I ask nicely?”

Marinette glared at him. “Still not happening.”

“Please? Just one song.” He smirked. “No one can see you in here, princess.”

She pressed her lips together. Chat Noir did have a point, and the song was upbeat. Marinette decided she could suffer a few moments of awkward shuffling for her friend.

Marinette took his hand wordlessly, preparing herself for a weak shimmy. Just as she stepped towards him, the song changed. The beat disappeared, replaced by a smooth piano melody.

“Nope!” Marinette leaned away, but Chat Noir pulled her close to him. She was surprised at how gentle yet forceful he was, but convinced herself that his quiet strength was part of the super suit.

“Oh no, you don’t,” he grinned, guiding her right hand to his left shoulder. This close, he caught a whiff of her perfume. He stared at her for a moment, caught off guard by the floral scents. The smell reminded him of rose petals.

She shot him a quizzical look, jerking him from his stupor. “S-sorry, just… follow my lead,” he said.

Marinette stiffened as he placed his hand on her waist. Her mind raced as she thought of an excuse. “Th- this song is so slow, though. We won’t be able to dance to it.”

“It’s not slow. It’s just in 6/8 time,” he explained.

Her blank stare reminded him that he was wearing a mask. “Th-that is, it’s um…” Oh, whatever. “It’s not 1… 2… 1… 2… It’s actually, 1 (2 3) 2 (2 3). There’s smaller beats in between, and a full measure has 6 total.”

Marinette’s confusion fell away to awe. “Chat Noir, a musician.”

“Among other things,” he said, taking the chance to wink. “I’m a man of many talents, princess.”

She rolled her eyes again. “So how are we supposed to dance to it?”

“It’s a waltz. Here,” he said, backing away to look down at her feet. “Take a step back with your left foot. Now take your right and step to the side, so your feet are shoulder width apart. Next, bring your left foot next to the right.”

Marinette obeyed clumsily as he continued, “This is a box step waltz, so you’re basically making two triangles, and the triangles make a square. You’re going to repeat the motion, but backwards. So step forward with your right foot, left to the side - shoulder width apart - and…”

She instinctively brought her right foot to meet her left and he said, “Yes, just like that!”

Spurred on by his enthusiasm, Marinette tried again, alone. She stumbled a few times, stepping with the wrong foot. At one point, her legs crossed and she began to fall, but Chat Noir caught her. He helped her stand, taking her hand in his and placing the other on her waist once again. “Here, it’ll help if I lead you.”

They began to dance, slowly at first. Chat Noir was patient with her, guiding her feet with his own as he whispered, “1, 2, 3, 2, 2, 3...” Just as they established a steady rhythm, the song faded.

“Oh,” Marinette said, disappointment leaking into her tone. “I guess it’s over.”

Her sadness struck him, and he asked, “Wanna do another? Now that you’ve got the hang of it?”

She nodded shyly in response, positioning her hands once more.

The next song started with a low synth sound, no tempo discernible yet. The artist’s voice broke through, accompanied by the crisp beat of a hi-hat cymbal.

“You’re the sky that I fell through And I remember the view, whenever I’m holding you”

The song was faster than the last, but Chat Noir and Marinette adapted quickly. His muttered counts fell away, though his mouth still shaped the numbers with each step. Marinette watched his concentration, relaxing in his arms. She had never seen Chat Noir so focused on anything, and the change was welcome.

“The sun hung from a string Looking down on the world As it warms over everything

Chills run down my spine”

He twirled her spontaneously. Marinette gasped and fell to the side, but he helped her recover by pulling her close again.

“As our fingers entwine”

Chat Noir placed his gloved fingers between her bare ones.

“And your sighs harmonize with mine”

Within seconds, they fell back into the rhythm.

“Unmistakably I can still feel your heart Beat fast when you dance with me”

Marinette felt her pulse racing. She pretended it was just from the dancing, the fast movement.

"We got older and I should've known (Do you feel alive?) That I feel colder when I walk alone (Oh, but you'll survive)”

“Here,” he said softly. “Let’s try this.”

“So I may as well ditch my dismay”

Chat Noir pulled away and crossed his right wrist with hers, tucking his other hand behind his back. Their feet slowed from the fast triplet, circling each other on the two main beats.

“Bomb’s away”

As the artist drew out the last word, Chat Noir nodded at her. They switched, crossing left wrists and circling each other the opposite way.

“Bomb’s away”

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

“No,” she lied with a smirk.

He smiled and said, “Big steps now.” Wordlessly, they fell into the waltz again as the chorus started. This time, Marinette stepped farther back with her left foot, then right. Chat Noir turned her to the right as she brought her feet together. She then moved her right foot forward, the left passing, then she turned her body once more to bring them beside each other.

