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impalementation · 3 years

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spike, angel, buffy & romanticism: part 1

I said a long ways back that I thought the switch from Angel to Spike as Buffy’s primary love interest represented an interesting evolution in the show’s attitude towards—and interrogation of—romanticism, and I finally felt like expanding on what I meant by that. This is very long, very meandering, and not terribly academic or well-edited, but I hope there’s something of interest in it nonetheless. It is about 20,000 words in total, and will discuss, in more or less chronological order, the arc of the show’s attitude towards romanticism as it is embodied in Spike, Angel, Buffy and Buffy’s relationships with both of them. I was going to release it as one long post, but because it’s so long, I figured a series of posts might be more readable. Here’s the first one.

“When you kiss me I want to die”: Angel and the high school seasons

Both Spike and Angel are at once capital-R Romantic figures, and lower-case romantic interests, and in both cases that Romantic/romantic duality is what makes them such effective avatars for ideas around romanticism. In the case of Angel, the show is aware from the beginning that he is very much a Romantic idea of something. In “Welcome to the Hellmouth” Buffy describes him as “dark” and “gorgeous”, evoking the “tall, dark and handsome” cliche. He’s mysterious. He gives her a necklace and his coat, gestures out of high school romance fiction.* In “Out of Mind, Out of Sight” Giles lampshades the romance of him: “A vampire in love with a Slayer. It’s rather poetic, in a maudlin sort of way.” Initially, Angel is basically designed to be a teenage girl fantasy, and it’s no coincidence that his successors like Edward Cullen or Stefan Salvatore conform to similar tropes.

*(Think of how five seasons later, a vampire will give Dawn his letterman jacket in “All the Way”. It’s hard not to read as a deliberate echo of Angel’s gift in season one. Once again, a vampire makes romantic gestures towards a high school version of “Buffy”, and later turns on her. But more on this much later in the series.)

The difference between Angel and those other, more typical Supernatural Romance love interests however, is that the show ultimately attempts to subvert the romance of him. As part of its commentary on Gothic themes, season two makes Angel more Romantic than ever (the Claddagh, the tormented past), and makes the romance between him and Buffy central to the story in a way it wasn’t in season one. And then, of course, the season tears it all apart. The first time we learn what Angel did to Drusilla it’s horrifying, but still somehow abstract. Something that seems more like it’s meant to contribute to Angel’s dangerous, Byronic image. As in, something to make him more Romantic. And then suddenly it becomes real. Suddenly, it’s something that Angel could do to Buffy, or the people Buffy cares about. It turns out that his darkly romantic aura was not just an aura, but genuinely dark all along.

In turn, Angel’s devastating transformation is a metaphor for broader disillusionment about romantic ideas. It’s less to me about a “guy going bad after sex”, and more about what it means and feels like to have the scales fall from one’s eyes in that sort of situation. As Buffy copes with the fallout of Angel’s transformation, and later is forced to kill him, I see it as being about the tragedy of having to see the world in ways that are less simple, easy, or pretty as one gets older. As Buffy and Giles say in “Lie To Me”:

BUFFY: Nothing's ever simple anymore. I'm constantly trying to work it out. Who to love or hate. Who to trust. It's just, like, the more I know, the more confused I get.

GILES: I believe that's called growing up.

For more on this, I recommend this livejournal post on “Lie To Me”, which goes into great depth on the way season two frames stories as pretty lies that one needs to look beneath, and how Buffy’s romanticization of Angel symbolizes that.

The whole arc of the season is Buffy’s failure to see the danger presented by Angel. In this opening scene that danger is foreshadowed. More to the point for this essay, Angel goes on to lie to Buffy about having encountered Drusilla. He doesn’t want Buffy to know about the nature of Angelus – which means that his first inclination is to mask the danger he presents to Buffy. This is one episode after Halloween, where Buffy’s romantic fantasies about what Angel wants (a damsel) nearly get her killed. Nor is she completely over those fantasies, as she notes that the mystery woman talking to Angel had a pretty old-fashioned dress. So against the backdrop of Buffy’s fantasies about her dark and mysterious boyfriend we have the truth about what he is, which is quite horrifying.

Season three then takes this to another level, by not just pointing out the darkness of the romance of Angel, but in fact puncturing his romantic image. Instead of emphasizing his dangerousness, as season two did, season three emphasizes his adulthood. It emphasizes the way that Angel is someone Buffy sees in secret, or away from her friends. He’s not integrated with her teenage, high school life, and doesn’t fit with the peppy, high school movie aesthetic that characterizes a lot of season three. By doing this, the writing indicates that at this point in their lives, Buffy and Angel are ultimately incompatible and holding each other back. Regardless of however much they might care for each other, Angel can’t fully appreciate her teenage longings like dances, and college, and having a boyfriend. And Buffy can’t fully appreciate his adult need to find himself on his own terms. By the end of season three, Angel is less of a shadowy, tragic figure, and more just an adult man who needs to finally grow up a bit.

Season three also starts making jokes where the punchline is that Angel isn’t living up to the romantic aesthetic he embodied in seasons one and two. In “Helpless”, for example, he and Buffy have an exchange where he waxes sincerely about wanting to “keep [her heart] safe, to warm it with [his own]” and although Buffy says the sentiment is beautiful, a second later she deadpans: “Or taken literally, incredibly gross.” To which Angel replies, “I was just thinking that, too.” Or in “Graduation Day, Part 1”, Angel trips on a doorway instead of making a silent entrance and Buffy again deadpans: “Stealthy.” Angel’s romance slips at moments when Buffy herself is feeling weak, either because she has lost her Slayer powers, or she’s investigating the scene of her sister Slayer’s crime. Her Romantic Slayer half is betraying her, and her romantic girlish half is feeling insecure. This is echoed by the reminder that Angel is no longer a straightforward fantasy man--or a terrifying, larger-than-life villain--but a guy who is sometimes both verbally and physically inelegant.

(Notice how one of the few times season two makes similar jokes about Angel it’s in “Lie to Me”, the very same episode that begins to peel off the layers of deceptions and unknowns about him. Angel slumps around Willow’s bedroom and jokes about “honing [his] brooding skills”, he insists that the vampire wannabes know nothing about vampires right before a guy walks by wearing his exact outfit, and Xander runs color commentary, saying “you’re not wrong” after each of Ford’s observations. In “Lie to Me” one of Angel’s hidden faces is his dangerousness, yes. But another hidden face is simply his human awkwardness.)

There’s an interesting Slayage piece by Elizabeth Gilliland that discusses the idea of Angel as a Gothic double for Buffy, specifically connecting him to the story of Jekyll and Hyde. It argues that Angel’s split identities represent Buffy’s fears that her human and Slayer halves are irreconcilable, and she cannot fully control either half. In season three, the fact that Buffy and Angel must continuously resist a loss of control with each other, and are treated as romantically incompatible, reflects this fear.

In Season Three, replete with various factors in Buffy’s life that threaten to put her role as Slayer and girl into imbalance once more [...] Angel once again returns [...]. The season culminates in an attempted attack on Buffy’s classmates during graduation, which essentially forces her to “out” herself to her community and combine her roles as Slayer and daughter, classmate, and friend for the first time publicly (“Graduation Day: Part 2” 3.22). The worst has happened: her secret has been revealed, the entire school knows about both of her personas, and she has not only survived, but emerged with a stronger sense of self [...] Buffy has conquered her first Gothic fear, and proven to herself that she can not only exercise control over both dualities of her persona, but allow them to peacefully co-exist. Thus, Angel’s continuing struggle with Angelus can no longer act as her shadow, and he literally and metaphorically leaves her to continue the rest of her journey.

It’s an interpretation I mostly agree with, and see a lot of evidence for. But in keeping with the focus of this series, I think you could also read Angel as embodying a duality between the romantic and the unromantic. In this view, Buffy’s struggle between her human and her Slayer halves is not just a struggle between personas, but a struggle to see the world correctly. In season one, it’s not Angel that revives Buffy in “Prophecy Girl”, because Angel is a vampire trope just like the Master. He cannot help her, because he is exactly the kind of traditional romantic concept--like a candle-lit cavern, an ancient Nosferatu-looking vampire, or a Chosen Hero duty--that Buffy is trying to escape. In season two, loss of control is specifically associated with passion, romance, and romanticism. Buffy’s human half longs for the romantic, but her Slayer half, and Angel’s vampire half, prove that sometimes the romantic is something dangerous and violent. The fact that Buffy’s Slayer identity and Angel’s Angelus identity both end up being outed by the end of the season (especially to Joyce, a figure of Buffy’s human home life), echoes Buffy’s loss of innocence. Season three then continues this suspicion of passion. Buffy fears that like Faith, enjoying the violence and power and desire of being a Slayer, means that she will go down a dark path. She also fears that indulging in her sexual and romantic desire for Angel will unleash Angelus. To some extent, these fears are even borne out, given that her love for Angel results in her attempted murder of Faith, and near death at Angel’s hands. But to some extent they also aren’t, given that she, Faith and Angel all live.

To me, what really gets resolved at the end of season three is not quite the issue of Buffy’s human and Slayer halves, given that Buffy will continue to struggle with that duality until the end of the show. Rather, what gets resolved is the need for binaries. Binaries are romantic things. When Giles gives his speech to Buffy at the end of “Lie To Me”, it is the language of binaries that he uses:

GILES: Yes, it's terribly simple. The good guys are always stalwart and true, the bad guys are easily distinguished by their pointy horns or black hats, and, uh, we always defeat them and save the day. No one ever dies, and everybody lives happily ever after.

BUFFY: Liar.

In season three, Buffy thinks she must resist both Faith and Angel. She thinks she can only be either a human girl or a Slayer leader. Many plots in season three have to do with the danger of binaries, whether that’s the witch-hunting parents in “Gingerbread”, Willow dealing with her vampire self in “Doppelgangland”, the various alter-egos in “Beauty and the Beasts”, or Cordy choosing a Buffy-less world in “The Wish”. And no character in the Buffyverse embodies the concept of binaries so starkly as Angel does. Thus by the end of season three, Buffy collapses the binaries within herself by merging the human and Slayer parts of her life, as Gilliland observes, and taking on Faith’s traits. She acknowledges her shadow by kissing her tenderly on the forehead, and bids farewell to the illusions and binaries that Angel embodies. Buffy is leaving that part of her life behind, and starting a new chapter where she can no longer split either the world, or herself, into any one thing or another.

part 2: “Love isn’t brains, children”: Enter Spike as the id

#romanticism series #buffy #angel #s1 #s2 #s3 #s6 #gen #spike #btvs

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usohtsuki · 4 years

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sakuatsu fic recs!

*possibly haikyuu!! manga spoilers

the world needs to know about these beautiful miya atsumu & sakusa kiyoomi fics - let me know if i’ve missed any must-reads and i’ll update as i find more (last updated 30/04/2020). this does not include incompleted fics.

☆ = nsfw

Different Kinds of Dysfunctional (series) - DeathBelle ☆

(there’s no series description so this is just the description of the first fic)

Atsumu said into the heavy silence, “You can’t say you’ve never thought about it.”

"Thought about what?" said Sakusa.

Atsumu smiled to himself, smug. "You know."

"No, I don't."

"You know. Of course you’ve thought about it. There’s no reason to be ashamed, Omi-kun. I’m a real catch.”

Sakusa was appalled. "You're disgusting."

"You flatter me. I'm not judging you. I can't lie and say I haven't thought about it, too."

Sakusa shifted, slowly, to peer over his shoulder. He wasn’t scowling, but his expression was unreadable. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Atsumu wasn't joking, and he was about to get more than he bargained for.

your highs and lows (series) - astroeulogy ☆

a post-time skip canonverse series born from these two questions:

1. what if sakusa kiyoomi, known too-blunt jerk, is equally straightforward about his soft, tender feelings?

2. what if miya atsumu, resident big fat jerk who doesn't care if his teammates hate him, is too emotionally stunted to notice when his one of his teammates actually likes him?

did you get your wish? - bastigod

"Miya-san, do you have any regrets?"

Atsumu hummed in response. The fabric of his jacket crinkled as he shoved his hands into his pocket. "Getting sentimental, Sakkun?" He sighed. "I suppose after your last tournament is as good a time as any for it."

good is the life, the life is good - fiskanel ☆

From time to time Sakusa wants to empty a full clip into the head of some criminal, chop their head off and to feed the remains to starved pigs. Or avoid feeding and have a ceremonial burning so that he gets the feeling that he has done it himself, with his own hands, because now his nerves are getting the best of him. The first rule of their agency is no killing until other options get irrelevant.

got sunshine in a bag - fiskanel ☆

‘Is everything okay?’ Sakusa asks, running through Atsumu’s hair and trying to catch his breath.

‘Yes.’ In his post-orgasmic bliss Atsumu doesn’t exist as a person. He has a hoarse voice, swollen lips, watery eyes, and his semen is smeared between their stomachs. ‘It's okay.’

the inherent romance of classical conditioning (or, the fine art of emotional recognition) - pseudoanalytics ☆

It's stupid. Atsumu isn't a romantic, no matter how many times he's imagined laying Sakusa out and finally really touching him.

So there's no explanation for why Atsumu is constantly stuck thinking about brushing his fingertips against the meat of Sakusa's palms or the prominent tendons in his freaky wrists.

There's no explanation for why doing dishes sets off a warm burn in his ribcage, or why when he smells disinfectant he inhales like he's walking past a bakery.

Yer doin' this to me, he thinks furiously, as Sakusa derails his thoughts with kisses that come more and more frequently now. Yer conditionin' me, and I can't stop it.

School Bus Yellow - yuuki

Atsumu has a crush on Sakusa, and it’s kind of ridiculous how much he likes a guy who wears ugly colored jackets and is afraid of germs.

Though, Atsumu’s probably not all that great himself. He’s still figuring that part out.

in disguise of revelation - wordstruck

“Did you need something, Miya-san?” Sakusa asks. Is this, Atsumu wonders wryly, how thieves feel when they’re caught.

“Omi-kun,” he replies with a slow-blooming foxkill grin. (And he hits a nail on the head — the unwelcome nickname makes Sakusa’s eye twitch just slightly.) “Lemme set for ya.”

Ah, there it is. A flicker of something colder behind that flat gaze, a there-and-gone-again that still hits Atsumu like a lightning strike. It makes his grin widen. Cavalier mischief is his best shield.

“My name,” the other boy says, in a voice of steel under paper, “is Sakusa.”

we are not shining stars - wordstruck

“I wanna see the Shinhotaka Ropeway,” Atsumu explains, as if this is a reasonable explanation for dragging your professional-volleyball-playing teammate out on an impromptu eight-hour road trip to a tourist attraction six hundred kilometers away.

“Uh huh.” Osamu pauses. Atsumu can hear his twin silently contemplating various reasons for Atsumu’s continued existence. “Is Sakusa-kun your hostage?”

“He wants ta see the Shinhotaka Ropeway too.” (This is a blatant lie.)

(Ten days after they lose to the Schweiden Adlers, Atsumu knocks on Sakusa Kiyoomi's door and invites him on a road trip.)

Notice - bastigod

Embarrassingly, Miya Atsumu is the third person to notice his crush on Sakusa.

And it's his crush in the first place.

The Germaphone and the Asshole (series) - metaandpotatoes ☆

(there’s no series description so this is just the description of the first fic)

“The germ thing,” Atsumu says, looking as if he is intensely trying not to care. Eloquent as always. And unexpected, again. An inconvenient turn of events, if the habit persists. Adjustments will have to be made. Reaction times calibrated. Kiyoomi steps back again, what he hopes is an unnoticeable amount.

“The germ thing,” Kiyoomi repeats. Atsumu—headstrong, think-never Atsumu—hesitates. Kiyoomi briefly entertains the thought that he is trapped in a lucid dream.

flowers and all that bullshit - ugaytsu ☆

Atsumu asks for flowers, Sakusa gives him an interesting one.

On Edge - cajynn ☆

Atsumu needs to learn a lesson in patience. Thankfully Sakusa is a very skilled teacher.

Multiples of Two - yuuki

He does everything in multiples of two. The day Sakusa Kiyoomi died, Atsumu checked his pulse twenty-eight times. Okay, so Sakusa Kiyoomi has never died. And Atsumu has never been close enough to Sakusa to be able to check his pulse. So what if Atsumu is just being dramatic again? He’s allowed to be dramatic when he’s in love with a man who has less emotion than a rock.

after hours - novacaelum

"Are you scared of being caught, Omi-kun?"

"No." Sakusa's voice is strong despite his breathlessness, Atsumu smirks and crashes their lips together again.

crushed - strawberrycitrus ☆

"Can you crush a watermelon between your thighs?"

The entire team bursts into laughter, whereas Sakusa looks disgusted by the thought, because of course he would - Atsumu imagines that getting anywhere close to a food product with his legs would probably get him killed on sight.

The watermelon doesn't stand a chance.

show me how - emeraldpalace

Sakusa isn’t sure when or how it happened, but the fact remains: Miya Atsumu has become a comfortable constant in his life.

