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#like the part of her that's glad he's getting taller and older feels selfish to her
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Maybe just me but I feel like Aang getting taller might actually be bittersweet at first for Katara. It would reinforce the fact that he's getting older, and while that does have its benefits, I think she'd be sort of sad at the prospect of him losing his childhood further, maybe it'd remind her of herself in that way. Aang was always like a gateway for tasting levity and not letting the world harden you too much, and she doesn't want that to leave him now that he's growing even more and facing increasing expectations to heal a war-torn world. The universe has already thrust so much upon him, and Katara hates the idea of him not getting as long a chance as she thinks he deserves to just embrace fun. But he seems rather happy with his new height, so it makes it easier for her to act excited about it, too, and eventually she's okay with it when she's reassured that Aang getting older won't ever lead to him shedding his love for fun and joy.
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bl00dgutsgl0ry · 3 years
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Yoyoyoyo I absolutely adore your blog and I'm so happy to see one more awesome genshin impact writer here :3 May I get a Childe coming home to snez'whateveritscalled' only to find his siblings surrounding his s/o who he thinks let him go without a goodbye? :D I meed lots of angst with a huge happy ending 🙏🏻💜😭
Pairing - Childe/Tartaglia x Reader
Warnings - Mentions of familial death, possible spoilers.
Other comments - Hello!! I am so glad that you are enjoying my writing!! (//▽//) I did have a little bit of trouble really understanding what you were asking for but I think I got it in the end I hope!! I can only hope that this lives up to what you were asking for! Again thank you so much for the request!! This also ended up being a lot longer than I originally thought, but halfway through I just got so in the zone.
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      Childe was in a bad mood and everyone felt it. He had been summoned to go on another mission with the other Harbingers by the Tsaritsa and was expecting a goodbye from you. When he went to his place of residence though, you were absolutely no where to be found, with no note or anything said to his siblings about where you were going. To say the very least that was incredibly strange of you, but of course he had duties to attend to so he couldn’t try to look for you; so the best he could do was ask his siblings to relay the message to you and hope that you got back to him. 
      Now this of course soured his mood, not as much as getting a letter from his siblings stating that they were able to relay the message but still not hearing anything from you. For gods sake what has come of you?! No goodbye at all?! It is one thing to not be able to see you on the day he was leaving, but to not even try sending him a letter to explain yourself?!
      It was an understatement to say that Childe was pissed, there was a full blown fury raging inside of his head; though underneath all of this rage was concern. Had he done something to drive you away? Why had you disappeared from him without a trace? Did you regret being with him? He knew how dangerous it was to keep you around, and how frustrating it must’ve been for you to deal with his unruly work schedule of being a Harbinger, so it would make sense for you to try and leave. Now he wasn’t only mad at you, he was even angrier with himself. There must’ve been something he was doing wrong, why wouldn’t you have talked to him about it though. Was he really that unapproachable to you? Have you been lying to him when you said you loved him? 
      “Oi Childe what the hell has gotten into you?” Scaramouche was not one to inquire about the others personal lives, but this was getting really annoying and it was bothering everyone. 
      “Piss off Scaramouche.” Something flashed in Scaramouche’s eyes when he was spoken to with such disrespect. 
      “It’s Balladeer to you, fuckwit. Do not forget that even if you are a harbinger I am still superior to you.” In a flash Scaramouche was as in Childe’s face as he could, with of course a little trouble being shorter.
      “My apologies.” Childe sighed out through gritted teeth. At this point, Scaramouche had no more interest with holding conversation with the taller man, so he simply walked away for someone else to address. 
      Childe knew this was ridiculous, but he couldn’t get out of whatever funk he was in. It was starting to show to his ‘clients’ if you could even call them that. He was much more harsh when collecting debts and left almost no wiggle room for them to try and come up with such large amounts of Mora in the short amount of time he was giving them. 
      He wanted all of this to be over. He didn’t want to have to be in Liyue anymore, he didn’t want to have to keep scheming with the other Harbingers. He just wanted to see his siblings and you again; but in all honesty he doesn’t know what he would do if you had shown yourself to him right now. Would he reject you outright? Would he lose his carefully crafted temper? It was probably for the best that he wasn’t going back to Snezhnaya anytime soon.
      Unfortunately, it turned out that he was going to be back to Snezhnaya a lot sooner than he hoped, rage bottled up in him ready to pop like a fizzy drink shaken for hours on end. He knew it wasn’t a good idea for him to go back to his place of residence so soon; and there was a part of him that was hoping you wouldn’t be there when he got back. He knew it would hurt even more, but it was probably the safest thing for you; now of course his siblings wouldn’t let you get hurt and you had a vision too so you knew how to defend yourself but still he didn’t want to let it get to the point where any of that was necessary, you would for sure leave then.
      You on the other hand had just gotten back to Childe’s residence, and were surrounded by his siblings all asking you questions of your whereabouts; Teucer being especially nosy as ever. You always had a special relationship with the little boy, as he was the first to warm up to you. You didn’t hesitate to tell them where you were, and continued to apologize profusely for vanishing so suddenly. You also explained that you had tried to find time to write Tartaglia many times, but was never able to finish a letter. The siblings warned you of Tartaglia as they knew he was going to be upset when he came home, but you could only hope that he would let you explain.
      Soon enough, while you were surround by the siblings telling stories and giving out souvenirs from your trip, a loud door creaked open. You all knew who it was, as the sound of Tartaglia’s heavy footsteps were hard to miss, as well as seeing Teucer bolt from his seat to find his beloved older brother. Your blood ran cold when you made eye contact with Tartaglia, the air thick and uncomfortable. You slowly stood up taking a couple steps forward.
      “Um... Hello Tartaglia-” You immediately stopped in your tracks as you watched Tartaglia’s fists curl up into a ball.
      “Out.” You eyes widened in disbelief as you let of an uncomfortable laugh.
      “Don’t you want me to explain-” You were in complete and utter shock with how the copper haired man was acting.
      “Get out (y/n). Get out right now before I do something I might regret later. I leave for weeks and you don’t even have the decency to write me a goodbye? Just get out.” In the time span of this exchange, Teucer had made it back over to you and was now clinging to your hand. You looked down at him, then back at the other siblings giving them a small smile and mouthing the words ‘I will find a way to get you the rest of your souvenirs I promise’.
      You knew you had began to overstay your welcome when you saw Tartaglia’s fist tighten even more and begin to shake. Without another word and a quick ruffle of Teucer’s hair, you ran out past him, for the first time actually scared of him. You made it a point to not look him in the eyes as you ran past, scared of the look on the tall mans face.
      Was this really how your relationship with him was going to end? With a misunderstanding? For now you needed to find another place to stay so you didn’t freeze to death in the cold, so as of now Tartaglia was the least of your worries.
      “What were you all doing just now?” Tartaglia approached the quiet group.
      “(Y/n) had brought us souvenirs from her trip!” Teucer was the first to speak, quite oblivious to the obvious tension in the room.
      “Well throw them away.” This dark tone in Tartaglia’s voice made everyone uneasy. There were many loud protests including Teucer.
      “They are from her family! Her mother made them for us!” One of the older siblings voices, Tonia the older sister, rang through the now quiet room.
      “What?” (Y/n)’s family? They never talked about their family with Tartaglia before. That’s where their were? Had something happened to them?
      “Yeah! (Y/n) was saying how they had gotten a very urgent letter from their mother, stating that their father had fallen incredibly ill, and that he was likely not  going to last much longer. They left to visit with them and make sure that the funeral ran as smoothly as possible for their mother’s sake. In return their mother made all of these. You would have known that if you let them explain themselves. But of course you didn’t. This also explains why they weren’t able to write you. They have their own life to attend to Tartaglia.” Tonia’s voice was loud and harsh.
      “You of all people should understand what it is like to have a family member fall ill, you know the situation with father and all.” They were right, Tartaglia was being incredibly selfish. He didn’t even let you explain yourself, too wrapped up in his own feelings to even try and consider yours. God how could he have been so foolish. He knew you wouldn’t have just gotten up and left without a good reason, he was supposed to trust you! How could he have done this. Not only did he just send you out completely alone in the freezing cold, you father just passed away!
      “I’ll be right back I have to find them.” Tartaglia left as quickly as he arrived, already fearing the worst.
      You on the other hand weren’t fairing too much better. 
      “How did I just lose two of the most important people to me in the span of a couple weeks? He didn’t even let me explain myself! I just... I don’t know.” You were sitting in the neatly made bed, inside of the nearest Inn you could find. You couldn’t stop the hot tears from running down your already red face from the cold. Stifled sobs wracked through your body as you held the small Tartaglia doll your mother had knit for him. You shoved your face further into your fathers old scarf, trying desperately to stop the tears.
      It was deadly silent, besides the sound of your soft crying and sniffles when you heard a loud banging against your door. It sound frantic and urgent, which scared you as you pulled out your weapon, your vision coming to life. You slowly approached the door, rubbing the last of the tears off your face. When you looked through the small peephole through the door, standing in front was a panting and shivering Tartaglia, once again desperately pounding on your door.
      “(Y/n) please! Please answer the door! I know this is your room, I asked the Inn keeper!” You quickly stowed away the weapon and hid the small doll before cracking the door open. Even though you had stopped crying, it was still very evident with your puffy eyes and red face.
      Before you could open the door any further Tartaglia shoved his way in, immediately wrapping his arms around you in a vice like grip; scared that if he let go you would disappear. 
      “I’m sorry. I didn’t know, I should’ve let you explain I am so sorry. (Y/n) please forgive me. I just thought you didn’t enjoy being with me anymore and I got so scared that you had left with someone else. I know now that, that was indeed stupid of me to think. I trust you and I know you wouldn’t have done that I just-” You silenced him by shoving your head into his chest, beginning to cry once more. 
      “Please it’s my fault I should’ve found time to write you I was just so busy with the funeral and with mom I just..” Your words came out choppy as you tried to speak through quiet sobs. Tartaglia’s hands found your cheeks as he cupped them and forced you to look up.
      “Do not blame yourself my love. I know how hard having an ill parent is like.” Soft leather covered thumbs began wiping away tears, as you continued to cry.
      After a while, you finally were able to calm down and decided now would be a good time to show Tartaglia his gift.
      “My mother made you a gift too. She knits when she is stressed which is why all your siblings have knitted souvenirs like scarves or hats, she knows it gets cold here. I asked her to make something special for you though.” You extend a shaky hand with the small knitted doll to Tartaglia as he stared, eyes flicking from you, down to the doll, back to you, then down to the doll again. A wide bright smile finds his face, as tears begin to well up in his eyes; gently taking the doll from you.
      “It’s wonderful I must meet this woman, I have to thank her not only for this gift, but bringing the love of my life into the world.” A rosy blush dusts his face as he rubs his eyes, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips.
      “Come now, we must give the rest of the gifts out. I apologize for interrupting. You must also resume your stories from your trip.”
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tobiosmilktea · 3 years
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serpentine — kozume kenma
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4.2k words | genre/s: fluff | warning/s: cursing | pairing: kenma x f!reader
↪︎ in which nekoma’s new manager captures their setter’s attention
a/n: this was requested by an anon but i accidentally deleted the ask 💀 this wasn’t proofread btw since i’m posting this hella late (atp none of my works are anymore lmao) anyway, the ending is uhh... not good
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it takes up to ten seconds for your brain to realize it’s making a decision. you weren’t sure how it all happened considering it didn’t feel like it took ten seconds, and yet somehow, in some way, you agreed to the offer. it was no lingering doubt in your head that you could very well have answered due to the way the third-year manager (all ready to graduate in a few months notice) was looming over you. the look on their face drenched in optimism and a coaxing smile. you liked to think you were a generous person and you couldn’t have possibly said no.
"thank you so much, (y/l/n)!” your upperclassman exclaimed, eyes widening in a bright blithe as they held you at your shoulders and shaking you. “you totally saved my ass getting beat by coach nekomata! see you after school!”
that’s when it dawned at you. were you seriously going to become nekoma’s newest manager for the volleyball club when you had zero knowledge on the sport let alone know how to properly manage a team full of towering individuals? your jaw was basically on the floor as you attempted to plead something back to their current manager, yet nothing was coming out.
you’ve got to be kidding me.
you slumped back at your desk, face still in awe as you couldn’t help but almost felt betrayed by your own selfish mouth that spoke before you could even fathom the task. a sigh escaped you when lunch came to an end and lessons came back in session.
it was no lie that you didn’t really pay attention much in class in the first place. you had a tendency to space out and daydream from time to time with thoughts that serpentine from one idea to the next. however, at one point all you could ever think about was the inevitable doom of having to go to the gym in just a few hours time.
the feeling wasn’t enough to cause an onset sensation of suffocation from nerves, but it was just rather unpleasant knowing that these volleyball jocks would be part of your daily life now.
like a plucked flower petal, your body stood from your seat the moment the final bell rang through the echoing hallways. as if you were moving on autopilot, you hadn’t even noticed how fast you were treading through the hallways. perhaps your nerves were the fuel to your fire as you forced yourself to slow down and mingle into the lightly crowded corridors. perhaps you were glad that your classroom was on the other side of campus from the gymnasium.
you were taking your sweet time and surely they would understand if you were a little late right? granted, it was all too last minute and who knows if you had plans after school or not. spoiler: you didn’t, but that’s beside the point.
at one point, you’ve concluded that you were still walking too fast on your way to the gym despite going at a snail’s pace. it didn’t matter either way as your honey-coated eyes had fallen over the doors of the gym. the right door remained shut while the left was wide open, letting sounds of squeaking sneakers, bouncing white volleyballs, and shouts emitted from the building.
your pace came to a halt just a few feet shy of the door. your hand clutching at your bag’s strap as you waited for a few beats to pass. you weren’t sure what you were waiting for, yet standing there felt like a safer bet more than anything.
“oh there you are, (y/l/n)!” a voice called out to you in the midst of your personal speculation. this forced your attention up to them as you gave them a meek smile. “don’t be shy, come in! let me introduce you to the boys.”
they grabbed you by the wrist, tugging you inside the gym as you shook your head. “uhh, you really don’t have to. i can meet them all later, everyone seems busy right now.”
“don’t be silly!” they wave their hand off like it’s nothing. you follow them to the sidelines of the court, eyes scanning the gym out of instinct—you’ve heard about the many horror stories of those who stopped by and ended up being the target of an oncoming volleyball. a broken nose was definitely the last thing you wanted.
your head turned from watching the volleyball players do their drills as you stopped in front of two bickering individuals. the shorter one with copper brown hair points an accusatory finger at the boy in front of him, the tip of his finger barely reaching the top of the other’s shoulder as he ran a hand through his gray hair. “i swear to god lev, if i hear another word from you i will—”
nekoma’s manager clears their throat.
“oh shit—ha, hey mizuhara.” so that’s their name, you thought. the shorter one greets with a smile, expression all normal as if a complete stranger didn’t just witness him yelling at his teammate.
mizuhara only scoffs, “you’ve always been one for first impressions, yaku, which is why i brought our new manager here in the first place, but i suppose i came at the wrong time.”
“this is our new manager?” the taller one then cuts in, completely pushing away yaku as if his shorter stature weighed like nothing. there was a swift kick in his step as he approached you closer, sticking his hand out for you to shake. man, was this guy tall. “i’m haiba lev, it’s nice to meet you!”
you shook his hand, nodding, “(y/l/n) (y/n).” you introduced before turning towards the poor volleyball player that was pushed out the way.
“yaku morisuke,” he answers without missing a single beat, “i’m nekoma’s libero—”
“that’s why he’s short!” lev interjects and yaku gives him a poisonous look.
you bite back a smile as the libero continues, “don’t be fooled by the height, though, i’m most likely older than you anyway and you look like the type to actually respect your senpais, unlike this guy.” yaku pokes lev.
“are you a third-year?” you ask curiously to which he nods.
“he thinks he can boss me around just because i’m only a first year, but the only one who can give me orders around here is coach and kuroo.” says lev with a smirk that radiated provocation. this seems to be a normal thing between the two of them.
“speaking of which,” mizahara chimed in, head turning towards the courts as your irises scanned for a specific person. “where’s kuroo? i obviously have to introduce our new manager to the team captain.”
“i think he’s still in the locker room talking with the coaches. i’ll go get him,” yaku muttered over his shoulder before walking away.
silence then ensued the trio like a wet blanket, nothing but the lingering sounds of volleyballs thudding against the glazed wooden floors and squealing rubber. everyone in the gym didn’t seem to be too phased by your presence and if they were, they were probably just too preoccupied with their own practice to even spare a single glance.
“so...” lev starts, teetering his weight back and forth as you look up at him. “you’re a second year, right?” you nod, words not wanting to come out. “cool. do you have a boyfriend—or a girlfriend, if that’s what you’re into. i don’t judge!” he laughs then, somehow easing your unease.
“stop asking such personal questions, lev.” a voice calls out from behind him, treading lightly towards you.
the first year shrugs innocently, “i was just curious, cap.”
“yeah, yeah,” kuroo waves him off, “go practice before i double your drills.”
lev nods, “yessir.” before dipping away.
kuroo then gives you a welcoming smile, one that feels quite genuine as his coaches appear behind him. “i’m guessing you’re our new manager in training, right? i’m kuroo if you don’t already know, it’s nice to meet you.”
you introduced yourself yet again, repeating the gesture to coach nakomata and coach naoi. they both radiated a calming, yet serious energy that you weren’t sure to be intimidated by. yet at some point, you shouldn’t even be thinking of such thing considering you would working with them for the rest of the school year and the year after that.
“here, i’ll call the rest of the team over to meet you.” kuroo suggests, his arm already waving everybody down before you could retaliate. “gather ‘round, we have someone you guys have to meet!”
his shout was accompanied by coach nekomata’s shrieking whistle, capturing the attention of the rest of the volleyball team as the sounds of hands impacting the white leather came to a halt.
perhaps that forgotten tingling of nerves had hit you right in the chest like a train the moment all their eyes fell on you. this was not it.
“a girl!” one of them exclaims, hair styled in a strange curly mohawk that charged his way towards you.
“jesus, take it easy yamamoto.” one with a darker complexion and buzzcut says, throwing you a pitiful smile as if to say ‘i’m sorry.’
“sorry, kai...”
you held back a bit of laughter behind your hand.
“everyone, this is (y/l/n) (y/n), she’ll be our team’s new manager.” coach naoi motions towards you, bag strap still clutched within your hands that your knuckles were turning alabaster. “please take care of her well.”
as kuroo opened his mouth to speak, the same one who shouted earlier—yamamoto, you think—cuts in again and says, “are you dating anyone?”
lev laughs from the back of the group, “i already asked her that!”
“but i still want to know!”
“please be respectful or i’m stealing your kneecaps while you sleep.” mizuhara deadpans before motioning for kuroo to speak.
the obsidian-haired captain rolled his eyes in amusement as he began introducing each member of the team one by one, “i don’t want you guys bombarding (y/n), so i’ll introduce you guys myself.” cue yamamoto groaning in disappointment, “the one that keeps asking you such personal questions is yamamoto, our wing spiker.” to which the same man salutes you and gives you a wink. “then there’s kai nobuyuki, our vice-captain. teshiro tamahiko, our pinch server. fukunaga shohei, our other wing spiker. lev and yaku, which you’ve already met. and kozume kenma, our setter.”
your eyes had landed on each and every one of them before abruptly stopping on the last one called. you knew of kenma and his familiar yellow-blond hair. granted, you were in the same year, but he was in a different class and just didn’t really have any interactions besides that one time you two had cleaning duty last year and had to take out the trash together.
the last time you remember him, he was quiet and didn’t speak much, yet there was always a charm within him that had you drawn to him from the start. it was a shame you two never really had a chance to get close.
you wonder if he still remembers you.
meanwhile, the moment your gaze landed upon him, kenma couldn’t help but choke back the rising lump forming in his throat. he surely never thought you two would meet again like this.
the last time he remembers you, you had quite the allure within the way you spoke so nicely. he recalls the way you two first met last year where he offered to take out your trash bag so you wouldn’t have to do work, but you utterly refused. your kind actions stuck with him and despite not being one to talk much in the first place, he couldn’t bring himself to ever speak knowing your lasting presence overran his nerves like a high wire.
kenma’s thoughts are interrupted by a pat on his shoulder, heavy and weighted. his looks over to kuroo’s giving him a sly side-eye as a smirk melted upon his best friend’s visage. 
“everyone, go back to practice,” kuroo commands, “mizuhara will take care of the rest.”
a chorus of discernable groans and ‘yessirs’ erupted in the gym as the hoard of volleyball players turned their backs towards you. everything seemed to be back to normal the way the echoing sounds of a run-of-the-mill practice was back in session. and despite the attention no longer being on you (thank goodness), there was still an inkling in your chest of someone’s eyes lingering as you looked back to mizuhara.
“that’s the girl, isn’t it?” whispers kuroo to kenma, practically scaring him out of his unbeknownst trance that was stuck on you.
the setter didn’t answer right away as he twirled the volleyball in his hand, eyes searching the bronze floorboards below him to find an answer he knew he couldn’t find. “it is,” he sighs.
kenma didn’t like lying, anyway.
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you weren’t sure how it really happened. you supposed it was just mere fate or purely the universe throwing you a bone that within two weeks of being nekoma’s newest manager, that you would somehow, someway, found yourself glued to kenma’s side for the majority of the day.
it first started off like this: normal. nothing much had changed to your daily school life besides the fact that you stay after school every day for volleyball practice now, but that’s was beside the point. It continued on like this for a few days, until your scanning gaze over the practicing volleyball players almost always ended up stopping on kenma.
it didn’t matter what he was doing at the time whether he was sweating his ass off playing a practice game or simply staying on the sidelines, body hunched over with his dyed hair falling over his face as he played his video game.
unbeknownst to you, though, your stares were everything but discrete. kenma had always been quite skilled at hiding his emotions and looking nonchalant as possible. either that or he just had no filter whatsoever—there was no in between. 
at first, the attention would always send his heart spiraling out of control. you were always on the other side of the gym when this happens, and he’s glad for that fact considering you couldn’t have seen the way his hands shivered slightly at the way you looked at him.
don’t even get him started on the way his usual patience ran lower and lower the more his teammates flirted with you. from yamamoto’s blatant disregard of your crystal clear unease to lev’s constant presence around you, had affected kenma more than he had hoped.
god, he hated feeling this way, and yet it was addicting that why you still looked at him regardless.
perhaps it was the only reason why he started reciprocating your sly glances to vie for your attention—granted, he already had it.
the subtle linking of your gazes eventually turned into smiles across the court to kenma finally getting the courage to walk up to you after practice. the sky was dim, shrouded by the last few sunrays of the setting sun as he offered to stay behind to help clean up. usually, he would be one of the first ones to leave the gym with kuroo by his side to walk home, but it didn’t take much for his best friend to know what he was up to.
you were folding up one of the volleyball nets at one end to which the setter reached for the other. he folded along the lines, eventually meeting you halfway to which you could say that’s where it all started.
the blossoming of a new friendship.
something about the way you two complimented each other so much, that the moment you two even started talking, it felt like two old friends reuniting. you felt at home with kenma and he liked being by your side.
you supposed that sensation of familiarity you found in kenma led to your days of shy glances to each other turned into eating lunch together to even walking side by side to practice. you both had a knack for being seen with each other to often, that people started to suspect things. from your classmates to the rest of nekoma’s volleyball team did they tread lightly around the subject. it wasn’t like it was any of their business anyway, but good gossip is always entertaining.
“can you please help me beat this level, kenma?”
