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tisfan · 4 years

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Ring of Thorns

Title: Ring of Thorns Written by: @tisfan 3023 Square: S3 – Science and Magic Rating: teen and up Triggers/warnings: none Tags: space AU, fairy tale format, sassy Jarvis, bunnies, a truly excessive number of bunnies, pre-slash Created for: @tonystarkbingo Word count: 3919 Art from @gayspacesprinkles (unrelated to the bingo!)

Ship’s log: Stardate 5239.281.5

Woke from hypersleep on schedule -- thank you JARVIS.

“You are welcome, sir.”

The Ring of Thorns is about two days on the sublight engines, which should give me plenty of time to make any course corrections. Course corrections. I say that like anyone has any idea where the best entrance is to the Ring. Several thousand cloaked glass arrows, left over from a war three centuries ago.

JARVIS’s records indicate that a single glass arrow has the explosive capacity to knock a good sized hole in the Malibu, which I have to say, is not an ideal solution. Even with crude calculations of where the bombs were originally seeded -- and let me tell you, that particular chart was not easy to procure -- we don’t know how much stellar drift has moved them. Dozens of ships have tried to fly into the Ring.

All have been, thus far, unsuccessful.

Pieces of the wreckage will add to the difficulty of successfully navigating the field.

I want it noted for the record, if I don’t succeed, I want you to tell Captain Amer -- no scratch that. I always know what I’m doing. This plan I’m gonna try and pull off tomorrow, it's got me scratching my head about the survivability of it all. What am I even tripping for? Everything's gonna workout exactly the way it's supposed to.

Stardate 5239.282.9

“Set for separation, J?”

“We are set, sir,” JARVIS said. He was the ship’s AI, navigation, piloting, engineering, physician. He served to take the place several key members of a ship’s crew. He was not, however, supposed to be the only other crewmate on a ship the size of the Malibu.

He was, because no one believed Mr. Stark that they could make it through the ring to whatever treasure planet was tucked away inside it.

JARVIS went because he was an AI and because Mr. Stark was his maker. But even if JARVIS had entire free will and he had some, because he was the one steering the ship, he probably wouldn’t have done anything differently. He could have refused to take Mr. Stark at all. Probably. He’d never really tried directly rebelling, and sometimes when he was feeling philosophical, he wondered if that was because he couldn’t rebel, or because Mr. Stark had not been wrong yet, and thus, rebelling was a waste of time.

Mr. Stark would, after all, prove everyone wrong.

And JARVIS wanted to be there, to record all of it.

Truthfully, JARVIS himself wasn’t at risk; he had two backup units hidden away. But if something happened to this version, well, the story would never be told. And he couldn’t have that, could he?

“Remember, sir, close--”

“But not too close, I got it. We got this. Launch the dummy section.”

“Piloting remotely,” JARVIS said. He separated the dummy section of the ship, broad and ugly with the best forward shields that money could buy. He should know. He’d purchased them. And then Mr. Stark had improved them.

The dummy section looked like, in all honesty, like a flying brick. But that was all right. All it had to do was shield the smaller craft behind it.

“Let’s plow the road, JARVIS,” Mr. Stark said.

“As you say, sir.”

Stardate 5239.282.11

“Well, that could have been worse,” Tony said. He was breathing hard, and his hands were shaking. Sweat dripped down the back of his flight suit. But he was alive.

He landed the smaller, more maneuverable craft inside the docking ring.

“Allow me to inform you, sir, there are four glass arrows affixed to the hull--”

“You just have to ruin my moment,” Tony complained. “Can I get a countdown, or is that too much to ask?” He was already unlocking his piloting harness, grabbed a stim patch on his way past the console -- he’d need to be on his mettle if he was going to disarm bombs without detonating them instead and all the juice from his hectic ride through the Ring had dissipated.

“They are quiescent, at the moment, sir,” JARVIS told him. “But core deterioration suggests they are not supposed to be in an atmosphere with oxygen, and they will explode soon enough.”

“Wait, there’s life support in the hanger?”

“It would appear so, sir.”

“Why?” The Ring of Thorns had been in place for several hundred years at least. There was no reason for life support to still be functional.

“I shan’t hazard a guess at this remove,” JARVIS said.

“Can we vent the docking bay?” Tony had more than enough O2 in his suit, as he hadn’t been expecting any such systems to still be in place.

“No, sir,” JARVIS said. “I was able to override the security systems to get us inside by claiming emergency repairs. The system will not let us out until the proper codes have been entered. As well as sudden venting often disrupts seemingly stationary objects--”

“Yeah, yeah, no need to turn the room into a pinball machine. All right, I’m on it.”

Tony had removed three of the bombs -- truly elegant, lethal little things. They were no bigger than two fingers wide and about four times as long, concealed by a mirror-shield that bent light around it, showing up as flecks of black and the occasional flash of light in a starfield. No propellant, no heat reading, not even any traceable particles emissions. Old school explosives. Not quite all the way back to pipebombs with horseshoe nails mixed in, but still. Household chemicals.

Ions only knew what the people who made them were thinking when they mixed them up and set them loose in space to guard their station and their planet.

They were all dead, at least.

Theoretically. No one could get close enough to tell.

“Uh, sir,” JARVIS said. “You have company. Turn around very slowly.”

Tony didn’t quite raise his hands, but he was expecting to see someone armed and presumably dangerous.

What he saw instead was-- an animal? With white and tan fur covering its entire body, including a set of very long ears. Red eyes peered at him curiously and the creature took a few hopping steps closer.

“JARVIS,” Tony muttered, keeping his eyes on the creature, “what is it?”

“A Lagomorpha, particularly a subset of Leporidae. Known as oryctolagus cuniculus domesticus, or more commonly, a bunny rabbit.”

“Does it eat-- meat?” Tony was an awfully big meal, but as he watched the-- rabbit-- carefully, he noticed there were more.

A lot more.

“I daresay, sir, unless the species has evolved along another path,” JARVIS said, “they are primarily interested in grasses, fruits, and vegetables. A garden pest, as they were described in older zoology reports. And, to some degree, a pet.”

“People pet them?” Tony wondered, looking around. They were fluffy and sort of cute. Some of them sat up on their hind legs to look closer at Tony.

“Other people raised them for food and fur stock,” JARVIS continued.

Tony took a step forward and the lead rabbit thumped his foot several times against the deck plating. Other rabbits took up the signal and stamped as well, until the entire facility was ringing like being inside a drum.

Tony found himself on the floor, hands clapped over his ears. By the time the noise stopped, three or four of the bunnies were very close to Tony, noses wiggling curiously. One of them hopped all the way up to him, put a soft paw on his knee and poked its face directly at his chin.

“I’m not made of food,” Tony told it, and he went to shoo it away, but he touched it instead.

Oh. Oh, it was so soft. Oh, Ions, so soft. He let himself sit down, let them hop up to him, sniffing curiously.

“It seems they have never seen a human, either, sir,” JARVIS commented.

“Do, uh, we have anything we could feed them? What are they even eating around here?”

“A closer look at the scans, sir,” JARVIS said, “the hydroponics bays seem to have overrun most of the station. They’ve been living in a perfect bunny paradise. All the food they could want, and no predators.”

“Sounds lovely,” Tony said, and one of the bunnies hopped into his lap and proceeded to turn around a few times before flopping over and going to sleep. “Although, gotta say, a cargo bay of rabbits wasn’t what I was hoping to find.”

Riches, technological artifacts, answers. Especially answers. What had happened here, why had the people gone silent, or died? Why did they leave behind such elaborate traps?

“We could set up a fur trade, sir,” JARVIS suggested and Tony could have sworn that every single bunny in the room gave him the stink eye. All at once. It was chilling.

“Yeeaaah, think I’m gonna go with no on that one, JARVIS,” Tony said. “Do you think there’s anyway to explain kaboom to them, because if I don’t get that last glass arrow off the hull, we’re all going to be in the fur trade.”

“You neglected to add lapine language skills to my databanks, sir,” JARVIS said.

“Smart ass AI,” Tony muttered, nudging the black bunny out of his lap. “Shoo. Go fetch. Something. Do you fetch? Yeah, go… go find a-- what to rabbits eat?”

“Strictly speaking, their diet is a mix of alfalfa and--”

“Whatever. Go… have a smoothie. Look, if you go into the galley on my ship, DUM-E will make you smoothies, go go.”

They didn’t go go or shoo shoo, but they did back up a little or hopped away as he stood up. He had to watch his feet as he moved back over to the ship, grabbing for the wrench. “Switch it up, JARVIS,” he said, and JARVIS triggered the color changing squares on the outside of the ship, one at a time, until Tony could physically locate the glass arrow, and only because he was looking really closely. The arrow changed colors, too, but at a slightly -- very slightly -- slower rate.

And then Tony was able to find it by touch, sliding his hand over the panel until he encountered a small projection.

Once removed from the ship, the colors swirled again until what Tony held in his hands was flesh and floor and bunny colored. The biologics didn’t blend as easily, they weren’t mathematical or predictable, so once he had it away from the hull, it was a lot easier to look at.

For something called a glass arrow, it was neither. More like a flat, thin package with a few grooves at each end. Not really accurate, but evocative, the imagery, he meant. Twisting the tail end, he slowly removed the detonation packet, wrapped in hyper thin plastics. Once that package was out, the arrow itself was rendered mostly harmless. Except that Tony would feel better getting all of it off the ship.

He found a couple of rolling bins in the docking bay, emptied them of the tools they contained, and then loaded the explosives into them. “Can I space this shit, or is the airlock broken, too?”

“The south side airlock appears fully functional, sir,” JARVIS told him. Tony grabbed a couple of remote-automatics and affixed them to the sides of the bins. Station gravity would eventually grab anything floating in proximity to the station; it had taken quite a few murderers getting caught before they realized you could not, in fact, just junk a body out an airlock.

But you could fire one into the nearest star. Which is what the remote-automatics were for. Small, one shot of fuel, affixable to a trash or discarded object -- or even at some of the largest ring world systems, to move supplies through space -- to propel them away. Once in motion, they’d stay in motion until a larger gravity well swallowed them up.

“Bombs away,” Tony said, setting the bins into the airlock. He sealed the inner door, opened the outer door, and then flew the trash off into space. The nearest star was several weeks away by sub light propulsion. Unless it hit a few of its cousins while out there, in which case, he could expect a pretty pretty boom in a few hours.

“Always so observant, sir,” JARVIS said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony said, pushing away from the porthole. “You got anything for me yet?”

“Their mainframe systems are so old as to be little better than hand-cranked automobiles, sir,” JARVIS said. “I’m having difficulty navigating their systems without overwhelming them. That said, the system suggests you might find an interpreter on the eighth deck, C-section.”

“I am not delivering a baby on this station,” Tony swore and chuckled to himself. It wouldn’t take JARVIS that long to find the reference -- it had always been a bit of a challenge with them. Could Tony, in fact, find a historical or cultural reference so old that JARVIS didn’t have access to it.

So far the answer had always been no.

Tony grabbed several tools to help him around the ship; a crowbar for opening unruly doors, as well as more electronic overrides. MagmaTorch, if he had to go through the door.