“Circle me and the needle moves gracefully Back and forth If my heart was a compass, you'd be north”

They continued to move in a square around the marble statue. Marinette knew she should be stumbling, falling all over herself. For some reason, though, her steps were confident. Chat Noir kept her steady and secure.

“Risk it all, 'cause I'll catch you if you fall Wherever you go If my heart was a house, you'd be home”

As the chorus receded, they fell into a small box step again, one that saw them through the second verse. Marinette laughed breathlessly, her eyes shining. “Sorry, I’m getting dizzy.”

“Me too,” Chat Noir said with a grin.

“It makes me smile because you said it best I would clearly feel blessed If the sun rose up from the west"

Marinette felt too comfortable in the silence, and invited conversation by asking, “Where did you learn to dance?”

“It was actually part of the hero curriculum.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Oh, so there’s a curriculum?”

“Of course.” A playful flicker crossed his eyes. “My lady got higher grades than me in every class, except ballroom dancing.”

“I see. Even so, I must be a pretty clumsy dance partner compared to Ladybug.” Marinette chuckled.

Chat Noir fell silent, his expression suddenly very serious as the verse ended.

“Flower-bomb perfume All my clothes smell like you 'Cause your favorite shade is navy blue”

For the next part of the song, Marinette held tight with one hand and outstretched the other. She turned into him as Chat Noir took her other hand, twirling her in his arms.

“I walk slowly when I'm on my own”

Within the closeness, he said, “You’re not clumsy, Marinette.”

“(Do you feel alive?)”

She tensed as she repeated the motion, pulling away from him, then returning to spin beside him.

“Yeah, but frankly, I still feel alone”

This time, he held her in his arms for a longer moment. “In fact, you’re the best dance partner I’ve ever had.”

"(Oh, but you'll survive)"

She managed a gulp as they waltzed the small box step once more. Marinette looked away, not wanting to meet his soft gaze.

“So I may as well ditch my dismay”

They crossed wrists again and glided around each other.

“Bombs away”

When she moved to switch wrists, Chat Noir instead reached his hand around her waist. Marinette jumped slightly, her hand going to his neck on impulse. They held each other close as they circled once more.

“Bombs away”

They positioned themselves for the waltz as the chorus started to build. Just as the drums intensified, the sound fell away into a mellow synth. Both of them froze, relaxing when the artist sang once more. They grinned sheepishly at each other. Chat Noir’s cat-like eyes were luminescent in the darkened room. Marinette’s reflected the glow of the party lights outside.

“Circle me and the needle moves gracefully"

Both became acutely aware of his hand on her waist. He shifted his grip, the motion sending a shiver up Marinette’s spine. Her lips parted slightly, and Chat Noir wondered if they had always been that pink.

"Back and forth, if my heart was a compass you’d be north."

Marinette stiffened in preparation to dance, snapping Chat Noir out of his reverie. As the music crashed into passion again, they resumed their waltz around the room. There was no hesitation in their movement, nothing awkward or uncoordinated. The sculpture of the lovers sat at the center of their path, marble lips pressed against each other. The statue’s intimacy paled in comparison to their dance.

“Risk it all, 'cause I'll catch you if you fall Wherever you go If my heart was a house you’d be home”

The dancers broke from the routine at the same moment. They became a series of twirls and spins, Marinette’s dress flaring out with the movement. Chat Noir never looked away from her, and when she finished her final twirl, he placed his right hand on her waist and reached under her knee with the left. The light pressure of his fingers asked silently, and Marinette granted his request by lifting her knee to his grasp, her arm secured around his shoulder.

“If my heart was a house you’d be home”

He held her as they spun, their faces centimeters apart. Slowly, he set her down, and they resumed their waltz as the song played out it’s final notes. Sensing the end, Chat Noir placed both hands on her waist. Marinette let herself be dipped, stretching out one hand gracefully.

When she stood, they held each other’s hands, breathless. The song transitioned into an upbeat anthem, the wedding guests cheering from outside the museum. Despite the noise, Chat Noir and Marinette heard nothing, only the pounding of their hearts. Well that, and…

Beep beep beep!

Chat Noir winced, glancing at the ring on his hand.

“You’re going to transform soon,” Marinette said. She spoke with an unnerving certainty, but Chat Noir had no time to reflect on it.

“Yes.” He stared at her. Her back was to the window, the light illuminating the fabric of her dress. Chat Noir committed the sight to memory, before lifting her hand in his own and pressing his lips to her knuckles. “Merci, princesse.”

With that, he retreated to the shadows, slipped through the door, and melted into the night.

#marichat may #mlb #mlb fic #marichat #chat noir #marinette #my fic #song fic

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