“absolutely not,” the setter deadpanned, flicking you a tired look as you two neared the opposing school’s gym.
poor kuroo was third-wheeling a few feet behind you.
the night prior, you and kenma stayed up until the sunlight’s orange hues teased away the shadow of the moon, the quiet night in suburban tokyo was filled with your laughter through your gaming headsets. you two stayed up all night playing video games or simply just talking the night away, bridging over the same gap that had already been filled. surely, it was a terrible idea considering kenma literally had a game the next day, but his only excuse was hanging out with you was much better than wallowing in nervous thoughts, so he digresses.
“why not?” you gasp with offense written over your face as clear as day.
kenma shrugs, “maybe after we win this game, i’ll help you beat it.”
you hum in response, tucking your phone back into your windbreaker as you felt the rush of air-conditioned cold air breeze through your hair. approaching the benches, you quickly greet the opposing team’s manager and coach before situating yourself back to nekoma’s side of the court. mizuhara was already in the process of taking out the empty water bottles and placing them into holders to fill them up.
“i’ll help with that,” you offer as you had already picked up a bottle, but mizuhara waved you away with a smile.
“no, no, i’ll take care of this. you can start telling the boys to get changed and have them gather around coach nekomata.” they say, feet already trailing out towards the water fountains as you nod.
your hand scratched the nape of your neck as you turned towards the boys, mouth opening to speak and yet they seemed to already be one step ahead of you. their red tracksuits were already off and stuffed into the deep ends of their duffle bags—it was obvious with the way their bags bulged from the crammed clothing items.
a sigh leaves your lips, shrugging to yourself as it seemed like there wasn’t much to do when the majority of the things were sorted out already. sitting atop the courtside bench, you pulled your phone out of your pocket, typing in your password as you immediately opened up your game. the real game wasn’t going to be starting for the next ten minutes anyway, surely there was enough time to attempt to beat a level within that time span.
your hands gripped the sides of your phone with eyes focused to each detail the flashing graphics shined upon your face. you were so caught up within your own little world, that the ambient sounds of talking murmurs and approaching footsteps bled together.
kenma clears his throat before dropping onto the bench next to you. he peered over to your screen for a second, almost laughing at how much he had rubbed off on you. he feigned himself from scoffing at the way you hadn’t even acknowledged him, but he couldn’t you. it was technically his fault for introducing you to this game. besides, you looked so adorable with the way you would bite your lip whenever you were at the verge of dying.
you groaned, dropping your arms in defeat as you pouted towards him, “i died again.”
“i can see that,” he amused. rolling your eyes at the look he gave you, you rested your elbows upon your thighs again as you reset the level. however, before you resume on playing, the setter swiftly snatched your phone out of your hand.
for once he had to help you with this one.
“watch and learn, (y/n).”
you huffed at his cockiness, resting your chin upon kenma’s shoulder.
usually, he would find himself tensing at your contact, but lately, he’s been treasuring these little moments with you. kuroo would often catch himself off guard whenever he finds kenma cozying up to you like a kitten. this was definitely not something he would usually do unless of course, it’s for someone he is absolutely in love with. it was obvious the way kenma tried so hard to hide his feelings, yet still failing despite the nonchalant exterior. 
if only you two just confessed to each other already, this would’ve been easier on literally everyone here.
kenma seemed pretty confident—so incredibly sure that he would beat this level for you that you couldn’t help but find it the tiniest bit attractive... okay maybe a lot. from the way his fingers intricately worked at the game as if it was second nature. you wondered how in the hell he plays so well, but the hours he puts into gaming was no surprise. within minutes, he had already beat the level.
“holy shit!” you exclaimed in excitement as you pulled yourself off of him, grabbing your phone to look at the ‘VICTORY!’ screen just to make sure it was legit.
the setter couldn’t help but feel the ends of his lips tug into a small smile as he admired the glow in your eyes. he liked it when you looked like this—grinning as if you were an absolute maniac with sugarcoated teeth of saccharine.
you beamed at him, “you’re amazing.”
there is was again, his rapid beating heart causing an avalanche between kenma’s lungs. he couldn’t get used to the way you make him feel. it still felt like the same rising warmth that hugged him like a bear whenever you would praise him or let out a slick laugh. he really liked your laugh. he discovered that about himself the first time he made you giggle over your first discord call together. it sounded like a forgotten epiphany finally finding itself back to him that he wanting to make you laugh again and again. even though the low-quality grain of the microphone, it was enough to ease his yearning to just hold you within his arms.
hearing you laugh over a call was one thing, but it hit differently in real life.
“yeah, right,” kenma scoffs, almost unconvinced. he leans over a bit more, his shoulder touching yours as he tapped a few buttons on your screen. his expression was almost unfazed as you continued staring at him. “you don’t mean that.”
kenma looks back up at you. his lips purse together, forcing the lump forming in his throat when he noticed how close your faces were. his eyes flickered over your features, memorizing them as if this was his last time ever seeing your face. for a brief moment, you felt your heart stop again and again. it punched against your ribcage with such brutal force, you swore kenma could’ve heard it. 
you chuckled nervously, taking a deep breath as the words spilled out of your mouth. “i don’t lie to people i have feelings for.”
it ended up being softer than you thought it was. you supposed it was the way you were so careful to approach kenma’s lips, slowly and gently, just in case he wanted to pull away. in fact, you did expect him to pull away no matter embarrassing it may have been. there was such a pouring downfall within you that maybe you were okay with that possibility of him rejecting your kiss if it meant that there was a chance he might return it.
his lips were like velvet when he kissed you softly. even if it was a brief moment of vulnerability, you were both aware of how inappropriate it was to kiss not only your closest friend, but a member of your team just minutes before a game.
you pulled away then, hands slapping over your cheeks to hide the crimson red blush that suspended itself all the way up to your ears. kenma looked just the same, but he simply looked away.
you prayed that the rest of the guys did see—but they did.
kuroo saw it first, having to do a double-take the moment you pulled away from kenma. honestly, no one would’ve noticed if yamamoto’s loud ass shout didn’t echo throughout the gymnasium. as if your sudden humiliation moved like a domino-effect, jumping from one person to another.
you pushed yourself off the bench, hoping your hair would cover your tomato-colored face as you excused yourself to the bathroom.
right as your figure left the gym, the boys immediately ran towards kenma, still in a dazed state. the poor setter’s lips still buzzed from the kiss no matter how short it was. it still sent flickers of electricity through him as kai shook his shoulder.
“since when were you and (y/n) a thing?” he questioned quite loudly.
he acted as if kenma even knew the answer to that. if anything, he was just glad that he was saved by the buzzer as the game was to start. he let out a sigh as he scanned all of his teammate’s expressions, pushing himself off the bench. “don’t look at me like that.”
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fuwafuwamedb · 3 years
Text
Baking Cookies (Kid Gil, Archer Gil, Hakuno, Emiya)
It was late.
Later than one would want, but that wasn’t going to stop him. His feet pattered across the floors of the hallways, his hands pressing against the walls as he would reach one corner after another. His bright gaze took in new path after new path.
Today was a good day for this morning’s task.
For too long, he’d held off, opting to wait and think of a time and a day where the forces and the elements would be just right. It had not been until yesterday.
Gil opened the doors to the kitchen, taking a full moment to look around at the room. Its stainless steel gleamed proudly on the counters and around the room on furnishings. There was a collection of ingredients both showing from corners of the counters and from a couple open cabinets. The room’s usual occupants were gone, leaving him the space for the plans to come into action.
The flour was pulled and poured wildly into a large bowl. Then came the salt and the baking soda.
Just a smidge of each, he’d been warned.
He went to the drawers, pulling cups for measuring. He needed the two sugars: both brown and granulated. They were poured and dumped into another bowl and, from there, the young king opened the fridge and pulled a couple rectangles of butter.
Cream it, he’d been told. The rectangles smushed and squelched in the bowl poorly, leaving his nose wrinkling and his brow furrowing. He added the egg for good measure, but it still didn’t ease the process of creaming the sugar and butter mixture.
He looked at the ingredients, tapping the counter before a light went off in his head.
Extra sweetness.
Vanilla.
The white haired faker used it often in his cooking. Glancing around, he began with the upper cabinets, pouring through the various labels until he could find the one he was looking for.
The little bottle just needed to be poured slightly into the bowl.
A few drops would be enough. The stuff was the essence of sweetness. Much like the recipient of this work was, this bottle’s contents was lethally sweet in high doses.
He stirred again, pouring the first bowl of flour in with the creamed mixture.
Ah, but they needed one last thing.
“This will set them apart from anything else,” Gil murmured, his fingers snapping to open the gates. His older selves would probably never notice. It wasn’t like they couldn’t get more of the fine quality chocolate that he let land on the counter.
A little slice and dice- then straight into the bowl.
And now to bake.
The oven was set, the mixed ingredients clumped onto pans properly.
He’d done it.
Despite how much Enkidu had teased him about being able to cook and despite the white haired faker saying that kings were probably too selfish to cook; he’d made a whole batch of cookies. Delicious smelling cookies at that, he thought, staring at the array of them as they soon began to fill the counters as they cooled off from the oven.
Great cooks deserved a break.
Besides that, it would probably be best to take a moment to go use the restroom.
He moved carefully, slipping out and down the hall. A small whistle now left his lips, smile prouder than ever as he pushed the bathroom door open.
It wasn’t until he returned when he felt the world come to a pause.
“You really made these?” Hakuno stared at the king nearby, munch on one of the cookies. Her body was perched on one of the remaining empty spaces on the counter.
“You may feel free to praise me properly, mongrel. Or do you intend to doubt me further?”
“They’re the best cookies I’ve ever had-“
“HEY!” The shout fell from his lips, his limbs trembling as he stared at the two. “I MADE THOSE!”
The archer nearby raised a brow, glancing to him. “Did you not hear her, child? She said I made them. Are you not a version of me?”
“That doesn’t matter!” Gil huffed, his foot stomping against the ground. “Hakuno!”
“They’re good,” she told him, mouth full of cookie.
“They’re for you. Don’t share with him!”
“Oh?” Gilgamesh Archer’s expression great only that much more smug, his hands moving towards the counter. “You think I want one of your meager sweets?”
“Don’t touch them!”
The man lifted one of the cookies, wiggling it in his hands before bringing it closer to his mouth.
“NO!”
It was moving so slowly towards his lips. The world was crawling through time, his body barely able to move before the whole scene began to unfold. And then he was left to stand with his eyes wide. The woman on the counter’s body was now moved, her mouth wrapped around part of Gilgamesh Archer’s hand and the cookie itself.
Her eyes looked up at Archer’s, the cookie practically crumbling in her mouth and in Gilgamesh’s hand.
“…Truly, mongrel?”
The woman hummed, eyes closing.
“It is not worthwhile for me to eat something that has already been partially eaten by someone else. I am not one for sloppy seconds.” The man pushed the cookie into her mouth, shaking his head. “You should get your own cookies, Hakuno. Your bad behavior will be remembered during training.”
“You make great cookies,” Hakuno repeated again, making the man roll his eyes.
“You’ve taken all the joys of harassing the boy meaningless. I will be in our chambers.”
Gil grunted as the man brushed passed, his arm swatting only to miss.
“Until next time, little pest.”
He hated him.
So very deeply to the very marrow of his bones, Gil hated that archer pest. He had no respect, no understanding. He took and he took; it was a wonder that Hakuno put up with him at all!
Speaking of the woman though-
Gil glanced to the woman still in the room, now picking up a couple more cookies.
“Do you mind? I’ve never had cookies this good before.”
“I made them for you,” Gil murmured.
Those honey-colored eyes widened, her smile broadening. “Really?”
“We’re friends, remember? That is what you told me. As my friend, you should be treated to finer things. You didn’t like the fabrics and the jewels, so I thought maybe food would be better.”
Hakuno’s face was simply radiant. Her eyes were soft, cheeks dusted a light pink. Her smile gave way to that all too nice pitter patter in his chest. She stood a little taller even, walking over to his side with his gifts for her in hand.
“I’m glad you like them,” he told her.
“I love them, Gil. Thank you.” Hakuno pressed her lips to his cheek. “I’m going to go check on Archer, but I’ll come back really soon for more cookies. They’re the best I’ve ever had.”
“I’ll box them up.” He had a great chest for them in his gates. He could wrap them in a nice fabric and place them in the box for her to indulge in as she saw fit.
“That would be great.”
Her soft perfume that was her natural scent lingered around him as she left. He watched the door, humming a little at her response.
She was all about sweets.
One way or another, he’d bake enough with his own two hands to steal her from Archer Gilgamesh. It was only a matter of time.
“It would seem someone made a mess of the kitchens.”
Gil froze, his eyes going to the white haired faker nearby.
“I do hope you have plans to clean these dishes and counters you’ve ruined. Otherwise, I will be showing our master your handiwork.”
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deja-you · 4 years
Text
âmes soeurs | part two
m. de lafayette x reader
Summary: Lafayette and Y/n Howe were childhood best friends. It’s been years, but somehow they’ve both ended up in revolutionary America. On different sides of the war.
masterlist | part one
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BOOM!
A gasp escaped Y/n’s lips. Did she really just shoot someone? And just because he wore a blue coat instead of a red one? What was he guilty of, fighting for freedom? The flintlock pistol in Y/n’s hand billowed smoke still and felt hot to the touch. Her shaking hands dropped the pistol on the forest floor, but they continued to grip the sword she held. 
Looking up at the rebel in front of her, Y/n saw that he was still standing. Had she missed? He was only a few feet away from her and the flintlock was known for being incredibly accurate. Y/n reasoned that she couldn’t have missed her mark, and that the rebel would collapse at any second. But he didn’t.
The soldier whipped his head around to face her, looking more surprised than pained. He patted down his torso as if he were looking for a gunshot wound, but he never found one. He stared at Y/n’s silhouette in bewilderment, bristling when he saw the sword at her side glimmer in the moonlight. The soldier muttered some kind of disgruntled word and drew his own sword. He advanced toward Y/n, and she began to panic.
Y/n took a few steps back, but quickly found her back pressed to a tree. Going backwards wasn’t an option at this point, and the soldier was gaining ground quickly. Adjusting her grip on her sword, Y/n held it up to her opponent, and soon there was a clash of metal between the two.
This soldier was clearly a better swordsman than Y/n. In fact, it had been years since she had even held a sword. As she did her best to parry his attacks, the soldier came back again and again. His hits weren’t brutally strong, but they were fast and in just the right places, proving further that he must’ve been an experienced swordsman. 
With sweat running down her neck, Y/n did her best to hold her sword tighter when the soldier delivered a powerful blow. She didn’t have much time to recover when he attacked again. This time, the soldier was successful in disarming Y/n and knocking her to the ground. The forest beneath her hands, Y/n scrambled backwards. She wouldn’t be able to outrun him. He raised his sword, and Y/n was only left thinking this is the end. The sound of metal cutting through air could be heard, and then --
Nothing?
Y/n was expecting to hear the sound of his sword cutting through flesh. At the very least, a sharp pain in her side. There was nothing. Was she dead? Is this what dying was like? Just quick and painless? No, Y/n could still feel the leaves and dirt beneath her and the chill of the evening breeze in her hair. She couldn’t be dead. 
Daring to open her eyes, Y/n saw that the soldier seemed just as confused as she did. Upon noticing that she had not been effected, the soldier regained his purpose. He raised his sword again. Y/n flinched. And again, there was nothing?
“Why can’t I kill you?” Asked the soldier. He wasn’t angry, more confused.
“I... I don’t know,” Y/n replied honestly.
He cocked his head to the side and pointed his sword at Y/n once more. “Who are you?”
Not seeing the point in lying, and being too exhausted to continue fighting, Y/n raised her hands in surrender and slowly removed the hood of her cloak.
“I’m Y/n Howe.”
The soldier immediately lowered his weapon and took a step back from her. 
“Y/n?”
“Do I know you?”
Stepping into the clearing, moonlight lit up the soldiers face. He was taller than she had last saw him, he looked much older, too, but Y/n would have been able to recognize those eyes anywhere. Even after all these years, she could have never forgotten them. And Lord knows she had tried. 
“Lafayette!” She gasped. “Is it... is it really you?”
Now sure that this was Y/n, Lafayette dropped the sword in his hand like it burned him. It clattered to the ground, and Lafayette couldn’t believe that he had nearly killed Y/n a few moments ago. He had really tried his best...
“I never thought I’d see you again,” he admitted.
“Disappointed?”
Lafayette laughed. Oh, how she missed the sound of his laugh. “The opposite. When I heard you and your mother had accompanied General Howe to the colonies, I was hoping I’d get to see you again. But then I heard he was leaving back to England, and well...”
“You thought you’d never see me,” Y/n finished for him.
“Yes,” he nodded, “I thought I’d never see you. But I’m so glad I did.”
“I’m glad to see you, too. Although, it could be under better circumstances.” 
There it was. The realization of where they were and who they were. She was only here because she was General Howe’s daughter. Y/n couldn’t overlook the continental uniform Lafayette was proudly wearing. And there was also the fact that Y/n had tried to kill him moments earlier.
“Did you...” Lafayette asked incredulously. “Did you try to shoot me? Did you really try to kill me?”
Y/n tensed. “You tried to kill me, too! And you nearly did!”
“Yeah, because someone had followed me from a British party and attempted to shoot me! It was self defense.”
“How did we end up on different sides of this war? We were best friends.”
Lafayette immediately felt guilty upon hearing Y/n’s defeated tone. They really had been best friends. Even if it was all years ago, he had failed to meet anyone like Y/n. He didn’t even want to. Lafayette sighed and tentatively sat next to her on the forest ground.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I always wanted to seek glory on the battlefield, you knew that. Fighting for the Americans seemed right. If they can win independence from a tyrant, so can France, and every other nation.”
“Tyrant? That’s my king you’re talking about.”
“Y/n, you’ve always been the smart one. You must see how King George treats the colonists is unfair. Everyone deserves equal--”
“—you don’t need to lecture me about what is fair and what isn’t. I read Jefferson’s declaration, and I know all about his philosophy on ‘unalienable rights.’ I don’t really buy into it,” Y/n said firmly.
Lafayette was surprised. “You don’t? I thought... I thought this would be something you support.”
“It’s not that I don’t support equality and justice. It’s that I don’t believe these revolutionaries truly believe in equality and justice.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’re selfish. The men who wrote the declaration? Most of them are wealthy slaveholders. Do you understand how terrible it is that they talk about freedom and liberty, all while they buy and sell other human beings? That’s not what equality is. And if they can’t even get that right, what else are they wrong about?”
“Those men—”
“And that’s the second thing! They’re all men. They don’t care about equal representation, they just care about representation for themselves. Lafayette, you’re right, I have always been the smart one. I have spent hours reading and studying while you would go out for long rides on your horse. I’ve dedicated more time than most men to my education, but that still wouldn’t matter. I couldn’t get a job, I couldn’t get a position in the legislature, I couldn’t vote. All this on the account that I was born a woman. And you revolutionaries? You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”
Y/n was out of breath at this point. Years of pent up anger had finally been unleashed upon Lafayette. She almost felt bad. This wasn’t Lafayette’s fault, it really wasn’t. But it was cruel to champion equality and freedom when you didn’t really believe in it. 
“I’m sorry,” Lafayette said. “You’re right. We revolutionaries are hypocritical.”
“Hypocritical? Your english has gotten much better,” she muttered. 
“The men who wrote the declaration are wrong to own slaves and exclude women. I know that. I will dedicate the rest of my life to fixing that wrong. But right now? Right now I have the chance to fight the injustice that is the British government. It’s a revolution, Y/n. And if we succeed, we’re going to be changing the world for the better. This war is just a start. But everything needs a start.”
He was right. Y/n knew he was right. God, she hated it when he was right. 
“Maybe I was being too harsh,” Y/n conceded.
Lafayette shook his head. “No, it’s good. I love that you hold me accountable. But I also believe this revolution is worth supporting.”
“I know.” She said it so quietly he almost didn’t hear her. “I know you’re right, and you know why I can’t support this revolution.”
Lafayette did know why. Y/n never had much of a choice, and she was always loyal to those she loved. He couldn’t even imagine being in her shoes.
“Can we just not talk about this anymore? Can you just hold me like you used to? I just want what we used to have, even if it’s just for a little while,” Y/n said softly.
She didn’t have to ask twice, Lafayette’s arms wrapped around her and pulled her to his chest. 
Lafayette and Y/n were both so deeply flawed. It was all they knew how to be. But this moment they shared together? It could only be described as perfect.
How good did it feel to be in his arms again? It had been so long. Being without him was like living in a barren field covered in snow. Y/n had been content with her life without him in it, but that was when she couldn’t remember what life was with him. It was golden sunbeams and turquoise streams. It was stolen kisses on hot summer nights. It was music and flowers and everything wonderful. Life with Lafayette was all that and more. 
The rain started coming down in droves. Maybe it didn’t want her to have to fall alone.
tags: @ballerinafairyprincess @dannighost @ateliefloresdaprimavera
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sanjisock · 4 years
Text
bark to smoke, wood to ash
ao3
one.
You are eight and the words that fall out of your brothers’ mouth hurt like gravels, like acid, like gunshot wounds. They call you useless and it tears at your skin, they call you weak and it rings inside your ears for days. The bruises on your skin fade, but the words claw underneath, bone-deep, like a phantom scar.
A failure. A burden. A mistake. A mistake —
Brother.
You don’t know what’s wrong with the last one. It isn’t one of the bad words your mother taught you not to say, and your brothers never said it with the tone and derision they reserved for your name. Brother. Almost in passing, like an afterthought.
The word clung to you anyway, dirty and foreign, seeping under your skin like mud. It has sullied you into something you’re not.
(You are not, you know — you are not anyone’s brother. You’re not a —)
-
two.
You are thirteen when you realize that you hate the way you look in the mirror. You know you always do, at the back of your mind, but it’s the first time that it catches you off guard; there’s bile at the back of your throat, and you almost drive your leg through the vanity, shattering the ugly image staring back from the surface.
Zeff has just started giving you salaries — actual salaries instead of the meager pocket money they used to be — so the first thing you do is to visit the town’s market.
You are a boy, so you get yourself a couple of men’s shoes, loafers and dress shoes, oxfords and sandals. You are a boy, so you pick up the three-piece suits and vests, the kind a gentleman would wear. You are a boy, so you walk past the nail polish and lipsticks, and you don’t wonder how they would look against your pale skin, if they should match the dresses you will never wear.
You narrow your eyes at your own reflection, rubbing your chin, feeling the beginning of a stubble under your fingers. Your chest is a flat and narrow thing, every part of your body telling you what you have heard a thousand times — you’re a boy. You’re a boy. You’re a boy. 
(You are a boy because you don’t know what else you could be.)
-
three.
You are sixteen and nobody tells you you’re beautiful; they call you handsome and strong and clean-shaven and many other words that don’t settle right at the pit of your stomach. A good husband, one over-eager patron once said to her blushing teenage daughter; a rough delinquent, most shopkeepers would say behind your back after you’ve haggled their prices one too many times; a handsome boy, some of Zeff’s old associates would sometimes say, a clumsy attempt to praise you. You hate the last one the most.
You are sixteen and you fall for the first boy who calls you beautiful.
He’s a boy from the next village, a year older than you are, sharp-tongued and sharper smile. He visits on Saturdays as his parents go to the island’s marketplace, a few ways down the street from Baratie, and when he kisses you behind a passing cart he tastes like a brilliant supernova.
Beautiful , he calls you, and for the first time a word slides off your skin like honey. Beautiful, he whispers to your lips, and it warms you from the inside, right in the very center of your chest. Beautiful, he presses against your skin, and you close your eyes and take it all in, the way the word fits right in between your rib cage, tucked neatly against your heart.
It doesn’t last. He also calls you his man.
(You’re not his man. You’re not anyone’s man. You’re not a man —)
-
four.
Today’s celebration is more crowded than you are used to, which says a lot, considering how it usually goes with the Strawhats. Luffy, you are quick to learn, always finds a way to surprise you.