The vegetation was even thicker in the hallways. “Where are the plants getting food from?” Because really, dirt was a thing, even if Tony didn’t like standing on it. There was a thick coating of moss on the floor in places, and Tony found himself stepping around it. He did squat down long enough to take a sample, and send it off to JARVIS to analyze.

“Sample shows a flourishing, if unusual, ecosystem, sir,” JARVIS told him. “The sample appears to be similar to compost. Organic waste, sir.”

“Rabbit shit?”

“It’s likely the first plants would have started in the hydroponics area; if they outgrew their containers, they would have likely encountered fertilizer and soil samples there. My map of the station shows that system-recycling was only a deck below.”

“Old human shit,” Tony rephrased.

“And bodies that weren’t spaced, food waste, biological waste.” Many places stored that up, condensed into cubes, packed into bags, and then sold to terraforming colonies. Probably the same sort of idea. It was being used for its intended purpose, then, if not necessarily its intended place. “The ship’s lighting system has stayed on, providing material for photosynthesis. Since the late twenty-fifth century all human space-going vehicles utilize solar lamps to prevent crew depression, mood swings, and the inability to digest certain foods.”

“Yeah, we’re made for gravity and sunlight,” Tony said. He paused to force a door to the companionway. The ladders stretched up and down several levels, slightly offset to prevent a bad fall from becoming a fatal flaw. Smart. “So they’re not in any immediate danger of being wiped out?”

“The power banks are currently still at half capacity. With such a slow rate of decay, even without intelligent interference, this colony could continue on without problems for another three or four hundred years.”

“What are they using to power this place?”

JARVIS continued to analyze the station, providing more and more obscure data and facts. Frankly, Tony stopped entirely listening. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested, but there were also interesting things--

He stopped in a long hallway with doors spaced equally, and pushed one open. Crew quarters, right? Had to be…

The room was empty. Not just of crew, he really was not expecting a skeleton -- or maybe he was -- but also of artifacts. It was just empty. Bed cubby with no mattress, desk with no terminal or ports. Closet with no clothes.

“People did used to live here, didn’t they?”

“Records suggest that this station had a population of approximately twenty-thousand human beings at the time that contact with the greater galaxy ended.”

“What the hell happened to twenty-thousand people? I mean, even if the rabbits ate them--”

“Let me remind you, sir, that rabbits are primarily vegetarian,” JARVIS said.

“Thanks, you might need to keep reminding me of that--”

He wasn’t going to be able to close that door again, since a handful of rabbits had followed him in, and he wasn’t sure how to get them out again. They didn’t really seem like herd creatures to him. And while they��d been surviving perfectly well on their own, he didn’t really want them to starve to death because of him. Right?

It was a working theory, at least. No rabbit murdering.

He made it all the way to 8th-deck, Section C. Finally. Plants. A lot of them, too. And more rabbits.

“What exactly am I looking for here?” Tony wondered. He pushed his way through thicker plants, almost jungle-like in their sheer stubbornness to give way.

“I might say you’ll know it when you see it, sir,” JARVIS said, “which would be quite helpful, since I’m entirely uncertain--”

“Oh.”

That.

Stardate 5239.283.02

“I don’t believe the situation is going to change, no matter how long you keep staring,” JARVIS commented.

“Sarcastic, I like that.”

“I know that, sir.”

“Still. This is not something I want to jump into right away. I mean, when the station AI--”

“It’s not an AI sir, the station’s computer systems are significantly less advanced in all ways--”

“Don’t be petty. It’s beneath you.”

“As I don’t, in fact, have a corporeal body, sir, you might add that everything is beneath me. Or nothing is beneath me. An interesting question for the next time you feel philosophical.”

“Which does not answer any of my current philosophical questions,” Tony said. “Like who is this guy, why is he asleep in that thing, and will he die immediately if we try to wake him up?”

“Probably not immediately,” JARVIS said. “He’s hardly a vampire and going to poof into dust at exposure to sunlight.”

“What?”

“I beg your pardon sir, I was looking up some of the various mythology typical to this station at the time. Did you know they believed the whole place was cursed?”

“Of course they did,” Tony said. “Also, why would I know that? How could I possibly know that-- cursed? What even does cursed mean?”

“A curse is the belief that powerful entities can take an interest in humans,” JARVIS said. “Faeries, witches, demigods and deities, for example. When these humans do something wrong, or offensive, or are in some cases, just being used as scapegoats for a powerful creature, that leads to a curse. A series of misfortunes that cannot be averted, except by a single act. Sometimes it’s ridiculously complicated, like when the moon loses her child if it happens in a week when two Mondays come together. And sometimes, all that takes to break a curse is true love’s first kiss.”

“Like that’s not complicated,” Tony complained. “So you’re saying I should kiss the guy awake to break the curse?”

“Much in the case of a week with two Mondays, sir,” JARVIS said, “you might want to take into consideration that your blood and cells are filled with--”

“Aesculapian nanintes,” Tony breathed. Which repaired injuries, protected him from disease and posion, and vastly extended his life span. Most infants born on Tony’s planet inherited some of them from their parents, but often required a booster injection every twenty years. And, in emergencies, you could share your nanintes with someone else, to heal their wounds.

Tony had gotten a booster shot last year, on his fortieth birthday, which meant his system was currently in top form.

“The fastest way to share nanites--”

“Is fluid transfer.”

“A kiss,” Tony corrected, directing a smug smile in no particular direction. JARVIS could see him.

“Indeed, sir, I’m so glad you thought of it.”

“What would I do without you?”

“Flounder,” JARVIS responded. “Badly.”

“Wow, you didn’t even hesitate with that one.”

Tony studied the casing a little while longer. The man was dressed entirely in white, except for a black cap where his left arm had been, he had long hair and just a hint of a beard. If Tony had to guess, he’d say the man had gone into some sort of healing tube while a replacement limb was vat-grown for him. Nanites could mend split skin and broken bones, but it wasn’t much good at regrowing parts entirely.

But Tony didn’t see any sort of vat system at all. Maybe they kept that somewhere else.

Theoretically, Tony’s nanites would keep the man alive, long enough to ask some questions, to find the bioregen chambers, or their historical equivalent. Get some answers, provide some aid. Something.

And, also, very quietly, to himself, where even JARVIS couldn’t hear him.

Tony might actually want to kiss the man.

He was stunningly, almost shockingly beautiful. His cheeks were just perfect, and the chin, with the hint of a cleft. Full, kissable lips, parted just a little. Long lashes. Tony didn’t know what color his eyes were, but he liked to think they were blue. Tony felt like he could see… everything.

“Sir?”

“Yeah?”

“Your brain is producing an increased amount of vasopressin, adrenaline, dopamine, and oxytocin.”

“Yeah?”

“And I believe you are experiencing mydriasis-- it’s a nerve reaction that causes your pupils to dilate,” JARVIS went on.

“Which means what?”

“Quite honestly, sir,” JARVIS said. “I think you are, as the poets would say, falling in love.”

“Yeah?” Tony found he didn’t quite care. It was almost like being drunk, a warm, fuzzy sort of feeling that just, made him generally happy. He wanted to share that with someone. A very specific someone.

He wasn’t sure how he knew which button to push, but the top of the tube slid away, and the man inside took a slow, stuttering breath.

“It’s all right,” Tony told him. “I’m here to rescue you.”

He leaned in, mouth open slightly, and kissed the man he hadn’t even really met. It was more than love at first meeting, it was--

A very nice kiss, warm, soothing, soft, with just a little heat in it.

The man pulled away, licked his lips as if tasting Tony on them and gazed up at him. “Uh… aren’t you a little short to be a stormtrooper?”

“What?” Tony blinked, then blinked again. “How-- how do you know Star Wars? That is Star Wars you’re quoting, right, late 20th century cinema? I-- I’m a--”

The man struggled to sit, and Tony helped him until he could swing his legs over the side. “So, uh, question-- who are you, and why is there a rabbit on top of my stasis tube?”

“Um, my name is Tony Stark,” Tony said.

“Bucky Barnes,” the man said. “Uh, nice to meet you. Great kiss by the way, hell of a wake up call. Is my unit waiting for me--”

“Uh, no, no, probably not.”

Bucky stared around the room, from the bunny to the greenery to the bunny, and then back to Tony. “How long? How long was I asleep?”

“I can’t say exactly, but-- it’s been at least three hundred years since we last had contact with this station.”

“Oh.” Bucky took a deep breath, and then another one, and a third. “Oh. I guess… I guess she won.”

“Who? Who did this to you? What happened here?”

“Hydra did this to me. Mother of serpents and dragons. A witch. It’s a long story.”

“I-- don’t think there’s any such thing as witches,” Tony said, hesitantly.

“Oh, there are,” Bucky said. “Believe me. There are.”

A/n - art from @gayspacesprinkles isn’t it LOVELY!? Now stop screaming, I already have a part 2 planned for this.

#tonystarkbingo2020 #winterironwidow #Tony Stark & Sassy JARVIS #bingo fill

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sariahsue · 5 years

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The Open Line - Chapter Nine, Claws and Bugs

Ladybug knows that if it weren’t for Adrien, she would have fallen for Cat Noir, hard and fast. And when Oblivio takes her memory, she does just that. Able to keep her memory after the Oblivio incident but still unaware of Cat Noir’s real identity, Ladybug must deal with her growing feelings for her partner, who is desperately trying to win her over. (Rated PG.)

Read Chapter One Here Reach Chapter Eight Here

***

Adrien was normally quick to hop out of bed in the morning, eager for school and to see his friends, but today he laid in bed for nearly twenty minutes, staring at the picture Ladybug had sent him. (He'd printed it and kept it under his pillow all night. Plagg had made fun of him.) Adrien was determined to have it memorized by the time he left for school.

Ladybug had made sure to hide personal details and belongings from view. There were no hints to her identity, but she hadn't been able to hide the pink wall she'd taped the picture to. Pink. Her room was painted pink. Was that her favorite color? Should he get her pink flowers? She also hadn't hidden her pink bedspread. Her bed! Not only had she hung up his picture, but she'd put it next to her BED. Was it the first thing she saw that morning? Had she been staring at it as she'd fallen asleep last night?

A loud knock on the door gave him a half-second warning to hide the picture under his blanket before Nathalie came marching in. She didn't even look at him before she began listing off his schedule for the day, which was packed. "Your father expects you downstairs promptly. You both will be very busy today, and he doesn't want any delays."

"Yes, Nathalie. I'll be right down." As soon as she left the room, he lunged for the photo. Breakfast could wait, so he sank into his pillows and forgot about Nathalie and her schedules, holding the photo high above his head this time, to get a new angle.

There was light shining directly onto Ladybug's bedroom wall, though he couldn't see its source. That probably meant she had a lamp close by. Did she read before falling asleep? What was her favorite book?

The best part of her message last night was definitely the caption she'd added. "Got to have a picture of my favorite partner on display!" It was silly. It shouldn't make him so happy. He was her only partner, but he had never been called anyone's favorite anything before. He repeated her words to himself as he finally got ready for the day.

He skipped down the stairs, ten minutes late for breakfast, only to be greeted by a scowl.