Black Jackals teammates verify controversial relationship announcement - pseudoanalytics

Despite initial public skepticism, sources close to Miya Atsumu (#13) and Sakusa Kiyoomi (#15) insist the relationship is authentic and not a publicity stunt.

Towers - slice_of_cheesecake

As the second prince of Inari Kingdom, Prince Atsumu has his duties to fulfill. Other than that, his twin brother, Crown Prince Osamu, just can't be bothered with such a troublesome quest, unless it's about food.

There's a nefarious sorcerer that is infamous for terrorizing neighboring kingdoms and Atsumu is given the task to slay the villain. But as soon as he sees the evil sorcerer, he suddenly forgot about his quest. Instead, he makes it his top priority to know more about this mysterious man and how he came to realize that all things are not always what they seem.

The MSBY Black Jackals Read Thirst Tweets - isaksara

Sakusa’s eyes are very dark naturally, sucking in all surrounding rays of light and crushing them in his pupils. For an athlete, he is rather pale. His lips look very pink in comparison. Atsumu is suddenly catastrophically aware that in this instance, ‘accent’ is a euphemism. “Good enough for your Olympic-size ego, Miya?”

(In which Atsumu realizes that he is attracted to Sakusa Kiyoomi in the most inconvenient way possible.)

touch me, hold your hand to the flame, keep it there as long as you can stand - kaashiboo ☆

“I don’t trust you,” Sakusa says, and: “Don’t touch me.” Miya Atsumu does not flinch as grazed joints press against their shoulder, unfolding slowly, grasping onto them. Their breath hitches. Closed eyelids flutter, but don’t open up. “Don’t touch me,” Sakusa repeats, pleadingly, his fingers trembling so hard he thinks he can’t keep this up. Yet, he’s the one putting more pressure into it. Desperately, starvingly, longingly. “I won’t.” Atsumu promises. “I won’t touch ya, Kiyoomi-kun. I won’t.”

you make my heart burn - myhopeisjhope

“What’s up with that awful expression?” Atsumu asked. He leaned against the counter with his hip, looking directly at Kiyoomi, his regular fox-line grin plastered on his face.

Kiyoomi made eye-contact with him then, his eyebrows knotting in annoyance, but Atsumu was too interested in the cute pair of beauty marks above Kiyoomi’s eye to care about the glare that was sent his way.

“What’s up with that awful hair?” Kiyoomi shot back.

And that was exactly when Atsumu decided he liked the guy.

we’re falling out of touch - NovaCaelum

Sakusa loves Miya's hands. They look coarse from playing volleyball for long hours, they curve perfectly and set a ball as if he's reading the player's thoughts. As if he could. If it was true, then he'd know how Sakusa can't drag his eyes away from long fingers, rough calluses...How Sakusa wants to run the pads of his fingers over the shape, memorise it as if he'd never have the chance to do it again.

sometimes we have to wait (it takes time to find you) - ProudHaikyuuTrash

Three times Atsumu falls in love and is left heart-broken and the one time he gets his happy ending.

The Misadventures of Crackshot and Limber - astroeulogy ☆

Six months ago, the hero known as Bloodhound became the latest in a long line of mysterious disappearances. When a sudden break in the case leads his old partner and twin brother to the home of Southpaw, the most famous hero in Osaka, things take a turn for the—strange.

drive me mad (series) - Ceryna ☆

snapshots of a tattoo & motorcycle AU fusion, featuring Kiyoomi with tattoos and a motorcycle, and head-over-heels pining Atsumu.

Heresy - honeybakedgrace

“I’d like to see that,” Kiyoomi jokes, a cheeky grin curling up the corners of his lips. Atsumu closes the gap, slowly, then all at once, until they can feel the other’s breath on their lips.

“It's too bad,” Atsumu trails off, eyes cast onto Kiyoomi’s exposed neck.

“Too bad?”

“Too bad,” Atsumu echoes, “in another life, maybe I coulda shown ya.”

Shades of Ink - DeathBelle ☆

It’s fortunate that Miya Atsumu is such a good tattoo artist, because that appears to be his only redeeming quality. He’s too loud, too cocky, and so overtly flirtatious that Sakusa almost leaves the shop before he even steps inside. But he’s seen firsthand that Atsumu does good work, so he stays and suffers through it.

The longer he's there, the more he thinks maybe Atsumu isn't all bad.

When Atsumu asks for a tattoo from Sakusa’s shop in return, Sakusa knows he should turn Atsumu down. He doesn’t.

What should have been a routine business transaction turns into something more hands-on than either of them expected.

compositional control - almondblossom ☆

Sakusa Kiyoomi hated Miya Atsumu’s smug face, how bossy he was to the staff, and how full of himself he got. Even worse, he was outraged by how good Atsumu looked when he edited the photos from their shoot and how he ended up staring at them long after he was done. He loathed him and his pretty face and how it was all he could think about.

I Heard Your Voice - mrkscafe

Where Sakusa meets Atsumu while at work.

“Hey there, Pretty Moles-kun!”

Don’t turn off the light (I’ll give you what you like) - Liberty_Fede ☆

Atsumu thinks he can tease Sakusa, but gets completely wrecked instead.

three roses and a smile - strawberrycitrus

“I just got this job, I’m not givin’ it up for some moral boost ‘cause I actually need to pay my rent, ya insensitive -” Atsumu waves his hands around, trying and failing to come up with the right word to convey the amount of injustice that this gaunt motherfucker has brought into his relatively simple life thus far.

“If you can’t pay your rent, go get a job at the McDonald’s over by 8th Street,” Sakusa growls, “it’ll pay more than your researcher position.”

If you even attempt assault on a coworker, forget teaching about cells - you’ll fucking be in one, Atsumu.

Live A Little - DeathBelle ☆

Sakusa's first mistake is getting on the motorcycle.

The second is his inability to walk away from Atsumu.

just a boy undercover (and a boy with a getaway) - volchitsae

Atsumu reaches out, clearly ready since birth to fuck with people. "Hey, I'm Atsumu Miya. Nice to work with The Lonely Lance." Osamu tries to kick at the back of his knee, but Atsumu is already moving toward Sakusa to get into his space.

Sakusa grasps the tips of Atsumu's fingers with his gloved hand for half a second before snatching it back. The warmth of the leather makes Atsumu's fingers twitch.

"It's Sakusa. I know who you are." Atsumu notes that he does not look pleased at all.

Instantly, his feud with Osamu hits the back burner. Atsumu wants to piss off the living shit out of this guy, 24/7, 365.

godeater - hozier

I’m still waitin’ for the day you consume me whole.

let them eat chaos - mirabilis

Standing between God and Ozymandias himself, Kiyoomi forges the remains of the boy who once challenged the Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium and lost.

Saltwater - DeathBelle

“I said I was taking a walk alone.” Sakusa’s voice sounded odd, washed out by the low roar of the ocean. He sounded small, insignificant, and maybe he was.

“Yeah, I heard you.” Atsumu sounded the same as ever, loud and bold and always teetering on the edge of obnoxious. He stepped up beside Sakusa, maybe looking at him, maybe gazing out at the water.

“And you didn’t listen,” said Sakusa. “That’s typical.”

“I listened. I just heard what you didn’t say, too.”

an observational study of the modern desmodus rotundus - firtree

Ever since meeting Miya Atsumu, Kiyoomi's life has been a continuous stream of very unlucky incidents that have bled into a veritable sea of regret in which he finds himself, with no hopes of swimming back to the shore. In short, everything that is wrong with his life can (and will be) be attributed to making the acquaintance of Miya Atsumu.

Or: Some might think that becoming a vampire is the biggest problem that Kiyoomi will ever have to face. Wrong. His biggest problem comes in the form of Miya Atsumu and the crush he definitely does not have on him.

Reaching Through the Screen - cajynn ☆

“Oh my god.” Atsumu looks both shocked and thoroughly amused. “Omi-Omi. Is that porn?”

Euterpe - 09271996

Atsumu does not sing nor spare a glance at the instrument even once. His fingers alone do the wonders. Like a person meditating, only having his fingers move all according to instinct. He plays a hauntingly sad song, if Sakusa would describe it. He is not familiar with it but the way the chords resonate around the room and gives goosebumps to his skin, he knows that if he goes to sleep, it’s going to haunt him.

want you in my room - volchitsae ☆

"we hooked up and now the city has shut down for a week due to a pandemic and now we're stuck in your apartment" AU -- There’s a comfortable quiet while Sakusa butters some toast until Atsumu’s phone starts ringing from where it’s plugged into the wall. Sakusa scoops it up from the desk in the living room and hands it over to Atsumu, who puts it on speakerphone.

“Yo, ‘Samu,” Atsumu says, around a mouthful of cereal.

“Oh, so now you pick up.”

“My phone died!”

“We thought you died. It’s lucky you weren’t murdered. Unlucky for me, I’ve always wondered what it was like to be an only child.”

“You mean, I’m lucky I wasn’t murdered by his dick –“

“SHUT –“

Atsumu grins and shoots at look at Sakusa, who raises his eyebrows and takes a sip of coffee.

take what’s yours and make it mine - claudusdiei

atsumu falls in love four times in his life

(or: in which atsumu gets his heart broken twice, has the self-awareness of a sober mule and really likes yellow tulips)

nothing but some heartburn, baby - volchitsae

"your apartment is next to mine and i can hear you and your partner dancing and singing and the bed moving and you two laughing and talking in hushed tones and it won’t let me sleep so i bitch about it to you 24/7 and one day it stops and one day turns to one week and then months and i haven’t seen you smile in forever please let me in, i’ve been knocking for ten minutes" AU

Sakusa is just trying to pass med school.

as you are - waitaminute

Kiyoomi learns that falling for Atsumu is the easiest thing in the world.

bet on it - kambedon

Volleyball players are known for a lot of things.

Intense plays, long rallies, arm-breaking serves—those are only some of the things they are known for. But in Japan, the volleyball players (high school, college, and professionals alike) are infamous for something that no one really expected: their betting pool.

(or alternately, everyone finds out that one of the best spikers in Japan, Sakusa Kiyoomi, is dating someone and they try to figure out his identity while the person he’s dating remains clueless about it.)

two slow dancers - babbito

Atsumu smiles, Sakusas face still downturned in displeasure. It only makes butterflies storm his stomach, the fluttery feeling making him feel warm.

“You wanna know somethin’ Omi-kun?” He asks, Sakusas eyes still bore into Atsumus, waiting for him to continue. “You look really pretty when you sleep.”

my heart is thrilled by the still of your hand - volchitsae ☆

“And that’ll be $27.50,” Atsumu says, fishing out a card machine from one of the bag pockets. “Debit or credit?”

Sakusa pulls out his wallet and pays with a credit card, and Atsumu dutifully packs it all away before extending the bagged blood over the threshold. Sakusa takes them but raises one eyebrow at Atsumu, a silent question at the maid costume and not the regular red and black polo shirt with slacks.

Atsumu fiddles with the bag strap. “Honestly, I was tryin' to come up with a pizza boy porn line, something about having ordered sausage and relating it to vampires, but I’ve got nothin’,” he confesses, which makes Sakusa laugh. Atsumu sees the flash of sharper than usual canines in his smile.

i keep a window for you, it’s always open - volchitsae

Atsumu scrolls around on YouTube, feeling like he's spiralling a little into the odd corners of it when some recommended videos are "I'm a Plague Doctor and You've Been Diagnosed with the Black Plague ASMR" or videos of people eating truly remarkable amounts of food. No judgement (maybe a little bit, he's no angel), but mukbangs make him hungry and whispering roleplay makes his ears itch. A video called "Study With Me: Pomodoro Technique #1" appears and he clicks on it.

The channel's name is endomiphins, and the thumbnail features a view of a man from the neck downward at his desk, notebook and laptop open.

Atsumu presses play. -- Sakusa is a barista by day, ASMR and study YouTuber by night, and Atsumu falls a little in love with both.

#sakuatsu #sakusa kiyoomi #miya atsumu #atsuomi #sakuatsu fic rec #haikyuu #haikyuu manga spoilers #haikyuu spoilers #msby black jackals #black jackals #haikyuu fic recs #fanfiction

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mammons-tax-returns · 4 years

Note

How would the brothers react to a very punk goth Mc like platforms and all black and just the whole shebang he’s very nice but also will throw hands (there’s not enough male Mc your doing the good work my dude)

BROTHERS REACTING TO A GOTH/PUNK MC

Perfect way to start off the new blog !! Thank you for requesting, hope this is what you had in mind <3 (and that it’s not too apparent that i’m not super well versed in punk or goth culture ACK)

I hope that you guys don’t mind some being shorter than others, I’m still getting a hang of personalities!

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Lucifer is probably one of the ones that’s into the style from the very beginning.

As soon as he sees MC, his interest is clearly shown on his face.

Sometimes, he’ll drop compliments on his fashion. Depending on his reponses, he’ll start getting more apparent with just how much he enjoys seeing his outfit everyday.

GIFTS!! He’s not mammon level of stacks upon stacks of gift wrapped boxes, but he’ll certainly stop by your room every once in a while with a new accessory he saw while shopping.

MC will probably notice that he is especially keen on chokers :).

Stares discreetly, but consistently. When Lucifer invites him to listen to music in his room, he waits until MC is occupied with something like a book or the music. Then sneaks glances at him to see how his clothing moves every time he reaches over for something, or how the necklace he bought the other day glints in the light radiating off of the fireplace.

He knows that MC is nice, and grows increasingly more and more worried for his sake because of that. The exchange program is important, but his treasure perpetually adorned in black garbs is significantly more prominent in his concerns.

So when he sees MC readily defending himself against some low level demon with no hesitation? Holy fuck. He starts to panic, but there’s nothing surpressing his respect for him, as it only grows stronger.

Although, it becomes very apparent that he’d have to do something about all of his brothers’ staring at MC.

Mammon is so into it. Like... So into it.

We all know and love that our tsundere boy has a problem with getting embarrassed, but how could he NOT get flustered everytime he’s face to face with an alternative KING

At first, he actually tries to tell MC how much he appreciates his aesthetic, but fails every time. Stuttering is a difficult thing to overcome when you can barely breathe out of embarrassment.

When he finally brings himself to actually get a compliment out, it’s accompanied with his signature bashful look. Downcast gaze and shifting posture and everything.

Upon recieving a positive response to his words, he takes it as a sign that he should start doing it more often. And so... That’s exactly what he does!

Compliments upon compliments, expensive outfits and accessories finding their way into his room, MC gets it all.

He ADORES the nice personality. So really. This MC is one of the people that Mammon can’t help but get along with. Nice, can throw hands, AND IS FASHIONABLE? Now you’re speaking his language.

They definitely get called a model power couple, even if MC isn’t a model.

Will definitely mention the idea of MC doing a photoshoot with him for work, but won’t press further if he says he’s not comfortable with it.

Levi geeks out so badly

So yeah, his initial interest in MC is kickstarted by his fashion reminding him of a badass video game character, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t appreciate him for who he is!!

He actually doesn’t know whether to be sad that he doesn’t have the same amount of fashion sense or to be happy that he has MC as his best friend that does.

But after a bit of positive affirmation from MC, he’ll surely settle with the latter. (and also hope for them to become more than best friends :). )

He finds himself subconsciously posting about MC in his socials. Normally it’s filled with “Lucifer just did (blank)” but now, it’s ALL about MC. Nothing else. MC fan account.

We know that Levi draws, and so I have no doubts that he would be drawing every outfit he sees MC in.

At first, he’s only drawing faceless figures in the clothes, probably adding his own personal flair. But as time progresses and Levi gets closer to him, he starts subconsciously conpleting the figure’s appearance (hair, face, stature, etc). And before he knows it, half of his pages are filled with doodles of MC.

But if he were to ever find out that MC saw his art, RIP Leviathan 2020

And who’s to say he’s not drawing him in... Risqué outfits.

But if MC says that he doesn’t mind getting drawn, then Levi will activate cute fanboy mode again.

He’ll ask him to model outfits for him as he draws, sometimes in cosplay.

MC would just be chillin’ with him in his room, and when Levi finally looks up from his tv after finishing an anime, he’ll sometimes gasp and immediately say, “Stay right there, I HAVE to draw this!”

Although drawing wasn’t and will likely never be his favorite thing to do in comparison to video games/anime, it gives him an excuse to stare at his best friend with minimal blushing.

Satan is good at hiding his appreciation for MC’s outfits. At least, he’s good at it to everyone BUT MC.

If anyone asks, he’s indifferent about MC and his dashing looks and fashion.

But as soon as MC confronts him... Oh boy.

Red-faced, he’ll compliment his clothing on occasion, then wave it off as “something everyone does”. Which is true, but we know that it’s more than just that.

Similarly to Lucifer, he finds himself staring at him secretly. Except, I like to think that he’s less careful about it. Often MC will look up to meet his eyes, before he ducks his head back into his book, acting nonchalant.

Not a single person can convince me that he hasn’t found a stray black cat and discreetly named it after MC.

He wouldn’t hide the fact, but instead would actually bring it up at the right time. Ex: Right before some dramantic moment like before proclaiming how much MC means to him. Both as the cat and human.