You’re carrying five plates on one hand and three glasses of beer on the other, half-tiptoeing to avoid stepping on people’s feet. Some of the locals wave at you, complimenting you on the food, and you don’t notice Nami among the crowd until she’s pressed against you, her breasts digging into the crevice of your back as someone pushes her from behind.
You feel a shock of jealousy burst through you.
It is shocking, in its suddenness. There is nothing inherently sexual with the thought; you’ve always been attracted to men and women alike, in the safety of your own mind — but this is something entirely different. You are suddenly aware of your adam’s apple, your flat chest, your dick between your legs; how they’re wrong wrong wrong — 
She must’ve felt the way you stiffened, because she leaps back in surprise and stammers out an apology. You want to tell her that it’s fine, but for once, you can’t. There are a lot of people you can lie to but not her, who’s been carved open and forced to lie for so long.
“I can’t,” you tell her; no longer caring if you don’t even make sense. “Nami-san, I can’t —”
Something erupts among the crowd, and Luffy emerges from it a moment later, always the center of attention. Nami’s instantly distracted, and you have never been more glad of Luffy’s natural proclivity for trouble.
You chase after him, and try not to think of the way envy curls coldly in your chest.
(For the first time in your life, you dare to want —)
-
five.
They force you to wear a dress and you run.
It’s wrong, you try to tell yourself, because men don’t wear skirts and you may be a failure to Judge but you won’t be one to Zeff. It’s wrong, you try to tell them, to every single resident of this cursed island of Momoiro, and they look at you with pity , and you hate them for it. It’s wrong, you try to tell someone, anyone who would listen, because you don’t know what else it could be.
So you run.
You run and you feel the silk of the dress slide against the inside of your thighs, the bra tight around your chest, the straps of your panties dig into your hips. You wonder if they would leave marks against your skin, the kind that’s red and stark and doesn’t disappear for days, like they have become a part of you somehow.
You run because you know it’s wrong.
(You run because it doesn’t feel wrong.)
-
six.
Zoro is terrible. A brute, a dumbass, an oaf — you hate his guts, you hate his voice, and you hate the way he always knows the right words to set you off into a tirade. He is loud and brash and everything a man is supposed to be and you hate that, too — like a constant reminder of who you aren’t, of who you’re supposed to be.
He also looks at you like you’re an equal, like someone he can depend on when all else fails. He pushes you towards your dream and never expects any less than the best; when the two of you stand side-by-side, something in your blood sings, like you are strong enough to take on the world.
That part — you don’t hate that.
(Zoro is terrible, but —)
-
seven.
Your stomach drops when your eyes meet Zoro’s.
He’s not supposed to be here , you want to think, but in hindsight, why shouldn’t he, when the tavern they are in seems to be the only establishment in this quaint little town that offers alcohol on its menu. Of course that brute is here.
You should’ve known better than to risk it. 
You are not wearing the — the whole thing , thankfully; the red dress from Momoiro still safely tucked at the corner of your locker, never to see the light of day. But your hair is shoulder-length and your nails are in three different colors, and you are at least five-inches taller than him because of the heels you are wearing. Zoro’s a dumbass with only one good eye left, but he’s not blind.
Zoro blinks, does a once-over. You wait for the other shoe to drop, for the disgust to crawl up his expression like poison ivy, but it never comes; he simply tilts his head to the side, more confused than anything.
The first thing he asks is, “How did you get your hair so long?”
“It’s called a wig , dumbass,” you retort, the banter between you two coming as naturally as breathing, even when your heart is pounding against your ribcage. “It’s like — fake hair, basically. Not that you’d know anything about fashion.”
Zoro scrunches up his nose, and he’s wearing that expression he always wears whenever someone tells him to count higher than ten. You usually find it hilarious, just one more thing to tease him about, but right now it is comforting in its familiarity. The disgust that you have long dreaded never seems to appear, and you feel tension slowly bleed over your shoulders.
“Huh,” Zoro says after a moment. A blush blooms across his cheeks, and he sounds almost embarrassed when he says, “suits you.”
(You remember being sixteen, falling in love with the boy who called you beautiful.)
-
eight.
“Please change us back!” Nami calls out to Law, and you feel your blood runs cold. You know it’s selfish, that none of these is yours, the breasts and the curves and the long, soft fingers; but you can’t help begging still, please don’t please don’t please don’t please —
Law still turns you back.
You fall to your knees. Nami thought it was from the physical wounds she’d received before Law switched you back, and you let her think that way. Your hands will not stop shaking for the rest of the day, and you tell Chopper that it’s the cold.
(This is not your body, your brain traitorously whispers, persistent. It’s never been the right body for you —)
-
nine.
Zoro slips his hand under your shirt, and you groan at that, pleased — you’ve been making out for what seems like forever now, and the way his finger brushes against your nipple is a welcome development. His mouth starts to trail down your neck, and you tug on his haramaki, urging him on. This thing between you two — whatever this is — has been long-overdue, and you feel like a second without the two of you naked is just another second wasted.
You slip out of your pants without thinking, and your breath hitches when you realize you’re still wearing your panties.
Zoro seems to notice your discomfort, because his hands immediately still. He looks up at you, eye searching, and you find it sweet, the way he’d stop if you tell him to stop. You don’t want him to, of course, if the arousal pooling at the bottom of your stomach is any indication; but you like knowing that you have the choice. You can count on one hand the number of times you’re able to do that — making choices, that is.
You know that you don’t need to explain anything, when it comes to Zoro. You have that choice too. He has always been good at giving people space, and you know he will wait until you are ready to say anything. But you look at the man in front of you who has never been anything but honest, and the words claw out of your throat before you can think twice.
“I’m a woman.”
Your voice is small and confused. Your throat burns, like the words have been scraped raw from its walls.
Zoro doesn’t say anything at first, and you tear your eyes away from him, because you’ve never been scared of him but you don’t think you can stand it if he starts to look at you different. You think of your pathetic excuse of a family, their cold eyes and colder shoulders, and you don’t know if you can go through another heartbreak. You know the Strawhats are better than this — better than them — but you can’t help thinking what if, what if, what if — 
“Okay,” Zoro says. And, “Thanks for telling me.”
You exhale, then. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath.
He fucks you into the bed, long and sweet, softer than you’d ever expect him capable of. He holds your hand after, and the two of you lie on the bed, chests pressed against one another’s under the covers of a warm blanket. He breathes out when you breathe in.
(For the first time in a long while, the king of Germa doesn’t haunt you. You are not his son, and you have never been his.)
-
ten.
“You ready?”
Zoro is leaning against the door frame, waiting for you, but you can’t bring yourself to tear your eyes away from the mirror yet. You watch the way your kimono hugs your frame, thick and rigid; nobody could’ve seen any curves, even if you had one. That’s the point, you’ve been told — this is Wano’s idea of a woman’s beauty. Femininity through the concealment of body curves. It’s different than most concepts you’ve heard of female beauty, and you like that — that there isn’t one way to be a woman, that there is no mold to fit in for you to be one.
“Yes,” you say, and you let him lead you towards the door.
(You are a woman, and you have never been anything else.)
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iplaymatchmaker · 3 years
Note
(2) my mbti is infp-t and the last time i did the pottermore test i got a ravenclaw, so there's that! oh and i'm also quite introverted so you won't find me in rowdy places like a party or concert. i don't do great with people who force me out of my comfort zone, people who aren't decisive and aren't the communicative type (i get anxious trying to guess what they mean and overthink). for the prompts i'd like bonding and fairytale au for cinderella! thank you so much! o(≧▽≦)o -juice
Hello, thanks again for requesting Juice! Once again, sorry for the delay. This is the ikerev part of your ask. I’m sorry in advance for the rushed ending of the second prompt, I didn’t want to take even longer writing an entire fic and thought this was a good place to leave it. I hope you like it!
I match you with
Sirius!
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When you first arrive in Cradle you are wary of the army officers, but the warm environment makes it easy to relax and be yourself. You quickly grow close with the Queen, Sirius. Your friendship begins when you catch him watering the flowers in the courtyard. You are surprised at first, considering your first impression of him, but that is quickly forgotten as he rambles to you about the importance of maintaining the garden, even with a war in the horizon.
Despite his busy schedule, the two of you spend a lot of time together, and it quickly becomes apparent that you are compatible. The black army headquarters has always been a lively place, curtsey of Fenrir and Seth, but Sirius is glad to have another cheerful voice around, especially when it’s paired with your friendly chatter.
While you dislike showcasing your worries and insecurities, Sirius is always quick to read you and tries his best to lift your spirits without pressuring you to talk when you’re not ready.
You spend a lot of time exploring each other’s interests, as he introduces you to the ways of Cradle and you teach about him about the Land Reason. At first he tries to blame this on simple curiosity, but the reality of it is, he enjoys listening to you talk about the things you’re passionate about, sometimes wishing he could make your eyes light up the same way they do when you discuss your favorite books, although he won’t tell you that.
You finally confess your feelings, moments before the full moon rises and the portal back to your world appears. Until that moment, when Sirius’ hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks, you thought he didn’t return your feelings. It wasn’t until then that he expressed to you how much he wanted you to stay. “I know it’s selfish, but I want you to stay by my side!” All the pieces fell into place as he wrapped his arms around you, your bodies so close you could feel his pounding heart, realizing he must’ve run to catch up with you. “I will.”
Prompt: Bonding
It was hard to contain your excitement as you walked the narrow streets of Cradle, your hand not leaving Sirius’ as you looked at the shop windows.
“Look at that dress!” You pulled him along, hearing him chuckle behind you, not daring to complain as you dragged him inside the store.
You had agreed on this shopping trip a few days ago, on one of the rare days Sirius was staying in your room instead of the opposite. Your attention had been solely focused on your book for about an hour when he spoke up.
“We should go out on Saturday.” While he was always thoughtful, he didn’t often suggest outings, considering his packed schedule.
“Aren’t you on patrol with Fenrir on Saturday?” you couldn’t deny your excitement at the prospect of spending time with Sirius, but you didn’t want to burden him,
“I have already spoken with him. With Amon gone, there isn’t too much work for us during patrol. He can handle it on his own. So what do you say?”
“Okay!” You nodded, pulling him closer as you set your book aside.
While you enjoyed your time trying new clothes and browsing the bookshelves around the shops, you couldn’t help but feel guilty that Sirius was spending his day off following you doing things you enjoyed, despite his reassuring words.
“Don’t worry about me, I can keep up.”
You decided to take a break at one of the nearby cafes for much needed rest. You tried your best to read him but you had difficulty guessing what he was thinking.
“So, are you having fun?” you were taken aback by his question, considering he was letting you take him around town to all the places you wanted to visit.
“Of course I am! The weather is wonderful today too.” You took a bite of your desert, hoping to successfully bury your worries where he couldn’t see them.
“I can tell when something is bothering you, you know.” It didn’t seem to fool him. You sighed before reaching out to cover his hand with yours.
“I just want you to enjoy today too. This is your day off, we should be doing something you enjoy.” He squeezed your hand, his smile not faltering.
“Seeing you having fun is more than enough joy for me.” You could tell there was something he wasn’t telling you but you decided to leave it alone, not wanting to ruin the day.
“Thanks Sirius.”
By the time you returned to headquarters the sun had set and both of you were exhausted. After a quick shower you found Sirius outside, carefully inspecting a batch of purple and white flowers in the garden.
“What’s that one?” You stand next to him, wrapping your overcoat tighter around yourself.
“Night Phlox. They’ve almost bloomed. They have a very strong but pleasant smell when you plant many of them near each other.” He smiled, wrapping his arms around you, shielding you from the cold.
“What do they mean?”
“They can mean all sorts of things, but the most widely accepted meaning is partnership, harmony and unity. Pretty spot on for the black army, don’t you think?’ you smiled, enjoying listening to him talk about something with such care.
“Yeah.” The sound of the wind against the leaves was the only thing breaking the silence until you spoke up.
“Hey Sirius, why were you so intent on making today all about me?” there was no accusation in your voice, a simple question spoken under the night sky, a time where people can be honest, without hiding their troubles.
“We spend a lot of time at headquarters because of my job, doing things that I’m comfortable with. I just wanted to spend a day bonding over something you enjoy doing.” He tightened your arms around him, placing a quick kiss on his lips.
“You know I love spending time with you, no matter what we’re doing.”
“And I love seeing you happy.” Your eyes locked and an overwhelming feeling of joy spread through you.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Prompt: Cinderella AU
It was becoming increasingly difficult to mask your disdain as ambitious men reached out every few minutes, attempting to make conversation. You could offer them more than a smile and a kind word, knowing that everyone there had an ulterior motive.
“An organized ball where the goal is to woo me isn’t exactly a romantic story now isn’t it?” you didn’t want to deny your father’s wishes, knowing there was pressure as he grew older for you to find a husband, but it was still hard to accept that you would never have the chance to live a fairytale-love story, like those you read about in books.
“What you need is a secure future. This is for your own good.”
You knew that if you were to achieve that goal, you would need to interact with the men at the ball, but the context of the celebration made hard to relax, let alone do so in a room full of people.
“Daughter, this is a ball. Should you not be dancing?” your father’s voice was full of concern, despite his previous incitement.
“Yes, I will do that, father.” Not wanting to upset him, you smiled before setting off towards the middle of the room as the band started playing a quick valse. You looked around for a partner when you felt strong arms around, pulling you along with the other dancers.
“I’m sorry if that was out of line, you looked a little lost.” When you looked up to see the face of your partner, your words died in your throat. He stood quite a bit taller than you and his eyes were a deep shade of purple, unlike anything you had seen before.
“U-um, yeah.” You tried not to forget the steps as the two of you moved along, not wanting to make a fool of yourself, tripping over your skirts.
“So, how come the princess herself finds a moment alone during a ball in her honor?” despite his teasing words, you could tell he felt out of place in the crowded room.
“I’m not sure I’d consider this an honor… “ concern imideately painted his features but you didn’t want to bother a guest with your own issue.
“So, where are you from? I don’t believe we have met before.” You run a mental list of acquaintances from the local noble houses but you didn’t remember seeing him before.
“I’m… “ his voice trailed off, leaving you with many burning questions.
“I’m Sirius, Sirius Oswald.” He smiled, the uncertainty from moments before replaced with a warm smile.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You smiled at him, deciding not to pressure him for answers he didn’t want to give.
“You never answered my question” he spun you as the music sped up, taking you by surprise.
“You didn’t answer mine either.” A playful smile played on your lips.
“I suppose I can’t deny that.” Through the bur around you, you could see that the rest of the couple had left the dance floor, placing the two of at the center of the attention.
“Everyone is looking at us.” A faint blush appeared on your cheeks a you danced together.
“They are looking at you.” He smiled at you, his grip on your waist tightening.
“Are you ready?”
“For what?”
Before you could question him further, you were in the air, your dress spinning around you. Time seemed to slow down, a feeling of freedom flowing through you. From your position you could see the faces of the party-goers but in that moment it didn’t matter. It was just you and him, a scene right out of a fairytale.
When he set you down, your cheeks were flushed, heart pounding in your chest. You barely registered the music slowly fading away as they switched to a softer sound.
“Thank you for the dance.” His hand left yours, while his warmth sill lingered.
“My lady.’ He bowed before turning to leave.
“Wait! Could I see you again?” you resisted the urge to grab his hand, not wanting to make a scene.
“I’m not sure that would be the best idea.” You tried to speak up but your voice was drowned out by the surrounding noise, so you could only watch as he moved further and further away, before eventually disappearing in the crowd, leaving you alone, with only a brief memory to look back to.
Rumors of the charming man who danced with the princess could be heard all around town during the next few days. You tried to keep your head low as you walked around the stalls, looks for the right shop.
When you opened the door, a bell sounded, announcing your arrival.
“Hello. How could I help you?” A tall man stood at the back of the room, watering a patch of white flowers. You looked around the room to ensure you were alone before removing your hood, still unsure of whether this was a good idea.
“P-princess.” He fell into a quick bow, not daring to look at you.
“Hello Mr. Oswald.” He hesitantly raised his head, looking over the cloak covering your dress.
“Just call me Sirius. How did you find me?” an awkward smile appeared on his lips.
“I told you I wanted to see you again. Plus, after you told me your name, it wasn't very hard to find you.” You stepped closer, looking at the assortment of flowers around you.
“So this is where you’re from.” You were only teasing, but he seemed to have misunderstood.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you. I wanted to keep up the illusion but the you came here and..” you were taken aback by his genuine apology.
“N-no, I’m not disappointed!.”
“You aren’t?” You nodded, trying to express your feelings as best you could.
“No, I’m not. Why would I be?’ he run a hand through his hair, messing it up more than before.
“I’m just a commoner. And you’re a princess. There is no reason for you to be interested…” you shook your head firmly.
“I didn’t want to meet you again because I thought you were a noble. I just... I want to feel what I felt when we danced together again.” You were expecting him to laugh at you, but he only looked back in awe.
“W-was that odd? I apologize, I just-“ he didn’t allow you to finish.
“No! It’d not off, I’m just… surprised. I don’t have much to offer to a princess.” he fidgeted with the hem of his apron, eyes glued to the ground.
“Could you perhaps offer me some of your time? I would like to get to know you better.” A smile slowly formed on his face.
“Alright then. Who am I to say no to the princess after all?”
“Thank you.” You smiled at each other, excited to see where this would lead you.
You spent a lot of time together after that, slowly getting to know more about each other. When you introduced him to your father, he was admittedly hesitant at the idea of you not marrying a noble, but when he saw how happy the two of you were together, he couldn’t deny you your wishes.
“You have my blessing. You better take care of my daughter young man.”
“Always, sir. I love your daughter more than anything.” He placed a kiss on you hand, a promise of greater things to come.
“And I you.” Happiness overflowed you as your lips met in a light kiss, sealing the truth of your words.
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rubyleaf · 4 years
Text
As I’m almost done with Night of the Dragon (yes, finally), here I am again writing fic! This time, Tatsumi and the friendships he never formed with the squad in canon. I still think we were robbed, so here goes!
As the sun rises over the destroyed landscape, a single soul floats to the horizon in a glowing ball of light, drifting into the sky and leaving the confines of the world.
For a long time, Tatsumi flies through darkness. The earth grows smaller and smaller below, the sun a distant light that is soon lost in the vastness around him. Stars drift by, constellations, twinkling colorfully in the distance—glimpses of other worlds, perhaps, inhabited by beings far beyond his imagination. Tatsumi doesn’t stop to explore them. Carried by an unexplainable pull, he flies past all of them, on and on until he loses all sense of space or time.
And then, from one moment to the next, he flies into a bright light and his feet hit solid ground.
Tatsumi opens his eyes. He doesn’t know when he has taken up human shape again, but when he looks down along himself he sees the body he is used to: the lean teenage boy, dressed in his clan’s black and purple, black hair falling into his eyes and obscuring his vision. But his wound is gone, and when he feels for his sword he discovers it is no longer there.
Where…am I?
Tatsumi looks around. He has landed on a rocky shore, the waves of the sea crashing and foaming where they meet the land. His legs are up to the knees in water, but he barely registers the way it seeps through his clothes, and even though it’s cold, he doesn’t shiver.
So this is Meido, he thinks. He doesn’t know how he imagined the place to be, but somehow this isn’t it. This place looks like it belongs to the world of the living, except that, back in Ningen-kai, he couldn’t feel wind or warmth or water anymore after he died.
His eyes scan his surroundings, searching for other arrivants, other souls he might know. There is no one. He is alone.
Tatsumi starts walking.
Bordering on the shore is a deep, dark forest, the gnarled trees taller and older than anything found in the living world. All the same their shadows are eerily familiar, and as he passes between their roots he suddenly remembers why.
I carried her this way.
He has been here before, but back then he wasn’t alone. Back then he was alive, and he was half a demon, and on his arms he had a dying kitsune girl, unconscious and bleeding out. Now he isn’t injured anymore, not half drowned, not merged with the First Oni of Jigoku anymore. But his arms are empty, and the forest he walks through is silent except for the sound of his footsteps.
The forest deepens. On the edge of Tatsumi’s vision lights flicker by, but every time he stops and turns to look at them, they are already gone. Sometimes he thinks he can hear a voice calling out to him—Yumeko’s, Master Ichiro’s, Hakaimono’s—but there is never anyone there. The only thing around him are the trees, tall and silent and oblivious to his presence.
There are no times of the day here, no sunrise or sunset. There is no wind, no weather; only the trees, the undergrowth, the ever-unchanging light beneath their branches. Tatsumi keeps walking. He doesn’t know where he’s going, where he wants to go. He doesn’t know if he has anywhere to go. For all his life he has always had a destination, a place to go, a task to fulfill. But now there is nothing, nothing except for the great unknown.
Tatsumi keeps walking. He’s used to walking great distances alone. For most of his life, he has always been alone.
Except…has he?
Not truly alone, he realizes. Hakaimono has always been with him for the better part of his life, a constant presence that ensured he was never truly on his own. Abruptly Tatsumi finds himself missing the oni. He was the one responsible for most of his torment, and yet he would rather hear the demon’s taunting than nothing at all.
Without Hakaimono, all on his own—who is he, anyway?
Tatsumi’s feet stumble. The trees around him look exactly the same as those he already passed a few hours ago, or maybe days. Is it an illusion? Has he been walking in circles? Where is he coming from? Where is he going? Has he ever been headed anywhere at all?
And then his eyes land on a shimmering light in the distance, and though he doesn’t have a pulse anymore, his heart skips a beat.
This glade…
Forgetting himself, Tatsumi runs, crashing through the undergrowth into the light beyond. And sure enough, there it lies: the very glade where he called on the Kirin to bring Yumeko back to life, mere days ago and yet an eternity away. Except now the glade is dead and empty, and there are no kodama watching him from the trees, no sacred spirit to bring back the girl he loves more than life itself.
He is alone. Completely, truly alone.
Everyone and everything he held dear is worlds away, and he has no way to return.
His vision blurring, he falls to his knees. Can souls cry if they have no bodies to form tears with? For the first time in many years Tatsumi wants to cry, wants to break down sobbing until there are no tears left in his body, calling Yumeko’s name over and over until she hears him and answered. And yet there are no tears in his eyes, no sobs escaping from the tangle in his chest, no words coming from his ghostly mouth no matter how much his soul aches with loneliness and deep, deep loss.
Darkness falls around him. Tatsumi doesn’t know how long he sits there, unable to look up, unable to move, unable to think of anything other than Yumeko’s tear-stained, beautiful face. His light is gone. Gone, gone beyond his reach for many years, perhaps centuries, and all that remains for him are the shadows grinning at him like they want to swallow him up.
“…san? Kage-san!”
Something in Tatsumi stirs. This voice…he knows this voice. The shadows lift a little.
“Oi, Kage-san, can you hear me?” Footsteps rustle through the grass behind him, then a hand appears in his field of vision. “Are you awake? Hey!”
Tatsumi stirs, but his soul is still too heavy to respond, let alone take the long, familiar hand that is waving before his eyes. Something slides down his face, and it takes him a moment to register that it’s a single teardrop falling from his eye.
“He must be heartbroken,” another familiar voice remarks, and on the edge of Tatsumi’s vision something bright and shimmering moves over the grass. “Let us give him time, Okame-san. He may not yet be ready to stand up and speak.”
Tatsumi can’t respond, but he doesn’t have to. Two figures sit down beside him, one on either side. A hand comes to rest on his back, warm and strangely alive even though souls should be intangible. Another slides across his shoulders, then an arm wraps around his back and pulls him over to slump against a bony shoulder.
“I get how you feel,” Hino Okame mutters, his voice very quiet. “I miss Yumeko-chan too. She was like the little sister I never had.”