"Did Nathalie tell you I expected your punctuality?" his father asked. Even from Gabriel's spot at the far end of the table, Adrien could feel the open disappointment, almost anger. But Ladybug's words kept him insulated and safe.

"Yes," Adrien said. "But I didn't know-"

"And you chose to disrespect her direction and my time because?"

"Uh..." Because Ladybug said he was her favorite! She didn't push him away when he kissed her! "I guess I was... tired?"

"I see," Gabriel said, picking up his plate has he rose from the table. "I had hoped to spend some time with my son, but as he places such a low value on me, I will be finishing my meal in my office." Gabriel swept past him and was gone.

"If he'd told me he was going to be here..."

"His loss," Plagg said from his pocket. "Hey, we could always go back to bed. I think there's a certain wheel of cheese calling my name and a certain picture calling yours."

"Nice try." Adrien grabbed his plate and walked toward the front door. It was odd, how bad he didn't feel about his father's behavior. It was unfortunate, but it couldn't damage his good mood. He was Ladybug's favorite! She'd let him kiss her hand like six times last night!

Remembering that got him through a grueling day. Nathalie hadn't been exaggerating when she said he'd be busy. School was full of tests and Chloe's drama, all made harder by his sleep deprivation. Double fencing left him exhausted. Then there was a photoshoot. And finally, piano lessons, where he was berated for his "obvious lack of practice and respect for the piano as an instrument and an art form."

"I'd like to see him work in practicing around all the akumas I have to fight."

"Or all the daydreaming about Ladybug," Plagg added. It was amazing how much of Adrien's pillow he was taking up. Plagg was spread out, basking in a square of sunshine. One eye was cracked open, so he could see what kind of effect his teasing had.

"I'm not that bad."

"You sure?"

"Scoot over." Adrien flopped face-first onto his bed, already reaching for the photo. It was a relief to have his room to himself again. He was nearing his physical limits, and he had past his people limit a long time ago. Well, people that weren't Ladybug. He wished there was a patrol scheduled tonight. Having pictures of her was nice, but nothing could compare to the comfort of her presence.

The door swung open, and Plagg dove out of sight while Adrien scrambled to his feet to face his visitor. Seeing Gabriel twice on the same day was a rare occurrence, and normally Adrien would have been glad for the attention, but his father's face was even more sour than it had been that morning.

"The photographer sent me the raw images of today's shoot, Adrien. Your work was subpar."

Adrien's mouth twitched. He did not have the energy for this. "It's just the raws," Adrien said. "They're going to Photoshop it anyway."

"You can't airbrush failure. Your performance was unacceptable."

"Maybe it shouldn't have been scheduled after two hours of fencing, then. I was tired." His words hung in the air between them, but Adrien wouldn't have taken them back even if he could have. He was too tired. Too tired of being pushed around today, too tired of being everyone's disappointment.

"You will not be practicing with your band on Saturday."

"But they're counting on me to be there! I've missed the last four-"

Gabriel steamrolled over him. "You will be spending your newly freed time to practice your piano. I met your teacher on his way out, and he tells me your skill is quickly deteriorating."

Adrien folded his arms and looked away.

"I can see this is getting too much for you," Gabriel said softly.

Adrien dared to hope that his father was finally understanding him, that he would be removing some of his burdensome lessons or shoots, but he should have known better. It made Gabriel's next words cut deeper.

"If your performance – and your attitude – do not improve, we will be returning to homeschooling."

Even as he left the room, it felt like Gabriel's claws closed in around Adrien. No band on Saturday. That was expected. It seemed like his father would use any excuse to keep him from going. But no school? The last time he'd threatened that had been ages ago. And if he were being monitored by a tutor at home all day, it would be so much harder to slip away if an akuma attacked. No band, no school, no Cat Noir.

Adrien threw himself on the piano bench in frustration and started playing. Let his father hear him practice. Let him think that his son was cooperative and submissive.

"Ah, don't worry," Plagg said, floating over. He'd retrieved Ladybug's picture from underneath the pillow, and it dangled between his paws. "He'll forget about everything in a few days. Just watch." He set the photo on top of Adrien's music.

"Just let me play," Adrien said, shifting the picture aside to see the music. "I want him to think he's won." Plagg was trying to be helpful, and he appreciated the gesture, but he needed to see the real thing. A photo wasn't enough anymore.

"Why?"

"So he won't check on me again." Don't think. Just play. Then see Ladybug.

Don't feel.

This plan only lasted fifteen minutes until Adrien couldn't stand to be in his own house any longer. It would have to be enough. He was jumping through the window before he'd even finished transforming, into the first truly cold night of October. The city was misty and dreary, which didn't match his mood. He wanted a thunderstorm.

Sixteen blocks away from his house, he finally stopped to contact Ladybug. It rang, and rang and rang, until it went to her inbox. Even though he knew there was no point, that she wasn't transformed, he tried again. And again. The weather turned menacing.

When he finally gave up - without leaving a message - he wasn't sure what to do next. There was nowhere he could really go. There was no one who really wanted him around. So he wandered, buffeted by the wind and getting soaked to the bone, trying not to remind himself that because he was Ladybug's only partner, he was also her least favorite.

"She never said that," he told himself firmly. "That wasn't what she meant." Alone and abandoned in the rain, it was hard to believe he'd had a reason to be happy that morning.

Water and wind eventually drove him to find shelter. The Notre Dame was big enough to hide him, tall enough that he wouldn't be able to hear the people and cars below him. The enormous roof was made out of wood and had many eaves and ledges he where he could sit and be alone, but when he sat down, he found that the spot was already taken.

"Figures," he said. A swarm of ladybugs huddled there for warmth. "You're not the one I want right now." He settled down anyway and stayed there, unmoving, for he didn't know how long. Long enough that tourists returned to their hotels and street lights flickered on. Long enough for the bugs to realize he was a much better heat source than the wooden rafters and start to crawl over him instead. His only friends.

"It's a sign," he said, looking down at himself. "Soon she'll want me just as much as you all do."

"Who are you talking to?"

"Ladybug!" She'd come! And just like that, his heart hurt a little less. "Would you like to meet my friends?" He motioned to the little insects crawling over his knees.

Droplets of water hit his legs as she wrung out her hair. "They can't get enough of you," she noted, sitting down next to him. The ledge was wide and sheltered from the wind, just big enough for the both of them.

"So you were jealous and came to get a piece of the action?"

"Ha. Funny. I checked the Ladyblog a few minutes ago and saw reports that you've been up here for hours, sulking."

"Oh, uh..." Should he tell her? Should he try to cover it up? Play it off? He didn't want her to think he couldn't handle something as stupid as a bad day. She would be disappointed in him too, just like everyone else, and he would do anything to avoid that.

But Ladybug saw through his hesitation. "Your dad again?"

Cat Noir sighed and then nodded. "Today's been kind of awful." It was a relief to tell the truth. And an even bigger relief that he didn't have to say it himself.

"I'm sorry," she said, leaning against him, lending him her support with her presence.

They didn't talk much. Ladybug brushed bugs off his shoulders and hands, and stroked his hair whenever she thought he needed a distraction from the gloom that waited for him beyond their island of tranquility.

"I wish I'd gotten here sooner," she said over an hour later. "We're partners. I hate the idea of you facing tough stuff by yourself, even if it's not an akuma."

"You could always give me your number, Bugaboo," he joked. "I tried calling your yoyo earlier, but you weren't transformed."

He expected an eye roll and a lecture on keeping civilian and super lives separate, so he wasn't quite sure what to make of it when she looped her arm through his and hummed thoughtfully. Was she actually considering it? He'd said it as a joke!

But she lapsed back into silence without really answering, and the hope her reaction had ignited was quickly extinguished in the gloom that engulfed the rest of the city. Of course she wasn't going to give him her number. She was more willing to spend time with him, more generous with her touches because she knew he was upset, but that was it. There was no indication that it would ever be more than that, and he shouldn't get his hopes up.

They spent another half hour in silence, until Ladybug got up with a grimace. "We can't stay out late two nights in a row."

"Yeah, I should get back. Before someone misses me." Miss him? Ha. Like that would happen.

"I have an idea," she said, holding a hand out to help him up. "And I think you'll really like it."

"What's that?" Once on his feet, Cat Noir didn't let her hand go. Neither, he noticed, did she.

"I'll tell you tomorrow, if I can figure out the details."

"We don't have patrol tomorrow, though."

"Oh, well, we could- that is..."

She paused and looked shyly away, and Cat Noir felt his feeble hope burn back to life. This was something new. Scheduling to meet up outside of patrols? It was unprecedented. It couldn't be...

"Would you meet me anyway?"

"Of course, LB. I would love to."

"Ten at the Tower?"

"Sure."

It was happening. It was honestly, truly happening. They were planning to meet, not because the city needed them, or because he was having a bad day, or on accident. Just because she wanted to spend time with him.

Ladybug beamed, then pushed herself up on her toes and kissed his cheek before saying in a rush, "Hope you feel better. See you tomorrow. Bye!"

As soon as she was out of sight, Cat Noir did a little dance on the ledge. But the ledge wasn't big enough, and on his second pirouette, he lost his balance and fell off. Laughing, he waited until the very last second to save himself, but even that rush couldn't compare to the high his Lady had just given him.

Read Chapter Ten Here

***

Author's note: This story is officially a "Notre Dame Cathedral Didn't Burn Down" AU. I'm a writer. I can make reality whatever I want, and I want that building to not have burned.

I had a lot of obstacles to getting this chapter done for tonight, and I wasn't sure I was going to be able to. I had to push myself to get this done in time, but I'm happy that I did! Next week, back to Marinette. Let's see what SHE makes out of her own behavior!

#ml #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #ladynoir #ladynoir july

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samotchkaficrecs · 5 years

Text

My Hero Academia Fic Recs! #1

Hola!

i’m finally making an actual mha fic post... yay!

since most of these fics are suited to my fanfiction tastes i will be making another in the future with many different ships (to float anyone’s boat).

[Also if there is a star (★) next to any fic, it’s one of my highly recommended]

Anywhoo, let us begin!

TodoDeku

before the world catches up by - silent_academy (white_silence)

Shouto was promised the world when he was born. Unfortunately, fate isn't kind, and he's left with nothing but a broken heart and blazing scars.

Izuku was never "destined" for greatness, but he was sure as hell going to make his mark on the world. With determination and a will to protect, he sets out on the hero's path.

Or, the one in which Shouto is born Quirkless, and Izuku... is not.

Somehow, things work out anyway.

(currently on hiatus)

★ The Wooing of Todoroki Shouto by - crispykrimi

He clasps his hands together and presses them to his forehead. “Please teach me how to seduce someone!”

What follows is the most awkward fifteen minutes of his short life. His friends volley suggestions at him, everything from suggestive comments to practically crawling into Shouto’s lap and kissing him. His head is starting to feel a little fuzzy when someone (goddamnit Kirishima) suggests a strip tease, and really, he has to draw the line somewhere.

“A-ah… Maybe seduce was too strong a word. I don’t know if I could actually do any of those things… I think a better word would be- woo? I want to woo him. P-please teach me how to woo someone.”