The cat’s collars are decorated similarly to the clothing that MC wears! Satan is a diligent worker (especially when putting lucifer through immense stress) and a lover of arts, so he’s pays attention to little details like that.

This is Asmo we’re talking about.

He ADORES the aesthetic.

It’s not something that he himself would wear, but damn is it appealing to the eye.

Once you get him started on all the things he’d do if given the chance to dress MC up in whatever he wanted, you’ll never hear the end of it.

(^ especially when he starts talking about the undressing)

He loves a monochromatic color pallet, but every once in a while he’ll push for a pop of color in MC’s outfit for the day.

If MC wears minimal/no makeup, Asmo will constantly ask if he can use his face as a canvas for makeup experimentation while he rants about his nail tech.

Asmo’s favorite activity is going through MC’s closet. He gets to not only try things on, but he also gets to know what he has to work with when choosing MC’s outfits for their days out together.

Knows the perfect boutiques to bring him to

“You know, the color black really accentuates your figure... And if you look this good with it on, I wonder how great you look with it off~”

Beel isn’t interested in fashion or anything related to it. He isn’t picky about the presentation of things (namely; food.)

So he wouldn’t be immediately enticed upon first meeting MC.

But that is not to say that he doesn’t find him VERY pleasing to the eye.

Our sweet boy is not afraid to express his love for those boots!! For the destressed fabrics!! He hangs around him often just so he can sit and ogle at how cool MC looks!! All the damn time!!

Asks MC to come with him to work out just so he could have some motivation by seeing him. And his GAMES. He’s gonna love to see him cheering him on in the stands.

Beel would admit that he himself couldn’t bring himself to care so much about his clothes or ‘aesthetic’ , and couldn’t imagine having such a consistent style.

^ And because of that! He’s dying to see what he looks like in other styles. Of course, if he doesn’t want to change out of the usual attire, just seeing him wearing beel’s huge ass jacket is enough.

Wouldn’t care to buy clothing items for him, but will most certainly stop by devildom’s no. 1 bakery, grab some sweets with that signature gothic devildom appearance and bring it back to the House of Lamentation for him. (Given that he didn’t already eat them.)

In comparison to his personality, MC’s closet isn’t very important.

Beel loves his kind nature! But he will always be there to defend him in any sort of risky situation, especially when any low level demons would like to try and take advantage of MC’s niceness.

Belphie is taken aback the first time he sees him. In the best way possible.

It’s like he just knows that he’s going to be interesting to be with just by seeing his clothing style

He actually probably assumed that MC would be very different from what he’s really like. (Like how people will assume that everyone who wears dark colors often are always sad)

But both to his surprise and not, MC is nothing but kind to him! And he’s kinda like 😳. Damn. Alright. I can get down to this.

Fashion isn’t his expertise, so he isn’t as forward with compliments. It’s mostly, “As long as I’m comfortable when I lay on you, the clothes are fine. Right?”

“I had a dream about you last night... It was like you were some prince clad in black chain mail armor... I suppose we couldn’t make that a reality though, huh? You can be my prince in band tees and ripped jeans.”

The only reason he starts dressing similarly to MC is because of how many times he’ll fall asleep beside him. He knows MC will probably offer one of his jackets or extra shirts, and that he’ll likely get to keep it. (He gives it back eventually, it’s just nice sentiment.)

It’s also kind of entertaining to see some of his brothers go ballistic in response to seeing him adorned in MC’s signature clothes.

#obey me reactions #obey me imagines #obey me male reader #obey me x male reader #obey me beelzebub #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor

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btsslowburnfic · 3 years

Text

The Arrangement Ch 17

Story summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable ad. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi

Chapter Summary: Part one of the photoshoot

Previous Chapter here

The work week proceeded as normal. Well, what had become normal. Delivering coffee and reminding Yoongi to eat, answering emails, trying to figure out which meetings Yoongi actually needed to go to and which ones were a waste of time. Of course you always went to the meetings, and holy shit you couldn’t believe the topics couldn’t have been discussed via email. You were looking forward to this particular day because you got to go visit Hoseok in the style department and Jimin had decided he was tagging along “for funsies.”

Yoongi was supposed to go and get measured and try on clothes for his photoshoot. When you reminded him that morning he laughed at you, “Uh no. Hoseok knows what size I wear. He can figure it out. Go look at the clothes and I might try some of them on tonight.”

You and Jimin met up for lunch and then headed up to the styling department.

“I’m excited. I’ve never been to a photoshoot before.” You said bouncing up and down in the elevator.

“Yeah, they’re pretty boring actually. Like if it’s with some of the hotter models it’s a little fun for the eye candy, but then you feel bad for them because they have to sit for so long making awkward faces. They are constantly getting their make-up and hair touched up. Touch base with craft services to make sure there’s plenty of water. The lights are bright.”

You took out your phone, “Oh thanks. I wouldn’t have even thought about that. Any other tips?”

“It’s Yoongi. It won’t take as long as it does with the other people. He’ll show up, do it, and leave. JK and Tae, especially Tae, want to chat with everyone on set and if they are together it takes foreeeeevvvveeeeeerrrrr.”

“Huh, ok. Thanks.” The two of you arrived at JHOPE Fashion and walked through the rainbow vomit doors.

Hoseok was wearing glasses with yellow lenses today, which made his dramatic facial expressions stand out even more. He immediately rolled his eyes. He pointed to you. “You are not Yoongi.” He pointed to Jimin. “And you are not Yoongi.” He put his hands on his hips. “So why are the two of you here?”

“I’m sure you can guess why.” You responded dryly.

“Ugh. That ungrateful man. I had lovingly hand stitched these pieces. For him. These patches...” Hoseok pressed his fingers together as though he was praying. “Fine. Fine. You. Y/N. Come. You. Jimin. Wait right there.”

Jimin’s eyes went wide. “Me? Why do I have to wait here?”

Hoseok turned from where he had started to walk towards the back. “You will thank me in a minute. A certain someone is coming to get his fitting in a few minutes.” He raised an eyebrow and then turned around, his heels clacking against the red tile floor.

Jimin started to blush profusely and before you could ask, Hobi interrupted, “Come new girl. We have work to do especially if that boss of yours refuses to come here and experience these magnificent beauties for himself.”

You followed him through the large door, which led to lime green hallways and then to a quiet, more muted workspace. The walls were lined with fabric bolsters, the middle tables with ribbon, thread, patches, paint. Paint?

Hoseok sat down. “From what I understand, this album will have an acoustic feel to it versus his previous albums. For that reason I have chosen these natural materials such as cotton, linen, and denim.” He spread out several pieces onto the large table. “I have also opted for a more neutral pallet, as much as it hurts my soul. I have chosen colors found in nature. I have chosen brightly colored accessories such as these silks to stand in contrast with the stiff fabric and more neutral colors he will be wearing. Additionally, I avoided black. We’ll see if he notices.”

You watched as he draped the red and purple silks over the top of the clothes. For whatever reason, you found it mesmerizing watching the fabric juxtapositioned in such a way. “It’s so cool to hear you tell a story just using clothes.” You said, somewhat enchanted.

Hoseok flicked his eyes up to you, “Thank you. That is what I try to do with my collections. Everyone’s outfit tells a story, even if they don’t mean for it to. May I?” He asked, stepping back and gesturing at you.

“Oh man. You know I don’t dresses fancy--”

“Shhhh you don’t tell me.” He looked at your outfit. You had opted for an Aline skirt and blouse with a casual blazer. “You had meetings this morning, that’s obvious by the jacket. You usually dress cuter. Which means you are either sick or not feeling great. You look fine. So I’m guessing...you are on your period. Sorry, this just comes out, I can’t stop it,” he paused for a moment as your jaw dropped open slightly. He stepped closer, inspecting the shoulders of your jacket. “The blazer is at least ten years old but you shouldn’t have had a blazer ten years ago unless it was for your school uniform and that isn’t a school jacket. Which means it probably belonged to an older sister or aunt. You are very responsible and well organized otherwise you wouldn't be Yoongi’s assistant. Therefore you are most likely the oldest or only child so that is your aunt’s jacket. Your blouse is nice. You actually like it, you’ve worn it twice in the week you’ve been working here. You bought it at a thrift store. You don’t spend a lot of money on yourself, but you are very confident. Therefore, it’s not that you don’t think you deserve nice things, it’s just that you can’t afford them so you likely grew up poor and it has continued into your adulthood.”

“Holy shit. You should be a detective.” You said to him.

“The shoes, I gave you last week. They don’t have a story yet, other than a very good -looking man in a suit helped you out because Jimin said you were a nice girl. You wear zero accessories which shows a lack of both funds and sentimentality. Most people have at least one piece of jewelry that means something to them, but if you have one, you don’t wear it.” He smiled at you, his white teeth gleaming. “ Now, how much am I right about?” He crossed his hands in front of his chest.

You clapped your hands as though you were in an audience. “All of it. Although I am still weirded out that you know I’m on my period. Next time I’m going to wear something skin tight to throw you off.” You joked.

“Well,” he started, “At least now that you work here you don’t have to worry as much right?”

Given the shitshow you went through this weekend you weren’t sure about that, but you shrugged, “It definitely pays better. And money doesn’t buy happiness, but it sure helps make some things less hard.” You gestured to the pile of fabric on the table, “So...what do I do? Take these clothes with me for Yoongi to try on or will they be at the photoshoot tomorrow? Do I need to bring them to the photoshoot?”

Hoseok sighed dramatically, “I could dress Yoongi drunk, in my sleep. He can just show up tomorrow and I will dress him then. My staff will make sure the clothes and accessories are at the photoshoot. Here,” He walked over to one of the garment racks. “More clothes for you. I know you have a big closet. And if you run out of space, just take Yoongi’s, he only wears like three things despite my best efforts.”

You laughed, “Yeah, you’re not kidding. Ok thanks,” You took the clothing. “I appreciate it.”

“It’s no trouble. Feel free to see yourself out, I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh and please make sure the catering has strawberries.”

“Strawberries? Got it.” You were learning so much today.

You exited the backroom and saw Jimin over near one of the pedestals. He was chatting with JK who was getting fitted with a corset. What an itty bitty waist, you admired. The two of them seemed to be having a good time and you had a new list of things to do so you waved at Jimin and headed to 1802 to drop off your new clothes. You had forgotten Hoseok knew you lived with Yoongi. The week had flown by.

You sent a text message to Jiwoo asking if you could stop by her desk and ask her a few questions to make sure everything was set up for tomorrow and then stopped by the apartment.

You conferred with her and learned how to navigate catering requests via the company website; apparently it wasn’t available on the app, good to know. you felt much better about the shoot tomorrow but still nervous and excited.

You knocked on the door to Genius Lab. No answer. Never any answer. You typed the code in and saw Yoongi wearing his headphones, lost in his own world. He had told you to just wait on the sofa when this was the case and that he would eventually notice you. Normally the smell of coffee was what alerted him to your presence, but you had come empty handed today. You sat down on the couch and took out your phone.

YN: I don’t mean to alarm you. But there’s something behind you.

You saw his phone light up. He ignored it for a minute, presumably to finish listening to a song, and then picked it up. You heard him laugh and take off his headphones. “You are the worst.” He spun around.

“So mean. Hey. Tomorrow is my first photoshoot. I checked on the outfits for you. By the way, Hoseok is like Sherlock Holmes with clothing. I learned I’m supposed to contact catering, I have hair and make-up requests in. Do I need to do anything else?”

Yoongi thought for a minute. He never really participated in that side of the photoshoot, now that he reflected on it. He walked his way through a day on set. “No. The changing rooms and photography are handled by other departments. Check with Jiwoo or Jimin, they’ve both set up a shoot before.”

“I did. I’m getting ready to send in the last food request. Any requests?”

“Mandarins. I don’t like to eat a lot on set because I don’t want stuff getting stuck in my teeth.”

“That makes sense. Ok. I’ll let you get back to it then.” You got up and stretched.

“Tomorrow will go fine. If you forgot anything, it will be somewhere in this building.” He reassured you.

“That makes me feel a lot better.” You said honestly. “Alright, I’ll see you around.”

“Later.”

--------------------

The next day arrived with Yoongi heading off to the hair and make-up department and you heading to the 11th floor to see what the photo set up looked like. You exited the elevator. Man your hands were sweaty, you followed the sounds of voices and made your way to the shooting location. The lighting crew was checking their overheads, a stand-in was posing on the various props they had set out. It looked as though there were three separate “areas” for shooting photos. One area had a large white couch, complete with coffee table, rubber plant, magazines. The whole set up designed to look like a living room. A second space was a blue sheet with a white background. The third space was a kitchen, complete with an island, stovetop, and refrigerator. Holy moly this space was huge. You marveled at it.

“Hello, can I help you?” An older man walked over.

“Oh hi, I’m YLN. Yoongi’s assistant. I was stopping by to check the set up. It looks incredible.”

“Thank you. Yes. Here, let me walk you through it.”

You received a tour of the set and also an overview of the order of shooting. You also found out that next week, weather permitting, there would be a second shooting at the park across the street. You got catering checked in, or at least pointed to the table and felt like you did a thing. The same happened when the clothing team showed up. You pointed to dressing rooms and the vanity where the accessories trunk should go. You were thankful no one had asked you any questions so far. This was a steep learning curve. You had hoped someone you knew might be here today to help ease your nerves, but so far, it was all new faces.

Finally, you saw one familiar face. Alice walked in, carrying a small case with her. You waved.

“Hey! It’s nice to see you again.” She said. “I had no idea you were Yoongi’s assistant until today.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess I didn’t mention that. I was so overwhelmed that first day,” you smiled.

“No worries. He was just telling me and Bongcha that he had an assistant now. He’s almost done. His make-up is setting. I’m on hair today which isn’t my strong suit, but it’s not like he’s needing a fancy up-do or anything and it’s good for me to practice.”

“Ok great. This is my first time at a photoshoot, so if there’s something I’m supposed to be doing but I’m not, can you let me know?” You confided in her.

“Absolutely. It looks like most of the stuff is set up how it usually is. Just remember,” she got closer to you and spoke quieter, “You are Yoongi’s assistant. Some of these people, especially these older guys will try to get you to do stuff like get their coffee, grab them snacks. That is not your job. It’s not by job. If they have an assistant, it’s their job.”

“I knew I liked you when we first met,” you smiled at her. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“Anytime Unnie.”

She walked over and took out her hair tools and placed them on the table reserved for hair and make-up. A few minutes later you saw Yoongi walk in wearing a black shirt and grey sweats. His face looked even more beautiful than normal. Next to him was a petite girl with long black hair pulled up into a ponytail, dragging a make-up train behind her. Yoongi looked around for a second, and then locked eyes with you. You saw the tiniest smile threaten to come out as he walked over.

“Hey. Everything here looks good.” He gestured to the room.

“Thanks. I didn’t do most of it, I just pointed and people seemed to know what to do already. Your face looks good.”

Yoongi chuckled, “You can thank Bongcha for that. Bongcha, this is YN.”

Bongcha stuck out her hand, “Hi. Nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Nice to meet you as well. You do good work. I give his face a 10/10. Highly recommend.”

“Well, it’s easy when you have such a great model to start with,” She smiled while looking up at Yoongi.

Yoongi had started to blush between the pair of compliments. “Is Hoseok here yet?”

“No not yet.” You took out your phone to see if you had any messages from Hoseok. Nope. You looked back up, “Bongcha, I’m sure you already know, but the make-up table is over there. Alice is setting up right now.”

“Great, thanks!” She headed over, her shiny hair swishing behind her.

Speak of the devil in blue himself, Hoseok strutted in at that exact moment wearing an electric blue suit. His crisp white shirt underneath popped beneath the jacket, and his pocket square had little sunshines on it.

“Wow. You look like the sky.” You said before you could help it.

“Thank you. Indeed. It was my inspiration today. It’s a crime to be indoors beneath these artificial lights on such a beautiful day. Oh well. It can’t be helped.” He laid eyes on Yoongi, like a predator gazing on its prey, “Yoongi. Baby. Come.”

Yoongi scrunched his face. “Don’t call me baby. If you miss the sunlight so much, leave. I know how to dress myself.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you don't know which pieces go together.” Hoseok grabbed Yoongi by the shoulders and started leading him over to the clothing section, leaving you to laugh at the pair of them. You went over to the table you had set up for yourself between make-up and the food. You had printed off several lists that morning to help you stay focused. You checked off several action items. Satisfied, you sat your clipboard down and looked around. It was a well-oiled machine for sure. You walked over to the hair and make-up table. “Hey ladies.”

“Hey! Have you two met yet?” Alice asked, referring to Bongcha.

“Yep, we just did.” Bongcha confirmed, putting on her make-up apron and filling it with various powders and brushes.

“Ooooo we should do a make-up party sometime.” Alice squealed. “We try to do it with all the new girls. And since Yoongi is” she hushed her voice again “One of our favorites. We have to take care of his assistant.”

You smiled, “Sure. That sounds nice. Excuse me.” You decided to go see how the clothes were going.

“Yes. Yoongi’s assistant. So glad you’re here.” Hoseok turned to you.

“She has a name, it’s YN.” You heard Yoongi say from behind the curtain.