“We all miss Yumeko-san,” Taiyo Daisuke remarks, still resting his hand on Tatsumi’s back. “I am glad she still lives, but however selfish it sounds, our lives are less bright for lack of her presence.”
Little by little, the darkness around Tatsumi clears. His soul is still heavy, but the pain of losing Yumeko is now less acute, less overwhelming. Slowly, he lifts his head to look up at his two companions.
Hino Okame and Taiyo Daisuke. Yumeko’s friends, he thinks, and only tangentially his. If at all. They barely had any time to get to know each other.
“Why are you here?” he asks, his voice raspy from lack of use.
“We came across you on our search,” Daisuke replies, smiling quietly. “We have been looking for you for a while.”
Tatsumi blinks, an unfamiliar emotion fluttering up inside him. “For me?” he repeats. “Why?”
Okame offers a lopsided grin.
“We know how it’s like to be lonely,” he says, scratching his head the same way he did back when he was still alive. “So, you know. We were worried about you.”
Tatsumi’s soul tangles up into knots.
“Why?” he asks quietly. “I was never your friend.”
“You always were,” Daisuke corrects him.
“Yeah, you were a bit scary,” Okame admits. “But you’re still part of the family. Also, who else is supposed to look after you for Yumeko-chan?”
“I…” Tatsumi’s words fail him. He still isn’t used to kindness, to being cared for. And yet here these two are, offering just that.
“Thank you,” he mutters at length, staring at the grass and suddenly feeling like a small child.
Smiling again, Daisuke stands up, offering him a hand. Tatsumi takes it and rises to his feet, assisted by Okame from the side. To his amazement, he finds he can stand again. The glade doesn’t look quite as empty anymore.
“Let us go,” Daisuke says. “Reika-san will be glad to hear we found you.”
“Oh, she sure will,” Okame mutters. “The shrine maiden’s been nagging us for ages. Some things never change.”
Side by side they pass through the forest. The trees quickly grow less dense on either side, light filtering in through the branches until they finally step out into the open. A town rises up ahead of them, but even closer lies an almost-familiar shrine.
“Reika-san!” Okame calls. “We found him!”
There is a shuffle from inside, then the shrine maiden comes out. “About time!” she exclaimed. “What took you two so long? Kage-san!”
Hurrying up to him, she looks him up and down, inspecting his form as if looking for injuries. “Your soul is very battered,” she remarks, furrowing her brow. Turning to the noble and ronin, she adds, “What were you two thinking, taking so long to bring him back? Look at the state he’s in!”
“We humbly apologize,” Daisuke answers before Okame can respond with something less polite. “We only found him very recently, and at first he was in no state to walk. We brought him in as soon as we could.”
“Merciful Kami! Next time, Chu and I are doing the searching alone.” Reika lets out a huff. “Come on, Kage-san! Before you go anywhere else, we need to patch you up.”
---
Some time later Tatsumi finds himself sitting in the shrine, covered in patches and bandages by Reika’s skillful hands. “There you go,” she says. “This is as far as I can mend you. Some of your wounds are too deep for me to handle.”
Tatsumi looks up and down along himself, not understanding a thing. “Wounds?” he repeats.
“Your soul is badly hurt,” Reika answers. “I’ve done what I can for the more recent injuries, but there’s a lot that needs to heal on its own. I suspect you won’t be able to be reborn until your soul has fully finished healing.”
Dread jolts through him. “How long will that take?”
“I can’t say,” Reika replies, and the dread teeters on the edge of despair. “It depends on the person. The best thing you can do is try and heal from the bad things you dealt with in your lifetime.”
That’s a lot, Tatsumi thinks. So much he barely knows where to start.
“How do I do that?” he asks.
Reika hesitates.
“There is no one-size-fits-all solution,” says an aged voice from the door. “However, the best thing you can do is surround yourself with good things to balance out the bad.”
Reika lifts her gaze, her face lighting up. “Master Jiro!”
Striding over, the old priest sits down across from Tatsumi, Ko—in small dog form—curling up at his feet. “Find people who make you happy,” he says. “Do things that make you happy. Take your time to process all that happened to you, and then leave it in the past.”
People who make me happy. Things that make me happy.
At first Tatsumi’s mind comes up all Yumeko. If he could spend time with her, he thinks, he would surely heal in no time. Except, that isn’t an option. And suddenly she seems further away than ever.
Except, something within him whispers, he isn’t alone. He is sitting in this shrine flanked by Yumeko’s friends who insist they are also his friends, who found him in the middle of despair, picked him up and brought him here to be pieced back together. He didn’t get to know them much while alive. But maybe now he actually has a chance.
“In that case,” he says hesitantly, fully prepared for a rejection, “may I stay here with you for a while?”
The smiles on the others’ faces tell him all he needs to know.
---
“There you are, Kage-san!” Okame calls out to him as he enters the shrine, returning from a walk and a lot of thinking. “Sit down, we’ve been saving a spot for you!”
Wary, Tatsumi pauses, regarding the ronin, then the noble with him, both smiling so invitingly that it’s obvious they’re up to no good. “What?”
“Sake,” Daisuke explains, motioning to the bottle between them. “Okame-san found it in town. Would you like some?”
For a second Tatsumi wants to say no, mentioning his duties, and then he remembers he doesn’t have duties anymore. He is free to drink, if he wants to. He isn’t sure how comfortable he is…but then again, without a body, can spirits even get drunk?
“Just a little,” he says, sitting down beside his companions. Okame doesn’t look for further encouragement before pouring a cup of sake and handing it to him. Tatsumi eyes it, then the ronin, and frowns.
“I said a little,” he remarks.
“That is a little,” Okame shoots back. “Just take it! If you’re that much of a lightweight, take a sip every hour or something while we get wasted.”
Muttering an awkward thanks, Tatsumi takes a sip and can’t help grimacing. He has never much liked the pungent taste of alcohol, and the smell strongly reminds him of the stuff healers used to put on his wounds to keep them from getting infected.
“Disgusting,” he mutters.
Okame bursts out laughing. “It’s nasty when you first try it, huh?” he says, patting Tatsumi so hard on the back that he almost spills the sake. “Don’t worry, Kage-san! Just keep forcing it down, and someday you won’t be able to live without it.”
Now it’s Daisuke’s turn to laugh as Tatsumi snorts. “Is that a good thing?”
“No, it isn’t!” Reika’s voice comes from the next room. “We already have one alcoholic too many in this house,” she adds, poking her head out through the door. “Don’t you dare corrupt Kage-san with it!”
Okame eyes her up and down, then a smirk crosses his face. “Would you like a cup, Reika-san?” he says. “I’m sure we’d all love to see what our proper shrine maiden’s like piss-drunk.”
She chucks her comb at him, which he easily dodges. “Keep dreaming!” she shouts. “I wouldn’t think of it!”
Picking up the comb, Daisuke turns it over in his hand before an idea lights up his face, and he sticks it into Tatsumi’s hair. “Why, it suits you,” he remarks. “You should keep it in, Kage-san.”
“No, he shouldn’t! Give me my comb back, you thieves! I’m so sorry for their nonsense, Kage-san.” Pacing across the room, Reika reaches for Tatsumi’s hair, then gives him an appraising look. “Though Taiyo-san’s right, it does suit you.”
Tatsumi blinks. “I can’t say,” he replies. “I don’t have a mirror to check.”
The shrine erupts with laughter. Tatsumi doesn’t understand what he said that was so funny, but in the face of all this mirth he can’t help cracking a smile anyway.
---
Reika blinks as she looks up from the texts she was studying, visibly surprised to find Tatsumi in the doorframe. He understands her bafflement; he rarely seeks out the others, even now, Master Ichiro’s lessons about keeping distance still too drilled into his mind. But Master Jiro has told him to get rid of all that, so here he is, making an effort.
“What’s wrong?” the shrine maiden asks.
Tatsumi takes a breath, even though, as a ghost, he doesn’t technically need it. “Nothing,” he says. “Can you teach me about healing?”
Turning fully around, she stares at him like she thinks she didn’t hear him right. “Healing?” she repeats. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind, but…why all of a sudden?”
Tatsumi looks away. “I realized the only thing I know is how to fight,” he admits, his voice quiet and a little awkward. “I have no other skills, no interests, nothing. So…I thought I should change that.”
Reika gets up.
“Of course,” she says. “No problem at all. What would you like to know?”
For the next hour or two she lectures him about herbs and salves, cures for illnesses, pain and exhaustion. She mostly leaves out the part about patching up wounds, fully aware that Tatsumi knows that all too well already. Tatsumi listens closely. There are so many things she knows that he has never heard before, things that he hopes he’ll remember again in Ningen-kai so he can save people’s lives with this knowledge.
“You’re a good student,” Reika remarks when they finally take a break. “You pick things up fast, and you don’t ask stupid questions. I can’t imagine what would happen if I had to teach the other two idiots instead!”
“Teach what idiots what?” says a voice from the doorframe.
Reika snorts. “Speak of the devil,” she says. “How long have you been eavesdropping?”
“We just came in,” Okame retorts, entering the room followed by Daisuke. “What’s going on?”
“I’m trying to learn about healing,” Tatsumi explains. “All I can do is fight, and I want to change that.”
Daisuke’s face lights up with understanding. “Broadening your horizons is always a good idea, Kage-san,” he says. “If you would like further help, I can teach you about music and literature as well.”
Tatsumi lifts his head. “I would like that,” he says. “Thank you.”
Okame pulls a face.
“I don’t really know anything fancy,” he admits, cracking a wry smile. “But I guess I could teach you about playing dice.”
Tatsumi snorts, but he also smiles.
“I’ll take it.”
---
The moon is shining when Tatsumi steps outside, startled to find that he isn’t alone at the small stream passing in front of the shrine.
“Oh, it’s you,” Okame mutters, briefly meeting his eyes where he sits on the grass. “What brings you out here?”
For a moment Tatsumi doesn’t say anything; he only sits down beside the ronin, pulling at the grass. “You look like something is bothering you,” he remarks at length.
Okame lets out a humorless laugh. “Is it that obvious? Yeah, I guess there is,” he admits. “It’s nothing to worry about, though.”
Tatsumi looks up at him, his messy hair silhouetted against the light of the full moon.
“You can tell me,” he says.
Blinking, the ronin turns to stare down at him. “Hey, now—”
“You were there for me when I needed it,” Tatsumi adds. “Let me return the favor.”
Dark eyes rest on him, a heavy gaze, pensive and hesitant. Then Okame lets out a defeated sigh.
“I saw my brother today,” he says.
Tatsumi pauses. “What?”
“Yasuo. My younger brother,” Okame explains. “When we were out on the town. I don’t know if he recognized me, but…I keep thinking about it.” He stabs a hand through his hair. “You know, when my clan held that siege on your clan…he and I were both there, back then. Except I got scared and ran away from the final battle. And he stayed behind and died.” He swallows. “I left him to die.”
Tatsumi doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t know how to comfort people, except maybe Yumeko. And certainly not in a situation like this.
“It was so long ago,” Okame continues, “but I keep thinking about it. If I wasn’t such a coward, maybe I could’ve gone after him. Told him I’m sorry for abandoning him. But…” He shrugs. “Would he even want to hear it? Our relationship was never that great…maybe he’ll refuse to forgive me.”
Turning the ronin’s words in his mind, Tatsumi thinks, wondering what to do. Wondering what he would do in such a situation—what she would do.
“Yumeko,” he muses, “would tell you to talk to him anyway.”
Okame looks up.
“She’d say it’s clearly still bothering you, and you should get it off your chest,” Tatsumi continues slowly. “If he forgives you, maybe you can forgive yourself. And if he doesn’t, then at least you tried.”
“…you’re probably right.”
Taking a deep breath, Okame pushes himself to his feet, flashing a grin down at Tatsumi. “You’ve changed,” he remarks. “The old you was all prickly and loner-y, and here you are snapping me out of my funk.” He ruffles Tatsumi’s hair. “Thanks so much, Kage-san! I guess I’ll get myself some liquid courage and then go talk to him.”
For most of the next day Okame is absent, and when he returns his eyes are red and swollen from crying. But his features are also glowing with relief, and the grateful smile on his face tells Tatsumi everything he needs to know.
---
“Tatsumi-kun,” says a voice in the street, “it has been a while.”
Tatsumi spins around, his long-forgotten walls shooting up in a heartbeat. He knows this voice, even though the man it belongs to has aged in his absence; his hair is fully white now, his face covered in wrinkles. All the same, it barely takes him a second to recognize him.
“Master Ichiro,” he whispers. Panic grabs him. His eyes flit to the friends at his side, crowding closer to him as if sensing his fear. He wants to tell them not to. This man will surely beat him for letting people into his circle, and then force him to banish them all—or worse, cut them down to prove his loyalty to the Kage and the Kage alone.
But Master Ichiro doesn’t do any of these things. He only smiles—a sad, almost grandfatherly smile the likes of which he never showed while the two of them still lived.
“So we meet again,” he says. “I was hoping to see you here someday. I have had many students after you, but you are still my favorite.”
Something inside Tatsumi recoils at the phrasing. “Your favorite?” he repeats quietly.
“You were like a son to me,” Master Ichiro says. “It’s a shame I needed to be so strict with you to ensure your survival. I loved you dearly, you know.”
Loved me? Master Ichiro…loved me? Like a son?
Little by little, Tatsumi’s lips form the next words, quiet, calm yet filled with deep betrayal. “And you never told me?”
Master Ichiro blinks, taken aback. “Tatsumi-kun—”
“Don’t make me laugh!”
Bursting past Tatsumi’s side, Reika leaps into his path, glaring up at the old master like she wants to strangle him. “You loved him? Like a son?” she yells. “Don’t be ridiculous! Don’t even think of claiming the title of love when all you ever did was cause him pain and suffering!”
For a second, Tatsumi is convinced Master Ichiro will hit the shrine maiden, right here, in the middle of the street. But his old teacher does no such thing. He only frowns.
“I needed to do so,” he tries to explain. “It was for his own safety. Otherwise, Tatsumi-kun would—”
“Silence!”
Reika is positively trembling with rage. “For your own good! For your own safety! How many times have I heard that excuse?” Her hands are clenched into fists, barely restrained from grabbing Master Ichiro’s collar and shaking him. “I don’t care what you tell me! People who claim to love their children and hurt them ‘for their own good’ should never be allowed to raise a child—”
“Reika-san.”
Striding past, Daisuke places a hand on her shoulder, gently pulling her back. “It’s all right, Reika-san,” he says in an undertone. “Leave it to Kage-san.”
Taking a sharp breath, Reika closes her eyes and forces herself to calm down. At the same time, Okame gives Tatsumi a subtle nudge forward. “Go tell him, Kage-san!”
Tatsumi looks at his friends. Then at Master Ichiro. The man who raised him…the man who caused him so much pain.
The fear is still deep within him, intensely and painfully real. But…he isn’t the same person he used to be.
Tatsumi bows his head.
“Thank you for raising me,” he says, “and telling me the truth.”
Reika lets out a disbelieving gasp, but Tatsumi squares his jaw. Sizes up his old master. Swallows the fear of repercussions.
Then he swings and punches him hard across the face.
“And that,” he says as he returns to his cheering friends, leaving a startled Ichiro behind, “is for everything else.”
He doesn’t notice until later, but a large part of his soul heals that day.
---
When Tatsumi feels the pull, he almost doesn’t want to leave.
Of course he can’t wait to see Yumeko again. But returning to her will mean leaving his friends behind, the people he has grown to love so dearly, the people who helped him heal. He’s going to miss them. Even if, sooner or later, he will surely meet them here again.
“I have to go soon,” he tells them when he can’t resist the pull for much longer. “I can feel Ningen-kai calling. But…I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”
The others’ faces are both happy and sad. “I’m glad you can return to Yumeko-chan,” Reika says. “May you be happier in your next lifetime.”
“Happier, and may you live longer,” Daisuke adds. “We shall miss you. But, who knows—maybe we shall soon follow you into Ningen-kai.”
“Or we’ll still wait here when you come back,” Okame replies. “Either way, look after Yumeko-chan for us. Tell her we still miss her.”
Tatsumi feels choked up, but he cracks a smile. “I will.”
A heavy silence falls. The pull grows stronger. None of them know what to say.
“Thank you all,” Tatsumi says at length. “I’ll never forget what you three did for me.”
Daisuke smiles. “Don’t mention it.”
“That’s what friends are for,” says Reika.
Friends, Tatsumi repeats in his head. His friends.
He’s going to miss them so much.
But the pull grows ever stronger, nearly impossible to resist. “It’s almost time,” Tatsumi says. “I—”
This is as far as he gets before Okame pulls him into a crushing embrace.
Tatsumi splutters, but before he can respond, Daisuke and Reika join them to form a big hug-pile. Tatsumi tries to hug them all back at once, physical impossibilities be damned. Okame sniffles a little.
“Take care,” he says. “Good luck.”
Tatsumi closes his eyes. Then, suddenly, the pull grows too strong, and he transforms into a ball of light and starts drifting away towards Ningen-kai…towards a new life, hopefully with Yumeko.
On the grass by the shrine, the other three remain behind.
Okame wipes his eyes, sniffling again. “I miss him already,” he says.
“Me too,” Reika answers. “Now who am I supposed to give tired looks to when you two are being ridiculous?”
Daisuke smiles sadly.
“We shall all miss him, I think,” he says. “After all, he is part of the family.”
---
From the chamber of Kage Haruko’s daughter-in-law erupt the cries of a newborn baby.
Kage Kousuke has a little brother. The child has wide, solemn eyes with a hint of purple, and somehow he looks like he has already been to this chamber, this palace.
They name him after a hero, the fearless young shinobi who slayed the Harbinger and then the kitsune god.
A boy named Tatsumi will surely be just as brave.
19 notes · View notes
vixxscifiwritings · 3 years
Text
lilac melancholy
Length - 4590 words
Characters - Hongbin x Sanghyuk, VIXX Ensemble
Rating - Teen and Up
Summary - Sanghyuk wonders bitterly if he has loved Hongbin or if he has regretted him longer.
Tag List -  @tomatoholmes @merlionmen @seraphistols  @k-craze-97 @blossomtearsleo
-
01
The days that pass by are drowsy, packed with heat and the roaring noise of factory machines from the mills three blocks over. The posters peel off the electricity pole, revealing the maroon red rusting beneath. A single touch would result in your skin burning from the ferrous substrate.
The power is gone once again, like it usually was during the afternoons. Hongbin watches as Sanghyuk flips through the pages of the copy of Sputnik Sweetheart , stolen from his older brother’s bookshelf. Sanghyuk is too young to understand these stories, his brother insists. What does a thirteen year old know of people feeling melancholy and emptiness from unrequited love and unattachment?
Hongbin likes to think that he knows. There is a far away look in his eyes now, an emptiness inside him ever since his mother finally up and left. His father abandons all pretenses of the family being together and stops coming home entirely that one fateful night in April. At fifteen, Hongbin understands melancholy and loneliness in ways Sanghyuk’s brother thinks Sanghyuk won’t.
“You’re doing that thinking thing again” Sanghyuk points out and Hongbin hums. It is June now and it is far too hot for Hongbin to sling his arms around Sanghyuk’s waist and bury his face in his shoulder to hide the emotions that are always on display on his face. He hates that the most about himself even if he feels safe enough in Sanghyuk’s presence.
“It’ll be good if you thought in a while too” Hongbin retorts, letting the sassy facade take over. How many times can he be sad about the same things till Sanghyuk gives up on consoling him?
“Are you thinking about your mother?”
“What makes you say that?”
“It was her birthday yesterday. I saw you looking at the calendar you have hidden away under your mattress” Sanghyuk confesses. His voice is still high pitched and hasn’t grown deep the way Hongbin’s has. In his childlike voice, everything sounds naive and innocent and Hongbin always forgives him for it. There is not much room to hide secrets in this sixteen by twenty feet room they share.
“It’s okay to miss her,” Sanghyuk adds, putting his arm around Hongbin’s waist. Hongbin turns to his left to look at Sanghyuk. His face is only a few inches from his own and his gaze is steady, searching for the answers to the complex maze of emotions that Hongbin himself does not have.
“I don’t want to miss her. Not when everyone knows she doesn’t miss me” Hongbin says. It’s commendable that the anger and bitterness he has kept bottled up doesn’t explode vehemently into those lines. The feelings flood his mind every time the topic is brought up and Hongbin does his best to stop the flow of emotions with the success of duct tape holding together a pipe bursting at its seams.
“Okay” Sanghyuk says. His actions are different from his words because he pulls Hongbin in and holds him and lets Hongbin bury his face in Sanghyuk’s neck like he always does. He kisses the back of Hongbin’s head and pats his back and lets Hongbin intertwine his legs with his own and holds him despite the stuffy heat. The sun shines angrily on the dry ground outside but Hongbin thinks he only has a grey misty sky clouding his mind.
“Will you leave me when you grow up?” Hongbin asks Sanghyuk. Sanghyuk’s brother will leave in September. He’ll go to a reputed college on the other side of the country and that will be one more person in his found family who does not come back home regularly.
“You’re older than me. You’ll be the one who leaves first” Sanghyuk reminds him.
“Kiss me” Hongbin asks in lieu of replying. Those are demons he harbours for darker days. Hongbin is selfish that way. He will hold onto whatever he can for however long he has it because he knows nothing lasts. The old yellowing wedding card promising eternal love and happiness that his father hides in his closet is proof that nothing lasts.
But when he feels Sanghyuk’s lips on his own the static in his mind drops to a quiet hum. Sanghyuk is skinny and his body feels bony under Hongbin’s small fingers. Sanghyuk hovers over him and his weight is a pleasant distraction from the world. The way Hongbin calls Sanghyuk’s name when he runs his fingers through his hair is a rhythmic metronome that is spoken in hushed tones to keep his dependency on Sanghyuk’s affection a secret from the rest of the world.
Sanghyuk falls asleep in Hongbin’s arms but when he wakes up, Hongbin is not in his room. His brother tells him that he went home and comments on how odd it is and how Hongbin should move in with them properly instead of staying in that lonely apartment. Sanghyuk nods but knows Hongbin won’t return for a few more days.
Sanghyuk doesn’t see him for days following moments like the one they shared earlier today. It happened the first time they kissed and the second and the third. It will happen again tomorrow. Maybe Sanghyuk will see him by the field, playing football with Wonshik and inviting him to join the game like nothing has happened. Or maybe hanging out at the cafe in the mall because the part timer there has a soft spot for him and always gives him free milkshakes. Sanghyuk doesn’t know.
He tries not to think about it and goes back to reading.
-
02
If there is one part about growing up that Sanghyuk thinks he will never get used to, it’s the parties. He likes people but he doesn’t like dozens of them stuffed into tiny spaces that reek of smoke and cheap shitty alcohol that is more likely to cause nausea over intoxication. He draws his jacket close and finds a chair by the kitchen’s island counter to sit on.
It’s the premium view to everyone else’s bad decisions. Sanghyuk regrets not bringing his earphones along (he swears they should be in the pocket of his jacket). He makes peace with listening to whatever indie song is playing in the background. Or whatever is audible of it over the incessant chattering of the crowd.
“Leather looks good on you,” Hongbin says, materializing out of nowhere to grab a cup of the fruit punch that has definitely been spiked.
“Thanks,” Sanghyuk says, pulling on the cuff. The leather jacket is an old jacket that his father almost throws out but Sanghyuk sneaks back in. It has cracks around the elbow where it has been bent up and two yellow stripes on the right sleeve but he doesn’t know what that signifies. He likes to think it’s a cult of sorts. The allure of being part of an underground secret society is always high.