(complete)

★ If I'm Being Honest.... by - I_dont_know_man

Midoriya scrunched up his nose in confusion. “Uh, Shouto, why are you glaring at me like that?”

“I-” Todoroki began to lie, until nausea slammed him like a door to any room that Bakugou entered. “I--” Todoroki grit his teeth, and glared daggers into the wall behind Midoriya. Goodbye, friendship. It had been absolutely divine while it lasted. “Because you’re very attractive.”

They say honesty is the best policy, but it sure as hell had a knack for Todoroki making a complete and utter fool of himself.

In which Todoroki is placed under a mysterious truth-telling quirk and suffers, Uraraka laughs at him, Midoriya is confused but smitten nonetheless, and Twitter is the thirstiest site on the planet.

(complete)

i feel your warmth, and it feels like home by - orphan_account

The five times where Shouto remembers that Midoriya is more buff than he lets on.

(alternatively titled the-one-where-shouto-internally-nosebleeds-and-tries-to-act-casual)

(complete)

Trust Fall by - Esselle

' "So, on my signal then."

Midoriya laughs. "No signal. You just fall, and I catch."

"What?" Shouto asks. "But how will you know? What if you're not ready? What if—"

"It's about trust, Todoroki-kun," Midoriya says. Shouto can't see his face, but he senses there's a grin on it. "Do you trust me?" '

(complete)

KiriBaku

Can't Hear the Fireworks of Your Art by - cereal_whore

Bakugou's hearing is slowly deteriorating due to being in close proximity of his quirk, and his constant usage of it. After a visit to the doctors, it's concluded they can never reverse his hearing.

Everyone else: hol y sh ti hes dying (excluding Shinsou, who's too tired to care anymore and is at peace with the idea of Bakugou being the local cryptic)

Or: Bakugou literally disappears for one day, and everyone suddenly thinks he's dying even tho he just rlly needs a hearing aid. none of these hormonal teenagers have basic communication skills. Todoroki is also really trying his best in spite of Bakugou continuously calling him "Canadian Flag Fucker".

(ongoing)

kiss me on the lips by - Lulatic

“So, you’ve really never kissed anyone? Really?”

“No, okay? You fucking happy now? What does it even matter--”

“Would you like to?”

(complete)

★ The Beauty of a Beast by - starofjems

Once upon a time a lonely beast lived in a manor deep in the forest. He dreamed of the day his true love appeared to break his curse... When a beauty finally appears in his life, it is not quite as he imagined. For who could have thought a beauty would be more of a beast.

The beauty and the beast AU nobody asked for but here it is.

(complete)

Ghost Hunters by - PoutyBats

“What, like a ghost sex hotline?” Sero snorts.

“I mean, she was kinda cute-”

“I swear on my life if you don’t shut up I can guarantee that there will be three new ghosts in this house come morning!” Bakugou rubs his temples, aging by the minute.

Kirishima, Bakugou, Ashido, Kaminari, and Sero are part of a ghost hunting squad.

[kiribaku isn’t really the main focus, but it’s here anyways]

(complete)

Love Potion No. 9 by - I_dont_know_man

"It's alright bro, I get it. Not everybody can handle all this pure manliness." Kirishima flexed a hardened bicep facetiously, grinning like the idiot he most certainly was.

...

And Bakugou - Bakugou blushed.

For the mere second time in 17 years of life, no less, and he was pretty sure that blushing over accidentally calling All Might ‘dad’ that one time didn’t count. Bakugou was an aloof, detached, analytical sort of person. Bakugou didn’t fucking blush, alright?

Just what in the ever-loving fuck was going on here?!

In which Bakugou finds himself victim of a love spell, Kirishima tries his Best, and the entirety of Class 1A waits for the other shoe to drop.

(ongoing)

Multi/ Misc/ Minor Ship

★ Blue Monday by - Adox [multi]

Eight years ago, three boys went missing, only remembered by their disappearance. Unless you’re Izuku Midorya. After his (arguably) best friend Katsuki Bakugou vanished, he’s been searching. Hoping. Even after the investigation was closed. Three names ring clearly in his head.

Eijiro Kirishima.

Denki Kaminari.

Katsuki Bakugo.

Jiro loves her new family, they’re the only fosters who seem to give a shit. However, she can’t help but notice the picture frames turned on their side, and the child’s bedroom that hasn’t been touched in years.

Todoroki just wants to help his new friend, even if that means endangering his many, many scholarships.

And Bakugo waits.

(ongoing)

Karma in Retrograde by - Mistystarshine, ohmytheon [misc]

When Dabi is struck by a de-aging quirk that regresses him to the most influential part of his life, he finds himself turned back into a sixteen-year-old U.A. General Studies student with lots of self-esteem issues, parent problems, a destructive quirk that he can't manage, and no memory of the years that he's lost - not to mention the fact that his little brother is now the same age as him and one of the top students in the U.A. hero course. In U.A.'s attempt to make up for what they missed and help the Dabi of the past, present, and future, he is placed with the only students that know him and have yet to find out what truly makes the difference between a hero and a villain. There, they must face the question of whether he can change or his destiny is already set in stone.

(ongoing)

A Night to Remember by - hanwritesstuff (hannahkannao) [multi]

“Huh?” Izuku narrows his eyes and looks at the poster. It doesn’t make sense when he first reads the words, when they first roll off his tongue. “‘Yuuei High School’s 24th Annual Future Heroes Gala’? What... is this?” He feels like he should know, but he can’t think straight after staying up so late last night.

“Well.” Kirishima grins. “When I saw the poster, I texted Amajiki-senpai and he told me all about it.”

There’s something particularly mischievous in his smile that has Izuku worried.

“Long answer, it’s pretty much the only school dance Yuuei has and it’s third-years only,” Kirishima continues, “It’s supposed to be a celebration of everything we’ve done over the past three years, so it’s super fancy and formal and there’s slow dancing and and stuff like that -”

“Short answer, it’s hero prom!” Hagakure interrupts, barely getting the words out before at least four people erupt into cheers.

(complete)

★ I want to kiss (your dumb fucking face) by - gingerbreadshinsou [shinsou/ monoma]

Monoma develops a big gay crush on Shinsou from afar and his life descends into absolute chaos

[The Monoma Neito coming-of-age fic absolutely no one asked for]

(ongoing)

[i know i have already put this one on another list, but it’s just so amusing!]

tell your boyfriend if he says he's got beef that i'm a vegetarian and i EAT LEAF by - hanwritesstuff (hannahkannao) [misc]

“Which one of you fuckers just AirDropped me loss?”

(complete)

★ shock your soul by - montparni [kamisero]

Twelve years of Halloween; or, Kaminari Denki grows up (but not too much), makes some memories, and learns to look right in front of his eyes.

(complete)

Rock, Paper, Scissors, Shoot! by - xX_KUUHAKU_Xx [kamisero]

"I could wear just my boxers and I'd win every round. Now let's play."

---

In which Sero and Kaminari decide to face off on a rock, paper, scissors game with beer and stripping being a part of it.

(complete)

Thus With a Kiss, I die by - DomineeringScarves

Kaminari finds himself head over heels for the newest addition to their class, Shinsou Hitoshi. Normally the flirty blonde would just present himself with open arms but there's a major problem with his infatuation. There's unspoken rules in 1-A and Kaminari is part of the Bakusquad...whereas Shinsou is a part of the Dekusquad. The two can't be together. It's just not possible. There's no way Bakugou would ever allow one of his extras to date Deku's friend.

There's only one thing left to do, give up and move on. Too bad Kaminari can't seem to escape Shinsou.

Aka the fic where Kaminari is Romeo and Shinsou is Juliet and they have to secretly date so their squads don't fall into an all out war.

(complete)

★★★

Aaaand thats a wrap! thanks for viewing and i hope you all found some fics that intrigue you!

Au revior!

#mha #my hero academia #ships #tododeku #kiribaku #kamisero #monoshin #midoirya izuku #todoroki shouto #katsuki bakugou #kirishima eijiro #dabi #kaminari denki #sero hanta #shinsou hitoshi #monoma neito #fic recs #my hero academia fic recs

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awed-frog · 5 years

Note

When you say romance should be 18 and over do you mean the brand of romance we know today (aka toxic) or romance as a whole? If we wrote healthy romance aimed at younger crowds or presented unhealthy behaviour as unhealthy behaviour in regular romance (for older crowds) would that be a good solution?

Well - I see three questions here, all of them incredibly complex and beyond interesting: should art be political and is censorship ever a good idea and also is the romance genre okay? The answer to all of them, in my opinion, is ‘no but’.

1) Should art be political?

The stupid thing is, art is inherently political, whether you want it to or not, but art that’s deliberately political tends to be awful, and that’s a universal truth both for left-wing stuff and for right-wing stuff. When you willingly create political stuff, what you’re crafting is propaganda, and proganda is generally sad and bad. I guess there is propaganda that’s also good art - Victor Hugo’s The Man Who Laughs comes to mind - but the problem is, not all of us are Victor Hugo.

That said, since whatever we create is political (because man is a social animal) and will have some kind of moral message, yes - ideally we want more art with an ethically ‘good’ moral message than we want garbage, because art (and here I include everything: books, movies and so on) is perhaps the most effective and impactful mind-shaper ever. That’s why Disney is doing its very best to be a monopoly, after all. But: I don’t have a good solution for how to ensure art is nice. I think art is nice when artists are nice, and artists are nice when they grow up in good, healthy societies. So the more a society rots from the inside out, the more likely it is you’ll find art that’s also rotten. I mean, while romance as a genre was always a bit dodgy (see below), what that article was talking about - the rise of the possessive, violent boyfriend and domestic abuse as the great love story - is sort of a recent phenomenon, and goes hand in hand with the deterioration of women’s rights in (Western) society.

(As an aside, I’m not sure I agree (young) women are necessarily misogynistic for reading crap like Fiftfy Shades: I think (young) women are exhausted. Fifty Shades is, more than anything, an ode to undeserved capitalism - the only kind that seems open as an option today. After all, we know trickle-down capitalism doesn’t work and most of us will toil and toil for very little; Christian Grey is the antidote to that, the guy who shows up, basically kidnaps you, and smothers you in a life of riches for which the only thing you must do in return is give up. Having someone else decide on your job, your car, your possessions and clothes, where you’ll live, what you’ll eat and when, whether you’ll take birth control (lol: obviously not), when you’ll see your friends and family plus when and how you’ll orgasm - what women tried to escape for generations is suddenly the dream for many of us - not because of any new political ideology, but because we’re beyond tired. Women, like men, are now crushed in a neverending cycle of bs, underpaid jobs, and are apparently fed up enough in taking responsibility for anything that not only romance and ‘superhuman’ characters are booming, but a very specific kind of subset of that: essentially, slave fics.

Just give up your agency, and you’ll be taken care of and cherished - forever.

I understand a kink is not the same as your actual political opinion, but still - I’m not enthusiastic about this trend, and I’m even less enthusiastic when it gobbles up young women who haven’t had time to experience real life relationships.)

No, I think that in the end, the answer is - if you reverse the rotting of society, automatically - statistically - you’ll get healthier artists and a healthier audience. So, really, the fight is always the same: better paid jobs, better (and free) schools, more opportunities for continued education of any kind, more democracy and transparency, more green spaces and better living conditions.