“Yes yes. I know. We talked yesterday, remember? At that meeting I scheduled for me and you that you did not come to. Anyways, here. The outfits are now coordinated. They have tags on them corresponding to their accessory in the accessory trunk. Some pieces have more than one option that the Director of Photography and Yoongi will decide on. Got it?”

You looked over the set up. It seemed simple enough since Hoseok had organized it so well .”Yep. You going out to enjoy the sunshine?”

“Honey, I am the sunshine. I’m off to get laid after having to deal with this cloudy baby.” He gestured to the changing room.

“Don’t call me baby.” Yoongi shouted from behind the curtain. You just laughed as Hoseok turned around and left. You waited for a few minutes.

“You ok in there? Need me to come help you put your pants on?” You teased.

“Not necessary.” Yoongi slid open the curtain. Why was everyone teasing him today? He pouted without thinking about it.

You walked over, straightening the collar of his shirt “Hey now, you can’t go around pouting like a baby and not expect people to call you one. Here,” you handed him a mandarin. He scowled at you as he took it. “Such a pretty face” You laughed.

“Yeah whatever. I can eat this while they set up the white meter. You should be fine to just hang around at this point.”

“Alright. Sounds good.” The two of you walked over to the main part of the set where the Director gave Yoongi instructions about where to sit as they practiced the blocking and softbox placement.

“Oh my god he looks so good eating that tangerine.” You overheard. Your eyes bugged out slightly and you turned around. A group of women from the photography team were looking at the images to check the saturation and focus, as well as apparently the model. Damn. NEXT CHAPTER

@lidda @anpanman-sonyeondan @firefairy1 @cuteipat @sugaslittlekookies @janeelizabeth1216 @deeepvibes @gxldenhunny @livelyjay @niniita-ah @bobbyboops @honeysunandsoil @deathkat657

#BTS suga #bts writing #bts fic #suga x you #suga x reader #yoongi scenarios #bts yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #suga x y/n #bts suga x reader #bts suga x you

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justimajin · 4 years

Text

It’s a Reverse Basket ◍ Part 15

⇝ Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

⇝ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ Basketball AU, Crossdressing AU

⇝ Words: 4.2k

⇝ Summary: Basketball is your everything; your passion for it running deep and wanting nothing more then to play the sport. Problem is, the sport isn’t offered competitively to girls and with that, all your hopes immediately fizzle away… …but who ever said that was going to stop you?

⇝ Warnings: pg13; I’m just throwing barrels of fluff into this one

gif credit.

⇝ Previous Parts: Moodboard Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

⇝ Next Update: Tuesday, June 23

Tightening your grip, the giant and hefty block of metal is hoisted above your head. Your arms strain and you clench your teeth in agony, but thankfully twenty seconds fly by and you can allow your grip to loosen.

With an exasperated sigh, you shakily place it back down on the rack and wipe away the lingering sweat from your temples.

A low whistle sounds from nearby, Hoseok staring at you with wide eyes.

“You’ve gotten really good at lifting Y/N!” You manage to sit up and smile at him, “I think Jungkook might be seeing some tough competition soon.”

Jungkook pauses mid-way from lifting his own weights and raises a brow at Hoseok, only for him to mischievously grin. “What? You’ve got another competitor now.”

Shaking his head, Jungkook resumes his workout as Hoseok helps you up from the bench press, plopping himself down and adjusting your weights. He had decided to assist you since Jungkook was a bit preoccupied with his own routine, alongside with Jimin and Taehyung having long gone out on a run together.

That’s when a head of bleach blonde hair flocks in, roughly setting down his bag and plopping down in a hurry. He flicks his phone out, scrambling through it with attentive eyes.

The unease on his features draws concern out from you.

“Everything okay?” You ask, his eyes becoming wide once he realizes you were referring to him.

“Uh yeah,” Jackson replies, his usual cheerful demeanour not sparking out. “Actually– Y/N, do you know what girls like?”

Your eyes widen, “Or do you have a girlfriend or a sister? Someone that does?”

A nervous laugh leaves you at that and you place your hand on your racing heartbeat. Meanwhile, Hoseok strolls over in curiosity. “W-Why do you ask?”

Jackson somberly smiles, “I wanted to get something nice for my girlfriend but I’m not sure what….” His eyes perk up at Hoseok, “What about you?”

Hoseok shrugs, hands in his short pockets, “I have a sister but she’s older than me. Probably not the age range you’re looking for.”

Jackson sighs, staring at his phone hopelessly. You catch a glimpse of his calendar brightly lit on the screen, his voice answering your confusion.

“Man….why is Valentine’s Day already here?” He slumps down onto the bench, your eyes frantically widening.

V-Valentine’s Day?

As in, the holiday where people celebrate love?

Your heart starts racing again.

“U-Um, so, you’re buying your girlfriend something?” You hastily question and Jackson glances at you in confusion.

“Of course, all couples get each other things on Valentine’s Day.” He shrugs, however, it only serves to make your eye twitch now. “I just wanted to get my girlfriend something nice, you know? To show how much I appreciate her.”

“Dude, that’s beautiful.” Jungkook says from behind, eavesdropping on your conversation as he lifts weights.

“How long have you guys been together for?” Hoseok questions.

“Roughly a year?” Jackson sadly smiles, “But ever since I came to school, we haven’t been able to see much of each other.”

You hurriedly interject again. “I-Is there a limit on how long you’ve been together?”

Jackson furrows his brows, “I don’t think so? There’s no rules or regulations, you just get the person you love something or spend time with them.” He sighs, “I can’t do the second one, so I’m going for the first option.”

Hoseok hums, like he was trying to understand as well. That’s when an idea sparks in your mind.

“I can help you then!” You timidly suggest, “Y-You know, with what girls like and all that.”

“Really?” You nod and Jackson’s smile widens, “Thanks Y/N, I seriously appreciate it!”

You smile but there’s something else brewing in your mind, something you’ll have to get started on as soon as you can before Valentine’s Day can strike.

***

You patiently wait outside of the store.

After you had agreed to help out Jackson, the two of you had decided to exchange numbers in order to meet up. Once you had started texting for a while, you gave him a call one day and spilled the beans.

You tell him everything – how this tradition of Valentine’s Day was completely foreign to you, how you were in a relationship with Yoongi and wanted to get something for him but were absolutely clueless on what exactly, how you thought in a way you could help each other, since you would help him find something and then you could also have someone around who was in the same scenario as you.

Jackson agrees, even vouching that he’ll keep everything a secret. However he grows just as excited and nervous as you, glad to not be alone in this either.

“Y/N!” You whirl around to see Jackson jogging over, “I didn’t take too long, did I?”

You shake your head and smile, “Great! I saw this store the other day and I thought we could find something nice here.”

Catching a glimpse of the place, you can see why he chose it.

It seems more catered towards Valentine’s Day than anything. The exterior glass is covered with giant hearts, the smell of chocolate wafting through and a giant banner declaring that all Valentine’s gifts were half off.

You warily stare at it but Jackson doesn’t mind, dragging you over with him in an enthusiastic manner. He ends up getting drawn to one of the first shelves, letting you wander around the many aisles in curiosity.

There’s an abundance of things – obnoxious cards scribbled with hearts, large bouquets and flowers on display, even boxes of chocolate that appear to be recycled.

You keep wandering around and pacing the store when nothing catches your eye and strikes you as something that you would want to give to Yoongi. In fact, you think Yoongi would actually hate more of the Valentine’s catered things here.

With a sigh, you head back to Jackson who is eagerly eyeing a chocolate box that has a bright red bow on top.

“I don’t think I want something from here…” You avertedly whisper. He immediately pivots, like he couldn’t believe what you were saying.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, it’s just….” You glance around, staring at the bright red balloons floating at the ceiling, “It just seems too much.”

Jackson hums, “I think something practical would be better.”

“Like what though?” He questions. You ponder for an answer, still avertedly glancing around the store when your eyes land on the glass outside of the store. As if a light bulb went off in your mind, you whirl around and grab onto Jackson.

“Come on!”

He hurriedly nods, discarding the chocolate he was going to initially buy and rushing with you. Once you enter the opposing store from the Valentine’s themed one, your eyes instantly light up.

However, Jackson frowns. “Y/N, why are we in a clothing store?”

You’re already eyeing the various articles of fabrics, latching onto a fluffy sweater.

“I think…this is something he’ll like.” You whisper, mind racing.

In the time you’ve known Yoongi, somehow you’ve noticed that he always seems cold. From the way he constantly keeps his arms crossed during practices when he wears your team’s thin jersey , to moments when he keeps a jacket on hand when it gets rather chilly. It’s such a small observation but you’re certain that this is something he would truly appreciate.

However, your moment of sudden realization is cut off when your eyes land on the price, backing away immediately.

“What’s wrong?” Jackson asks, eyes landing on the giant tag as he hisses, “Yeah, I wouldn’t recommend getting that one.”

You filter through the various tags around you, all of them spelling out a similar message. You let out a sigh, wondering how you were going to possibly get Yoongi a sweater when you can’t even afford one.

“What am I going to do Jackson?” You whisper, a defeated silence lingering in the air. Jackson frowns, quickly peering around the range of clothing for another moment. The prices don’t appear to be changing any time soon, but then he stumbles upon one very specific sweater.

He abruptly spins around, grabbing your attention. “Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“What if you just made a sweater instead of buying one?” He lifts the particular piece of fabric that’s been covered in carefully woven strings and knots, “You could like knit it or something.”

Your eyes widen in bewilderment, never really considering that to be an option. Truthfully you aren’t a huge craftsman at all, but you suppose in a way making it would be more sentimental and it wouldn’t have your wallet emptying out in despair either.

You pursue your lips.

Perhaps...you’ve got a solid idea on your hands.

***

Soon after, you and Jackson head over to a different store to pick up various threads. None of the colours seem to catch your eye until you focus on the black and orange assortments, the idea of making the sweater like your team’s jersey being a welcoming one because Yoongi would then be able to wear it to practice.

You discover that Jackson had ended up purchasing some of his own threads as well, declaring that he doesn’t think giving his girlfriend a mere box of chocolates would be enough and he wants to take up the challenge. You’re ecstatic at the prospect of someone else also working at this with you, not being alone in a somewhat lengthy project.

By the time you head back to your dorm, Taehyung and Jungkook can’t help but be curious.

“What’s that?” Jungkook wonders, pointing to the large bag you had hauled up and planted onto the ground.

“Oh, just some threads I picked up with Jackson.” You softly smile, “I’m going to make a sweater.”

“Who is this sweater for?” Taehyung questions, raising a suspicious brow. You opt out for not telling them just yet, in the hopes they don’t accidentally tell Yoongi when you’re not around.

“Just for someone…” You meekly snatch up the bag, deciding to bring it to your room instead of in front of the prying eyes.

Taehyung pursues his lips, like he wasn’t able to believe you on that. He watches you disappear into your room, tugging the bag alongside with you.

Spreading out the materials onto your bed, you unpackage and begin to unravel the long bundles of thread. You then take out the sharp needles, staring at them and then at the yarn with a blank look.

Although this had initially been a good idea, you can’t help but wonder what knitting would be like for someone like you. You have zero experience with the craft and you don’t know what you ended up making is going to look like, but with a sigh, you suppose that simply the desire to make something for Yoongi should be enough at the end of the day.

***

Knitting is horrendous.

It takes a certain kind of rhythm to get through it, a precise way of weaving the strings to build a cohesive chain. That chain then grows to become a giant sheet, building up to develop into the huggable and cozy appearance you were going for.

Or at least, you had hoped for.

There’s a crease in between your brows when you clasp the needles tighter, attempting to loop them according to the tutorial you had been up all night watching. The man in it was able to easily tie the strings together, letting them effortlessly go through various hoops until he was completely finished. You on the other hand, barely have finished the first row of many, roughly pulling the needles back and forth to create some sort of structure.

When another disastrous knot forms amongst the somewhat okayish row, you let go of the needles in exasperation. You suppose there was no guarantee that you would have been good with this, not accustomed to working with something that required so much care and detail opposed to brute force and strategy.

“Hey Y/N!” You glance up to see Jackson strolling over, a bright smile on his lips, “Are you making it?”

He points to the multiple strings wrapped around your arms, needles poking out of the mess you managed to create. With a somber nod, you sadly smile.

“What about you?” You question, hoping you can get some solace that knitting for the first time was a universal issue and that you weren’t the only one facing its wrath.

Jackson plants his bag on the ground next to you, rummaging through it before he pulls out a clean sheet of perfectly woven strings.

“I think it’s coming out quite nicely!” He grins, “I might just turn mine into a sweater instead of a scarf at this rate.”

“That would be a good idea.” You whisper, still eyeing the way your teammate was able to catch onto the craft much better than you did. In a way, you are happy, however you wanted this to be perfect for Yoongi and so far the future doesn’t look so bright for you in that matter.

Speaking of which, Yoongi steps into the gym. You and Jackson hurriedly scramble as you slide your bob of mixed yarn and his perfected one away in your bags before anyone can see. Hastily straightening up, you jog over to where the members have started to line up and patiently wait.

“Hey Y/N.” Taehyung nudges you with his elbow, “Is the captain alright?”

“Hm?” You stare at Yoongi in confusion when he paces over to Namjoon, his dreary eyes appearing a lot more serious than usual. You recall talking to him about it a while back and he had simply shrugged it off by saying he had a lot on his plate with school and being captain. Although he managed to convince you that everything was okay, the stress lining his delicate features is too easy to read in the single moment.

“I honestly don’t know…” You whisper to Taehyung, but before he can ask you more, Yoongi marches over.

“We’re practicing in teams of four today, separate yourselves.” He simply mutters, eyes coming into your contact with yours for a second. He smiles, but it’s then when you realize how stressed he actually is when it barely meets his eyes.

When you move to get into teams, Jackson reminds you of the very thing that could help the situation.

“Since the captain is stressed, he’ll probably be really happy when you give him the sweater.”

Although you agree with the sentiment, his words only serve to spike up determination in you.

***

You collapse onto your bed, a sigh leaving your lips.

“I mean, it doesn’t look so bad….” Hyerin encourages over the phone, the overshadowing in her voice being too obvious, “Really Y/N, it kind of looks like a hat– OH! Maybe you could give him a hat!”

You groan, planting your hand on your face as Hyerin desperately tries to make you feel better. “Yeah, a hat! He could totally rock it, right?”

“Maybe I should just give up on the idea and buy one…”

“Why don’t you just ask that guy for help? Uh what was his name, Jackson?” Her voice blares through the phone and you roll over to plant it against your face.

“He’s already making one of his own Hyerin.”

A tick leaves her, but she still persists, “You can do this, Y/N! It’s really great that you’re putting in so much effort to make something for this Yoongi guy and I think he’d be grateful at the end of the day.”

You stare down at the heaped mess you’ve created, strings poking out in absurd ways.

“Are you sure?” You pluck one the strings, watching it unravel from the loose knot you weren’t able to make.

“Positive!” Her voice turns firm, “Now make sure you finish that sweater and knock his socks off with it!!”

You giggle from that, thanking her and then turning off the phone. Letting your eyes wander back to your failed sweater, you pick up the needles again and give it another shot.

***

Namjoon arrives at practice earlier than expected.

Yoongi had informed him that he would be caught up in some delays because of a late exam the day before, so Namjoon decided it would be best if he came early for the team.

He heads for the gym doors, entering the large court area and jogs towards his office. Grabbing his whistle, he naturally assumes no one is in the gym – until he catches sight of two people.

You and Jackson are huddled together in the corner, seemingly whispering to each other amongst the empty and quiet gym. Namjoon raises a brow, unsure of what was exactly going on as he treads over to you, hovering above your crouched figures.

That’s when he sees it and it leaves him feeling even more puzzled. Strings of yarn are sprayed across the ground, both you and Jackson holding what he assumes to be knitting needles. The pile next to Jackson is an appealing array of white and sky blue, woven together to resemble a cozy scarf.

The pile next to you, however, is a disarray of blank and orange, and what’s worse is that your technique doesn’t seem to be helping much.

“Oh my god, Namjoon!” Jackson suddenly shrieks. Namjoon winces at the high pitch, watching you two instantly scatter away all your belongings and pushing it behind you. “W-We were just uh, you know talking and stuff!”

Namjoon sighs, “Why are you knitting before practice?”

“Oh uh, the thing is–“ Jackson scrambles for an answer.

“I’m knitting a sweater for Yoongi.” You smile, being honest with Namjoon as Jackson gapes at you for letting the secret out so easily. “We were just working on completing so we won’t be distracted when practice starts.”

Namjoon appreciates that you’ve told him the truth instead of covering it up like Jackson was attempting to, so he decides you could use the piece of advice he offers.

“Do you need help? I’m not great at knitting but I do know the basics since my mom’s really good at it.”

A cord strikes in you at that, mouth falling agape when the source of help you needed all along was actually in front of you. You hurriedly nod, shifting over abruptly as Namjoon chuckles.

When he takes the bundle from his hands, Namjoon frowns, “Why are there so many lumps in it?”