“Kinda short for your normal sleeves,” Hongbin says, tugging on the part of Sanghyuk’s overshirt that peeks through from the jacket. It’s dark blue and not visible in the dim purple lights till you really go looking. His father was shorter than him whenever he got this jacket but Sanghyuk knows Hongbin is not interested in explanations. Sanghyuk focuses on the way the rough skin of his fingers feel against his softer skin. Hongbin has rough hands from all the chores he does on his own and lack of belief in hand creams that Sanghyuk’s baby sister rubs on his hands during tea parties insisting he keep them soft.
Hongbin focuses on looking at Jaehwan across the room. Jaehwan who has blonde hair now and is leaning against the wall while laughing at something someone from the football team said. Sanghyuk doesn’t know the name of the dude but he isn’t interested in finding out. Even while Hongbin asks after Sanghyuk’s family and school life, his eyes stray towards that corner of the room.
When Jaehwan returns his gaze and smiles at Hongbin, Hongbin smiles in a way his dimples appear. He has one of those faces. The kind you would see on magazines on the racks of newspaper stands at bus stops. The black eyeliner enhances his brown eyes and Sanghyuk thinks that all Hongbin is missing is a pretty nude shade lipstick. Though lipsticks do nothing except spread inconveniently when being kissed. Or so he has been told.
He hasn’t kissed Hongbin since the summer where he was fourteen but the urge never really goes away.
“I think I should go get a refill,” Hongbin says when Jaehwan walks over. Sanghyuk shrugs and Hongbin makes a beeline for the punch the same time Jaehwan appears by the island counter. Jaehwan is only here to chaperone his younger brother who is throwing the party, Sanghyuk gathers from the bits of conversation filtering through. The music is too loud for indoor voices to be heard. Hongbin is here just because Wonshik wanted to get drunk. Sanghyuk doesn’t need to eavesdrop to know that.
He taps out when the conversation progresses. He finds Wonshik who is truly wasted and is glad someone out of the three in this friend group is getting what they want out of the night. Sanghyuk wonders if it is a fair standard of evaluation if he started the night without knowing what he wanted. He looks towards Hongbin who is laughing at a weird face Jaehwan is making and adds a thought about unrealistic wants and needs.
It’s stupid. Hongbin is nineteen but is as unreachable as someone who would be twenty five. Hongbin is too pretty for him. Too smart, too pretty and too witty. They have too much history. And now Hongbin is kissing Jaehwan and is definitely not in love with Sanghyuk the way Sanghyuk is in love with him.
Wonshik pouts at Sanghyuk and leans forward till his head rests on Sanghyuk’s shoulder. Wonshik is only an inch taller. In a year or two, Sanghyuk is confident he will outgrow the other man. “I wish they wouldn’t suck faces in public” Wonshik grimaces when he follows Sanghyuk’s line of vision. Sanghyuk looks away and tugs his jacket closer. Maybe it is too short for him after all since it cannot afford the comfort of sleeve paws the way sweaters can. Maybe he should get a new jacket. Or maybe Sanghyuk should have just stayed at home.
Wonshik has a ride home and waves Sanghyuk off when he leaves the party. He makes his way to the bus stop at the end of the block and sits down. The party music is a hum in the background and the cold air is sobering. Sanghyuk weighs his options. He can go home and read for the rest of the night or walk to the arcade five blocks away and blow the rest of his pocket money and see if he can earn enough tickets to buy himself the badly stitched teddy bears they sell.
Hongbin likes those teddy bears. He’ll lie and say no if you ask him and spout bullshit about how they just represent the principle of winning that he loves so much. But he is a sucker for cute things and Sanghyuk knows from the way his eyes lit up when Sanghyuk won a brown teddy bear and threw it at him last summer. He has a small version threaded into the metal ring that acts as a keychain.
Sanghyuk thinks that he should stop thinking.
One year. Just a year, he tells himself. Then he’ll be off to university and he will meet other people and he might even discover that he doesn’t actually like dimples or brown eyes or rough hands so much. One more year and he won’t be haunted by the unrequited feelings that seem to grow stronger instead of fading against all laws of the universe and logic.
Sanghyuk treks back home and thinks he should worry about saving up for a second hand car or actually passing that stupid driver’s test. He finds his earphones tangled with the fabric of the inner pocket of his jacket once he reaches home and he laughs at the bad luck of his timing.
-
03
Hongbin doesn’t realise that he has gotten used to the loneliness that comes from Sanghyuk’s absence.
He calls during the first year of university. Hongbin thinks Sanghyuk’s voice on the phone sounds very different from the way it sounds in real life. It sounds deeper and grave in ways Hongbin doesn’t remember. Sanghyuk has always been wise beyond his years. Maybe he thrives in the real world with the same grown up concerns that Hongbin does not like grappling with.
Then Sanghyuk gets an email id because it is useful and sends emails instead of calling. The letters are short and really Hongbin is shit at keeping in touch because he doesn’t have anyone else who tries. Wonshik has always been in the same town and Sanghyuk has always been around to the point that Hongbin took his presence for granted. He never thought Sanghyuk would ever go away like his brother did.
The emails come once a week and then once a month and finally on holidays and only contain generic good wishes.
Until Wonshik shows up at his door with Sanghyuk in tow,carrying a small duffle bag filled with clothes and essentials. It’s just for a week while Wonshik’s studio gets renovated, he assures him. Sanghyuk only needs a couch to crash on for a week and he can move back in with Wonshik for the rest of winter till he has to go back to university for his final semester. Hongbin didn’t even know that Sanghyuk was in town and he used to know every secret once upon a time. He doesn’t know why he isn’t staying with his family and he doesn’t know if he can ask.
“You can stay as long as you need,” Hongbin says, offering to make coffee for everyone. Wonshik denies the offer. He needs to leave first and look over the renovation work on his studio.
Sanghyuk looks nothing like Hongbin remembers him. He is taller than Wonshik by a few inches and his voice is deeper. His shoulders are broad and the large overshirts he wears only accentuate them. He took to working out when they still talked on the phone. He must definitely be more muscular too. Gone is the lanky teenager in his father;s old leather jacket that Hongbin remembers. Instead Sanghyuk is an adult who looks more mature than he should for the young age of twenty one.
“I didn’t think you read Hemingway” Sanghyuk says, picking up a copy of Farewell To Arms that’s lying on the coffee table.
“It isn’t my book. Taekwoon tends to leave behind whatever he is reading at the moment” Hongbin tells him. Taekwoon does that a lot. Forgetting things at Hongbin’s place and coming back for them weeks later when he is finally free enough to spend the night. It’s a peaceful arrangement for their unlabelled relationship. If he can even call it a relationship.
“Are you sure Taekwoon doesn’t mind me staying over?” Sanghyuk asks.
“Taekwoon doesn’t live here. Not fully anyways. And if anything, he would be happy to meet another bookworm” Hongbin shrugs.
“He’ll be disappointed. It’s been a while since I didn’t read a book to write a critique or a report on it” Sanghyuk says ruefully.
He flips through the pages till he finds the section he was looking for and folds up his legs to read comfortably. Sanghyuk spends the next two days voraciously reading through the books Taekwoon has left behind. He doesn’t talk more than necessary. It snows on the third morning that Sanghyuk stays over and they exchange remarks about the weather. Hongbin opens up a bottle of wine on Christmas eve and Sanghyuk accompanies him wordlessly.
He prefers white wine, Hongbin supposes when Sanghyuk downs the entire contents of his glass and grimaces at the after taste. He has grown to tolerate the taste of mushrooms and no longer separates them out of the microwaveable pasta meal that Hongbin makes. He prefers typing on his laptop to writing in notebooks, he gathers when he sees Sanghyuk tapping away on the kitchen table with a mug full of coffee next to him. It’s the ‘World’s Best Mom’ mug that Taekwoon left behind that Hongbin finds supremely ugly but it matches Sanghyuk’s presence. Unconnected but a lone puzzle piece that sits as the centerpiece in the void of Hongbin’s life.
Sanghyuk doesn’t smoke, Hongbin finds when they are lying on Hongbin’s bed in his bedroom and Sanghyuk denies the offer. Never took a liking to it, Sanghyuk confesses. Hongbin listens to a vinyl that Wonshik gifted him two years ago for his birthday and Sanghyuk says nothing about the 80s music. He thumbs through the earmarked pages of a collection of poems by T S Elliot.
“Taekwoon must really like classics” Sanghyuk deduces. There are very few books on the coffee table but Sanghyuk is intimately acquainted with them in ways Hongbin isn’t.
“He’s a sucker for them. Also likes Murakami the way you did in high school” Hongbin answers. He doesn’t get the appeal for reading. He doesn’t have the talent of losing himself in the written word that Taekwoon and Sanghyuk do. He doesn’t even know if he should envy them for the easily available method of escaping the dreary world around them.
“He has good taste” Sanghyuk compliments him.
“It’s a shame that you couldn’t meet him on this visit. He’s off celebrating Christmas with his family.”
“There will be many days in the future,” Sanghyuk says lazily. The way he turns the other way and avoids looking at Hongbin tells him that the other days will not come any time soon. Hongbin thinks of the emails in his inbox that he merely glances over and never knows how to reply to and doesn’t blame Sanghyuk.
If only he didn’t have to leave tomorrow. If only he could stay.
When Hongbin puts his arm around Sanghyuk’s waist and closes his eyes, he pretends he has the right to ask him to stay and that Sanghyuk won’t be gone the morning after. He’ll only be a few streets down the road in Wonshik’s studio till spring comes and he might even visit if he stops being a coward that only regrets and never acts.
His waist is broader than Taekwoon’s and Hongbin keeps that comparison in mind for days after when Taekwoon finally comes to visit and Hongbin hugs him to kiss him. Everything is back to normal now that Sanghyuk is gone once again but the world feels displaced out of orbit by the knowledge of what Hongbin is missing.
-
04
“I met Sanghyuk” Wonshik says, running his hands through his hair. He adjusts his chair for the fifteenth time since the conversation has started, much to the displeasure of the lady at the table over, trying to read the newspaper in peace.
“That… is sudden” Hongbin says, swirling the creamer into his coffee. Hongbin has known that Wonshik was seeing someone for a while now but doesn’t know who till the confession. Now there is a name that Hongbin hasn’t heard in years. A person he couldn’t live without once but has not talked to in four years. Is he allowed to miss him after never keeping in touch?
“He’s back for good this time” Wonshik tells him. “He’s going to teach at our old middle school. He’s weirded out by the idea of being colleagues with his old teachers. Did you know Mrs Kim is still teaching math after all these years? I thought she was over sixty when we were kids.”
Wonshik rambles on and Hongbin pays him no thought. Sanghyuk’s name brings up memories and feelings that it shouldn’t. Hongbin wonders if he has gotten any taller or if his voice is still deeper than he remembers and if he signs off emails with regards.
“We should have dinner together sometime,” Hongbin says when Wonshik finally stops.
“I’ll text him. You can’t bail like you did last time though” Wonshik warns. Hongbin flinches at the warning and offers an apologetic smile. Wonshik frowns at him. “It’s been a while since the three of us got time to hang out. It has literally been years since we properly spent time together.”
“Well, I’m not the one that shifted towns and lost touch, am I?” Hongbin says out loud without meaning to.
Wonshik’s expression softens and he shifts again awkwardly. Hongbin and Sanghyuk’s estrangement as they grew older when Wonshik once thought they were in love with each other as teenagers is a development he never addresses because he knows it wasn’t his place to. Realistically speaking, he can’t be friends with both people and skirt around the issue forever. A decade is a miracle on that count.
“I’m sorry. I just… Will you text Sanghyuk and set dinner up?” Hongbin apologizes. His pleasant facade is back and Wonshik knows he will never see his true feelings about the issue again. The bitterness is real in a way most of Hongbin’s actions aren’t. And it gives him hope to salvage this friendship. Wonshik doesn’t fancy losing friends as he grows older when he only has so many to begin with.
“It’s okay to say you missed him, you know? I missed him too” Wonshik says without the expectations of acknowledgement or responses. Hongbin hums in the way people do when lying about agreeing with something a child says. Wonshik knows Hongbin is complicated and he doesn’t expect him to resolve his feelings any time soon.
“I wonder if he likes moving back to town after living in a big city all these years” Hongbin deflects. He hasn’t acknowledged his feelings in the four years since he last saw Sanghyuk and he isn’t about to start now. Any moments of weakness like the one earlier will not be repeated again.
It takes two bottles of soju only for Hongbin to mess up. Wonshik drags the two of them to a tent bar that sells a variety of rice cakes along with cheap soju and beer and Hongbin agrees despite the lack of fried chicken. It’s a Friday night and the three of them drink the night away and laugh at Sanghyuk’s stories from his earlier teaching days. Stories that range from innocent but hilarious spelling mistakes in answer papers to outrageous pranks that Sanghyuk personally admires but must punish as a teacher.
A laughing and happy Sanghyuk is better than the sad young man who spent a week on Hongbin’s couch, not talking to him about the troubles weighing on his mind. Happiness suits him in ways melancholy never did. Hongbin thinks his skin shines and his eyes twinkle and Sanghyuk must know this because he catches Hongbin looking at him and looks at him with such pity in his eyes. Sanghyuk pities him and Hongbin feels pathetic about feeling happy that he feels something.
And so Hongbin leans on his arm all the way home even after they drop Wonshik off at his apartment. He leans on his arm and holds onto it like a drowning sailor holding onto a lifebuoy so they don’t drown. And he tells Sanghyuk about how his hair is soft and shiny and his nose is a tiny button and he cannot help but lean up and graze his lips against it. Sanghyuk laughs and calls him drunk but lets him bask in his warmth because Sanghyuk is his puzzle piece that fits with his odd edges, even if he will never say those words out loud.
Sanghyuk is surprisingly strong because he hauls Hongbin up to his feet and all the way to his apartment. Hongbin kisses him on his cheeks and thanks him for taking him home while laughing about… about something. He doesn’t know what it is that triggers his giggling fit but something does and Hongbin exclaims at Sanghyuk who is ready to drop him on his butt in front of his door if he doesn’t get his keys out soon. He exclaims at him and kisses him on his lips when he has his attention and this is why alcohol is terrible for you really. All of this is a regret in waiting for the morning after.
Sanghyuk stumbles on his way down the stairs in a way that makes it look like he never learnt how to walk. His cheeks are warm where Hongbin kissed him and his lips tingle in the way they do after eating something extremely spicy. He leans against the pole of the lamp post and sighs when the tingling doesn’t go away. He thinks of how he will hide this from Hakyeon.
It’s so easy to say nothing but a part of him vehemently protests about deceiving Hakyeon when Sanghyuk knows his residual feelings for Hongbin still linger. He should love his boyfriend more than the old flame who kissed him in the hallway. He shouldn’t have to remind himself that he loves Hakyeon and not Hongbin. Hakyeon is the one waiting for the text that says he got home safely and didn’t drink too much and he really shouldn’t let Wonshik drag him out on school nights. Not Hongbin, who Sanghyuk just dropped home, drunk out of his mind and still as complicated at thirty as he was at thirteen.
Sanghyuk really hates Hongbin more on nights like these.
“I don’t know what to do” he confesses to Hakyeon weeks after they break up. His feelings for Hongbin have always been a vine that grips his heart. He knows he cannot be rid of them without significant pain and hurt and so like a coward, he lets it fester because he knows he can ignore them forever. The roots dig into the walls of his heart and make him bleed and he bleeds because he is the biggest coward to exist on this planet.
“You do what your heart tells you is the right thing” is all Hakyeon says. He’s disappointed and it’s more than Sanghyuk deserves after everything Sanghyuk has just told Hakyeon. Hakyeon who is all gentle smiles and understanding and who Sanghyuk is grateful to even if it must end this way.
“Loving Hongbin is dangerous. He hurts you and nothing comes out of it and then he hurts you some more” Sanghyuk tells Hakyeon. Hongbin hasn’t called or texted after that night. Sanghyuk hasn’t either but its only because he knows Hongbin hates confronting his own feelings. He breaks hearts before his own can be broken and Sanghyuk thinks limbo of not knowing is better than definite pain.
“I don’t think you have it in you to stop,” Hakyeon says. His words would hurt if Sanghyuk didn’t feel tormented enough already. He sighs because he has no words and Hakyeon shifts the topic to other things that don’t matter in the moment and keeps the chatter up till it is no longer awkward to end the phone call.
When the call ends, Sanghyuk brings up his messaging app and stares at Hongbin’s number and watches the bubbles appear and disappear in the messages window.  As always, no texts follow and Sanghyuk leaves his phone on the nightstand because he should know better than to have hope.
Sanghyuk wonders bitterly if he has loved Hongbin or if he has regretted him longer.
-
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Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4 
Chapter Five:
Your classes this semester weren’t as hard as you had worried they would be. Luckily despite them all being in Korea you didn’t take any of your classes entirely in Korean, except for the course that helped you understand the local language. When you were at school you were surrounded by a ton of people that were your age and were all from other countries as well. There were only fifteen of you guys, but you all got along pretty well.
Unluckily for you, they had all heard about your run in with Seventeen, because they were pretty much all Kpop fans. They too were all wondering what you had done to deserve that attention from the boys.
What is Vernon like? Why did they comment on your post? Are you two really dating?
There was so much you wanted to say. So much you wanted to ask but so much that you couldn’t. Instead, you nervously smiled and responded that you supposed you were just lucky.
That had to be it. You must just be really lucky.
“We need to get some groceries,” Caitlin murmured as she looked through her phone. You glanced at her.
“We should swing by the store then,” you replied, putting your notebook into your backpack.
It had been about a week and a half since you last saw Jihoon. Your classes were a ten-minute walk away from Seventeen’s dorm. Your apartment was in the direction of Seventeen’s dorm from your classes. The grocery store you were going to was twenty minutes away from Seventeen’s dorm.
You hated it. You hated how you kept track of everywhere you went based on these measurements now.
You wanted to go by every day. You wondered if you did if one day you would see Jihoon there.
They were promoting their album. They were busy but you were selfish, you wanted to see him again. You wished you could see him again, you had so many questions you still needed to ask.
“Can we get a lot of snacks?” You asked. “Our budget is pretty good, right? I swear, recently all I want to do is eat.”
Julia laughed.
“Oh, we’ve noticed. I’m sure we can afford some… You’re getting a job soon right?”
You nodded.
You had applied for a job at a convenience store. It wasn’t that you needed to work while you were here. You were all well off and had saved a lot of money up for this trip but without having to work every week… Well, you were getting antsy. You had too much free time on your hands.
You really liked to be busy. Even though you generally got too busy and became very stressed you found that in the end, you were happiest when you had a lot on your plate. It made you feel productive when maybe somedays you weren’t really.
You had of course gotten the job. You started in a week, and you were excited to get back into customer service. You missed the customer interactions. You missed getting paid. You missed having coworkers. You missed doing more than just sitting around your room all day.
“You know, maybe while we are there we’ll see some idols,” you joked, a large smile crossing your face. “Jeon Jungkook oppa, where are you?”
Caitlin’s face reddened and she smacked your shoulder.
“Shut up, you’re one to talk Mrs. Lee Jihoon,” she cooed back. You rolled your eyes.
“Don’t be ridiculous, if anything he’s just humoring a fan.”
Even as you wrote off the situation a large smile was spread across your face. You couldn’t help but notice that recently you had been feeling a lot happier. Maybe it was because you were finally getting over your anxieties here in Korea. Maybe it was because you had blocked your dad who had been giving you so much anxiety in the first place. Making you feel bad for striving for the opportunity to study abroad. Maybe it was just that you were finally away from all of those people who made you feel especially worthless all the time. You had been told countless times that you couldn’t come to Korea. It would be too hard for you. You wouldn’t be able to afford it. You wouldn’t survive so far from your parents.
That had made you want to come even more. It had also made you that much more nervous when you arrived.
“Soju!” Caitlin sang, rushing over to the shelves with the alcohol. You laughed and rolled your eyes politely.
“You have a one-track mind. I’m going to go grab the toilet paper,” you said. You walked away from your friends and began to explore the aisles for what you were looking for. In one of the aisles, you noticed a taller guy with a face mask on. Your initial impression was that you should go into another aisle. Even all the way here in Korea you were nervous to be in an aisle with other people. You didn’t like to get in other people's way and preferred to just go into empty grocery store aisle but this one was the one that the toilet paper was in and you were trying to be less of a pushover, so you took a deep breath and walked down the aisle. The person glanced up at you, and you gave him a short smile.
He had a ball cap on so you couldn’t see him very well but… Well, he resembled…
You shook the thought out of your head and browsed the paper products, trying to figure out which one you should get. You looked to see which products were the most expensive and tried to recall the brand you guys had gotten last time.
“We always buy that.”
You startled and looked to your left. The guy was standing next to you, pointing at one of the more averagely priced packs.
“Oh um-”
“You’re her right? The one that ran into Vernon and Woozi and Seungkwan the other day?”
You squinted at him silently for a moment. From this angle, you could see his face better. You could make out the shape of the bags of his eyes like little crescent moons turned upwards.
“Seungcheol,” you breathed in surprise. You instinctively ducked your head into a deep bow, murmuring a polite hello to the boy. “What are the odds.”
“We shop here a lot,” Seungcheol responded. He smiled at you. “So it’s not that odd.”
“Are you shopping for everyone?” You asked him, pushing your hands into your back pockets. God, what did you even say to an idol when you ran into them on the street? There wasn’t really any protocol to this. You didn’t want to give him a bad impression of yourself.
“Yeah, I have to grab snacks for the others. We had a long practice today.”
“Oh, maybe you can tell me what’s good? I’ve been wanting to get myself some snacks,” you replied. You couldn’t tell for sure because he was wearing the facemask, but you could’ve sworn that Seungcheol smiled at that.
“You snack a lot?”
“I go through phases. Last year I swear all I did was get up in the middle of the night to eat snacks,” you admitted with a shy laugh. You picked up a pack of toilet paper and followed Seungcheol through the grocery store.
“Jihoon is the same way,” Seungcheol replied. “You know one time at two in the morning he woke up five members just to eat with him.”
You couldn’t help it- you laughed. For some reason, Jihoon didn’t seem like the type to eat snacks in the middle of the night. You had always assumed people would judge you for doing just that, and you had tried to get away from it when you moved into the apartments with your friends. You liked to snack on things like chips and hated to be loud. Back when you lived in dorms you had gotten into the habit of going out into the hall just to eat a bag of chips.
“That’s very…” you trailed off, reluctant to use the word that you wanted to use to describe the behavior. “Very… cute…”
Seungcheol laughed again.
“Mhm,” he asserted. “He likes rice cake and cold noodles the best, but he’ll eat anything. You would be surprised by how much he eats.”
You smiled despite yourself. God, it was so cute to imagine Jihoon sitting up at night in the middle of working on a new song, snacking on some noodles while he thought over what he had created. There was a reason you had always liked him so much and this was one of those reasons. It was so easy for you to imagine him doing things. Imagine him being domestic.
You had never thought you wanted anything domestic in your life, but biasing Woozi had made you think that maybe you were more domestic then you had originally thought you were.
“Why are you telling me this?” You asked softly. Seungcheol took a bag off of the shelf and put it in your arms. You looked down at it and tilted your head.
It took you a moment to translate the hangul, but once you did you deducted they were called “Honey twists”.
“Woozi eats these when he wants something sweet,” Seungcheol explained. He piled more stuff into your arms. Packs of spicy ramen, and bags of other sorts of chips. He even put triangular kimbap in your arms. Each time you questioned the action he just said that Woozi liked that kind of snack. Eventually, you stopped questioning it.
You were glad to have your appetite back. You had never been the kind of person to starve yourself. Sometimes you went a while without eating because you didn’t have a lot of time to eat, so you had gotten yourself into the habit of eating almonds on busy days to keep your appetite down, but you were not an unhealthy eater.
Wanting to constantly snack all the time, while not entirely healthy was part of your character. You felt like you weren’t even in your own skin when you weren’t hungry at two in the morning.