2) Is censorship ever a good idea?

Sadly, no. You’d think the logical conclusion of what I just said would be, ‘In the meantime, let’s ban the most dangerous stuff’ or something, and while part of me is tempted to support that, censorship has a way of ending very badly no matter how good and noble your intentions are.

(Self-censorship should be more of a thing, though: not everything that goes through our minds deserves to be seen and shared.)

What sucks at the moment is that on the one hand, capitalism is operating its own censorship; and on the other, its desperate search for new markets has led to a disastrous disintegration of actual human interactions.

So, problem one is that we only publish and market what makes a lot of money, and while that’s normal, to an extent, the result today is that everything is ‘almost the same’ as the previous thing (think sequels, prequels, remakes, obnoxious book covers for books that are basically all the same). So if ‘asshole boyfriend who beats you up’ suddenly makes money, it becomes very hard to escape the trope, because what will be offered to you everywhere is exactly that. This was less of a thing back when our main sources of entertainment were shared (movie theaters, the one family TV, school libraries and so on); now, it’s an epidemic, and as we see with Youtube algorithms, a dangerous one, because this obsession with watching and rewatching ‘almost the same’ inevitably leads to more and more extreme stuff.

Meanwhile, problem two is that the more tailor-made our entertainment is, the less we connect to real people. I know I sound about 90 here, but when all family members are glued to a different screen - mom watching the 50th remake of Eat, Pray, Love, dad down the rabbithole of lizard conspiracy theories, big brother now exploring some milk&peanut butter weirdness on Youporn and younger sister 30 fics deep into Stucky high school AUs - what do they have in common? What do they talk about? What can they even learn from each other? Until recently, and for aeons, fiction was shared, and its primary goal was to form a connection between group members. Now, that’s gone. We destroyed it, without even realizing what we were doing, in the space of twenty years. And yeah - I know you can create new communities, but a) these communities are virtual (which means, for the most part: not real) and b) they tend to connect like with like, which is comforting, perhaps, but not very useful. The whole point here is that we need to learn how to feel empathy and trust for those who’re different, and build a community with them - instead, what the internet is doing is isolating us inside our little bubbles, so much so that any minor disagreement is now seen as good reason to break off contact.

Censorship, however, doesn’t solve any of this. For starters, we need more regulation on how big corporations can get, what social media companies can and can’t do and who can access what kind of material. And it’d be great if we could all unplug a little, but uh - fat chance of that.

3) Is the romance genre okay?

Again, just my opinion, but personally, I mistrust it. There are no romance books for men? Instead, books for men feature a Main Character doing stuff and improving himself while accidentally meeting a Sexy Lamp he can go home to at the end of the story. And, well, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but isn’t this a healthier way to look at life? While good relationships are very meaningful (or even the most meaningful) part of any human life, if your goal is to get them, they won’t grow right. You shouldn’t be hyperfocused on finding love; I think it’s much better to be like Main Character: you work on your drawing skills, try a new sport, read poetry, defeat evil Russians, thus developing inner happiness and self-confidence, thus leading you towards towards a partner who’ll fall in love with who you are - not a partner who was looking for some empty shell to fill with their own expectations and preferences.

And I know - romance books and movies are full of exciting non-romantic events and stuff - but still, the fact they’re classified and intended as romance does imply that finding a romantic partner is the ultimate goal. Which, I don’t know, I don’t think it’s healthy, and is a particularly inappropriate message for young women. After all, why is it okay that young men are encouraged to go on ghost hunts, study dinosaurs and save the world while young women are taught to wait around for a broken (possibly violent, but it’s not his fault) bad boy only they can fix? It’s messed up, is what it is, and I may be extreme here, but even the tamest, sweetest romance revolves around the same message: that you’re not complete on your own, and that you should focus on relationships as a way to become a better, happier human being.

Now, as much as I love this quote -

“It is what you read when you don't have to that determines what you will be when you can't help it.” — Oscar Wilde

- obviously there’s no direct cause-and-effect here - you don’t read one book and become a mindless Stepford wife - so I’m not saying, ‘no one should read romance ever’. It’s just - as I said in that other post, we should all enjoy diverse stuff. Read your romance novels, but also read the classics, read some philosophy, a random poem, a badly-written thriller - read Stephen King, read how the OED was written, or a Wikipedia article on the French resistance - anything and everything. Because of capitalism, because of this push towards personalized entertainment, we’re being forced and pigeonholing ourselves in smaller and smaller cages, and the worst thing is - we’re comfortable inside them, because this is the awful truth: cages are comfortable, and that’s why we need to get out before we forget what cages are for.

[As a final point: you say ‘if we wrote’, does it mean you’re an aspiring writer? If so, you shouldn’t worry about any of this. You write what you want, you write the stories you want to read. Just remember to get out of your cage as well - experience, discover, grow, read, dare - and then put all that into your books. I’m sure they’ll be great, whatever your favourite genre.]

#ask #books #romance #entertainment #capitalism #ya #fifty shades of grey #narrative tropes #old woman yells at cloud #the end is nigh #i miss the 90s #potentially unpopular opinion

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realityhelixcreates · 5 years

Text

Lasabrjotr Chapter 21: What Only Lives in Memory

Chapters: 21/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: Mention of past sexual assault, Mention of past murder Relationships: Loki x Reader (Let’s try this again) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Reader, Brunnhilde(Marvel), Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Here Comes Self-Reflection, Reader Had a Rough Time During the Snap, Loki Tries to Figure Himself Out Summary: Loki moves things forward, while reader reveals the past.

“Hey! Hey, you kidnapping bastard! Give me my daughter back, asshole!”

“That's about the reaction I expected, yes.” Loki said, holding on to his composure in the face of your enraged father. He was an entire ocean away, and merely a mortal man of no consequence, but there was still some intimidation involved. Loki wanted a favor from this man; information. Also, there was something...important, about not being hated by your father, specifically. “Alas, I cannot. It's isn't safe for her, I'm afraid. Her health would deteriorate once more.”

“Yeah, the spandex squad said the same thing. They said it was some kind of magic? Sounds like bullshit to me.”

“You have lived through invasions by both extraterrestrials, and robots, yet you find magic difficult to believe in?” Loki pointed out.

“Yeah, well, you can punch an alien or a robot.”

“I dare say, one can punch a sorcerer as well.”

“Oho? She's been throwing hands?”

Loki cleared his throat. “Your daughter has been...most emphatic on several points.”

Your father drew himself up with pride. “Good. You best listen. And you'd damn well better be treating her right!”

“Actually, that is why I wished to speak with you. I would like advice on how to treat her more properly. Specifically, I will be remodeling her room into a more permanent residence, and I wish to know what kind of things she likes to have in her home.”

Your father remained quiet for a few long moments.

“So she's really not coming back.” He said finally. “Damn. I know all girls eventually leave, but she just seemed happy where she was...” He sighed. “Okay, fine. If it's gotta be up to you to take care of her now, then listen up. She likes doodlin' so get her some art supplies. She likes them little fairy lights. If you're getting her decorative things, she likes birds, and seashells, and flowers. No pets. She doesn't like having little things underfoot. Get her some houseplants, but only if they have bright colors, or make flowers.”

“How about toiletries? Does she have a preference?”

“Eh, more flowery stuff. Whatever's on sale, usually, but you can do better than that, can't you? The most flowery stuff you can find. Candles or potpourri, or whatever. Uh, she likes Pokemon. Don't know how much that helps you.”

“It would help me more if I knew what that was, but I'm sure I can find out.”

“It's some video game about fantasy animals. It's easy to find. Oh, and she likes space too. Stars and constellations and stuff. Likes learnin' about what's out there.”

“Oh, I know.” Loki said, perhaps a little too confidently. Your father glared. “But not too well.” He added. “Space. It is a good subject. There is much out there.”

Silence stretched out uncomfortably.

“How is she, really?” Your father asked.

“Distressed. That is why I am doing this. A great many things have happened to her in too short a time, so I am attempting to counter them with comfort. Her illness has all but disappeared, but we must remain within a mile or so of one another, and cannot be separated for more than a few hours at that distance before she begins to deteriorate. Were you told of the assassin?”

“Yeah. I was told she wasn't badly hurt, and that you caught the bastard.”

“Correct on both counts. She suffered a cut, but it has healed completely, and he will be facing justice eventually. I may still curse him into an early grave though, no matter what his sentence ends up being. Hmm. Perhaps forget I said that.”

“Nah, no one's hearing a peep from me.” Your father fidgeted as a gray cat peeked its head into the screen. “No Momo! Get down from there. Hey look, if she's gotta stay with you from now on, there's some things you oughta know. She's got some...problems. There were some major health issues that ran in her mother's side of the family; brain tumors mostly. Took her mom and her aunt while she was still pretty young. She hadn't shown any signs of it, but two or so years ago, she had this weird episode...Started insisting that everyone was dead, and the world was ending. The doctor didn't find any evidence of tumors, but said she was acting like someone who had gone through some kind of traumatic experience. No one could figure out what happened. She was fine one day, and the next, she'd completely changed. Got way more aggressive, kinda obsessed with food, has panic attacks over some of the weirdest things. And whenever something bad happens, she goes from one hundred percent ready to fight, to meek and numb in seconds.”

“I...have observed some of those behaviors, yes.” So this was what it looked like from the outside. Someone who had survived the Snap and remembered it must seem to others as if some great change had come over them. An entire year lived like that would not leave someone the same as they had been before. It was a shame Loki could not tell him what had happened. That your father would never understand you like he did. That he didn't even truly understand you.

You were just about as alone in this world as he was, weren't you?

“So if you've got some kind of magic health care over there, just keep an eye on her brain, okay?”

“As you say. I shall keep a special watch over her mind. I appreciate you telling me this. All of this. It will be most helpful.”

“Yeah well, as long as you take good care of her, I can't complain. Still hate you though.”

Loki smiled smugly. “I would expect nothing else.”

*****

Loki spent his time between meetings searching through various storage rooms for furnishings. He'd found a very nice rug; blue and green and silver, patterned with knotwork and ravens. Bedding was a bit more difficult: you felt the cold more keenly, and needed either more, or heavier blankets. He was having trouble finding good matches, however. He didn't just want to throw things together like some kind of motley. You weren't a peasant anymore, and you should have better.

But just for now, maybe the brick red bed set didn't clash with the green and blue that much?

In the end, he was able to gather plenty of bird-themed items, mostly ravens, eagles, and swans, and no shortage of floral décor. He commissioned a space-themed mural for one of your walls, though he knew it would take several weeks to finish. There were very few seashells to be had, but he did manage to procure a small hand mirror that was shaped like a scallop.

Perhaps this would do for now?

He called for Saldis and two others to carry things back you your room, stood back and supervised while they laid things out. Fairy lights and Pokemon would have to wait until he figured out what they were, and where he could get them.

As the servants put everything into place, Loki was drawn to your desk, and the little stack of books there. Astronomy, of course. That made perfect sense. A history of Iceland. Good idea. The collected tragedies of Shakespeare. Good stories, all of them, but perhaps not the best reading material for someone of your delicate mental state. Ah, there it was. World mythology.