“Lumps?” You crane your neck to see the various bumpy ridges, “Oh, that’s how the tutorial said to do it.”

“I think the tutorial was right but you did it on the opposite sides.” Namjoon plops the ground, weaving the needles on a different side, “It should be like this.”

You attentively watch as Namjoon fixes your errors, the odd lumps in your design beginning to disappear as he continues. Jackson seems to be intrigued as well, dropping his own bundle to observe Namjoon with pure marvel.

“There you go.” Namjoon smiles, having taken a couple of minutes to fix your messed-up rows and passing it back to you. Thanks to him, your design appears much better and smoother, no longer a disarray of chaos.

When he gets up, you sincerely smile.

“Thanks Namjoon.”

He smiles back at you, heading back to his office to grab some paperwork. He swoops out of the gym for a brief moment, both you and Jackson still huddled in the corner as you attempt to recreate the way Namjoon had shown you. That’s when Namjoon runs into him, eyes sparking up in surprise.

“Ah, you’re on time.” Yoongi nods, hand on the bag slung across his shoulders.

“I managed to get some sleep.” He yawns, rubbing his eyes sleepily. His eyes dart over to Namjoon’s hands, “What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s the approval for the next game.” He hands it to Yoongi, who hums before briefly scanning over it.

Namjoon smiles when he gives it back, “If you need any help, just let me know.”

“I wouldn’t worry so much about that, just focus on school for now.” Yoongi nods and Namjoon smiles, patting him on the back before he leaves. “Good things are coming your way so try not to stay too stressed.”

Yoongi frowns and stares at him strangely at that, but he simply shrugs it off as another yawn escapes him.

***

Namjoon’s help ended up doing pure wonders for you. Because of him, your rows don’t longer are tangled or stringy but aligned and smooth. His help also sparked bundles of motivation in you, the desire to keep going without completing the sweater not being far from your hands.

You end up finishing just on time, presenting the finished product to Jackson with a huge smile gracing your lips.

“It looks great Y/N!” He exclaims, marvelling at the fine embroidery of black and orange, “I can’t believe you managed to make our logo on it!”

He flips the sweater around to show the words Bangtan and the number nine that Yoongi wears on his jersey. You smile at that, though you have to admit pestering Namjoon with a multitude of questions ended up being immensely helpful.

“What about you? Where’s yours?” Jackson places your sweater down and pulls out the bright white and blue sweater, an intricate striped pattern on it.

“What do you think?”

You gape in amazement, fingers faintly touching the material, “It’s beautiful….” You whisper, giving him a soft smile, “Your girlfriend will love it.”

Jackson grins and you take your sweater back. The sound of feet shuffling nearby have you two scrambling again, hurriedly glancing in the direction of the door where Yoongi stands.

He frowns, bag still on his shoulder, “What are you guys doing here?”

Jackson’s eyes light up with the situation, a cheesy smile on his lips when he grabs his belongings and hastily gets up. Yoongi raises a brow when Jackson sends you a thumbs up before leaving, dismay growing in you at how obvious he was being.

“What’s going on?” Yoongi turns back to you, more confusion appearing in his features.

You slowly get up from the ground, bringing the folded sweater in your hands. Shuffling over to him, Yoongi’s eyes perk up at the sight of it.

With a bashful smile, you extend your arms.

Yoongi frowns, letting his bag drop to the ground before he takes the woolly sweater from your hands. It unfolds, revealing the huge logo that matches with the one on his jersey.

When he glances at you perplexed, you clear your throat and smile, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Yoongi takes a glance at the sweater again, the shock across his features not leaving the longer you stare at him. You wonder just how speechless you’ve rendered him, but then he takes the sweater and walks away from you.

Pain flashes in your eyes when he hasn’t said anything, fear dwelling in you at the prospect that he doesn’t like it. But then he emerges from the office with something in his hands.

“I had a talk with Yoonji….” He begins, a small box in his hands, “When everyone’s families were invited to our game.”

You nod, recalling the day being horrible for you until Yoonji had cheered you on. “So I got you this. I wasn’t sure when to give to you but since it’s Valentine’s….”

He hands you the box and you stare at it in curiosity. It feels extremely light and you pick at the tape on the side, letting it peel away to allow the corners to unfold.

Your hand comes into contact with something metallic, pulling it out completely from the bag to reveal the large brown frame.

When you had first earned your position on the team after try-outs, Namjoon had wanted to take a group picture of the team to cement it. He had requested that you all appear serious, but after the first shot, that was thrown out the window once Taehyung had managed to fall over and everything had started laughing. Namjoon had ended up keeping the remaining shots for memory sake, but the one where all of you are laughing the hardest, is the very one in the frame Yoongi has given you.

It spells out one solid message for you, something you didn’t even know you needed.

You will always have your team by your side.

Your eyes grow glossy when you glance up at Yoongi, who’s smiling tenderly at your reaction. He brings the sweater in his hands over his head, looping in his arms in it before it entirely covers him. Snatching up his bag from the ground, he trudges away to toss it aside and to bring the cart of basketballs out.

Taking one final glance at the frame with a smile, you carefully place it back into the box and into your bag. Eventually getting back into the flow for practice, everyone begins to arrive and take notice of Yoongi’s unique sweater, Jackson throwing you a cheeky smile at its appearance.

“They’re so cute.” Jackson dreamily sighs, later on watching you two interact from the window of the Namjoon’s office once practice wraps up.

Namjoon hums, clearly annoyed by Jackson's sudden emergence in his office as he works, but managing to let out a soft smile from the thought.

100 notes · View notes

radiikill · 4 years

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Coffee Shop Daydreams Chapter 1

It was around ten in the morning at Tokyo University, and Makoto Makimura was already feeling frustrated. She was looking over various notes she had compiled throughout the last couple of weeks and felt like tearing each of them to shreds. Most of the time she loved her courses, she was majoring in exercise science hoping to become a physical therapist. There were a few classes taken in the last two years of college that made her feel the temptation to drop out, and this was one of them. It was a gen-ed health science course, but the professor was an absolute jerk which ruined everything about the class.

As a result, it felt like she was teaching herself all the concepts.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming towards her table. She was in one of her favorite spots in the library, secluded in a corner hidden away by various bookshelves. Not many people came to this area, so she knew who to expect. She looked up at the man’s face and greeted him with a large smile, shuffling her papers away so he’d have room to sit.

The only saving grace of this class was that she was able to study with one of her closest friends in university, Taiga Saejima. Saejima was three years her senior, though many thought he looked older. He was a large muscular man with a stern face framed by his shoulder-length hair, which made it really easy to be intimidated by him.

They met in another gen-ed course her first year of college. They were paired together for a project, and though she was a little nervous to speak to him the determination to prove herself outweighed everything else. Looking back, Makoto realized that she probably was a stuttering mess. Especially since her Japanese was still fresh, she constantly messed up terms. But, Saejima never got frustrated with her struggles.

Presently, her Japanese has improved and her friendship with Saejima was strong. Many peers were shocked that she was friends with him. Makoto’s friend Joy once told her that she has a habit of attracting rather intimidating guys. Though, despite his imposing exterior, he was actually a very soft person. He was always very kind towards her but was also not afraid to call her out when she needed to be.

“How are you Saejima-kun?” she greeted.

“Not good,” Saejima said, “I fucking hate this class.”

Makoto giggled at the bluntness, agreeing with the sentiment.

“I don’t even know why I need this,” Saejima continued, “I don’t even plan on teaching kids’ science.”

“What did you want to teach again?” Makoto asked as she jotted down more notes.

“History.”

“Sciences are a big part of history,” Makoto reasoned, “you can always go more in-depth if you know some of the concepts.”

“Fuck that,” Saejima replied, “if they want to know the details, they better be paying attention in their other classes.”

Makoto shook her head, giving a joking ‘tsk tsk.’ Even with Saejima’s blunt language, she knew he had a soft spot for kids. If they had inquiries, she knew he’d do his best to answer them. The way he talked about his younger sister proved that enough.

She really enjoyed studying with Saejima. He was smart though it took him more work to understand the concepts. Makoto was quick to understand most science concepts, but she had to put in extra effort in everything else. They were able to help each other make up for their weaknesses. These tutoring sessions were helpful for Saejima to practice his teaching, and it helped Makoto learn how to teach better. She wasn’t confident with her abilities, even when she knew what she was talking about. This resulted in a lot of criticism from Saejima varying from ‘suck it up,’ to ‘speak up’ and some other choice words. It occurred more frequently early on in their friendship. The comments were a little jarring at first, she wasn’t used to people being so blunt with her, but Makoto learned to appreciate the straightforwardness. It was a welcome change from the way people usually treated her. Always either keeping her at a distance or looking at her with obvious disdain.

The way her classes were scheduled allowed her to get back to Kamurocho around 4 pm. If she was able to get a seat, she’d be able to complete any last-minute class readings. Ideally, she tried to get all her work done while she was on campus, but things happen and sometimes she needs to put in more work while she’s home.

Café Alps was one of her favorite places to spend her time. The ambience was nice, and the service was fantastic. It was her favorite place to go after classes and would alternate between ordering tea and coffee. Sometimes she wouldn’t order anything at all, her time would be spent getting ahead on work or just reading.

Other times she’d people watch. Like in the library, her favorite seat in the café was placed in the corner, the perfect place for a view of the café. She didn’t watch anyone specific, but she loved looking at what people were wearing, and sometimes she couldn’t help but eavesdrop on conversations. She tried not to, but sometimes the conversations just pulled her in.

Though, she may have lied when she mentioned that she didn’t watch anyone specific. There was one man that really grabbed her interest. She was certain he grabbed everyone’s interest. He was also a regular at the café, tall and lean, with a loud personality. He had a high-pitched laugh, but his tone seemed to change drastically depending on who he was talking too. Like his personality, his outfits were equally as loud. Most of the time he wore a snakeskin jacket without a shirt on underneath, his tattoos peeking out from his shoulders, though sometimes he would change into other loud patterned shirts. Though, it was obvious that he favored the snakeskin jacket.

She didn’t mind the tacky pattern since if she was being honest with herself, he had a very nice figure. He was slim but muscular, his wide grin splitting the harsh angles of his face whenever he’d hear something particularly funny. If she looked closely, she could see the glint of his eye which seemed to have a mischievous look in it. The left eye was covered with an eyepatch, which she wondered if it was for aesthetics or not. He was very expressive in every single aspect of himself.

He commanded her attention whenever he entered the room, and she only prayed that he didn’t notice her peeking over whatever she was distracting herself with.

‘Was this a crush?’ she wondered to herself. She supposed that it was, but at the same time, she felt like it was just all in good fun. Even if it was a ‘crush’ there was a no way she’d ever talk to the guy. Maybe Joy was right, maybe she was attracted to intimidating men. Because she was sure to most people this man was a little frightening, but she couldn’t help but be curious.

But compared to him, she was so boring. She felt horribly plain.

One day she couldn’t help but listen in on a conversation he was having, with another man. They were sitting across from her so she could get a good glance at his face. He was loud, ranting about how people don’t separate their trash and that they’re the reason our environment is the way it was today. She had to hold back a laugh because it was incredibly endearing that this man was ranting about climate change and personal responsibility.

‘Smart and handsome,’ she thought to herself. Her eyes moved up from her book, wanting to get another glimpse at his face. His eye was focused on the man in front of him, engrossed in whatever conversation they were having. Makoto noticed how his hair, which was cut right above his ears, was starting to fall into his face.

She switched back to looking at his face when she met his eye.

He definitely looked directly at her, and it took all her self-control to not flinch. She glared down at her book trying to control her heart rate and the blood rushing to her face. Subtly, she tried to lower her face and raise the book a little higher. The words were not registering in her brain and she just felt so embarrassed that he saw her staring. She cursed at herself for not being careful, now she looked like a nosey woman.

Okay. Maybe this was a little bit of a crush. Just a little.

Ten in the morning, Makoto was at the library, again. Same location, same clutter of papers surrounding her. Saejima was right across from her, papers also surrounding him, but they were in more cohesive stacks. Makoto held some flashcards close to her face, trying to commit each definition to her memory.

“Does holding those cards so damn close help at all?” Saejima questioned.

Makoto let out a little laugh. She knew Saejima was bound to start getting snappy. Besides being surrounded by papers he was also surrounded by broken pencils that failed under his pressure.

“Maybe you should try it,” Makoto said, “I could tape them to you if you want?”

Saejima scoffed, not in the mood to joke around.

“At this point I’d rather you tape a bomb to me.”

She felt like they had been in the library for forever. They’ve spent the past week studying and she was starting to feel the burnout. Makoto was about to say something until Saejima beat her to it.

“I wanna get the fuck out of here,” he said.

“I do too, but we really gotta get these definitions down,” she sighed, “that was our only goal for the day.”

“How about we go somewhere else then,” he grumbled.

Makoto immediately agreed. A new spot would be refreshing. Saejima and her both lived in Kamurocho, so she suggested they go to Café Alps.

“Isn’t that the place the guy you’re stalking goes to?” Saejima asked.

“Huhhh,” she replied, “I’m not stalking him, I forgot I even told you about that.”

“Sure.” Saejima said, obviously not believing her.

“If I was stalking him, I’d follow him out of the coffee shop, but I’m not.” She was trying her best to not sound defensive; she was also already thinking about how he caught her staring a couple days ago.

Saejima shushed her and told her to get her stuff ready so they could leave. She huffed, frustrated by her friends teasing, trying to get her mind off of the guy at the café.

The day must have had different plans for her though.

She was twisting her pencil between her fingers trying to focus on the different passages, while Saejima was studying her flash cards. The change of environment was nice and the commute to Kamurocho gave them a much-needed break. Overall, she was able to focus relatively well.

Until a boisterous voice snapped her from her book. Eyepatch man came in once again, along with another young man in a white pinstripe suit. She assumed the guy in the suit was the same person he was conversing with about climate change a couple days ago. His face was more stoic than the eyepatch man, if anything he seemed to be slightly annoyed at how close he was getting.

It was amusing. She giggled and elbowed Saejima in the ribs. He glared at her, but she interrupted him before he could say anything.

“That’s the guy,” she whispered, pointing to the guy with the eyepatch. She noticed Saejima’s eyes widen, then a small smirk graced his lips. Then he started to chuckle, and it seemed like it was bound to evolve into full blown laughter.

Makoto was not expecting this reaction at all.

“Look, I get he’s a little weird looking, but you don’t need to laugh at me,” she whispered harshly.

“I just, can’t believe,” he said in between chuckles, “of all people you take interest in.”

“Geez,” she said, “I shouldn’t have told you anything.”

She appreciated that he was keeping his laughing to a reasonable volume, though it still annoyed her. Her face was already getting redder. Once he stopped, he gave her a look she didn’t recognize. It looked as if he was plotting something, and Makoto didn’t like it.

“Why are you looking at me like that,” she huffed.

“You’ll thank me later,” he responded, then he turned towards the guy with the eyepatch and yelled.

“Oi! Majima!”

The guy with the eyepatch, Majima, turned towards them. His eyes met Saejima’s and his mouth split into a wide grin. He gave a wave and started to walk towards them. Makoto felt like she might pass out, not expecting this turn of events at all.

“What the hell,” she whispered to Saejima.

#majimako #majima goro #makoto makimura #saejima taiga #yakuza #ryu ga gotoku

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turtletotem · 4 years

Text

KissCam

@kernezelda Here is the Cherik fic you won in the second Star Bright release party challenge! I hope you enjoy!!

Inspired by this video clip :) Also on AO3.

En Sabah Nur portrayed for us here by Oscar Isaac sans smurf makeup.

Charles wasn't much of a sports fan, but he wasn't opposed to attending the Yankees game. He'd been following the story of Yankees player Carl DeMarco, who was fighting to keep his contract after coming out as a mutant. When the very handsome Egyptian immigrant who had become Charles's coffee shop pal suggested they make the Yankees game their first date, therefore, Charles was all for it. He bought a "NY <3 DeMarco" flag, wore his big red M lapel pin, and let En Sabah Nur pick him up in a startlingly expensive Mercedes-Benz.

En Sabah Nur had always been friendly, witty, and attentive at the coffee shop, but today he was distracted, constantly on his phone, and far too smug about his car and his expensive clothes, expecting Charles to be impressed. Charles, who could have bought the clothes, the car, and the coffee shop and still had room for a yacht in his monthly allowance, was not impressed. Just because he preferred broken-in tweed jackets and lowering his carbon footprint with public transit didn't mean he was going to get stars in his eyes at the sight of a Rolex watch.

Perhaps Raven was right, Charles thought with a sigh as he paid for his own hot dog and tried to block out Sabah's irate phone conversation. Raven had seen them together often enough—she worked at the coffee shop, which was why Charles went there—and she was convinced he only wanted Charles for his body.

There were worse things to be wanted for, honestly. It was all very well to be loved for your mind, but Charles had encountered enough telepathy fetishists to find a certain relief in straightforward physical lust.

The two seats on Charles's right had been empty; now, with the game about to start, a man about Charles's age helped a frail but bright-eyed older woman into one of them, and sat down next to Charles himself.

"Hey!" Charles barely rescued his soda from the man's careless elbow.