“I should find my friends,” you said eventually. Seungcheol looked up from his shopping list, and you had to admit he looked a little bit disappointed that you were leaving him to complete his grocery store adventures on your own. “Hey! It’s not really my preference but I haven’t seen my friends in like twenty minutes and I can’t keep leaving them hanging for Seventeen members.”
Seungcheol chuckled.
“Alright, well, I’ll tell Jihoon you said hi.”
You opened your mouth, your face reddening a bit as you tried to insist that he didn’t need to do that but, before you could the older boy was buried back in the ways of his shopping list and the contents of his shopping cart. You smiled and rolled your eyes, starting to make your way away from him.
“Wait!” You turned around, puzzled by the sudden attention from Seungcheol. When you looked back at him, you were surprised to see that his phone was propped up in his hand.
Click, click.
You opened your mouth. Seungcheol responded to the unasked question with a nonchalant wave of his hand and walked away.
God, these boys really were frustrating.
-
Your first day at the convenience store should have been completely uneventful, except that it wasn’t.
You spent the time interacting politely with customers. Your manager had warned you that as a foreigner, people might treat you a little differently and assume that you didn’t know the language or your way around the shop very well.
That was a valid concern but it ended up not really being the case.
You were a good employee. You always had been. You weren’t perfect in social situations but the minute you clocked in it was like you were the most social person in the city. If you could tell a customer needed help you politely gave them assistance if they asked for it or not. You melted the cold expressions on the customer's faces by talking to them about the weather or The Boyz new song or telling them that you weren’t familiar with Korea but were enjoying it either way.
You had some customers suggest places that you should eat and others tell you that you just had to go to this festival in their daughters' college town not far from here. It melted your heart to get to know the locals and find that a smile really did go a long way in customer service.
After nearly six hours behind the counter and a long wave of chatty customers who genuinely didn’t have a care in the world, you deflated a bit, finally left alone in the small convenience store.
“Look at you, working even while across the seas from home.”
You jumped, surprised to find Jihoon standing at the counter, a fond expression on his face. You smiled in relief. It was just Jihoon.
“Are you stalking me?” You responded, squinting your eyes at the just shorter idol. “I swear the amount at which I see you is… It’s just uncanny.”
Jihoon chuckled.
“No, no, it really is just random chance,” he replied pleasantly. His expression solemned and he put a chocolate bar on the counter. You began to ring him up, unable to shake the feeling of him staring at you with a thoughtful look on his face.
You had been around a few guys who liked you in your time. Guys who had been very interested in just staring at you when they thought you didn’t notice. It was because you were so friendly that guys usually liked you. You came off as a bit of an airhead. A naive, thoughtless girl who constantly wore a smile and had no cares in the world. You were shy, but extroverted and didn’t leave a single person out of a group activity if you could help it and that was why people liked you.
On the exterior, you were practically see through. You didn’t really have problems, all you cared about was everyone else and how they were feeling.
You were cute and you were nice. You were overly nice to people who weren’t used to being treated well too. As such, the people who liked you really just saw that… Exterior. Even though they watched you they only saw that much of you. They generally thought you needed help with everything that you did, even the simple things, and they assumed that they could touch you whenever and they assumed that you were okay with everything that happened around you.
In truth, you were quite capable, you didn’t really like to be helped with things you could do yourself. If you wanted to make a bad decision like walk through the snow with bare feet you wanted to be lightly told off but you wanted people to just think it was funny. You didn’t want to be forcibly lifted off the ground. Friends or not… It freaked you out to be trapped in someone's arms like that.
When you were passionately talking about something that didn’t matter to most people you wanted to be heard. You didn’t want to be degradingly called cute and laughed into silence.
You wanted to be with someone who didn’t like you because they thought you could be the emotional support they needed because you needed emotional support too.
That’s why you had never dated anyone before.
And that was why you were surprised when the feeling of Jihoon staring at you didn’t make you wildly uncomfortable.
That look always made you uncomfortable. You always sat there and pretended like you didn’t notice, trying your damnest not to react strangely to the sudden attention until they finally looked away from you.
You turned your head to face him. Neither of you smiled, but neither of you was upset either.
“Why a job in customer service?” Jihoon asked you. “You could do anything. You’re just in college but you certainly aren’t unqualified.”
“I like customer service,” you responded. You rattled off his total in the middle of the transaction. He acknowledged it. “You know, one time at my old job this customer was talking to a new employee and the employee didn’t know how to ring up a bag of ice. My manager, James, came over and helped the employee through the transaction. He was apparently so patient and kind, that it made the customers day. I mean, that story always blows my mind. He wasn’t even doing anything for her really. It was the way he interacted with the employee that made her day.”
You slipped Jihoon his receipt.
“That’s why customer service. The littlest thing that I do can completely make somebodies day and if I get paid to make someone smile then it’s just that much more worth it… Do you want a bag?”
Jihoon shook his head and pointed at the candy bar.
“This is for you by the way,” he murmured. “It’s one of your favorites right?”
You stared at the bar blankly, your eyebrows wrinkling a little.
“Y...Yeah, how did you know that?”
Jihoon didn’t answer that question so you asked a different one.
“How long have you been here?” You asked him.
“Long enough to know that this convenience store is going to get a lot more popular,” he replied. He pushed the receipt in his pocket and gave you a short wave goodbye.
Chapter Six
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babeejeon · 5 years
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tag tag tag
 @livlovesbangtan and @gukieyoongles tagged me, thanxx 🤭🤭🤭 
I wrote too much stuff and also stupid stuff, feel free to pass it if it bores you. But it really relieved me to get these of my chest.
little rules our game has is;
*tag the person who tagged you
*answer the questions
*tag 10 people
i am starting ahahaha!
1. how tall are you?
I am 163 cm i guess, but I haven’t have measured since 8th grade and actually I feel like I haven’t grow since then. And my lil sis is even taller than my ideal height, ugh cryyy... Is there any one magic to spare me a few centimeters 🙏🙏
2. what colour and style is your hair?
My real hair colour is dark brown but i colored my hair with some temporary hair dye at the end of 2017 and around february 2018, 2 times. I dye it to a colour ‘Toffee Caramel’ and since my hair has really dark colour i didn’t expect it to change my hair colour too much but i think it did. Actually the dye was popular and also under nice brand. So i trusted and it was saying only for 28 wash or something <sorry i couldn’t translate 🤭🤭🤭> But i still have that dye at the ends of my hair but it looks horrible but my hair is so damaged. I cut it short, it doesn’t get longer and i don’t know what to do. I want to dye my hair in darker colour, similar to my real hair color and have my own colour back but my sister doensn’t let me do. HELP!!!
3. what colour are your eyes?
Dark brown 🤭🤭🤭 listen this song  😉 this song for all the jungoo lovers..
PS: I might write somethings about this song 🤭🤭🤭
4.  do you wear glasses?
Thankfully no. Because glasses never look good on me, even sunglasses. Maybe because i have sharp and thick eye brows but i love my eye brows  🤭 🤭🤭 But everyone in my family wears glasses due to eye problems so i might wear in the future.
5.  Do you wear braces?
I never wear braces and actually i am scared of dentists so i am glad. 
6.  what’s your fashion sense?
Actually it is very complicated. I might like anything. But i am not so into popular fashion sense, i sometimes find it weird or can’t like some fashion trends no matter what. 
I like to wear anything i found stylish and what wanted to wear and if feel that suited me. Actually if i feel confident with my clothes, hair, make up and over all look, my day starts so nice but if not, nothing helps too much. But lately i am in a depressive mood, especially at college and i feel super fat and ugly and i had other problems. But i am in a spring break and i hope to start motivated to new semester.
I love high waisted jeans and short tshirts. I dont like thick sweaters because i feel suffocated idk why. I love wearing short sleeves any time. I love sneakers. I love cute clothes. 
7.  full name?
I dont want to expose my real name here, I mean friends i have here know it but this post can be seen by everyone and i dont want anyone from my real life to find me so i am passing this question, sorry 🤗🤗🤗
8.  when were you born? 
I was born in 1999 and @gukieyoongles i definetely agree to you about being 90′s child ahaha if my older sister read this she would laugh at this 90′s child part but yes i am 😒😒😒
9.  where are you from and where do you live now?
I will pass this question too, sorry 🤗🤗🤗
10.  what school do you go to?
I am in college or university, I don’t know the difference between them, please enlighten me. We use university in my language but to be exact i am undergraduate student.
11.  what kind of student are you?
I used to be number one student because my mother was primary school teacher, my father is professor at university and my sister studied in best schools. So i had the effect and actually i was so focused and used to this thing. But in last semester of 10th grade my life turned upside down in the aspect of success. I lose it so fast and it added up my depression, I felt like only speciality i had was being a succesful student and now i am nothing. But i actually lost my motivation that times so i didnt put some effort. But due to my 10 years of hard work, I get the chance to get into nice university.
I am still lazy and unsuccessful but lately trying to get better so wish me luck 🙏🙏🙏
12.  do you like school?
I dont like it but that must be something with my self. Because after 2 semesters i still couldn’t adapt it totally. I hate being alone at school but also i am not such a social butterfly. So i feel confused. I have friends but i feel awkward sometimes. I don’t know adult life is so hard.
And also i sometimes feel like i hate my major but sometimes i love. So when the lessons are hard i cry and feeling like i dont belong here. So my advise is studying your dream job. but i dont have one, so yeah 😫😫😫
13.  favorite subject? 
Actually none, engineering majors suck. I love English lessons because i only feel confident in them and understand things easily and sometimes enjoy. But it is also about academic sides of English, so not very fun.
14.  favourite tv shows?
I don’t watch tv, also i don’t watch tv shows online too. I sometime start series on Netflix or some korean dramas but lose my interest soon. I AM BORED BORING 🤐🤐🤐
15.  favourite movie?
I don’t have an exact one but I love Harry Potter films and Midnight in Paris as the ones i remember. I recently watched To All The Boys i Loved Before, Like for Likes(korean film), Shazam and enjoyed all there of them.  But i don’t have a favourite one because i don’t watch a lot.
16.  favourite books?
I am not a good reader of real life books because i might lost my consciousnes with fanfiction and fangirl stuff. But now i really want to read somethings, but have no time, but will try my best.  This year i finally read Pride and Prejudice and love it too much. *searches for her Darcy hopelessly* 🤭🤭🤭 I also read a book related to Pride and Prejudice, it’s name is Austenland and it slapped me in the face about reality. If someone read it, dm me, i really need someone to talk about it without giving spoilers.
Also i read last year Stranger by Albert Camus. I don’t think i understand it exactly but it gave me this feeling in my chest. I think a lot of people probably read it, I would also love to talk about this book if you dm me.
I read all Harry Potter books except the last one idk why. But i read them in 8th grade. I know I was pretty late to read them but I was scared of Harry Potter 🤭🤭🤭 But now I reminisce that year as the best year of my life despite the fact that i was preparing for high school enterance exams. So Harry Potter holds a lot of emotions and memories for me.
17.  favourite pastime?
Wasting my time! Spending all my time on social media. Sleeping too much. Listening music with my earphones and stare outside dreamily. Doing some penpal and bulletjournaling projects(i cant do lately tho)
But in everyday life my favourite past time is listening songs we like while my sister is driving us to school. We also talk, gossip, laugh, sing along. We do it everyday while commuting and i enjoy it too much. Our school is pretty far and i dont really enjoy car rides but sometimes i enjoy this time too much that i want it to last longer.
18.  do you have any regrets?
Too many. But i can’t change them. So best thing is focusing to future but I am a person who lives thinking past and lost chances or mistakes so it ruins me. But actually to live it free, forgetting and trying to not to do them again is the best.
19. dream job?
I dont really know, but something that can make me happy. I want to go to work eagerly, enjoy my work and be proud of with my life. Something that can satisfy me and make me improve myself.
I had dreamed to be singer similar to @livlovesbangtan . But I might hate singing if I have the responsibility so no. I would love to sing and annoy people while showering like Namjoon. 🤭🤭🤭
20. would you ever like to be married?
Yes, i would love to. But actually for a very long time marriage scared me. Because of the people around me and our culture. My dad and mom had rational marriage so it also made me lose my faith. Also i see like everyone marry and streotypical life starts. People work, have childs and WHAT!!!
I am not necesserily living for marrying. I would never, if I can’t find the love of my life or i can’t trust someone. But i am such a hopeless romantic, I want to experience pure love for someone and get the same love back. It doesn’t sound so realistic so I might find it ever. But still i wish.
I want to have someone I can trust but actually it never happens in real life. Or i can’t like someone in that way, i always find some flaws. So i really need to fall in love miserably to not to see anything and love someone too much, but i don’t know if i can.
I want my s/o to propose me in a night picnic, alone and out of sudden. I would love him to carry the ring in his necklace and didn’t plan to propose exactly. Like he wants to but doesn’t know when, so he carries it with him. And that night with outbursting love, he would propose me and i accept and we have surprise weddding that night by our selves. UwU *dead*
21.  would you like to have kids?
I am not sure. First of all, I would marry to spend all my time with my s/o not for having childs. <saying this just because a lot of people around me does like that> 
I love kids but I am not sure. Like they are so cute as a baby and child but what if i can’t stand while they are in puberty?! 🤭🤭🤭
Also i sometimes feel like ‘why did i born? i didn’t want this? i don’t want to live!’ . Also feel like what if my child feels the same? Also think it is selfish to bring someone to life because we want to but life is just for suffering. Idk, i am pretty pessimist sometimes. And i dont know 😭😭😭
but i love babies, especially when they hold my forefinger with their whole fist. *cryyyyyy*
22.  how many?
Idk, bro.
23.  do you like shopping?
Yes 😉🤗🤭 i love to buy stupid things that i dont need or use.
24.  what countries have you visited?
I only visited UK and actually i loved it 😍😍😍. Also spent one day in Georgia, see around in a one day trip. But i would like to see more. 
25.  scariest nightmare you have ever had?
Let’s not talk about this. I see stupid, weird, annoying, scary dreams too much and i hate it.
26.  any enemies?
I used to have too many, but actually i realised it was one sided hate. They annoyed me but didn’t give any fuck. I hated but it only effected me, they continued carelessly so i decided to not to have one. I feel annoyed and dislike and hate people but control it to not to effect on my life. Also i try to not to have any fights with anyone. If i really don’t like them i ignore them etc.
27. any significant other?
Not yet but waiting for him to find me!
But i can’t pass this without mentioning jeon the dork jungkook. I love him 😍😭🤭
28. do you get along with your family?
I love them and i am very attached to them but also fight with them time to time.
29.  do you believe in miracles?
I believe but don’t believe i will have one.
30. how are you?
I dont know. Not too bad, not too good, enjoying but sometimes bored but sometimes tired of this life but sometimes enjoying too much???
I warned at the start so i don’t know if someone is reading still. but thanks for reading and feel free to talk to me about this stuff.
I tag everyone who wants, please tag me so i can read your answers. as the 10 people thing;
@teanites @artjjk @nochuuuenthusiast @yoongspeach @iamsadsstuff @mintseesaw @jeons-wasabi @arthoejaebum @yoongithes @kayakookie
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The Kissing Booth- Part 1
Word Count: 2,675
Series Masterlist
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Y/N Y/L/N and Regulus Black had been best friends since they were born. Their mothers were friends long before they were born, and being born on the same day, at the same time- they shared everything. For as long as Y/N could remember, Regulus had been by her side. Through both of their powers developing, nervously shopping for school supplies in Diagon Alley together, their first time at Hogwarts, the two were inseparable. As they grew older through their time at Hogwarts, they grew different, but not apart.
“Damn, Y/N, when did you fill out?” Sirius whistled at Y/N while she laid out by the Blacks’s pool, enjoying the rare bit of sunshine on the last day of summer before her fifth year at Hogwarts began. “Like a year ago, you perv. What are you on about?” Y/N retorted before turning her attention back to soaking up the sun. Y/N didn’t dislike Sirius, but she didn’t like him, either. She had always thought him to be attractive, but she knew how Regulus felt about him, so she put a wall up around him. “How would he know? It’s not like he’s ever here anyway,” Regulus muttered spitefully. “Well, if Y/N is gonna be prancing around here half naked like that, I reckon I might hang around more,” he winked. “You can just ignore him, Y/N. I do,” Regulus rolled his eyes.
“Hurtful,” Sirius feigned offense. “I’m sure you’ll be alright,” Y/N brushed him off as he became preoccupied with charming one of the garden gnomes to swim in the pool. “Anyways, Reg, we have to talk about this festival thing. We’ve only got like a month before it, and I have no idea what to do,” Y/N prompted. “Y/N/N, I don’t want any part of that rubbish. This “Homecoming” thing is just an excuse for the muggleborns to trash our school with their filthy muggle traditions,” Regulus scoffed. “Well, I know it’s a muggle thing, but it sounds like it could be a lot of fun. A whole festival, and a dance? It could be so cool! Bartemius told me that the dueling club is setting up a booth where you cast a spell and you have to aim it exactly so it hits one single pin and knocks it over, and if you can do it, you win a prize! And Lucius told me that the Slytherin quidditch team is doing an accuracy game, where you levitate rings and try to land them on tiny bottles that are really far away, don’t you know about that one? And the Ravenclaw team is doing a trivia game, and-“ “The Gryffindor team is doing a dunk tank,” Sirius interrupted Y/N. “Yeah! I think I heard that! Doesn’t all of that sound so fun, Reg? And I love the idea of a dance! Hogwarts never does anything like that!” Y/N rambled excitedly.
“I told the team I wouldn’t be participating in their silly game, and who cares about the dance? We go to at least 3 balls a year,” Regulus shrugged. “Please, Regulus? I can’t do a booth for the Astronomy Club by myself, and I don’t trust any of the other members to be in charge with me. And those balls are full of old, crotchety people. With waltzing. This is one is all of our friends, and we can actually have fun, and dance for real!” Y/N pleaded. Regulus huffed. “I’ll help you with the booth, because you’re my best friend. But I’m not going to the dance, so you’ll have to find someone else to go with. That’s not fun, it’s sloppy dancing,” Regulus acquiesced. “You’re such a buzz kill, Reg,” Y/N laughed. “Easy, now. I did agree to help with the booth,” Regulus laughed along. “Yes you did, and I love you for that,” Y/N smiled and pinched one of Regulus’s cheeks.
Y/N’s first day of fifth year was pretty normal. She went to all of her classes, got settled into her dorm, and after dinner, she met up with Regulus in the Astronomy Tower. Ever since they were little, Y/N and Regulus had LOVED the stars. They joined the Astronomy Club at school as soon as they were able to, and went out twice a week in the summer to look at the stars. It was their “thing.”
“Okay, we have to meet with the head boy and girl to give them the information on our booth by the end of the week and... we have no booth,” Y/N sighed. “I don’t know. All of the other booths sound moronic,” Regulus shrugged, staring off into the sky. “You seem distracted, Reg. Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Y/N nudged him. “Emma Vanity looked so good today,” Regulus gushed. “You say that every day, Reg,” Y/N laughed. “Because she does! But Merlin, she blossomed even more over the summer,” he sighed. “I wonder if she noticed how much taller I got over the summer.” “Regulus, you know I love you, but can I be honest with you?” Y/N asked him. Regulus playfully rolled his eyes and gave her a shrug. “Emma, much like every other girl in the school, is too far up you brother’s ass to notice anyone else,” she told him. Regulus huffed, “Of course she is,” he muttered.
“Before you get too pouty, Sirius isn’t into her. I can tell. But, she isn’t gonna realize that on her own. If you want her attention, you have to take it from her. Make her notice you...” Y/N trailed off. “Oh my Godric!” She gasped. “I’ve got it! A kissing booth!” “A what?” Regulus looked horrified. “A kissing booth! For the festival! We’ll line up a couple girls and guys, and everyone else will pay a sickle to kiss whoever is up there. It’s an interesting booth, AND we’ll raise money for the club!” Y/N explained. “If we want money for the club, we can donate money to the club,” Regulus pointed out. “True, but then you won’t get a chance to kiss Emma. Plus, if we do the booth, I’ll be able to save my own money, and I think I want a companion for Flynn,” Y/N reasoned.
“Hogwarts only allows one pet per student. And how exactly do you think this booth is going to work?” Regulus challenged. “I’m sure it won’t be too hard to bend a rule or two to sneak a new kitten in,” Y/N shrugged with a smirk. “But here’s what I’m thinking: Emma Vanity, captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, I’m sure plenty of people are crushing on her. We’ll get her, Lily Evans, Marlene KcKinnon maybe, Lucius, Davey Gudgeon, and I hate to say it, but we should probably ask Sirius-“ Regulus cut her off, “Absolutely not. We will not let him be part of-“ “Regulus, I know how you feel about him, but he would draw in so many people. Do you know how many girls are fawning over him?” Y/N pleaded. Regulus rolled his eyes, “Fine. But if lot of people are going to pay to kiss Emma, how are we gonna get her to notice me?” He asked. “You’ll lay down a sickle and be the best kiss she has,” Y/N shrugged with a smile.
“Hey Sirius, wait up!” Y/N called after Sirius as she sprinted down the hall to catch up to him. “Y/N,” Sirius gave her a confused smile. “Hey! How are you doing on this lovely day?” Y/N smiled brightly, just as a loud crack of thunder shook the castle, causing Y/N to grimace. “Can I help you with something, Y/L/N?” Sirius raised a suspicious eyebrow. “Pft, can’t I just say hi to my best friend’s handsome older brother and see how he’s doing?” Y/N tried. Sirius raised his eyebrows and held back a laugh. “Alright, listen,” Y/N sighed. “Regulus and I want to set up a kissing booth for the Homecoming festival, and I think that putting you in the booth would attract a lot of people,” she admitted. “So far Vanity, Malfoy, Evans, Gudgeon and McKinnon are in,” Y/N added.
“While I’m flattered, there is absolutely no way I’m going to get in a booth and kiss a bunch of people,” Sirius laughed. “What? Why? Do you know who you are? You do that anyway!” Y/N countered. “I do not,” Sirius laughed. “Yes, I enjoy my time with beautiful women, but I am very selective when it comes to the women I kiss. It’s not a free for all,” Siri’s told her. “I was thinking more of a sickle for all,” Y/N muttered. “A sickle? Is thy what you think a kiss from me is worth?” Sirius gasped dramatically. “I am worth at least ten galleons, baby,” he winked. “Please, Sirius?” Y/N asked. “Sorry, Love,” he shook his head, “I’m not into it. If I can help in any other way, I’d be glad to. I’ll see you around, okay?” He gave her a gentle smile and a light nudge before making his way to the Gryffindor common room.
“He won’t do it,” Y/N shook her head as she ate lunch with Regulus. “Of course he won’t, the selfish bastard,” Regulus rolled his eyes. “That’s okay. We have a handful of pretty popular people. Potter alone will probably give us enough sickles to fund the club well into next year to kiss Evans a bunch of times,” Y/N pointed out. “We’ll just give each of them a little bit longer shift and stick with five people instead of six,” she decided. “Whatever you say,” Regulus shrugged. “This will be fine. And we’ll have fun! Stop being so mopey about it!” Y/N nudged her best friend. “I still think it’s preposterous that we’re throwing a muggle festival,” he grumbled. “It’s not a muggle festival if no muggles are there. And besides, who cares who came up with the idea of it? It’s fun, Regulus! Do you remember what that word means?” Y/N teased. Regulus quirked an eyebrow and next thing Y/N knew, a series of grapes flew at her at hit her right in the middle of her forehead. “That is fun,” Regulus smirked.