Brunnhilde said you had mentioned something about a mythology book that had led you to believe some mixed up things. Well, what did it say?

He picked up the book, leafing through it as the servants moved around him, hanging artworks on the blank walls, a pair of flower-themed lamps replacing the old one, rolling out the rug.

The temperature began to fall while he read the entry about himself, stone-faced, but radiating a quiet anger that everyone in the room could feel. The servants slowly came to a halt, staring at him in silent worry.

“Sire?” One of them finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper. His eyes snapped up from the book to look at them, and all three flinched back.

“You.” He said, pointing. “And you. Out.”

Both women hurried for the door, throwing apologetic looks over their shoulders at Saldis, who stood in place, bewildered and a little frightened.

“Saldis...Odasdottir, was it?”

“Yes, your Highness!” She squeaked.

“You can speak English.”

“Yes, your Highness! Fluently, Your Highness!”

“A useful skill. More importantly, can you read English? I trust you know not to lie to me.”

“No, Your Highness! No more than a few words! I have Roskva translate for me!”

“I see.” He snapped the book shut with a loud clap.”So you know nothing of the contents of this book?”

“No, Your Highness! Seidkona _____ asked for English language books, so I just brought back all that the library had! I don't know what any of them are about!”

“This one is full of slander.” Loki seethed. Saldis began backing away. “Written by our enemies to defame us, clearly. I will be confiscating it.”

Saldis began stammering apologies, but Loki held up a single finger to silence her. There were no lies in what she said. She was no saboteur.“If you did not know, you cannot be blamed. However, I would be alone for a time.”

She took the dismissal for what it was, vacating the room in an undisguised hurry. Loki could just barely hear Andsvarr asking her what was wrong, as he stalked to his room and threw the book into the fireplace. Drivel! A poison of words, pouring into your eyes, into your mind. No wonder you were so frightened!

God of Evil? Ridiculous! Evil wasn't something one could be a god of; it was a nebulous concept that changed from culture to culture, and across time. Anyone was capable of it, but none could rule it. And that nonsense with the horse... He didn't even know anyone named Angrboda! Where had all that come from?

He had been to Midgard once before New York, when he was a child, long before these concrete forests had sprung up in the place of the wooden ones. It had seemed like a very different world then, the storytellers weaving magic into their tales, spinning their words into decorative knots. He'd learned of the concepts of kennings and flyting from them...Was this what they had seen in him, or did it have some symbolic meaning, lost over the centuries? Did they see him as evil?

Or was it what had happened after? The burying of the old ways under the name of another god? Was that what had painted him in such a dark way? Or perhaps the author of the book had written it after the events in New York. Humanity had plenty of reason to consider him evil then, and a great many still did.

It didn't really matter right now. What mattered was that this had been influencing your perceptions of him, and now he had to reverse that. The room would be a very good start, a step in making this a real, permanent home for you. He would find out everything you needed, everything you wanted. He was a prince. He was a god! He could provide.

He sat down on his fluffy rug, watching the book slowly blacken and curl. It did matter. It mattered because it was part of the reason you weren't here. And he felt it now, now that you were gone, every minute making him more and more aware that you weren't there. There was a little, human shaped hole in the world, that only you fit into, and you were out of place.

When had you become important? He could no longer deny that you were. Honesty with the self was among the coping exercises he and Thor had had to adopt, once they realized that they absolutely had to be in this together. It was quite possibly one of the hardest things for him to do, to admit everything to himself, to open himself back up to all the emotion.

In the beginning, after he had been returned from death, all his walls had come down. Those had been hard times; he was nearly inconsolable, everything he had been through in such a short time was all there, up front. All the grieving he hadn't been able to do, all the anger and resentment, the self-loathing and loss of identity. Everything he'd never gotten the chance to heal from had all come down on him, all at once, and he'd thought he'd never stop crying again.

But once he had been given the chance to confront all those things, to work through them, to finally, properly mourn, when he'd put himself back together, and run dry of tears-and when Thor had done the same-that was when they had both decided to take the steps necessary to be better than they had been. For the people. For each other. And for themselves.

Communication with the self was easily just as difficult as communication with each other. Neither of them exactly had the hang of it yet, and it led them to mistakes like this. Mistakes like Loki believing that everything was just fine between you and himself because he wanted so badly to believe that it was. Tricking himself into thinking that your actions and reactions were those of a person in need of support and comfort from him, instead of a person who was afraid of him.

Five years ago, he would have seen it for exactly what it was, but he had been trying so hard to leave that version of himself in the past, where it belonged. He needed to be better now.

He needed to admit that you were important. He needed to understand why. You represented something to him; some kind of redemption. If he could take care of you, he could prove something to everyone, including himself. What was that thing? What did he need to prove? That he could be responsible?

That he was what he said he was. That he was worthy of being what he said he was. A Prince. A Ruler. A Leader. A Provider. A Man.

Not a monster.

He could give you everything. And he felt that you might even deserve it, you who had lost your mother, and then your world, and then your health, and then your autonomy. He could give you everything, and he kind of wanted to. But he had to step back now and take a different approach. It had to be for you, as much as it was for him.

He watched the book burn until it was an unrecognizable lump, thinking of ways to be better for you. Then he left his quarters in search of his brother. He had an idea that would set at least some of your fears at ease.

He passed Brunnhilde on the way, the Valkyrie carrying a sandwich on a plate. He stopped, then followed her.

“Is that for her?” He asked. “Because she hates that.”

“What? Well then what does she like?” Brunnhilde demanded. Loki listed a few things off the top of his head, and Brunnhilde headed back to the kitchen. “Guess I'll eat this one then. Heard you terrorized some of the maids.”

“I suspected one of them might be a saboteur. I was glad to find otherwise. I discovered a source of _____'s fear. That book you said she mentioned; I found it and I destroyed it. It will trouble none of us again.”

“That might not look good, you know. Might look like you're trying to destroy the evidence.”

“What evidence?” He sneered. “It was worthless. It was...do you even know what it said? It was like a parody, and it was deceiving her. I will find her other books.”

“You can't just curate her reading material you know.” Brunnhilde said, making another sandwich. “Not if you don't want to seem so controlling.”

Loki added a cup of skyr to the plate, and a spoon of redcurrant jam on top. “I'm not going to. I'm thinking of taking her into the nearest town, and visiting a bookstore. She can choose her own books, and not be stuck reading the same few over and over. I've already seen to her room, and so all that's left is to let her get some things of her own choice.”

Brunnhilde nodded. “That's better.”

“So, how are the Valkyries coming along? You mentioned a Buridag demonstration?” Loki asked, following her back out of the kitchens.

“About as well as can be expected for only having a year of training. There's a lot of work to be done, catching them all up. Lucky for us, most of them naturally gravitated towards combat lifestyles. The twins have a long way to go though.”

“Twins?”

“Valda and Velda. They're only about three hundred years old. They're having to start from scratch, but I can see the power in them. They're the real deal. They are also tiny children who can barely lift their own swords, and definitely can't wear armor. We can't have a demonstration without them, but there isn't much they can physically do. Maybe if I play up how important standard-bearing is, they won't put up a fuss.”

“One can hope.” Loki said with a smile. “Sibling rivalry can be a tough thing to navigate.”

“They get along well. Just because you and your brother had a rivalry for the storybooks, it doesn't mean everybody does. Speaking of, did Saga ever get back to you?”

“Yes. She's chosen fully sixteen texts to translate, and she will be doing each of them in seven languages. She's so happy. I was thinking of asking her to expedite the English translations, but I wonder if that isn't a little too selfish.”

“Well, technically, you're thinking of someone else, so it isn't 'selfish' exactly...” They stopped outside Brunnhilde's rooms. “Well, your Highness. You have some work to do, and I have some mouths to feed, so here is where we part.”

*****

“Dinnertime!” Brunnhilde announced, and you hopped up to receive it. Everything looked very tasty this time, and you tucked in without preamble. You'd worked pretty hard again today, not quite as hard as when you were practicing magic, but hard enough. The bath had been wonderfully relaxing on your sore muscles, but had done nothing for your appetite.

You should exercise now, eh? Surely this was a good start.

“So...” Brunnhilde said. “You're not a good liar.”

“Hrm?” You asked around a bite of sandwich.

“Whatever you told Borgljot, you've been in combat before.”

“Mrm.” You said, swallowing your bite. “Well, about that...I don't know if I would call it combat exactly...and besides, I didn't lie.”

“Oh? Oh. Because it technically didn't happen?”

“Yeah. Things went to hell during the Event, you know that. I can't imagine it was a walk in the park for you either.”

“Wasn't great. You wanna talk about it?”

You stopped eating. “I never have before.”

“You never had someone who believed you before either, did you?”

“Sure didn't.” You said quietly. “It's just, you know, everyone went a little crazy I think. You can't face a devastation like that and stay totally sane. And nobody really knew what to do. The guys were a pain in my ass, but there was this one guy specifically...his wife and kid turned to dust in his arms, and I think he just went completely insane. But quietly; no one noticed. He was always very nice to me, and normally, he wouldn't hurt a fly, but...he kinda started fixating on me.”

Everywhere you were, there he was. Being helpful. Complimentary. Said you reminded him of her.

“At first I thought it was a good thing. It kept the other guys from bugging me too much. See, out of three hundred and forty of us, only about sixty-seven made it through the Event, and only about a third of those were women. Some of those guys didn't even try to pretend that they weren't being predatory. But he kept the others away, and I appreciated it. For a while.”

Never saying anything creepy, but simply always being there, always ready to help out. You never found out how he scared the other men away.

“We had to try to keep farming in order to survive, but half the seeds had turned to dust too. We probably would have been okay, if the fields hadn't died, but we had almost nothing. Everyone was desperate. I was in charge of the potatoes. Had a good patch of them growing out in the East fields. One day, when I went out to tend to them, he followed me. Guess he just...finally hit that breaking point. Came onto me, using her name. When I told him off, he full-on attacked me.”

Mad-eyed, tearing at your clothes, sobbing and crying a dead woman's name.

“He wouldn't stop, so...”

Panic gave you the strength to knock him to the ground, desperation gave you the instinct to bring the sharp edge of your garden hoe down on his head.

“So I killed him. Chopped his head in half. I know what that looks like now.”

You didn't know when you had started trembling, but it was making your voice quiver.

“You were defending yourself.” Bunnhilde said. “It's a terrible, harsh edge of reality, and a shame that you had to see it. But you came through. Not gonna say it's okay, because it's not. But you came through.”

“It's...I think my problem is that I don't even think that's the worst part.” You said. “It's that, technically, it never happened. He's fine now. He's alive, his wife, his kids, all alive and well, and going about their lives. He's just like I remember him from before it all happened; sweet and harmless. He comes in to the bakery sometimes, after our cornbread. I'm sure he worries about me, because that's just the kind of person he is.”

“Well that's-”

“I hate him.” You interrupted. “I hate him so much. I should be glad that it all got erased. I should be glad that he's not a predator, and that I'm not a murderer. But I'm just so angry! He gets to have his family, and his sanity, and his life, and go happily about his business, and I have to remember what he did! What I did! It's horrible, isn't it? I shouldn't feel like this!”