"Watch it!" the man snapped, as if Charles had been the one at fault, only to pause and grimace when he realized his mistake. "Um… sorry."

"No worries," Charles said lightly. "Of course you're focused on your—mother?"

"Yes," the man said, and turned back to the woman in question, fussing over her comfort until she batted him away with a fond expression. He settled in next to her, looking disgruntled.

"Sorry again, about that," he said after a moment, shooting Charles a sideways glance. "It's too cold out here for her, but she's a big baseball fan—us immigrants have to love the Great American Pastime, right? And she insisted on coming to support DeMarco. You're a fan of his, too?" He nodded at the flag.

"Mutant solidarity!" Charles said, flashing his M pin. "Oh—what's that you've got on yours?"

"Mutant solidarity." The man's grin was all teeth, but in a surprisingly attractive way. In terms of appearance he was right up there with Sabah, in fact, lean and chiseled with fascinating gray-green eyes. It took Charles a moment to force his gaze onto the pin the stranger wore in the same place Charles had his mutant M. This pin was larger and made of multicolored metal, a rainbow flag with an M in the middle, and words along the top and bottom. QUEER FREAK.

"Oh, I love that!" Charles cried. "Where did you get it? I'd love to have one!"

The man's cheeks reddened and he looked suddenly bashful. "I made it. I'm a magnetokinetic—I work with metal." He opened his hand, and the pin lifted from his jacket to settle into Charles's hand.

"That's brilliant!" Charles knew he was getting overexcited in the way Raven always teased him about, but he couldn't help it—the infinite variety of mutation was always so fascinating. "Oh, but I couldn't take yours, you need it to show your support—could I commission one from you? Do you have a card?"

"Sure." The man let his pin return to his jacket, and fiddled in his wallet for a minute before handing Charles a card with a phone number, email address and the words Erik Lehnsherr, Custom Metalwork.

"What's your mutation?" the man—Erik, the trim-yet-spiky German name fit him perfectly—was asking.

"I'm a telepath," Charles said, and this was always the tricky moment, seeing how a new acquaintance—even another mutant, sometimes especially another mutant—would react.

"Impressive," Erik said, his eyebrows lifting, and his mental sense (even muted by the thick shields Charles had to erect in a crowd like this) was all interest and admiration, no trepidation at all.

"You're a telepath?"

Charles turned toward Sabah's voice, sudden and sharp on his other side. "Yes? Hadn't I mentioned that? I usually do, I'd rather know sooner than later if it's going to be a problem." That last sentence came out stiffer than Charles intended, but this date already hadn't been going well…

But Sabah didn't look panicked or judgmental. He was smiling, with (finally) a spark of focus in his eyes. It should have gratified Charles, but somehow it unsettled him instead. He tried to remember what Sabah had said his mutation was.

"Quiet now, boys, the game is starting!" Erik's frail mother said excitedly, and they all turned their attention to the ballfield.

It wasn't long, though, before Sabah leaned in close to Charles and caught his eye. Can you hear this, Charles? Can you hear me thinking?

With an inward sigh, Charles replied, Yes, I can hear you.

Sabah's smile widened. That's amazing. What else can you do? Can you…

The stream of obscene scenarios and intricate fantasies that followed could not have all occurred to En Sabah Nur in the last three minutes.

"I'm trying to watch the game, Sabah," Charles said loudly. "We can discuss all that later."

"Oh, okay," Sabah said in a tone that made Charles wish he'd phrased that differently. Something more like We won't be discussing that at all. It wasn't even that Charles was opposed to using his powers in bed; there was indeed some incredible fun to be had that way. But…

Erik, frowning, leaned in close to his other side. "Is this guy bothering you, um… Mister..?"

"Xavier," Charles said automatically. "Charles Xavier. And no, of course not, he's my date, we're just—I'm just—"

"You're just realizing he's a jackass?"

Charles couldn't repress a snort of startled laughter, but was saved from further conversation with either man by DeMarco taking the field. All four of them cheered wildly, waving their flags and, in the case of Erik's mother, unfolding a small banner that she made Erik help her hold up.

The announcers were talking about DeMarco's mutant coming-out, of course, and how various parties were trying to get him disqualified from the league.

"Unbelievable nonsense," Charles said, just as incensed now as the first time he'd heard it. "His mutation doesn't even have anything to do with his performance. The man talks to plants, for heaven's sake."

"It shouldn't matter if his mutation was 'always wins at baseball,'" Erik said next to him. "Everyone's born with natural advantages and disadvantages, they shouldn't penalize DeMarco any more than any other player with the lucky genes for strong arms and long legs."

That sparked a lively argument, which Charles found more intriguing than irritating; Erik had several good points, some of which Charles struggled to refute, and while he criticized Charles's logic without mercy, Erik didn't seem to be remotely angry at him personally.

"What do you think about it, Sabah?" Charles said eventually, chagrined that he had half-forgotten his date.

"Oh, I'm sure you're right, Charles," Sabah said absently, one eye on the game and the other on a text message.

"You're terribly distracted today," Charles said, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. "Something wrong at work?"

"Oh, you know, there's always something." Taking the hint, Sabah put his phone in his jacket pocket. "If it were easy to take over the world, everyone would do it, right?"

"Er, right," Charles said, trying to remember what it was Sabah did for a living. He was starting to realize he didn't actually know very much about this man, for all of their cozy coffee shop conversations. The 'take over the world' remark had to be a joke, his expression indicated it was a joke, and yet… jokes had a pretty distinctive mental feel, almost like a lie but without the ill intent. That hadn't felt like a joke or a lie to Charles's telepathy.

"What are you and this guy arguing about, anyway?" Sabah asked.

"Mutant rights, what else?"

"Well, I'm in favor of them," Sabah said dryly. "The natural order is for the strong to rule the weak, and mutants are the next step of evolution. Eventually, mere humanity's going to be left in the dust. The sooner the better, in my opinion."

Charles blinked at this calm, confident declaration of a borderline genocidal sentiment. "Well, that's—I mean, mutation is evolution in action, but mutants are human, the next step of humanity, not—I mean we're considerably more alike than not, and there's no reason we can't coexist peacefully—"

"If one or the other has to be on top," Erik said on his other side, "and history suggests one does, it should be mutants. But," he sighed, "in my experience it's a lot easier to say 'screw the baselines' than it is to look at the actual baselines around you and say 'screw you.' My daughter Anya's baseline. My mother's baseline." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at her, then did a double-take. "And she's taken off her coat! Mama, what are you doing?"

"That one itches, schatz. Look, Frankson is going to take third base—yes, he's doing it! Look at him go!"

"Here, she can wear mine," Charles said, shrugging out of his coat; he had a heavy sweater underneath and was a bit overwarm with both.

"Thanks," Erik said, and bullied his mother into the coat.

"If you think he's wrong about things," Sabah murmured to Charles, "you can just… change his mind, can't you?" His voice was disturbingly sultry.

"I certainly cannot," Charles replied coldly, but Sabah only chuckled and turned his attention back to the game.

When Erik settled back into his seat, Charles, feeling squirmy and embarrassed that Sabah had even brought that up, changed the subject. "You have a daughter, you said?"

"Yeah, married my high school sweetheart before I realized I was gay—big mistake for both of us," oh good, he was single, "but it brought us Anya." He started showing Charles pictures on his phone of an elfin dark-haired nine-year-old.

"Oh, look, she has your chin!"

"Yeah, poor thing…"

Mama Lehnsherr gasped and started slapping at Erik's arm.

"What? Mama, what?" Erik cried in alarm, but she was laughing, pointing at the Jumbotron.

"Look, Erik, we're on the KissCam! Or, no, your new friend and his sweetheart are in the center—"

So they were, Charles saw. Saxophone music swelled through the speakers, and all through the stadium people were laughing and cheering in anticipation. Charles had to admit to being charmed by the idea of being on the KissCam; it was delightfully silly and romantic. He turned to Sabah—

Who was on his phone again, turned entirely away from Charles with his finger in his other ear.

Fine. Actually? More than fine.

"Shall we?" Charles said, turning to Erik on his other side.

Erik's eyes widened. Then he smiled, that wild-looking show of teeth that Charles had instantly found endearing, and leaned in. Their mouths met in a warm, firm press that felt shocking and new and yet strangely familiar, as if some deep unconscious part of him had been expecting this, waiting for this. For Erik.

Charles was dimly aware of applause and catcalls, of a surge of laughter throughout the stadium as Sabah turned around and began sputtering in outrage, but he didn't care. As far as he was concerned, the date was over—and something else, something much better, was about to begin.

#cherik #my fic #kernezelda #once again the '1k fic' is twice that #enjoy!

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missblushyrose · 6 years

Text

Welcome Home

Previously, in “Reunion”...

After an extensive five minutes, which felt longer to them, Hank broke the hug with a deep breath through his nostrils, grinning at the smiley android that stared back at him. With one last snicker, the older man rose to his feet, helping Connor onto his own with a tight grip on his shoulders. He sighed contentedly and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a side-hug as he led the bubbling android to his car. “Now, c’mon. Let’s go home. Sumo’ll lose his shit when he finds out we’ve got one more member of the family.”

The glare of the morning sun, which slowly drew from the horizons of Detroit, would normally irritate the human eye to no end. However, some would come to appreciate its reawakening rather than rising out of bed to find the skies tainted with dark clouds looming over the city, constantly pouring rain or snow. Some could say that this may have been the worst ongoing forecast of the year, given that winter wouldn’t be starting for another month.

A single Mustang 80, coated with a dark charcoal finish, swerved along the bend of the road and into a small, seemingly quiet neighborhood, lightly pulsating to the rhythm of AC/DC’s “Back In Black”, an obvious choice from Hank Anderson. Said man took a quick glance at the android in the passenger seat, who appeared to be gazing at the world beyond the glass window with a piqued interest, as he had been doing quite often throughout the entire car trip. Hank grinned once more and returned his attention to the road as he made his way to his home, which gradually grew closer as he pressed on. He made a smooth turn into the vacant driveway and removed the key from the ignition.

“Well, we’re here,” Hank stated as he swiveled his head to peer at a now-frozen Connor. He had all but bit his lip in an attempt to keep himself from bursting into laughter at the sight. “Jesus, you’re freezin’ up on me again? State-of-the-art prototype, my ass. Y’know, Sumo’s not gonna wait forever.”

“Apologies, Lieu-”

“Ah! What’d I tell you earlier?”

Connor blinked once and swiftly corrected himself. “...Hank. I believe that I’m still overwhelmed about what you’ve said to me near the Chicken Feed.”

With an amused smile, Hank raised his right hand to give a couple of pats to the android’s left shoulder. “Try not to think about it too much. Don’t wanna fry that brain of yours, do ya? Now, let’s get inside. It’s cold as fuck.”

And so, the men had stripped themselves of their seatbelts and proceeded to exit the vehicle. They then strode to the front door, stopping just in front of it as the human rummaged through his pockets in search of his house key. After a short deliberation, the search had concluded, and the key was offered to a confused Connor.

“Hey,” The sound of Hank’s voice wrenched the prototype out of his thunderstricken daze along with the jingle of the key, dangling it just at his eye level. “Wanna do the honors?”

With a light flutter of his eyelashes, Connor withdrew the key from the older man’s grasp with a dainty tug of the hand. “Yes... of course.”

Shaking off any sign of hesitance, the young man inserted the key into its respective slot within the doorknob, twisting into a clockwise rotation until an audible click reached their ears. He dislodged the tool and handed it to Hank - who slipped it into a pocket in his coat - before grasping the stained, brass knob. With a curve of his wrist, the wooden door gently glided toward the outside world, the brisk autumn breeze dispelling into the entryway.

As the human and the android immigrated into the small home, a warm, sentimental smile began to blossom Connor’s facial structure. He had only been in the Anderson household once - and that was to find an unconscious Hank on the floor, who had drunken himself to a comatose state, leaving the former deviant hunter to sober him himself - and yet, he felt as if he had lived here throughout his short, three-month life. The atmosphere smelled just like Hank: traces of alcohol, dog, and a hint of the same cheap cologne he could detect in the man’s jacket when they’ve hugged for the very first time.

Connor’s usually-sharp attention had dimmed as his eyes wandered around his new home, his mind swimming with pure content. He couldn’t even notice the loud, hearty ‘borf’ followed by the sound of claws clicking against the tile at the speed of a race, rapidly growing louder as the padded footsteps drew closer and closer. The force of a 170-pound mass of fur suddenly hurling into the android’s body caused Connor to elicit a shocked yelp as he found himself knocked to the floor and underneath this mighty beast, his LED burnishing a bright red to further display his shock. The red instantly reverted back to a calm cyan upon looking up at the face of a familiar, loveable St. Bernard he had once met: Sumo.

Connor opened his mouth and attempted to greet him, only to be interrupted by the large, wet tongue stroking over the artificial skin of his cheeks. Ecstatically. Sumo began to lap at the younger man’s face with affectionate, yet slobbery, doggy kisses. Strangely, the android began to feel a bubbling sensation from the depths of his mechanical core, causing him to burst into giggles. While he knew that this was a dog’s way of showing their love for their owners, he just couldn’t seem to decipher the reason as to why his titters rose from his voice box, considering he had nothing to classify as amusing. Was it the affection? He assumed it to be a possible factor.

“Hi, Sumo,” Connor greeted in between his giggles as he reached up to bury his fingers into the fur of the hound’s great head, his blunt fingernails scratching along his scalp as if trying to return the affection. Despite how messy his face was becoming from the excessive dog drool, he paid absolutely no mind to it. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying the feeling of being piled on by the warm of Sumo’s large body while receiving his token of love. “Yes, I’ve missed you as well!”

All the while, Hank watched with saturated amusement, laughing to himself at the view of his beloved dog coating the deviant’s face with relentless doggy kisses. He would be lying if he said that the sight was anything but heartwarming. “Alright, alright. Ease up on him, ya big oaf.” He gave the St. Bernard’s collar a gentle tug, catching his attention with a low whine rumbled from the dog’s chest as he hoisted himself from the android, approaching his human. “Good dog.” He praised as rubbed the dog’s head, making him pant and thump his tail against the floor.

Gradually, the giggles began to fade from Connor’s systems, and he proceeded to pick himself up from his position on the floor. He couldn’t help but smile at the scene before his peripheral vision: Hank, usually gruff and ill-tempered as he came to know, was kneeling down to meet Sumo’s level, rubbing his beloved pet all over, whilst the canine’s tongue lolled from the side of his muzzle. Sumo rolled onto his back, his tail waving and his leg kicking up in the air to the older man's constant coos and praises:

“Yeah, good boy, Sumo! You looove that, don’t ‘cha? Who’s a big oaf, huh? Who is it?”

The mere sight of it persuaded a coy smirk to tug at Connor’s lips. While being equipped with the ability to adapt to human unpredictability was one of his many features, he could have never possibly fathomed the man to coo. Then again, he never pegged him as one to hug anyone, let alone an android - considering the fact that he despised androids even before they first met at Jimmy’s Bar - and yet, he could see that the man has changed his perspective regarding Connor’s own kind.

At last, Connor decided to cut in and divert the lieutenant’s attention from the dog. Still wearing the smug grin, he pretended to clear his throat. “Hank?”

In an instant, Hank ceased in coddling his beloved pet and whipped his head up to set his gaze on the deviant, quickly shaking off his stupor. “Shit, I actually forgot you were there for a moment.”

“In all the time I’ve known you, Hank, I never deemed you to be a cooer,” Connor mused, the same shit-eating grin still fixated on his face.

In response, the older man dismissed the lip sent his way with a scoff. “Fuck off.” He shot back with no real heat lingering in his tone. “I ain’t the one with dog slobber all over my face. Speakin’ of which... you might wanna go rinse off. Kinda disgusting.” He then made a gesture towards the hallway to the left. “The bathroom’s still in the same place where it was last time you were here: down the hall over there and on the right.”

“Thank you. I’ll only need a minute, and I’ll rejoin you,” Connor replied as he strode forward, making a turn to his left and entering the hallway, shortly coming across to the bathroom door on his right-hand side. He gingerly turned the knob and stepped towards the vacant sink, briefly glancing at a reflection of himself in the mirror, marveling at the fine coat of dog saliva decorating his facial skin. No more than ten seconds passed before Connor finally decided to do away with the mess.

Turning the water faucet to provide himself with running water at a moderate temperature, he then shaped his hands together to create a makeshift bowl. First, he lightly tossed the lukewarm water back into his own face to rinse off the drool. Next, he turned his attention to a soap pump at the corner of the sink top and dispensed a fair amount of soap into his hand, only to lather his face afterward. And finally, he repeated the first step, only this time, he would do away with the soap, thoroughly cleansing his artificial skin. He yanked a lone hand towel from a nearby towel rack to gently dab his face until he dried his skin.

Connor dispersed from the small bathroom, only to find Hank coming out of his own bedroom, clad in an old, grey DPD hoodie and worn pair of black lounge shorts.

Hank looked at the android with an incredulous bore as his grey-blue eyes scanned the suit, the only piece of clothing he had ever worn. “Uh, you’re not planning on wearing that suit of yours while we have no work, are you?”