The next night, there was a party for Dorcas Meadowes birthday in the Gryffindor Common room, and the whole school was invited. “Alright, Reg, I’m off to the party... all by myself... because my best friend hates me...” Y/N announced as she made her way through the common room. “Whatever you sa-absolutely not!” Regulus exclaimed as he looked away from his book towards Y/N. “Fine, I’m going,” he huffed. “Oh, but I thought you weren’t going to sneak into the Gryffindor common room for a lousy gathering,” Y/N teased. “Well if you’re gonna dress like that, someone has to protect you from the predatory eyes,” he declared. “Let’s go, then.” “Are you gonna go dressed like that?” Y/N asked him. Regulus looked down at his less than festive attire and shrugged. “I’m not trying to impress anyone yet,” he decided. “Well alrighty then,” Y/N smiled and lead her best friend into the hall towards the Gryffindor common room.
“Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!” Mary Macdonald excitedly approached Y/N before Y/N could even find her first drink. “Hey, Macdonald, what’s up?” She asked, eyes scanning the room for Regulus. “I heard that the Astronomy club was putting up a kissing booth at the festival next month, is that true?” Mary asked. “Yep! That’s the plan!” Y/N smiled, “Regulus and I thought it would be interesting-“ “Are you getting Sirius to work it?” Mary asked excitedly. “Um, well...” Y/N mulled over her options, and chose to wing it. “I’m not sure yet. I’ve still got a few more people to ask, and Sirius is one of them,” she lied. “Merlin I hope you get him, what I would do for a chance to snog that boy,” Mary sighed dreamily. “I’ll um, I’ll go talk to him,” Y/N nodded.
Y/N searched the common room for Sirius’s mop of hair, finding Regulus standing with Lucius Malfoy and Emma Vanity along the way. “So much for protecting me from predatory eyes!” Y/N laughed, nudging Regulus. “I’m sorry! Lucius and Emma called me over to discuss some strategies for-“ Y/N cut Regulus off with a laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Sports stuff. You have fun, I’m going to go enjoy the party,” she told him. “As far as protection from predatory eyes, stay away from my brother and his friends and you should be fine,” Regulus called after her. She gave him a playful salute, and continued her search for Sirius.
Y/N finally found Sirius standing with a Ravenclaw girl who was ogling him while he spoke. “Hey, Sirius. I hate to interrupt, but can I borrow you for like two sec-“ “Excuse me but were you even invited? Seeing as Dorcas is a muggle born and everyone knows how you feel about them, I can’t imagine anyone actually wanting you here,” the girl snapped, interrupting Y/N. “And how exactly do I feel about muggleborns? Please, tell me, because I’m sure you know me so well, Girl I’ve Never Seen Before,” Y/N narrowed her eyes and turned to the girl. “Oh Merlin,” Sirius muttered, rubbing his hand over his jaw. “You think you’re so much better than half of this school just because both of your parents are wizards,” the girl sneered. “What the hell are you talking about?” Y/N asked, trying not to raise her voice.
“Y/N isn’t like that, Celia,” Sirius spoke up. “And you know her so well?” Celia asked him with an arched eyebrow. “I do, actually, and she happens to be very important to me. You know, I think you should leave,” Sirius frowned, causing Y/N to raise her eyebrows. “Are you kidding me?” Celia laughed angrily, looking between Y/N and Sirius. “Not even a little bit,” Sirius shook his head, lightly reaching out to tuck Y/N behind him as he stood in between the girls. “This is fucking absurd,” Celia muttered as she stormed off. “Um, thank you for that,” Y/N spoke up after a few moments of silence. “And sorry for ruining your date.” “She wasn’t my date, and you didn’t ruin anything,” Sirius assured her. “And you don’t have to thank me for that. How she acted was unacceptable,” he shrugged. Y/N gave him a shy smile.
“What did you need to borrow me for?” Sirius asked. “Oh, um,” Y/N tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and looked at her shoes. “I was going to ask if you would reconsider participating in our kissing booth. A lot of people want you up there, and I know we don’t really talk a lot or get along all of the time but-“ “Y/N,” Sirius cut her off. She looked back up at him. “I’m sorry but-“ “It’s fine,” Y/N sighed. “I shouldn’t have asked.” “Hey, wait a minute,” Sirius stopped Y/N as she turned to leave, “I’m not saying no to be an arse, you know.” Y/N didn’t say anything. “You’re not doing it, right?” He tried to reason with her. “Well no... but that’s because I’ve never kissed anyone before, and I don’t really want my first kiss to be a stranger, followed by a bunch of other strangers,” she said quietly.
“You... you’ve never...?” Sirius trailed off. “Nope,” Y/N slowly shook her head. “But you’re-“ Sirius started. “I know. Something about being attached at the hip with another boy sort of turns suitors away,” Y/N shrugged. “That’s insane,” Sirius shook his head and Y/N shrugged again. “Never kissed anyone, never had a boyfriend, never been on a date.... I mean all of those things sound nice, but I’m not going to try to force anything,” she told him. Sirius just gaped at her. “Well, now that I’ve opened up my soul to you and look like a giant fool, I’m going to go enjoy a lot of firewhiskey, as that’s what I came here to do. Have a good night, Sirius,” Y/N gave him an awkward smile before disappearing into the crowd.
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A/N: I am so so SO excited to be back!!!! I saw this movie and got MAJOR Sirius/Regulus vibes from Noah and Lee, so I decided to give it a shot and tweak things I didn’t like about the movie. I hope y’all love it!
Tagging: @argentinemango @kbaille92 @allertonn @espressoo-patronum @max-evergreen
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lettersofsky · 6 years
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Time of Dying
The first one of these things. I was going to wait until I’d finished them all to post them but I’ve got a new schedule so I don’t know when I’ll feel up to doing the others.
Ko-Fi
Person A is a reaper that always finds some reason not to take Person B’s life. The other reapers start keeping a list of the most ridiculous things A has said to justify sparing B.
The first time Cloud had refused to kill Genesis, the human had been a child.
The previous winter had been harsh on the human’s town, longer and colder than usual, and Genesis’ system hadn’t been able to cope, leaving him weak and trembling in his too-large bed.
Cloud remembered having the assignment given to him by one of the Elder Reapers, visibly blanching at the age of the child before they sent him away. He’d appeared in the child’s room less than half-an-hour later, cold and solemn as he approached the figure heaving for breath under a heavy blanket.
He’d faltered immediately upon reaching the mattress, staring down at the small form in front of him.
He was tiny, far smaller than someone his age should have been, and his features were twisted in discomfort; skin wan and grey. His red-hair was limp and dull, clinging to his sweaty skin in clumps, and each breath rattled in the child’s chest, a horrid, wet sound that set Cloud’s hair on end.
But, the child’s spirit burned brightly in his chest, desperately fighting to remain alive and rebelling against the notion that he was to die today. It wasn’t often that Cloud saw such a burning passion in someone so young, let alone the people he was sent to carry into the next life.
The child’s mother was sitting next to his bed, hand clasping the boy’s smaller one tightly as she watched over him with red-rimmed eyes. Watching over her only child in what were his final moments.
Or at least they were supposed to be.
Cloud couldn’t bring himself to do it, not to a child like this; who clung so desperately to life.
He turned away from the scene, image burned in his mind, and returned to the Realm of the Dead. He explained his refusal to act as a mere whim of the moment, enduring the ridicule and scorn of the Elders. A Reaper shouldn’t let their emotions, however fleeting, dictate their actions, especially not when it came to their duties.
He spent a number of weeks doing grunt work, but he didn’t regret allowing the child to live, not when Tifa, a spirit that refused to remain distanced from the Realm of the Living, told him that the child had made a full recovery and was living a happy life.
He didn’t expect to ever see the human again.
Genesis Rhapsodos was a teenager the next time Cloud got sent to deal with him.
The Elders had decided to see if he could snuff out the human’s flame not that he was older, still irritated with him for his previous failure to do so. He just accepted the task and left for the Realm of the Living, uncaring of the sneers being directed at his back.
This time he appeared in a sterile hospital room, pristine white walls and the smell of disinfectant assaulting Cloud’s senses.
The human was resting on the lone bed in the room, wrapped entirely in bandages and skin pale where it was visible. There were large, dark bruises covering his face, eyes swollen shut and closed to the world.
He was hooked up to several machines, their steady mechanical sounds filled the otherwise silent room. He could hear people talking outside of the room, but chose to ignore it for the moment, moving to sit on the lone chair next to the bed. He peered at the human’s face, trying to reconcile the young man before him with the child he’d seen years before.
His features were similar to what they have been when he was younger, as bruised as they were, and his hair had grown out quite a bit in the past few years, the red strands ending just past his shoulders now. The human must have been attractive, when he wasn’t showing signs of an intense beating.
The voices outside of the room rose in volume, the sound of a man yelling reached his ears, though the words were muffled through the walls. They didn’t mean anything to Cloud though, he’d long passed caring for human worries.
The human’s will was still burning brightly within his chest, undiminished and strong within his chest. He was still fighting to stay alive, clinging to life out of pure spite. Cloud was impressed by his stubbornness and need to stick it to whoever had put him here.
He remained there for hours, waiting for the human’s will to diminish enough, not wanting to snuff out the others life when there was still the chance that he’d recover from this. It was a decision that was seeing less and less use as the decades passed, to his dismay.
He said something about the human’s hair when asked why he didn’t snuff out his life, barely noticing that the Elders had been replaced by the most recently dead Cetra. The politics of things didn’t bother him too much, he just wanted to do his job.
The next times he refused to kill Genesis Rhapsodos was purely for foolish, reasons.
The human had gotten himself involved in a war and Cloud, unlucky bastard that he was, drew the short straw and ended up as one of the two Reapers assigned to the battlefield; to send off the fallen warriors with a kind smile and reassuring words.
When Cloud learned that Genesis was amongst the combatants he ensured that he was the one on that side of the battle, to the other Reaper’s amusement.
The next months were very busy and there were numerous times where he had the opportunity to stuff out Genesis’ life, but each time he found a reason not to do so. Things from; ‘he can heal from that’, or ‘his allies are nearby, they’ll help him’, to; ‘he looks really cool jumping through that fire’, and ‘his hair’s nice today’.
He also made the discovery that he liked the way Genesis looked when he wasn’t so obviously close to death; he liked the human’s electric-blue eyes and how his hair fell into them, he liked his pale, freckled skin and the way he held himself. He even enjoyed his sarcastic, passionate personality, the few instances he got to be aware of it in the line of his duties.
Cloud might have had a problem. The other Reapers might have been laughing at him, the new Elder, call me Ifalna, sweetie, definitely was.
The last time he refused to kill Genesis Rhapsodos was for a purely selfish reason.
Ifalna had smiled at him as she informed him of where to go and what he was to do, teasing him a bit as he left the Realm of the Dead. He wasn’t used to such light-hearted teasing, not from a superior at the very least, but Ifalna had surprised him on more than one occasion.
He appeared in another bedroom this time, to a scene that was far too similar to the first time he’d been ordered to kill his human, Ifalna’s words not his.
His human was lying on a soft bed, bandage covering the entirety of his chest and breathing heavy as he rested in a state of deep unconsciousness. His skin was pale and waxy, sweaty-soaked hair clinging to his drawn face, eyes clenched shut.
There was another man in the room, a friend of his human’s that Cloud remembered from the war. He was taller than Cloud’s human, broader and with back-length silver hair, body curled over Genesis’ hand as he muttered soft, barely audible muttered apologies.
Cloud felt safe in assuming that the man had something to do with Genesis’ current state of near-death.
He watched the scene for a few minutes and decided that he couldn’t make this young man carry the weight of being the cause of his friend’s death on his conscious, he wasn’t cruel. No, instead he left the room, returning quickly to the Realm of the Dead.
Ifalna stared at him in concern when he returned before her features twisted into a reassuring smile and she guided him away from where he was staring vacantly at the far wall of the entrance.
He was glad to focus on something else for a while.
The next time he was sent to kill Genesis Rhapsodos, he didn’t have any other choice.
Ifalna had been sorrowful when she sent him out, watching him with sad eyes and a soft frown as he left the room. He hadn’t been sure what to expect when he appeared in the Realm of the Living, but being at the bottom of a large, dark hole was not it.
At first, he thought that there had been a mistake, that he’d ended up here instead of where he was supposed to be, then his eyes adjusted and his (metaphorical) heart clenched in his chest.
He was certainly in the right place.
His human was leaning against the wall a few feet away from where Cloud stood, legs splayed out in front of him and arms cradled to his chest. He could see that at least one of the human’s legs were broken, bone poking out of the skin, along with one of his arms, leaving him with no way to get out of the hole he’d gotten himself thrown into.
Cloud knew that Genesis couldn’t be saved from this.
The worst part though, was the fickle flame that burnt within Genesis’ chest, steadily dying out in this cold, dark, lonely place. This was not a fate Cloud would ever wish on anyone; to die alone with the knowledge that no one would ever find them.
Cloud approached the other slowly, seating himself next to his human and finally reaching a hand out to touch him. Genesis’ life ended the moment Cloud’s hand touched his skin, breath halting in his chest and heart slowing to a halt.
Genesis groaned next to him, spirit departed of his body, and turned to him, staring at him with curious blue-eyes. “Wha?” He tried to say, tongue heavy and unsure of how to speak in his new form.
“I’ve come to take you away from here,” he told him, giving him a sad but kind smile as he tightened the grip he had on his hand. “You must have fallen down.” Cloud did his best to keep the sorrow from his tone, not wanting to distress the newly dead spirit.
“Ok,” Genesis breathed, squeezing his hand back weakly. He clenched his eyes shut, casting his gaze around the darkness around them. “Where are we going?”
“Most call it The Promise Land.”
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justafewsmallsteps · 7 years
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Makeup Marichat May, Day 11. Age-up Marinette!
Title: Change Word Count: 1,934
It’d been a while since he really saw her last. After they’d gone off to university, he’d had a hectic schedule that didn’t allow him much time to socialize with his friends from middle school or high school. Plus, with Nino away in Spain, and Alya’s web journalism internship they hardly had a chance to all get together.
Seeing her now, sitting on her balcony quietly consumed in sketching, Chat Noir was hit with an overwhelming wave of nostalgia.
“Good evening,” he greeted, gathering himself to balance on the railing as he used to do.
He was comforted that she reacted in such a Marinette-esque fashion: her sketchbook flailed along with her arms. Her sketch pencil flew in the air and landed with a quiet clatter on the balcony floor.
“Chat Noir!”
Quickly, her shock dissipated leaving behind a pointed glare as she watched him chuckle and climb down towards her, picking up her pencil in a quick swoop to the ground.
“What are you doing here? I… haven’t seen you around in a while.” Her mouth was an unsure frown.  
He twiddled the pencil thoughtfully. He’d been keeping a low profile for the past year, mostly because of work. What with his new schedule having him fly from country to country, especially now that he had the body to model for actual runway shows, he’d been extra careful to keep Chat Noir’s appearances not seem so coincidental with Adrien Agreste’s comings and goings.
“It has been some time, Princess,” he knelt down to kiss her hand, avoiding her question and placing her pencil back into her palm.
“Haven’t heard that name in a while,” she sighed, pulling away from him before crossing her arms. Her hip cocked to the side as she watched him stand up tall, her questioning gaze never faltering.
It made him grin. “Your hair has gotten so long.”
She glanced down to examine it. It fell way past her shoulders in silky moonlit strands; a stark contrast to her light camisole and exposed shoulders. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but hair grows.”
“Is that so?” He noticed more than just her hair having grown, but promptly shook those thoughts away. “What have you been up to?” he decided to ask.
She frowned deeper. “School, mostly.”
“Ah yes, and how is the institution treating you?”
Her expression morphed a tad and he watched her set her sketchbook down, tucking her pencil between the pages to keep her place. “It’s difficult this time around. It’s not as simple as circle skirts and pleating. So much talent around me, it’s hard to constantly compete. That’s the fashion world for you though.”
“If anyone can handle a challenge, it’s you.”
At that she smiled, and it was like the sudden stilling of agitated waters. “How about you, kitty?”
The nickname sent a bizarrely enjoyable shock down his spine to his toes.
“Though I suppose you’re a full-blown tomcat now…” she teased gently with a flick of his bell.
He didn’t know if that nickname was worse or better, but his insides felt molten despite his body going stiff.
“I’ll be whatever you want me to be,” he tried, doing his best to gather himself into someone more suave.
A roll of her beautiful blue eyes was his prize.
He had to admit, Marinette had gotten really pretty in the last year. Not to say she wasn’t before, but whereas he’d always found her charming and adorable… she was all that and more now.  
“I’ve been busy,” he finally answered.
“Is that a good thing?”
He shrugged. “It’s nothing out of the ordinary. I missed stretching my legs and running around the rooftops though.” He took in the sight of her again as she assessed his answer. She was short, but maybe he only thought that because he’d gotten a lot taller than their middle school days. The nostalgia for those days fought its way up his throat. “I also missed you.”
“You say that like we would see each other often,” she said narrowly.
“A few stolen chats under the starlight with a pretty girl, pastries, and hot chocolate while staring at the Eiffel, who wouldn’t miss that?”  
He watched as Marinette made her way to her railing to wistfully look at the tower lit up. One of her favorite pastimes, he knew. The superhero followed, but stood next to her instead of sitting perched up as he did when they were younger.
“It was nice,” she sighed. “Talking about everything and nothing. Those are very precious moments to me.” She turned her face slightly to peer up at him. “How have you been? Seen Ladybug around? She’s a rare sight too nowadays.”
“I see My Lady few and far between patrols. It’s been a while since the last time, but we’ve run into each other on a handful of occasions.”
“Saving people?”
He nodded and began listing on his black, claw tipped hands. “A mugging, a robbery, and a mild fire. Very mild. Not even news worthy. Everyone got out fine. Nothing to worry about.”
“Are there things I should worry about?”
“Well…”
She raised her eyebrow at him, the light from the city giving her questioning stare a warm, pearly glow. Somewhere in that look he swore he saw an undercurrent of concern that knotted his stomach.
“Nothing you need to fret about.”
She pouted. “If I don’t hear or see you in a while, of course I’m going to wonder if you’ve been skinned. You aren’t the luckiest cat out there.”
Chat Noir smiled down at her to tease. “Worried about me, are we?”
“Yes.” She turned her head away in an annoyed huff, resting a cheek in one of her palms. “Believe it or not.”
He felt a strong desire to wrap his hand around her waist to comfort her. Or just bring her closer. His reasoning teetered between heroic and selfish. There was a big part of him that was extremely curious to feel how her hips would fit into his arm now that she’d filled out and he’d gotten taller. He imagined the curve of her waist resting at his side, and felt annoyed that he couldn’t just see for himself if he was estimating her height well enough. It was hard to tell with her bent over slightly.
For all her same features, she didn’t seem much like the sweet, clumsy, pigtailed girl he used to hang out with. The tips of her hair brushed along the top of the railing. Had it really been that long that he couldn’t stop staring?
“You’ve grown up a lot,” Chat Noir admitted.
She peered at him curiously, her face lifting from her hand. “What do you mean?”
His tailed flicked and he fought down the blush forming quickly on his face. He’d accidentally let that slip, and that was embarrassing in itself, but the expression on Marinette’s face was something else entirely. Pink lips in a tilted pout, bright eyes waiting on him with the vastness of the sky, and slim fingers resting gently under her chin.
“C-can’t really explain it. It just feels different.” He hoped that answer was good enough.
She straightened out her back and hummed, forcing him (really, he had no other choice) to focus again on her mouth. “Different, huh? I wonder how…”
Different in that she was making his heart race whereas she’d always had such a calming effect on him before. Different in the sense that he could feel his toes curling and his spine stretching straight. Different in that when her hand came up to his arm, he felt like magic filling his body with sparklers, similar to the fire that lit up within him when he’d catch wind of His Lady. But it was different, of course, because this was Marinette.
Her gaze locked onto his; her hand moving him to face her fully. “I’m just a little older, but I guess some things change.”
Change, wrapped in a petite girl with blue eyes and a knack for doodling, had never seemed so alluring before.
He gulped. “They do…”
“Hey, are you going to be around more often?” she asked suddenly, slotting both her hands in the crooks of his arms. They bent forward to lightly take hold of her at her elbows. It was a steadying motion to ground himself, because somehow it felt as if he was floating in her presence. That, or the rest of the world was sinking. Either way, holding on to Marinette Dupain-Cheng was his only hope.
His mouth wasn’t working, and she was looking at him quizzically, waiting for him to respond.
It was just that she was so close now; it’d be easy to pull her in. It wouldn’t take much. Her arms were already so well fitted in his own. He really just should—
“Chat Noir?”
An answer. He should really answer her. That’d be good.
He untwisted his heavy tongue. “I’d like to be…”
She raised a pretty eyebrow in question.
“Around more, that is.” He couldn’t help but hope she wanted that from him. Needy, he asked with an air of conceitedness that he could only muster behind his mask, “Would you like me to visit more, Princess?” He hoped his tone was convincing enough, because he simply could not muster up the actual confidence to throw a smirk her way. Not when he was anticipating her answer so anxiously. He couldn’t help it. Please say ‘yes’. Please say ‘yes!’
What followed were a few beats of unnerving silence.
She wouldn’t look up at him, and it made his chest constrict. That’d been too arrogant, hadn’t it? He wanted to backtrack. Nervous, he tried weakly, “Marinette?”
She suddenly looked up, blue eyes bright with surprise. Her hold on him tightened, bringing her back to reality. “Sorry! I was wondering which cookies to bring for next time you visit. You liked the lemon raspberry macarons best, right?”
He blinked down at her. Was that all? She’d just been thinking? About cookies? About next time?
“They were seasonal, but I think I can convince Papa to make them again since it’ll be summer soon. When do you think you’ll stop by again?”
Relief and affection hit him with the full force of a tidal wave. It knocked him down and into her. He was too swept up to do anything about it, so he gathered the girl up completely, pinning her arms against her sides.         “Chat Noir?”
“You’re really something else.” He’d nearly forgotten just how thoughtful Marinette had always been. “I’m so glad to see you, Princess.” It’d been too long.
She wiggled her shoulders to make him loosen his grip, and soon he found her hugging him back. His shoulders sagged into her. It felt as fitting as he thought it would, the sensation both new and familiar. It was odd, because how many times had he actually hugged her as Adrien? Definitely not many as Chat Noir, but somehow there was a distinct feeling of returning. He was particularly fond of her head resting on his chest. That’s where the newness came in, he supposed. That, and the blooming feeling expanding from his lungs.
“It’s nice to see you, too.” Marinette said with an assuring squeeze. “I really did miss you, silly cat.”
“Would it be okay for me to start seeing you more?” He pulled away to look her in the eye.
Her smile greeted him sweetly. “I think that’d be a nice change.”
“I could use some change in my life.” He grinned sincerely.  
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baronessblixen · 7 years
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Adventures in Babysitting
So here it is! The sequel to THIS thing which was supposed to be just a prompt answer. I had several people ask me for a sequel and it still baffles me that you guys basically *want* to read my stuff (instead of me throwing it out there, hoping). If you prefer AO3, the second part will be HERE soon.
Now on with the story (more under the cut cause it’s really long)
The phone rings just as Mulder is about to leave his apartment. He stops, looks at his watch: 8.43 a.m. He and Scully never decided on a time last night, but he's been on the road with her plenty of times. If they don't have anywhere to be, if there's no plane waiting, an autopsy or other extraterrestrial tasks, Scully likes to take her time. Mulder figures arriving just after 9 a.m. at her place should neither be too late, nor too early.
The phone keeps ringing, a nagging sound that makes it impossible to leave. What if it's important? Yet, he doesn't pick it up. Because what if it's Scully? Telling him she's changed her mind and she doesn't want him to come over. He stares at the book in his hand, "I want to be an astronaut", a gift for Hannah. The thought of not seeing her, of Scully pushing him away, is unbearable and so he just stands there and waits. Finally, his answering machine springs to life. Mulder braces himself, just in case. If it really is Scully, and who else would call him on a Saturday morning?, then he is just going to pretend he never got the message. It's sleazy and selfish, but he feels no shame.