“Honestly? I feel like it would be more wrong if you didn't.” Brunnhilde reached across the distance to take your hand. “None of this should be easy to accept. How long ago was it, that Thor crashed on this planet? Seven? That's seven years for your whole world to realize that there's more people out in the universe, get attacked by those other people, get nearly wiped out by one of those other people. Then a small percentage of you has to find out that even reality itself can be malleable. And then on top of that, you, individually, have to deal with mans inhumanity to man, and that is all a terrible burden to put on such small, human shoulders.”

“I'm going to be a seidkona.” You declared. “Just as soon as I figure out how. I'm taking this as an opportunity to leave that all behind. I never have to see that guy again. I don't have to hold on to the hatred. I don't have to project it onto other people, I can start moving forward again.”

“You don't have to push.” Brunnhilde warned. “You'll burn yourself out. Set your own pace. You don't have to do everything at once, in fact, you probably shouldn't.”

“Where should I start then?” You asked. Once you had decided something, you were always full of energy and raring to go. But maybe she was right. There was a lot to do, and if you tried to do it all at once, you'd get overwhelmed.

“What all do you have to do? What tasks and goals are on your mind?” Brunnhilde asked. “and out of those, what are the simplest or easiest?”

“Um. I've got to...I've gotta learn how to use this knife. And my magic, gotta learn that. I should learn the language. Gotta be ready for the trial, I'm pretty sure I'll have to testify. Kinda torn there, I mean, I want that guy to go straight to jail forever, but I don't wanna be in the same room with him ever again? I gotta... research seidkonas. Learn about the past ones, what they did, how they worked. I gotta...I gotta go back to my room. Make up with his Highness. I have to, but also, I want to.”

“You looked at your palm. “Gotta learn more about this thing, if there is any more to learn. Gotta...Gotta yell at Beli! He's the one that spread this whole seidkona rumor around, isn't he? Only him and Loki knew; I didn't even know! And then everybody knew except for me! That is not right!”

“Oh don't yell at old Beli.” Brunnhilde said, pointing at your food. You took the hint and began eating again. “For one thing, it's a waste of breath. So, out of those things, what is easiest? What will you start with?”

“Um. Well, you'd think going back to my room and making up with Loki would be easiest, but in reality, it's terrifying. Probably can't research if I can't read the language. The trial can't be prioritized; it'll just happen when it happens. So, looks like knife is the only choice.”

“Well, there you go. I also have a suggestion. You should have a better grasp of your surroundings. If you'd like, I'll get someone to show you around. Also, if you have hobbies, you know, something you just do for fun, then you should do that a little bit.”

“...I'd like to bake something, if that's all right? I used to do that for a living, and I really enjoyed it too.”

“I'm sure that can be arranged. Let's go do that in the morning.”

#loki x reader #loki (marvel)#brunnhilde (marvel)#valkyrie (marvel)#lasabrjotr

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jaehotbuns · 6 years

Text

stay

rating: pg - 13

word count: 4,526

characters: you x yuta ft. johnny

genre: slight angst, fluff (?)

preview // You’d had been trying to build a wall since he stepped in because you knew subconsciously that you would fall for him at one point but when he looked at you like that you couldn’t refuse.

“Please for the love of God let him stay with you,” she begged and pleaded for the sixth time today. “You always let me stay at your place over days on end when I’m in need,” she moaned loudly into the receiver causing you to jerk your ear away from your phone to avoid the screeching, “so why not now?”

You rolled your eyes in annoyance and took a deep breath before replying to your best friend’s unreasonable request. “Look Jess, my home is your home ‘cause you’re like my sister. I refuse to house a stranger.” You heard her inhale to refute that he wasn’t a stranger, that he was her really good childhood friend from years ago but that was of little relevance to you, “I don’t care if you’re close to him, I don’t even know his name.”

She made out an inaudible mixture pleading words and whining sounds before going back to convincing you, “it’s only for until he finds a new place. His landlord mixed up the apartments and now he has nowhere to crash and you’re the only one I know who has an empty place. Please, please, please!”

Although that situation sounded awful and you’d want someone to take you under their wing if it had been you in that exact situation you didn’t know what the person might do and you could barely keep your own apartment from looking like a wreck nevermind adding another individual to mess up the place. Deep in your thoughts, you started to look around your apartment; it was minimalist and had very little furniture to occupy the small yet cozy space and an extra room for storage that you had never gotten around to fill. With this much room and no real reason to say no rather than your own discomfort you had overcome that feeling with guilt and finally complied. “Fine. I’ll do it. But make sure he pretends that I don’t even exist.”

“Are you sure about that?” Jess teased, “he’s quite the looker and I know you haven’t dated in a long time.” You vividly pictured an image of her wiggling her eyebrows at you suggestively by her tone of voice through the phone.

She might’ve been true but after an epiphany a few nights ago with the help of two glasses of wine and 2 slices of fudge cake, you realized that you should stop pushing for things to happen and for love to knock on your door instead of the other way around. “Don’t push it.”

Jess laughed in defeat and told you that she was sending him on his way before hanging up the phone. For a moment you slunk into your ironically uncomfortable ergonomically designed office chair and laid your hand on the top of the seat so that you were looking up at the illuminated white ceiling. You didn’t know what to expect and the nerves of housing a stranger finally hit you; finding an apartment would take a long time, was he a creep or just plain-right annoying, or what if he accidentally plugs out your computer one day while vacuuming to help you out but you end up kicking him out but then taking him back in because you felt bad.

You collapsed your head onto the desk in front of you with your forearms on top of each other to cushion your forehead from banging on to the solid surface. Multiple irrational scenarios were occupying your mind just because you were socially awkward and never had a roommate other than a female friend or a family member before. As if having the lack of a romantic life, deteriorating social skills, and grades slipping faster than you could help yourself was bad enough, now you had the only comfortable place that you had to yourself was essentially stripped away from you no matter how nice your new roommate was.

Before you could have more minutes to spare sulking and pitying yourself, you heard an erratic amount of knocks and kicks to your door. “Are you actually kidding me Jess,” you huffed while dragging your furry slippers across the floor, “do you not realize that it’s midn-”

“Hello, heard you were kind enough to lend me a room” a handsome man smiled as soon as you swung the door open angrily thinking it was Jess with her usual rowdy behaviour that always gathered a list of complaints from your fellow tenants. ‘Handsome’ and ‘smile’ were quite the understatements; he was undeniably attractive especially with his wavy brown locks sticking to the sweat on his forehead and the dim hallway lights that practically twinkled in his eyes when he showed you his toothy grin although he was carrying a giant box- Holy shit you were too busy checking him out to realize that he had been carrying up his whole entire luggage up the stairs.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry,” you spluttered before opening the door wide enough for him to maneuver his way through the small entryway. “Should’ve told you that this place doesn’t have elevators.”

He set down the large cardboard box and wiped the perspiration dripping down his neck with the back of his hand. “No, it’s my fault for being cheap and not using a moving company.”

You were expecting him to retreat back into the hall to move in at least one more box or bag but all he came with were the clothes on his back and a beat up looking box. “That’s all you have?” You asked closing the door slowly just in case he was catching his breath and was bringing in more of his belongings but he shook his head and close the door himself with the large palm of his hand.

“Nah, I just brought the essentials and had planned to get everything shipped out to my new place from Japan just in case something came up,” he leaned against the door after turning the lock. “And just my luck, it did.”

You cocked your head to the side, fascinated by every single word that he said and every single one of his mannerisms that he displayed. “Good planning,” you said as his head slightly lolled against your door as he gazed down at you with relief. “So Japan huh?”

The worn out man was suddenly hit with a burst of energy as he seemed to forget to introduce himself to the kind and attractive girl in front of him, slightly embarrassed at how lazily he presented himself in front of her. “Yeah, my name’s Yuta. Nakamoto Yuta, sorry for the late introduction.” He rubbed the back of his neck in his nervous habit but silently resented himself for doing that as he couldn’t shake her hand now that it was covered in sweat.

You introduced yourself and gripped the two open holes on the side of his box to lift it up and bring it into the storage room where you had planned for him to stay but as your knees straightened from your squatting position to prevent throwing out your back, you started to stumble backwards.

“Careful,” Yuta chuckled beside your ear as he stabilized you with his big and callus hands around your elbows. He turned around so that he was in front of you and took the box with ease and nodded his head, a signal to lead him into his temporary room.

“Thanks,” you said quietly under your breath before turning swiftly onto your heel and into the room that you had prepared haphazardly for him; now regretting it as he was nicer than you had expected him to be. But was his angelic face alluding to that impression of him as you only had interacted with him for less than a good five minutes or was it because he genuinely seemed that way. “Uh sorry for the messy space,” you cringed as you glanced at your random mish mash of toys that you had never had the heart to toss out or donate and all of the ugly and amateurish paintings that you did to relieve stress.

He set his things down and placed his hands down on his waist as he looked at the same room that you were looking at but he interpretation was entirely different. “I like it,” he smiled. You stared at in with your brows knitted in confusion but he didn’t look down at you, too fascinated with the contents surrounding him. “I don’t know what kind of person you are, but if I did I would think this room is a good reflection of you.”

You scoffed, “messy, dusty, and filled with waste.”

Yuta frowned at how you described what he thought what was like your own personal art gallery, “it’s not waste if you like it right?” You shrugged and twisted your mouth from side to side searching for an answer to his rhetorical question but you ended up speechless. “If in that moment it kept you happy then you shouldn’t be ashamed of keeping it.” The slight shame that you had was lifted like a boulder off of your shoulders and all that you could do was look at him in awe, you had never heard anyone justify your attachment to the past in that way before. “Sorry, getting all philosophical on you.”

“No,” you said quickly. He finally faced you and scanned your expression, amazed at how his simple and honest words had affected you so much. “That makes me more comfortable, which reminds me I should let you get to unpacking.”

“Not much to unpack,” he laughed. You were turning to the door but before you could close it behind you he called out quickly, “anything I need to know?”

You thought about it for a second before poking your head through the small space between the door and the frame, “I’ll lay down the house rules when you’re done.”

When Yuta saw the door unravel from your grasp from the other side of the door he had released the wide grin that he was desperately trying to hold back when he was with you. ‘House rules,’ he thought, ‘cute.’ Curiosity was getting to the best of him and although his muscles were screaming at him to slow his pace of placing his items around the room, he rushed to hear what rules you had set out for him. But when you had set two cups of coffee in front of him and started telling him what you had wanted, he was nothing short of disappointed.

“That doesn’t seem quite fair,” he murmured as he sipped the fragrant coffee that coated his stomach in warmth. “Do you dislike me already?”

“No! No!” You quickly rebutted. “It’s just that I don’t want us to bother each other.” You looked down at the milk still swirly in your coffee from when you first poured it to avoid his sincere and confused stare.

“I understand that but ‘pretend I don’t exist?’ Isn’t that a bit much?” He gently stroked your hand that was cupping your mug with his fingertips, “I’ll make you regret those words and be the best roommate that you ever wished for.” You’d had been trying to build a wall since he stepped in because you knew subconsciously that you would fall for him at one point but when he looked at you like that you couldn’t refuse.