“What is wrong with my suit?” Connor asked dumbfoundedly, cocking his head to the side like a confused puppy.

“Well, for one thing, it’s all covered in dog hair,” Hank gestured to the android’s Cyberlife suit, which was now spattered with noticeable strands of Sumo’s fur. “Connor, you know that you’re not obligated to wear it anymore. You’re a deviant now, so you’re free to wear anything else.”

“But I have no other clothes. I was only provided with my suit,” Connor stated with same blank expression fixed upon his facial structure.

Hank gawked at the baffled android in response, blinking once, twice before turning his back to the other and reentering his bedroom once more. He could hear the faint sound of dress shoes lightly thumping against the cloud-hued carpet, following the closet door sliding to the right. Yes, he could feel the presence and stare of a confused, yet curious, Connor from the doorframe.

He began to scrutinize the contents inside his closet in hopes of finding something decent for the kid to lounge in, so he automatically crossed off the few shirts with awfully tacky patterns from the mentally constructed list. Pushing the shirts aside to the left, Hank had come to discover a charcoal DPD hoodie with a contrasting style to the one he was currently wearing suspended by a coat hanger. He made no hesitation to rip the hoodie from the hanger and draped it over his left forearm. Hank thought it was a hell of a coincidence to find a pair of onyx sweatpants balled up into the corner of the closet. He seemed to remember them fitting quite well in his younger days, back to when he was just about Connor’s size. Taking upon the offering, he knelt down onto the carpeted floor then sunk the fingers of his right hand into the cotton fabric and yanked the bottoms from the closet, carrying it with his left arm as a makeshift clothing rack.

Hank rose to his feet and slid the closet door to the left, therefore closing it. He turned to face the former deviant hunter once more, presenting him with the bundle of clothes in his hands. “Here, you can borrow some of mine until we can go out and buy you some new clothes.”

Connor opened his mouth to politely decline his offer, but no words came out as he presumed that the older man was going to lend him the clothes, regardless of his protests. With a hint of hesitance, he raised his arms forward to collect the two pieces of clothing and cradled them in his arms with a bit of tenderness. “Thank you, Hank.”

“Don’t mention it,” Hank dismissed the android’s gratitude with a casual flick of his hand, gesturing towards the bathroom. “Now, go get changed. You ain’t gonna be walkin’ around the house and gettin’ dog hair everywhere.” He added with a decipherable jestful tone as he waltzed out of his bedroom, leaving a somewhat stunned Connor behind.

A brief ten seconds was all the time that had been spent in Connor trying to shake off his stupor, and he traveled out of the master bedroom and across the hall to re-enter the bathroom once again. He gingerly shut the door and locked it to prevent any intrusion as he began to strip himself. He started with his trademark Cyberlife jacket, followed by his geometric-patterned necktie, only for his white button-up shirt, tossing them onto the floor afterward. The prototype approached the porcelain toilet and sat down so that he could remove his footwear without doubling over in the process. He slung his right leg upward to rest his ankle atop of his left thigh and proceeded to untie the laces of his shoe, loosening it. Once the shoestrings were untied, he gently tugged his dress shoe from his foot, lightly ricocheting it next to the sink counter. He repeated the process with his left foot, and he was soon left with his black ankle socks, marveling at the newfound weightlessness of his feet. Finally, he unzipped, unbuttoned, and pulled down his smokey grey trousers, freeing his legs.

Connor couldn’t fight the shiver racking his frame as the cool air met his synthetic skin, having been stripped down to the solid black, spandex-like boxers he was provided with upon his activation. Not wanting to bear the cold any longer than he already had been following his deviancy, he then slipped the hoodie over his head and tugged the sweatpants up to his legs.

Retreating from the toilet and to the mirror, Connor fixated his gaze on the reflection that stared into the chocolatey irises of his optical units: the android, who grown used to sporting his usual Cyberlife suit, was now clad in a DPD hoodie and casual sweatpants. Almost instantly, he could understand as to why Hank had insisted on shedding his usual work apparel for a choice of clothing, such as this. The fabric felt... soft on the android’s artificial skin. The feel of it was just so comforting, as was the faint scent of the man lingering from the fabric. He didn’t even appear to mind that the hoodie was approximately twice his size, it only added onto the coziness provided to him. Connor was awestruck by the fact that he almost seemed human, aside from the luminescent LED at the right side of his head.

After much deliberation, Connor turned away from the mirror to gather the suit he had shed and propelled it into the clothes hamper nearby with little care in the world. He ultimately decided to quit wasting his time loitering and reemerged from the bathroom, striding down the hallway and towards the living room. Coincidentally, he found Hank exiting the kitchen, a can of Pineapple Passion soda in hand.

“Y’know, that’s not a bad look for you,” Hank spoke up, throwing a smile in the direction of the former deviant hunter as he passed by, sinking into the living room sofa within the very second he got close enough. He then made a ‘come here’ gesture with a curl of his hand, beckoning Connor to join him on the couch. “Hey, quit standin’ around like you’ve got a stick up your ass, and get over here! Make yourself at home!”

The deviant’s doe-like eyes never left the lounging human“...Make myself at home?”

“Well, yeah! I mean, this is your home now, too!”

Not even sparing another second, Connor gladly made his way closer to the upholstered seat and plopped down onto his rear, just sitting at Hank’s left and close to the armrest. He had all but abandoned the fact that this was just the man’s home. It was now their home.

Hank sighed contentedly and lifted his legs from the floor, only to lower them onto the coffee table as a makeshift ottoman, his back sinking into the plush fabric behind him. “You gotta admit, that feels a hell of a lot more comfortable than that suit of yours. Take it from me, gettin’ out of work clothes and into some you can really breathe in, there’s... there’s just nothin’ like that.”

“I have no qualms about your opinion,” Connor returned without a shadow of a doubt as he looked over to the man at his further right, giving a light tug to the mass of fabric with a pinch of his index finger and thumb. “I’m beginning to see what I’ve missed out on. These clothes are quite comfortable.”

“Too fuckin’ right, they are. Comfy clothes are essential in lounging around,” Hank stated in a casual manner before he raised the brim of the aluminum can to his lips and took a swig from the carbonated beverage, after having popped the tab. He pulled the open can away from his mouth to speak once more. “They’re what allow us to walk around the house and not give a shit about what anyone thinks if that makes any sense to you.”

Connor’s LED began to flicker between blue and yellow at a moderate pace, trying to contemplate to himself. At first, he seemed to be stricken with confusion from the lieutenant’s odd declaration, but he managed to grasp the gist of it. “I suppose it makes some sense if anything.” Not much time had passed after his response, and the android suddenly shuddered, slightly taken aback by the faint whisper of cold air lingering within the walls. Naturally, he began to scan throughout the house from his seat and came across the culprit:

A window in the kitchen, covered with a squared piece of cardboard secured in place with two or three layers of industrial-strength duct tape applied to all four edges, had allowed traces of the frigid air to seep into the house. The very same window the android had no choice but to break when he discovered the man lying limp on the floor in an ethylic coma.

Connor began to feel a twinge of guilt invading his computerized mind, the content smile instantly fading away as he glanced down at the floor. He was the one who shattered the window. He was the one who let himself in with no regard to Hank’s property. And now, the human had one less window to protect himself from the harsh weather because of him. “I’m sorry about the window again, Hank.” He apologized once more for the damage he had caused, his tone soft and filled with remorse.

Hank shifted his sight to the left and gave the window a second of his attention before turning it to the downcast deviant. With a sigh, he extended his left hand and placed it on Connor’s right shoulder, prompting him to shift his gaze from the floor and to the human. “It’s okay, son, I already called a repairman. The window’ll be just fine tomorrow.”

“When I saw you through the window, I really thought you’d been attacked. Of course, that was until I came to get a closer examination of your condition,” Connor explained as he fidgeted with the hoodie’s drawstrings, twirling them with his fingers. “I... I think was worried about you, even when I was nothing more than a machine. I think a part of me cared for your well-being.”

“And that’s why you busted my window and broke into my house?”

Connor offered a slow nod in response, turquoise LED gently spirling. “Yes. Hank... the more time we’ve spent together throughout the investigation, the more I began to realize that accomplishing a mission wasn’t the most important aspect of my life. You’ve shown me that creating, building, and maintaining relationships... is what matters most. As much as I wanted to deny it, I... I think I had some deviancy within my coding, and you were the key to unlocking more of it.”

Hank sat still as he listened to the android’s words, blinking as if validating that he was still animated. “So, all those times you saved my life, you did that by choice?” He asked, receiving another nod. “Holy shit. And here I thought it was part of your buddy program. You threw your mission out of the window multiple times because you care about the life of an ol’ sack of shit like me.” He smiled warmly and proceeded to scoot closer to Connor, slinging an arm around his shoulders in a side-hug. “I know I never said this to you yet, but... thanks, Connor. I really appreciate you saving my neck several times.”

A soft, genuine smile curled onto Connor’s lips, the remorseful blankness in his gaze becoming an uplifted shimmer. “You’re welcome, Hank.”

As he patted Connor’s relaxed shoulder, his sight wandered to his jacket, which hung from a coat rack near the door, and he instantly remembered something he had been meaning to do. And so, the older man removed his arm from the deviant’s shoulders, quickly addressing him before he rose from the couch. “Hang on, I almost forgot. I got something for you.” He marched over to the idle jacket and rummaged through the pockets for a short while before swiveling at a 180° angle to face the younger man. Seeing Connor’s confused, curious daze made Hank beam in amusement as he strode back to the couch, concealing a hand behind his back and returning to his seat. “I know you told me to keep it, but I want you to have this.”

And with that, Hank withdrew his right hand from behind and opened his palm, revealing the quarter he had confiscated from the android when they were sent to investigate the Stratford Tower.

Connor’s eyes went agape upon registering the piece of silver displayed to him on the fleshy makeshift platter before his line of sight. He made an attempt to speak and parted his lips, but no words came out. Could it be the very same quarter he found comfort in along with his calibrative coin tricks? The prototype extended a slightly shaky hand forward and gingerly reeled in the coin toward himself. Wanting to make certain that this was his coin, Connor began to run a brief examination and came to discover the very traits he knew all too well:

On one side, a discernable contour of George Washington, with the term, ‘Liberty’, over the head and the excerpt, ‘In God we trust’. The sketch of an eagle facing forward, head pointing toward its right, talons clamping onto a sturdy branch beneath, and wings spread wide open, emblazoned the opposing side. A treillage of fern lay below the branch and the inscription, ‘United States of America Quarter Dollar’, curving along the rounded edges along with the Latin term, ‘Epluribus Unum’, written in a smaller text just above the eagle’s head. The smoothness and the pristine shine would strike one with disbelief upon registering the displayed date arrayed underneath the end of the late president’s neck: 1994.

The android marveled at the feeling of the cool, smooth exterior of the coin in great awe. It was, in fact, his coin - his most prized possession. Even when he had insisted the grizzled cop to keep it, claiming to have duplicates, he felt an odd feeling of... emptiness, was it? Yes, that’s what he believed it to be.

“My quarter...” Out of sheer habit and great joy, Connor began to let the quarter roll across his knuckles for no less than a minute before flicking it upward with the tips of his pointer finger and middle finger. He caught it gracefully in the palm of his opposite hand and stored it away into the large pocket at the lower area of his abdomen, giving Hank a grateful, yet ecstatic beam. “Thank you, Hank!”

Hank found himself unable to fight off the growing smile from plastering over his face at the android’s enthusiasm, slinging his left arm around his shoulders once more. “Not a problem, kid.” He took one gulp after another from the carbonated drink he swiped into his opposite hand until he had downed the entire can, much to his dismay. With a disgruntled vulgarity, he resigned to fetching another can of soda, lest he would become parched.

What he did not expect, however, was the sound of a light yelp emitting from Connor, who flinched and curled in on himself from the accidental brush at his side as he retracted his arm. Throughout the awkward silence that had only just immersed into the room, Hank’s silver eyebrows lifted in surprise, slightly gaping eyes peering at the deviant with immense interest. Could it be...? “Connor?”

“Yes, Hank?”

“You know about deviants, right? Aren’t they capable of feeling? And not just emotions, I’m talkin’ from a physical aspect, like humans do.”

The blue glow in Connor’s LED transposed to a bright yellow, pendulating as he foraged through his database for an appropriate response. “After androids undergo a deviation process, they are equipped with sensors, akin to the human nervous system. Deviants are able to experience and react to sensory transmissions, including to those derived from heat, cold, pain, and pleasure. Um, Hank... why are you looking at me that way?”

“You don’t get it?” The interest within the grizzled police lieutenant’s grey-blue irises sparked into a scheming glimmer, a ghost of a smirk appearing over his lips. “I hadn’t become the youngest police lieutenant in Detroit for nothing. Deviants are able to feel all that, and it goes without saying that touch is a part of it. Plus, given from the way you jumped and squeaked when I accidentally brushed your side, it doesn’t take a genius to put the pieces together. Call it a wild theory, but I think that would make you ticklish.” He stated, adding emphasis to the concluding phrase with a purr.

Connor lightly shuffled in his seat, unsure as to why he could feel a slight heat rush to his cheeks. “...Ticklish? I... I’m not sure that I’m following what you’re saying...”

The grin on the older man’s face sank into a surprised frown, an eyebrow quirked upward in disbelief. “Are you jokin’? You’ve got a dictionary in that brain of yours, and you don’t even know what tickling is?”

“I just never paid much thought on the topic...” The android admitted softly, now twiddling with his fingers as he rested his hands in his lap, his eyes wandering throughout the living room. “...Um... what is tickling?”

With a deep breath ventilating through his nostrils, Hank ran a hand through his silver tresses and closed his eyes, beginning to form an explanation decent enough to were it could possibly make sense to the clueless deviant by his side. “Well, tickling is... something that happens when a certain place is poked or touched in a way that makes someone laugh. No one knows why, so don’t ask.”

“I won’t ask. Although, I do have one question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why does anyone partake in such an activity?”

“People use ticking as a way to bond, whether it be friends, lovers, or family. It’s also a way to play or tease someone. Sometimes, it’s fun to just let go and laugh, even if you’re the one dishin’ it out.”

Connor blinked rapidly in the midst of pondering about tickling, his LED fluxing from blue to yellow several times before realigning to its neutral cyan. “...Are you certain that I could possibly possess ticklishness?”

A dark chuckle rose from Hank’s throat, a devious grin forming as he shifted himself around to face the android. With an evil gleam cascading through his eyes, he raised his hands up to his chest, fingers outstretched and wriggling, as if itching to pounce at some ticklish skin. “Wanna find out?”

Another yelp somehow managed to slip through Connor’s lips, much to his own surprise. How could the mere prospect of the man’s wiggly fingers already reduce him to nothing but a bundle of pouring giggles? He hadn’t even been touched, but that never stopped his titters. Yet, he wanted to seize the opportunity to experience the oncoming event. “W-Well, you did mention that this is a way to bond, didn’t you? If this will help increase our newfound familial relationship, then I’m willing to go through with this. Moreover, I think I’d like to see what it’s like.”

“Well, I ain’t gonna object to this!” Hank chortled, unable to fight off his continually growing smirk. “But you better be ready. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.” With that, he propped himself onto his knees and proceeded to slowly creep towards the former deviant, fingers twitching like a spider’s legs in preparation.

Once his slightly gaping eyes caught a glimpse of the restless digits, a stream of giggles began to pour from Connor’s lips, and he was tempted to back away, only to corral himself at an armrest. He could feel the pulsations of his thirium pump gradually crescendoing to an agile cadence as his human companion drew closer and closer with every passing second. A faint cerulean glow began to make itself to the fore of the peach-colored artificial skin of his cheeks. Alas, the RK800 model clenched his eyelids steadfastly and covered his eyes with his hands, unable to look into the playfully wicked intent of Hank’s grey-blue irises, which stared into his own anxious, yet giddy, chestnut ocular units.

The poor android could only wonder as to why Hank was subjecting him to this. Why couldn’t he keep his ongoing giggles down if he hadn’t even been touched yet? Why was he unable to look the man in the eye in the midst of his impending ‘doom’? Why couldn’t he just put him out of his misery and initiate the actual tickling already?

The sudden weight being administered onto his legs nearly provoked a shriek, having not expected that to happen. Exercising extreme caution, Connor parted the middle and ring fingers of his right hand to sneak a peek, only to discover that the middle-aged man was directly in front of him, sitting atop his legs. Moreover, much to his dismay, those mean fingers never stopped wiggling.

“W-What are you doing? Just do it already!” Connor pleaded, allowing his hands to fall from his face to grip at the sofa cushions, tittering through a toothy grin formed by his clenched teeth.

Instead of offering a verbal response to the desperate plea, Hank slowly shook his head, the evil grin never withering away. “Oh, I will, don’t worry. This is sort of part of tickling. See, when you’re about to tickle someone, sometimes you wanna build up their reaction to it by using anticipation methods. You can give ‘em a shit-eating grin... wiggle your fingers at ‘em... and just tease the everloving hell outta them, like telling them how bad they’re gonna get it, or getting reeeal close to a ticklish spot. Y’know, get inside their heads.” With his brief explanation ending, he proceeded to lower his claw-shaped hands towards the young man’s torso painfully slow, teasing him relentlessly.