"Hello Fox," Mulder frowns upon hearing the voice on his machine and he is glad he didn't pick up the phone for entirely different reasons than fear, "It's Diana. There's this highly interesting case I found and I thought maybe we could spend the weekend looking it over. Spend some time together. I guess you're out on a run so just give me a call when you're back." Mulder listens to the beep, then he quickly walks over to the answering machine, pushes a button and is on his way.
"Message deleted." Chimes just as he closes the door behind him.
This time Mulder doesn't have to wait long for the door to open. Neither is he greeted by a skeptical look.
"Mulder!" Hannah screeches, jumping up and down, and finally right into his arms. "Aunt Dana said you'd be back and you are!" He marvels at how light the girl feels. Hugging her, Scully comes into view and she watches them. Mulder tries to decipher her expression with no luck and Hannah distracts him with her constant, happy chattering about space ships, aliens and pancakes.
"Hannah, why don't you let Mulder come inside first?" Her voice is gentle as her lips curl upwards into a smile. At first he thinks the smile is merely for Hannah, but she still wears it when their eyes find each other. He can barely look away and it's only when the small girl tugs at his sleeve that he manages to avert his eyes.
"Is that for me?" She glances at the book that's peeking out of his jacket.
"Maybe." Mulder attempts to sound mysterious and she stares up at him, her big eyes pleading. The world seems to stop moving for a moment; it's just standing still. He no longer sees Hannah in front of him. It's Emily. The girl that never was supposed to be. The same eyes, slightly different features, a little older. But it's her. It's Emily.  
"Is it a gift for Aunty Dana?" The girl's voice jolts him back to reality; she's Hannah again, grabbing at the colorful edge of the book.
"No, it's for you," he clears his throat and takes it out, his hand shaking slightly, "I thought you might like the story." Hannah holds the book like it’s made of glass.
“It’s an astronaut.” She tells Mulder as if he didn’t know, amazement seeping into her voice. He nods.
“Can you read what it says?” She nods solemnly, concentrates on the big letters.
“I want to be an astronaut,” she reads looking up at Mulder to make sure she got it right and he smiles at her reassuringly, “I want to be an astronaut too!” She squeals.
“That’s why I got it for you.” Her mouth forms an ‘oh’ but no words come out.
“What do you say, Hannah?”
“Thank you, Mulder.” Comes the automatic reply, the girl sitting down right there in front of him, opening the book.
“Sorry,” Mulder directs at Scully, who glances lovingly at Hannah, now lost in another world, “I should have given it to her after breakfast.”
“She couldn't wait to see you again.” Scully walks back into the kitchen and he follows her. He couldn't wait to get here again either to the two of them. He keeps that information to himself, though. Scully, without even asking, hands him a cup of coffee. He thanks her silently and takes a sip. It’s perfect; just the way he always drinks it. Why he ever expected anything else, he doesn’t know. They might have drifted apart these last few months, but it doesn’t change any of this. Of course she knows how he takes his coffee; he knows how she drinks hers. These things, insignificant and unimportant, they refuse to change. While all the rest crumbles and falls apart around them.
“Hannah and I made muffins and pancakes.”
“How long have you two been awake?” Mulder marvels, staring at the food on the table. To his greatest delight, Scully giggles. She really doesn’t do that often enough. At least not when he's around.
“I guess Hannah got too excited. She woke me up shortly after 6 a.m. So, are you hungry?” Mulder nods, eyeing the muffins.
“Hannah?” The girl doesn’t react. “Hannah, come on it’s time for breakfast.”
“I had cereal.” A small voice, unseen, lets her know.
“Hannah…” a first warning, a big sigh from a small girl, and she finally shuffles into the kitchen. She clutches the book in her hands and sits down.
“You like it?” Mulder points at the book as Scully puts two pancakes on Hannah’s plate.
“I really want to be an astronaut now,” Hannah, despite her protests, immediately digs into her pancakes, “I have to tell my daddy when I see him. He needs to know that aliens are gray.” She is quiet while she chews and swallows. Mulder almost forgets to eat, too immersed in just watching the child. Scully catches him and there’s that expression again, the one he can't read. Unable to tear his eyes away from her he wonders how they could have changed like this in such a short time. He thinks of Diana, her phone call, and just like he deleted it from his machine, he pushes the thought from his mind. Hannah tugs at his sleeve, unaware of the tension between the two adults.
"They really are gray, right?"
"Yes, they really are." Mulder assures her and pushes a pancake back onto her plate as it threatens to fall off. "Make sure you don't lose your UFOs there, Captain." Hannah giggles and stuffs it into her mouth.
"Do you have a picture? Of the aliens?" Hannah chews quickly, swallows even faster. Across the table, Scully chuckles softly.
"I don't think I do," Mulder eyes his partner and returns the soft smile. "But I'll make sure to check for you."
"Bummer." Hannah sighs. "Mulder, do you like the zoo?" It amazes him that this girl can jump from topic to topic in a single breath. She's chewing another pancake and eyes him curiously.
"I guess?" He looks to Scully for direction.
"Hannah wants to go to the zoo today." The girl nods so enthusiastically that Mulder is afraid she might bounce off the chair.
"Do you like it? Do you want to come with us? We don't have a zoo where I live. Mulder, you want to go to the zoo, right?" There's no way he can say no to this girl and he wonders if there's anyone in the Scully family who can. Mouth slightly agape, uncertain what the right answer is, he turns to Scully again, who gives a short, almost shy nod.
"I love the zoo, Hannah." Her grin, as well as Scully's soft smile that she tries to hide behind her coffee cup is everything.
*
Hannah is clinging to his hand on one side, to Scully's on the other, dragging them along to see, as she put it 'all the cute animals'. The feeling that accompanies Mulder is a strange one. Occasionally he glances at Scully, just to gauge her reaction, but she is so good at this, at being a mother. How could he have ever doubted it? Hannah's spewing questions at her and Scully answers them, all of them (his tiny, beautiful science nerd) in a gentle voice, and he feels like even he's learning new things. Mulder is about to ask her how she knows all of this anyway when Hannah spots a kiosk selling ice cream. She lets go off their hands and sprints towards the colorful stall where several children are waiting impatiently.
"I want that one." Hannah points to something so brightly red that even Mulder feels queasy. Scully however doesn't blink, doesn't say a word and gets her money out. Mulder stands there among all of these tiny people demanding ice cream and by chance his eyes meet another man's. A small child is in his arms, getting drops of ice cream all over his shirt. He stares at him, seemingly content despite the sticky child, despite his ruined shirt. The father gives him a short nod as if this was a club and Mulder had just been accepted before he takes the hand of a slightly taller boy and walks off.
"Mulder, look. Do you want to try it?" Hannah is holding her ice cream up as far as her arm allows.
"No, thank you. You eat it." She just shrugs and attacks her cone. As they continue on, Mulder is certain he sees more families than he sees animals. He's never paid much attention to families; he used to right after Samantha disappeared to see if anyone else's was broken as his was. They all looked liked this, though. Strolling through life holding hands, smiling at nothing and everything, not a care in the world. He knows it's not true, just another illusion, and right now they – he, Scully and Hannah – are an illusion, too. People who pass them by will think they're a family because all they see is the grin on Hannah's ice cream streaked face, the way Scully tries to clean that same face, shaking her head in amusement, and a father who keeps his eyes on his family, ready to jump in, protect them at all costs. If only they knew the truth. How Scully lost the only daughter she'll ever have last year. After knowing her a mere few days. The way Mulder would move heaven, earth and a few other planets to give her this; not the illusion, no, the real thing.
"Mulder?" It's Scully. She's standing before him and Hannah is not next to her. Shaking his head slightly, to get the dark thoughts out again, he looks around to search for the girl.
"She's over there," Scully points to the playground Mulder hasn't even noticed before, "I guess we'll be here a while. I asked you if you wanted to sit over there but you seem to have spaced out." He nods, scratching his chin. Without a word, he puts his hand on the small of her back and leads her over the empty bench. They have a perfect view of the playground, the children and Hannah, who seems to have made a friend already. Mulder catches Scully's wistful smile when he turns to her.
"She's so much like Charlie. He always made friends wherever we went. It just came… easily to him, I guess. It still does." Mulder watches her silently and tries to picture the mysterious Charlie who he still hasn't met.
"She's a great kid."
"Oh yeah. Yeah, she is." They both watch the little girl that's not theirs, side by side, quietly. Their thighs touch despite there not being a reason to; the bench is big enough, yet neither of them scoots away, both content with the warmth the other provides.
"Do you see her often? You've never mentioned her." Mulder knows he shouldn't ask. She's made it clear yesterday that she likes to keep part of her life to herself. He hasn't asked but Hannah must have been born around the time he and Scully were first partnered, maybe shortly after. Yet she's never mentioned her baby niece to him. The thought is a heavy weight inside his stomach.
"I don't. Charlie has a habit of not staying in contact with any of us. He tends to just show up or not."
"You didn't know he was coming, did you?" Scully has her hands neatly folded in her lap, her eyes directed forward, to where Hannah is. He understands her need to keep an eye on her all the time.
"He gave me a two days warning," she sighs, sounds absent-minded, "He's my brother. It's not like I could have said no." But there is more to the story, Mulder can tell. Another glance at Hannah, her reddish hair flying after her as she runs behind her new friend as if unable to keep up with the rest of her. Mulder doesn't get a chance to inquire more because to his greatest surprise, Scully opens up all by herself.
"He and Christine, his wife, they've been trying…"
"Trying?"
"To have another child. They've been trying for years." Scully is still not looking at him as the words tumble from her mouth. Her voice takes on this special nuance he hears whenever she's giving him autopsy details. Emotional detachment, he thinks and swallows hard, no longer certain he wants to hear it. Yet, at the same time he knows he needs to hear it. Scully trusts him with his. Despite their resent distance, she still trusts him. He concentrates on her, his eyes on her face as it's turned away from him.  
"They found a specialist here in Washington. That's why they're here. I told them to make a weekend of it. Just in case…" In case of bad news.  
"Hannah doesn't know, does she?"
"No, they told her they're meeting an old friend. She's a child, Mulder. A child who's been asking for a little brother or sister for years. They decided to look into it after Matty was born." After Emily died, Mulder thinks, but keeps quiet. He knows she's thinking it, too.  
"They called me last night," he hears the slight scratch in her voice and considers putting his arm around her shoulders; one year ago he wouldn't have thought twice about it. But he's not sure his comfort is welcome now; yesterday she was ready to push him away, more or less sent him away, and right now he couldn't ask for more than sitting here with her, sharing her pain. This time, though, she doesn't go on.
"Was it bad news?" Mulder tries, his arm twitching with the intent to move despite his reservations; the need to be there for her threatens to overwhelm him.
"No," she says and it's almost a whisper, almost lost among the squealing voices all around them, "no, it was good news." He hears the tears in her voice, understands, and stops worrying about the right way to do this. There is only way for him and so he puts his arm around her and against all odds, she leans into him. He breathes a kiss against her hair, single strands tickling his cheek, and closes his eyes.
"Have you… I know what I said but - have you considered getting a second opinion on your ova? Maybe this specialist can-"
"Mulder, no." But she doesn't push him away, stays right where she is, nestled into his side.
"You should, you know. Get a second opinion, I mean. Just imagine if it's-"
"What if it's not, Mulder? What if it's bad news for me?"
"You usually don't shy away from a challenge, Scully."
"Even if, and that's a very big if, Mulder… with our work and my lack of, you know, even if there was a chance that I could – I wouldn't even know how." She's talking herself in circles and Mulder chuckles which earns him a glare.
"I'm sorry, Scully, but there are ways. There are always ways. You have options." Him being one of these options, if she wants him.
"Thank you, Mulder. Really, I mean it. Thank you. I'll… think about it. Consider my options." Her eyes meet his and this time her expression is loud, it's clear; she means these words, understands what he's trying to tell her, and she is grateful. Mulder can't tear his gaze away from her and neither can she. He is reminded of that moment in his hallway. Does she remember? Does she remember his words, what almost happened before the bee stung her? Mulder knows he needs to try. If she's sending him away today he at least has this; this memory of her and Hannah, the illusion of being a family, of being someone important.
"I owe you everything," he tries and her eyes widen; she relaxes as he takes a shaky breath, "and you owe me nothing."
"No new lines, Mulder?" She smirks up at him, slyly. But in an instant it changes and there's a challenge in her eyes. His hand wanders from her shoulder to her neck. Scully gasps as his cool fingers trace along her neckline.
"Just checking," he whispers and gives her a moment to stop this, to stop him and when she doesn't, he finishes what they started that one summer day, so long ago. "No bees this time." He mumbles against her lips before he captures them. She moans into his mouth, opening up, and it's like an invitation he cannot pass up on.
"What are you doing?" No bees, no, but a child this time. Mulder lets go of Scully's lips, immediately misses the closeness and her taste, but Hannah stares up at them. There's dirt on her cheeks, a twig in her hair, and a huge grin on her face.
"I saw you kissing." She laughs joyfully, clapping her hands together. "Mulder, are you my new uncle now? You are, right? I knew Aunt Dana liked you!" She takes his big hand into her tiny one, smearing sand and who knows what on his fingers. He doesn't answer her, doesn't need to considering both he and Scully are blushing furiously in front of a child. He can't speak for Scully, and never would, but if it were up to him, he'd never leave this family again. Call me a Scully, he thinks; I'd change my name in a heartbeat. As Scully wipes away some of the crust on Hannah's face, much to the girl's disdain, Mulder winks at her. The girl laughs loudly and he is convinced it's the sound of hope soaring into the blue sky.
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youeverjustseeadog · 7 years
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Dance of My Dreams (YoI Short Fanfiction Part 1)
    Everything happened in so fast. The panic and rush made it feel like a life time. It was normally a quiet kingdom or quiet people. The king and queen ruled peacefully for many years with their two children. It was their younger child, the prince, who was meant to take over the throne one day, but he had shown no interest in power and feared the weight of the crown. While the king and queen had never understood they excepted this and allowed the prince to go off and train in his passions though they took him very far from home for many years. When he did finally come home it was due to the death of his dog. The small brown poodle had been his childhood companion. Even if it was for such a reason the kingdom wanted to celebrate their prince's return. So it was to be held a festival, and the Prince was expected to give a small speech to thank everyone.     =Early Morning-12 hours before party=     Prince Yuuri Katsuki paced his bed chambers. The small painting of his Vicchan sat on the desk next to a blank parchment and quill. He had been up all night trying to think of the best words to say that would mask how he truly felt about the whole ordeal. Truthfully his heart felt like a heavy stone in his chest and his eyes burned from the tears he still needed to shed though he had already cried a flood. He knew to the people it meant a lot, his return and their hope that he would stay to the the heir, but it wasn't what he wanted. It was selfish of him, he was well aware, pushing the burden onto his sister Mari. She had never complained though, and supported Yuuri's leaving to train. His family didn't even fully understand what it was he was training to do, but just accepted that it made him happy doing it.     The castle room felt to stuffy, the air to stale. Yuuri quickly turned for the door glancing at himself in the looking glass. His dark hair was fluffed up and messy from the many times he ran his hands though it in frustration, his dark eyes looked weary with the dark circles under them from lack of sleep, his clothing well worn and inexpensive. He would blend in just fine anywhere except in a castle. The thought was a passing muse that he had often shared with his traveling companion Phichit. The Thai boy had stayed in training and Yuuri missed him dearly, the bright smile and cheerful outlook countered Yuuri's own gloomy ways. Without the warmth Phichit seemed to radiate Yuuri felt himself becoming colder just as he was before meeting him.    As Yuuri descended the stairways hidden behind walls that were meant for staff he kept his gaze down caste. Either no one recognized him, or no one cared to question him. Out the kitchen door and into the garden the prince let his feet lead the way paying no mind to where he went. His mind wandered, taking in people and buildings as he left the safety of the castle's walls and made way into the surrounding town. As a child he had been forbidden to do such a thing with out an escort, but away from this kingdom he was no one. The freedom had given him a power, to wander and run, and a peace to think and let himself go; if only for a little while.    Taking twist and turns no one's eyes lingered on him for more than a quick once over. A shop keep to keep away thieves, a mother to guard her children, a harlot to asses his purse. None seemed to find him worth the words. He was glad, Yuuri didn't feel up to trying to converse with anyone.     Even after walking for an hour Yuuri felt just as confused and lost as before, only now he was physically lost onto of the mentally. Looking around he knew none of the buildings and could not even see the castle due to the sloping road and tall structures. His distress over the situation must have shown on his face since a stranger paused to face him. He was taller than Yuuri by a few inches, his skin was pale and his eyes a bright blue that seemed to glow in the light. He wore a hat hiding his hair and clothing tailored to his slim muscular build. With a half smile and sympathetic look he had Yuuri's heartbeat skipping.     "Hello there, are you alright?" He spoke with an accent, Yuuri knew it but couldn't place it. Either way he found himself confessing his situation to the stranger. "Um, actually I'm pretty turned around. Do you know which direction the castle is in?" The man raised an eyebrow and pointed. "That way I believe, this is one of the only streets that you wouldn't be able to see it." He didn't say it in a harsh way, but Yuuri still found his face heating up in embarrassment. "Right, of course it is." With a quick hand through his hair he forced a smile. "Thank you." Before headed towards a small path between two of the buildings in the direction he was given. As he walked passed the man cleared his throat catching Yuuri's attention again. "Maybe I'll see you around?" He asked, his head tilted to the side slightly his eyes bright with something Yuuri didn't recognize. Smile turning honest he turned to face the stranger once again. "I sure hope so." He had meant it too.      Before anything else could be exchanged Yuuri hurried down the path. As he stepped out the other side the castle's top came into view. He shook his head at the silliness of the situation suddenly feeling much better than he had before. The walk back was much faster, and with his now clear mind he felt he could finally find the words that had been slipping through his fingers.     He came in the side door just like he had left, but when he tried to slip behind the tapestry to the passages he was stopped. "Yuuri!" His father's voice called. Yuuri looked back at the small older man, his face was adorned with laugh lines under his mess of dark grey hair. Smiling he gave a small wave to his father. "Hi, good morning." Toshiya Katsuki did not seem like a king, he was too relaxed and cheerful. "Good morning, people are getting excited for the party. Some of the guest are already here." With a mischievous look in his gaze he added, "I think you might be int rested in meeting them." Not waiting for Yuuri to answer he waved over a few people who had been quietly chatting on the other side of the room. As they all shifted from their group Yuuri tried to find any one that he might recognize. With his poor vision he couldn't make out much until they had all meet in the middle of the room.     Toshiya introduced them all: Michele and Sara Crispino, Mila Babicheva, Georgi Popovich, Emil Nekola, Guang-Hong Ji, Otabek Altin, and finally... "Phichit!" Yuuri spoke surprised and pleased. His Thai friend grinned leaping at Yuuri and pulling him into a big hug. "Yuuuuuri! You have the worst eyesight eveeeeer!" Phichit laughed drawing out his words. In his excitement Yuuri had twirled Phichit around lifting him off the ground. When he did step back grinning in a way that made his cheeks hurt. The Thai boy reached up messing with Yuuri's hair, his own dark hair had been brushed and cleaned. "You look like crap friend, did you sleep at all?" While he spoke playfully Yuuri saw the concern in his dark eyes that only looked darker being framed by the richer skin tone of his face. Yuuri covered his friend's hands with his own. "Don't worry I'm fine."    While Phichit didn't seem convinced there were still the group of people watching, most with amused smiles. Suddenly very embarrassed Yuuri felt his face turn bright red, though he still couldn't stop smiling as Phichit relaxed next to him swinging an arm over his shoulder. Remembering his manners he gave a small bow to the group. "H-hello, nice to meet you all. Thank you for coming." They all nodded  giving small and polite greetings back. Toshiya took up leading the conversation from there so all Yuuri had to do was smile and nod like everyone else. Phichit stayed leaning close to Yuuri's ear though so that they could exchange whispering comments and questions. After what seemed like much longer than it actually was Yuuri found a good moment to excuse them since they had some catching up to do and he still had to write his speech.     =10 hours until Party=    In Yuuri's bed chambers Phichit made himself at home laying out on the couch in the sitting area. Yuuri sat on the arm of the couch looking down at his friend. "So what made you change your mind?" He asked, when Yuuri had left for home Phichit had been torn between going to support Yuuri and staying to continue training with their shared teacher. He had ultimately decided to stay after Yuuri had convinced him that he would be okay and they would exchange letters until Yuuri could come back. Yet here he was, in Yuuri's childhood home, only days after he had arrived.     Phichit seemed serious as his eyes burned into Yuuri's. "Right after you left I got this bad feeling that I couldn't shake. Even when training the next day I couldn't manage to do anything right. Ciao Ciao and I talked it over and agreed that I should come, if nothing else to cease with these foreboding thoughts." Yuuri raised an eyebrow and tapped Phichit's forehead. "Yeah, I don't by that for a second. What's up?" Pouting Phichit sat up and turned to face Yuuri, "I'm serious!" After a short stare off he caved. "Fine! I was hoping coming would get you to come back sooner. I'm here to help remind you what you still need to do back at the camp." Yuuri sighed but found himself with a small half smile all the same. "I know, and I will be back. It's been a while since I've seen my family is all so it might be a bit longer. I still plan on practicing everyday so I won't fall behind or anything."     Eyes down caste Phichit mumbled, "You're not still upset about the last competition?" Yuuri leaned forward until his forehead rested against Phichit's. "I'm not, I was before but I've had time to think it over. A loss is a loss, but it also reminded me on how much harder I can work to never be in that position again." Yuuri watched as Phichit's eyes went from shock to understanding and then to relief. "Yuuri!" He crowed pulling the prince into a hug. Yuuri hugged his back as he was pulled on top of his friend and onto the couch. After laughing for a moment They sat up so they could speak comfortably.    "When we saw you, you were coming back from somewhere right?" The way he raised his eyebrows with that knowing smile Yuuri found himself blushing even though the implications didn't apply to him. "I was just walking around the town!" Defending himself quickly causing his voice to raise a bit in volume only made Phichit's accusation seem more accurate. "Oh my god! Who was it? Where? Did you two do it?" Face bright red Yuuri gave Phichit a small shove. "No! Stop! Nothing like that happened!" That only made Phichit more excited. "So there was someone! Yuuuuuuuri you have to tell me! What happened then?" He was leaning forward with big anticipating eyes. Not able to look directly at him Yuuri directed his gaze to the mantel above the small fireplace. It was littered with things that, as a child, Yuuri had found important enough to display there. "I promise I was just wandering the town to clear my head. After a while I got lost. Some guy just pointed me in the right direction to get back."    "Some guy? Must have been SOME guy to make you this fidgety." Even though it was just a tease Yuuri groaned leaning back pulling one of the couple of cushions scattered about into his arms. "Yeah he was." It was then Phichit knew his friend needed no more prompting. "He was a bit taller than me, not like ridiculously so, but enough where I had to look up slightly." Thinking back on it now Yuuri allowed himself to fantasize about the man. "Good lord Phichit his eyes were so blue it was unreal. He even asked if he would 'see me around' Phichit." When Yuuri finally sat up he saw the biggest grin on his friend's face. Eyes bright he said something quietly, Yuuri asked what he said leaning in closer trying to hear. "IT'S LIKE LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT! THIS IS SO EXCITING YUURI OH MY GOSH WHAT IF YOU TWO ARE LIKE SOUL MATES DESTINED TO MEET!" Phichit jumped up, his shouting had startled Yuuri making his eyes go wide and his body stiff. Walking around Phichit began ranting about love stories and fate must have brought Yuuri and the stranger together. After a second Yuuri laughed his face and was just really glad he had such a great friend.
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