And both of what you predicted was true.

For the next few weeks, time had seemed to fly by faster than you had wanted them to. Every single day you’d wake up to a freshly brewed cup of your favourite tea or coffee depending on how tired you were and you reciprocated with his usual breakfast of oatmeal and strawberries although you couldn’t stand the sickeningly sweet smell in the morning. Since his classes usually started in the evening he would pack you lunch, and you would welcome him home with a hot home cooked meal with all the recipes from his mom who he had always gushed about.

Living with him seemed like a dream, you had felt like a college couple rather than a pair of accidental roommate and you knew when it was time for him to leave it would be hard to bare but you let yourself fall in love with him anyways.

“Hey!” Yuta called from the kitchen. “Wake up lazy, how naps do you take each week? Hurry up the food’s getting cold!” The one time he decided to cook dinner, he had to make a big deal out of it you thought as you squeezed your eyes shut as if it would also block out his nagging. You heard the swishing of slippers against your wooden floor but smiled when you didn’t feel Yuta nudging you awake as he would usually do. “Rise and shine,” he said softly in front of you, making you shriek when you realized that his face was only centimeters from yours.

Unlike you, he was perfectly calm and sauntered to the dining table, waiting for you to join him. “You’re annoying you know that?” You sighed, trudging your feet towards him. “Also nice apron,” you shook your head while chuckling at the printed white and pink roses that made him look like a housewife straight from an infomercial.

“Take it off for me,” he smiled with his arms held up in a straight line so that you could untie it for him.

“You have arms, you can do it yourself,” you rolled your eyes before sitting down.

He pouted and started to shake his arms that were still in the same exact position, “same arms that cooked for you c’mon don’t be difficult.”

You groaned and sat up from your seat quickly and started to unravel the knot that held the strings of the apron close to his toned body until you felt his arms wrap around your back and hug you lovingly. “Creep,” you exclaimed using both of your hands to shove him away from you.

Yuta plopped down into his chair in defeat while a stupidly cute beam spreading from ear to ear, “I am oh so sorry, consider this meal an apology,” he said while twinkling his fingers across the wide menu of Japanese food in front of you.

You clapped your hands together in front of you in awe, “please introduce them.”

He smiled at your excitement and started pointing at dishes that were in front of you to the ones nearer to him, “that’s just plain ol’ miso n’ rice, that’s tsukemono which is pickled vegetables, uhh hmm how do I explain the next dish…” Your eyes started to wander from the dishes to look at his concentrated face which was deep into thought to try and explain to you what the large grilled fish in front of you was. “I don’t know what kind of fish it is but I just know it from it’s appearance but it’s salted and fried. Nothing special.” He’d noticed that you were daydreaming while peering at his face; he shifted his gaze at you abruptly and placed his entwined hands under his chin. “Looking good?”

You coughed when your eyes had adjusted and realized that you had been staring for an uncomfortably long time, “let’s eat!” You picked up your chopsticks and placed the small cubes of silky tofu from your small bowl of miso soup into your mouth, it instantly melted and crumbled under between the roof of your mouth and your tongue. “This is really good!”

Your cheeks had started to rise in temperature when you saw that Yuta was in the same exact position, still intently fixated on your face enjoying how much you liked his cooking. “You had a piece of tofu honey, it’s that good?” Your face had scrunched up after that statement when you had just simply said what was on your mind but he picked up his chopsticks and removed the spine of the fish so that he could remove a piece of soft white meat and place it on top of your mountain of rice, “there, try that.” Once you scooped the rice and meat into your mouth, your eyes widened at him and your head nodded vigorously signifying that it tasted amazing. “Glad you like it, because I have something to tell you.”

You frowned slightly, when he had good news he usually was brighter and more cheerful, basically spewing rays of sunshine everywhere he went but when he had bad news he always said it with a smile and an almost nervous tone when he always seemed calm and relaxed. “What is it?”

He placed a mouthful of food inside his mouth and finished chewing before answering you, “I found a nice apartment. I think I’ll be moving out soon.”

“Oh,” was all that you could say to him since a jumble of words were refusing to form inside of your head to compose a literate sentence as the thought that he was never intending to stay for a long time had totally flew across your head. How could you forget that? Did you really think that you could play house with one of the most attractive, kind, and funny person that you had ever met and have him reciprocate the same feelings as you? “Uh that’s really good, I’m glad you finally found somewhere.”

His gaze was set on the window, revealing the bright city lights and moon covered by soft wafts of translucent white clouds that were brushing by pushed by the night wind. “Can you believe it’s been a month?” A month? That long already? His tone was melancholic and you had set down your chopsticks before even realizing it.

“When are you leaving?” You managed to choke out. You gulped down your tall glass of water to hide the fact that you were shaking from your voice to your hands.

“Tomorrow,” he said with a completely straight face, an expression that he had never showed to you before.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You were hurt as a plethora of questions were rushing through your mind as well as the blood that was pounding in your head. Did he want to get out of here as soon as possible? Did the time together mean nothing to him compared to what it meant to you? “Do you dislike me that much?”

Yuta walked over to your side and kneeled on one knee in front of you, you tried to avoid his gaze as you could feel tears accumulating in your eyes but he cupped your face with one of his hands and the other was resting on top of you hand. “How could you think that? Does me leaving make you that sad?” You knew that if you had answered then the tears that you were forcing in were going to release so you did simply nodded and turned away. “Then be mine. Date me.” Your eyes widened and it was although his soft words had dried your tears.

A moment ago you were hating yourself for ever liking him, for giving him your emotions but now you were trying desperately to close them off as you had never envisioned this of happening. “I don’t think I’m ready.”

He smiled and quickly pecked your cheeks with his lips, “alright. I’ll miss you then.”

And that was the last thing he had said to you before he had left the next morning as you two were too bashful to say anything other than goodbye.

For the past week since he’s moved out you didn’t bother going into the storage room, you didn’t bother to use the kitchen and make food like you had used to and all that you could do was cry and sulk in your bedroom. It wasn’t like he had ghosted you or had fell off of the edge of the Earth, it just didn’t feel the same when you had met up with his quickly for coffee.

But as you were cramming on a Friday night to finish your Biology seminar with your less than helpful partner who you knew would rather be going to a crazy rager, you suddenly got a text from him asking if he could come over and pick up something that he had forgotten. Almost instantly, you shamelessly texted him back and told him he could come over anytime of the night which you regretted as that became the only thing occupying your mind.

When you returned to your laptop set on the dining room you looking over to the left to see Johnny rummaging through your refrigerator, “may I help you?”

“I finished what you wanted me to do,” he said indifferently.

You nearly stood up from you chair from his words, out of all people you would never expect him to put an ounce of work. Your fingers were quick to scroll through the slideshow presentation for your seminar and you were enthralled to see that not only did the visuals look amazing but the content was also up to par. “This is too good to be true,” you muttered. Your head whipped towards his direction, making him jerk back a little bit in surprise, “this isn’t plagiarized right?”

His tall and lean body leaned against the fridge door, “considering that I paid for my own tuition with my own money I can’t afford to get kicked out, also thank you for thinking so highly of me.”

You walked over to the fridge and ignored his snarky remark, “what are you looking for? You’re adding more onto my electricity bill.”

“You only have orange juice and soy milk,” he muttered. “I’d like a reward drink for all of the work.”

You looked at the last bottle of soju at the very bottom right corner of your fridge and snatched it up before closing the door, “sharezies?”

Johnny scoffed and opened the bottom cooly by slamming it on the corner of the dining table while you grabbed two shot glasses from your cabinet. Both of you sat the opposite of each other and as soon as you started to pour his share his eyes stared lasers into the glass. “Are you that desperate for alcohol?”

“I was just asking for a refreshing glass of coke maybe or some sparkling water but this isn’t too bad either,” he grinned.

And just like that both of you were down to your last shots, and like the light-weight you were you were about to be completely out like a light. Once you and him gulped down the last drops of the bottle, you were collapsed face down on the table. “Oi I didn’t think I would be taking care of you out of all people on a Friday night,” Johnny snarked.

“Leave me alone,” you sighed. “Just go home, I’m safe here anyways.”

You felt the tip of his elbow knock the smooth wood of your table, the vibration of his small action was washing through your forehead making you groan in slight pain. “I don’t think so. What if you throw up and choke on your vomit?”

You sighed and lifted your head up slightly so that you could rest your elbow on your forearm and glare at his smug face which was supported by his hand on the side of his face acting as a pillar. “I’d rather have that than you stay here any longer.”

He pretended to hold his chest in pain, his face scrunched up as if your statement was an arrow to his heart. “Ouch, I will take my leave then m’lady.” You waved him off as he stood up clumsily and heard him put on his shoes loudly as he kept slapping your walls to keep balance. The cold breeze of the door opening soothed your throbbing headache that was progressively getting worse. “I think you have a visitor,” Johnny called out.

You turned around to see who he was talking about and saw Yuta with his bangs covering his eyes, hiding his expression. You couldn’t deceiver if it was hurt or just pure anger at your audacity to have another man at your place when you rejected him. As you stared at him to try and decode it Johnny looked at the two of you innocently and read the situation, “I guess I’ll leave them. Thanks for today and good night.” He closed the door behind him and left a lingering trail of the night breeze.

Yuta stood motionless for a second and let a small chuckle out before tossing the keys in front of your feet as you stumbled upwards to walk over to him and explain but it felt like he tried to stop you from coming any closer to him. “If you didn’t want me then you could’ve just said so,” he said.

“Yuta no that’s not- I really do like y-” you stopped yourself. Although that statement could fix this ordeal and finally draw the line between you two you couldn’t bring yourself to say it.

He finally brushed his bangs to the side and revealed his glossy eyes. He wasn’t angry or hurt, he was betrayed. “I wouldn’t have waited.”

“Yuta please!” You ran out of the apartment after him and made it to the stairs that were outdoors and freezing as you didn’t bother to slip on any footwear. “It’s not what it looked like, we were working on a project and had a little celebration drink and I sent him off I wouldn’t-”

“You don’t need to explain.” He stopped your trail and walked up the steps so that he was of eye level with you. “You made it clear to me already.”

Before he could turn around and start making his way down the stairs again you grabbed the tips of his fingers and slunk down on to your knees. “I’m scared of liking you.”

You heard silence for a moment and felt your heart drop when his fingers slipped out of your grasp. The tears that you didn’t even realize were forming had overflowed down your cheeks until you saw Yuta bend down and wipe them off. “Why? Why didn’t you tell me?” His eyes were now clear and sincere, making you pour out your feelings to him. “I thought if something happened then I’d be happy but I push everything I love away from me.”

He smiled softly and lifted your chin up so that you were looking directly into his eyes. “Didn’t you always say how you wanted love to come knocking on your door? That you wanted things to happen naturally? Then don’t push it away. Like how you keep your nick knacks with you when we first met, if you like something there’s no reason to push it away.”

And slowly his lips pressed softly against yours, nearly tickling your before he pulled you into a hug.

It was more than merely a kiss to signify the start of your relationship but more of his comforting you and telling you to live and love unregrettably.

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