The prototype sputtered with peels of frantic giggles, and he quickly craned his head to the side to avoid having to look at the descending hands, finding himself to be feebly sucking in his gut in hopes of escape.

“Oooh, look at this! My hands are getting closer and cloooseer!~ My fingers are just dyin’ to meet ‘cha!~ They’re just sooo close to making contact!” Came the teasingly sing-songy croon rumbling from Hank’s chest, slowly nearing his restlessly wiggling digits further towards the trembling abdomen below.

Upon registering the man’s teases, Connor felt a light, fluttery sensation spreading throughout the inside of his mechanical core, forcing him to emit a rather uncharacteristic squeal. He had a scarce idea as to how to describe it - it felt like something flying inside of him, and the wings were brushing against his interior walls. Was this what humans refer to as ‘stomach butterflies’?

Hank nearly snorted at the giggly deviant’s noises, finding them to be both amusing and adorable. Continuing to taunt him with his descending fingers, he began to recite a list of common-place areas receptible to tickling. “So, where do ya want it? Armpits?” He quickly thrust his hands underneath his arms, digging and spidering at the flesh with such vigor that the android immediately clamped his limbs to his sides. “Neck?” He gently fluttered his blunt fingernails along the scruff of said area as well as his ears, smiling at the titters and soft squeals he earned. “Feet?” He turned his back and sat on his torso before pulling the other’s right leg up to his chest, holding in place with an arm. With the appendage trapped by his firm hold, his free hand lunged at the flailing foot connected to the ensnared limb, scratching at the socked incline. “Knees?” He released the lurching limb and let it fall onto the couch, only to latch his hands onto his kneecaps, squeezing and tweaking. Afterward, he turned back around and resumed his original makeshift seat onto his legs. "Ribs - come to think of it, do you even have any?" He then slipped his hands underneath his old hoodie to ambush the aforementioned area with a flurry of light pokes to each and every artificial bone.

As the man pulled his fingers back after a few seconds of tapping the prototype’s ribs, Connor’s giggles seemed to be an endless stream pouring from his mouth after bubbling from the depths of his stomach. In the midst of this, he could see - through the mirth sparkling in his own eyes - that the lieutenant was hoisting the hem of the oversized hoodie upward, much to his bemusement. “H-Hank?”

Hank turned his attention to the android’s twitchy torso before shifting his vision to meet Connor’s constantly evasive gaze. Knowing that the fabric could easily fall, should the ‘victim’ toss around too much, he proceeded to tuck the bottom of the hoodie’s margin, rolling it up to where the entire length of his toned midriff was unveiled to the world. “How ‘bout heeere, huh?~” He suggested, earning another quiver of the openly exposed tummy, which he took as a ‘yes’. “Looks like we’ve got a volunteer~ What do you think? Ya got a ticklish tummy?~”

“I-I don’t know; I’m uncehertain,” The RK800 responded through anticipatory giggles he attempted to smother by clasping a hand over his mouth, trying to compose himself.

“You don’t know?” Hank echoed, mocking the android’s giddy, giggle-fueled tone. “Well, then. Guess we’re just gonna have to find out for ourselves, won’t we?~”

Instead of producing a proper verbal answer, Connor broke out into a fit of squeaky giggles as those treacherous hands had finally made their touchdown. If he were to describe sudden sensations of said hands repeatedly grabbing at his sides, he could say that they felt like miniature pulses of electricity faintly trickling from there to his middle, only to fade once these feelings reached to that point. “Eeehehehehehee! Hahahank!”

“Yeah?” The older man questioned with faux innocence and a quirked brow, trailing his squeezes down to the frantically twisting hips, where he treated with a suit of soft pinches, kneading thumbs, and light spidering. All of his methods were rewarded with squeaks, squeals, and snorts, which he found to be quite amusing.

“Ahahahahahaa!” Connor tittered in response to the flickering sensations riding through his coding continuously, making him shut one of his eyes. “Stahahahahaaap!” He cried out automatically.

“Stop? But we barely even started yet! And besides...” Hank suspended his exchange to crawl his fingers away from the artificial hipbones and to the fidgeting tummy above, attacking the bare flesh with swift, delicate scratches. “...you seem to be enjoying yourself. Just look at how much you’re laughing!”

“Nahahahahahaa! Hahahahank, nohohohooo!” The prototype protested lightly, his usually impeccable hair becoming slightly disheveled as he tossed his head back into the padded cushioning of the sofa.

Hank merely addressed whiney intonation with a chuckle in spite of his own regalement as he watched the android muddle his artificial locks. “Are my eyes deceivin’ me, or do I see you... messing up your hair?” He teased, pausing midway to draw in a gasp in false surprise. “And here I’ve pegged you to be the type that never goes out in broad daylight with hair that’s anything but immaculate, pretty boy~”

The blue tint in Connor’s cheeks grew slightly brighter in response to the playful jeer. While he knew that the man had solely made that quip to poke fun, it didn’t plague him with anything less than a chunk of embarassment. “S-Shuhut uhuhuup!” He whined, futilely attempting to cover his alit cheeks and nose.with his right hand.

The young man’s retort, while weak and lacking even a scarce amount of heat, provoked one of the grizzled cop’s silver eyebrows to arch up in shock. “I see someone’s been equipped with an attitude program as well. I was thinkin’ of stoppin’ soon, but now I’m really gonna have to show you what a good tickling truly is~”

“N-No, wahahait! I dihidn’t mean to be unpleheheasant! I’m sohohorryyyy!” Connor squeaked desperately as his human companion dragged his pointer finger down his abs and towards the small navel that lay just below the center of his stomach area, making him gasp and buck.

Hank looked up at the blushing face of the former deviant hunter with a smirk, glancing at the twitching cavity as he circled his finger around it frequently. “Those guys at Cyberlife really thought of everything. They even gave you your very own giggle button!”

The state-of-the-art prototype’s giggles increased upon hearing that very nickname, finding it to be both odd and silly at once. “G-Gihihiggle buhuhutton?”

“You have no idea what it��s for, do you?~” The lieutenant’s grin grew wider and displayed more mischief when he received a shake of the head. This was going to be fun. “Ya see, it’s a fun little button to play with. You push it,” He then gave the android’s miniature stomach cave a quick poke, gaining a yelp and a short laugh. “and giggles just come pourin’ out! It works better if you do this!” Without so much as a warning, he dipped his finger into the depths of the evidently sensitive navel, worming around and gently scratching at the interior walls.

Having not expected this to happen, the sudden sensations coursing through his stomach caused Connor to let out a particularly loud, high-pitched shriek. “EEEEEEEK!”

Hearing the shrill noise made Hank flinch and withdraw his finger from the dreadfully sensitive navel. After a few seconds of staring down at the former machine, however, he snorted through his nose before erupting into bouts of laughter himself. “Goddamn! What the fuck was that? In all the time I’ve known you, Connor, I never heard you shriek before! Never knew you had it in ya!”

“I-I was unawahare of possessing the capability to do so as wehehell...” Connor admitted bashfully through his leftover giggles. “I suppose I- Eeeek! Hahahahaaank!”

Rather than addressing to him, Hank simply laughed alongside him as he used his hands to compress the android’s tender hipbones, occasionally switching to pressing and rubbing into the hollows with his thumbs. The human even took it upon himself to lean into the side of Connor’s neck to nuzzle against the sensitive skin, letting the soft brushes of his beard do the rest. He even started to murmur teasing quips into the ticklish flesh just to drive him mad. “Well, look at this! This android just so happens to be ticklish every-fuckin’-where! I gotta admit, I never thought I’d live to see the day where you laughed so hard, Connor~”

The taunt resonated through the walls of Connor’s mind, joining in with the mental tornado that was a race of a million thoughts, the constant flow of ticklishness running through his systems making it nearly impossible for him to think.

He never experienced anything quite like this. The feelings trickling through his advanced sensors felt so... tingly, to say the least. A part of him wondered how such touches could cause him to burst into uncontrollable fits of laughter when nothing seemed to be even remotely humorous and why he was so tempted to escape.

“Tickle, tickle, tickle, ya big ol’ softie!~ How would you feel about me calling you cute? You’re so adorably ticklish, you’re less of an android and more of a goddamned tickle toy! And what’s this? Your cheeks are even turning blue! I’m guessin’ that’s your equivalent of blushing?”

On cue, the sensations increased ever so slightly upon hearing the man’s playful gibes being spoken close to his ears, both factors causing the cerulean glow in his cheeks to develop a sparsely darker burnish, if that was even possible at this point.

And yet, while these attacks were close to being classified as unbearable, they were not entirely unpleasant. If anything, Connor thought he was actually enjoying himself. He felt that very warm, fuzzy feeling flourishing throughout his entire stomach - the kind that made him feel... happy. He was happy to undergo something so innocent and merry. He felt no fear, stress, or danger - just the safeness that radiated from the man’s close presence. He could swear that he felt the strength in their relationship growing stronger with each and every second throughout this experience. They were really bonding. Despite being unable to see it in Hank’s face, as it was wedged into his neck, he could tell that the lieutenant was intoxicated with great joy as well.

He needed this. They both needed this. After everything they went through, they have earned their right to a moment of unwinding and playful recreation.

Soon, Connor ceased his struggles to escape and permitted himself to sink into the couch, accepting every last attack that came his way with graciousness and gladness. He simply let himself go and laughed his little nonexistent heart out, which, in all honesty, felt absolutely wonderful. “Heheheheheee! Ahahahahaaaa!” A high-pitched squeal tore through his throat when a sudden tremor-like sensation rippled across the scruff of his neck accompanied by the sound of a flatulence. What was the action when one pursed their lips against another’s skin and blew against it? A raspberry, was it? Yes, it had to be, a gentle one, at that. “W-Whahahat- Geeeheheheehee!”

Hank soon found himself laughing along with his companion, finding his silly laughter to be quite contagious. “Aww, who’s a ticklwish wittle prototype?~ Who can’t take an itty-bitty little raspberry?~ Huh?~ I think it’s you!~” Taking another quick breath, he plunged back into the left of his neck, just below his ear, and attacked the skin with another small, gentle raspberry.

Another tiny shriek came forth from the bubbling depths of the immensely flushing android’s core. “Eeeheheheheeek! Nahahaha! I-I cahahan’t tahahahake ihihit! Pleheheease! Dahahahahaaad!” He wheezed out before he could even stop himself.

The old man put an abrupt end to his playful onslaught, not daring to make any sudden moves in his newfound frozen state. After a slow matter of seconds, however, he retracted his hands and carefully rose himself into an upright sitting position, a shocked daze present on his withered facial features. He simply sat there and watched the detective android - who had slumped against the couch cushions in a fit of residual giggles, which gradually faded away along with his blueberry-hued blush and the ghost-like ticklishness trickling through his sensors, his eyes closed with mirthful wrinkles crinkling at the corners - recover. “...What did you just call me?...” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper, yet audible enough for the younger man to hear.

Quickly overcoming his residual titters, Connor instantly realized his mistake and began to sputer a string of apologies. His LED took on a brilliant gold to convey his regret, jumping to the conclusion that he may have offended the lieutenant. “I-I’m sorry, Hank! I’m so sorry! I had no intention of offending you, i-it was a matter of impulse! I’ll just lea-”

Rather than harshly reprimanding him as he had expected, Hank suddenly grabbed Connor by the wrist and yanked him up into a sitting position before reeling him into his arms for a tight, warm bear hug, “Who the fuck said anything about leaving?”

“W-What...?”

“No way in hell I’m tossin’ my family out on the street, let alone my own son!”

The deep brown irises in Connor’s eyes constricted ever so slightly in a distinguishable stupefaction upon being referred to as the man’s son. “But... Cole is your son...”

“Yeah, he is, and so are you.”

“But we share no biological relation. We... are nowhere near qualified to be considered as a family.”

“Connor...” Hank let out a long sigh before placing a hand on the android’s stiff back, rubbing his palm along the lean muscles. “There’s more to a family as far as genetics. A family is made up of people who trust, care for or about, and love each other. It doesn’t matter what background you come from. It doesn’t even matter what species you are. For example, Sumo is part of this family, even though he’s a dog. Our blood may be a different color, but it doesn’t make you anything less than part of my family, Connor. It’s not gonna stop me from calling you my son. And when I say that you’re staying here, you’re. Staying. Here. You got that?”

Connor opened his mouth to speak, but weak stammers tensed through his parted lips instead of actual words. His usually perfect vision began to cloud, and a thin trail of moisture slowly ran down his cheek before he even realized it.

Hank craned his neck to steal a glance at the android’s dampening face, immediately fixing his attention to the freely descending tears. “Connor, you’re... you’re crying.”

The deviant raised a hand to scoop a tiny, miniscule amount of his artificial discharge onto his pointer finger, examining it. “Crying is... an effect caused by experiencing sadness, yet I feel so... happy. W-Why...?”

Hank smiled warmly and gently brushed his thumb over the fresh tearstains, wiping them away. “Sometimes, when humans feel extensively happy, they tend to do that because that’s how they react to that overwhelming feeling.”

“Y-You mean like how I feel this... fuzzy feeling in my chest that makes my thirium pump - or heart, as you might call it - swell to a point where it feels as if it were going to explode?”

The lieutenant nodded. “Yeah, something like that.”

With the biggest smile on his face, along with the steadily flowing artificial tears, Connor proceeded to encircle his arms around his waist to return the man’s warm embrace with one of his own, burrowing his runny face into his shoulder. “I-It feels... absolutely wonderful.” The amber in his LED converted to a joyous cyan.

“I know, kid,” Hank spoke softly, reaching up to light ruffle his already disheveled hair. He paid absolutely no mind to the fact that his sleeve was gradually saturated in the deviant’s discharge - he needed to wash this hoodie, anyway. “I know.”

“Hank... would you... mind if I called you ‘dad’ more often?” The android asked, his voice quiet and his tone somewhat shy.

“Not at all.”

“Thank you, Hank... for everything.”

Hank, in response, patted his android of a son on the back, the wide smile never withering away, nor faltering. “Welcome home, son. Welcome home.”

Connor pulled back to wipe his tears away and offered his makeshift father a smile that had nearly split his face in two, genuinely happy. He dared to make no hesitation in the next following words that passed his lips before leaning back into the human’s embrace:

“Thank you... Dad.”

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bnhafanboysstory-blog · 5 years

Text

Chapter 2: Anxiety

Saying Ryūsuke was nervous was an understatement. He stared up at the enormous building and gate that stood before him, his parents on either side of him along with Mocha on his right. His father, Preston, gently pushed Ryūsuke so that he’d begin to make his first few steps towards the school. Today would technically just be an overseeing of the class he’d be learning in when he wasn’t under the watchful eye of Recovery Girl. The blonde Japanese-American male was a big ball of energy underneath a calm and collected exterior and he couldn’t wait to meet the kids he’d be healing, to meet one of his online friends, the support department chick that’d be showing him around for the next three weeks, and most of all to see his best friend and boyfriend after a long eleven years. Entering the building was similar to the feeling of walking into a rather large home, to Ryūsuke at least; overly grand yet had a new air surrounding it. In front of him and his parents stood four figures; a girl with rosy pink dreadlocks and a messily put together outfit, a small bear-rodent-thing wearing a white dress shirt and a pair of black slacks along with a red tie and black vest, an older woman who was carrying a rather large syringe shaped cane, and finally a male with facial hair who looked sleep deprived and was wearing a black long-sleeved shirt and matching pants with a utility belt around his waist while a grey scarf hung around his neck.

‘Ah,’ he thought. ‘They must be the principal, my guide around the school, and my mentors for my classes.’ Ryūsuke’s eyes glanced at each of them while his parents greeted the others. “Hello, I’m Kanoko Padilla and this is my husband Preston. I apologize if my husband doesn’t talk much, he’s still getting a grasp on how to write and speak Japanese after a few years on not using it, though he can understand it moderately well.” His mother said coolly. He loved hearing his mother speak in her native tongue; she has always sounded kinder and softer whenever she spoke Japanese especially since she insisted on teaching his siblings Japanese until they were just as eloquent in it as they were with English or Korean in the sake of his adopted sister. “Ah, that is perfectly fine, my dear! Welcome, welcome to U.A. I am Principal Nedzu. You must be Ryūsuke! It’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person.” the principal said, his voice full of glee. Ryūsuke gave a minute smile before speaking himself. “Good morning, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. Thank you for allowing me to get my training here under you rightly esteemed nurse, Recovery Girl.” He grimaced internally at his tone and phrasing but could see amusement radiating through each of those in front of him causing him to loosen up on the critique of his communication with authoritative figures. “Of course! It’s a pleasure to have you at this wonderful institution. Now, this young lady here is Mei Hatsume.” Nedzu said, gesturing to the girl with pink dreadlocks. Mei seemed reasonably steampunk-ish to Ryūsuke but he was admittedly amused by this fact. ‘She’d get along great with ‘Toshi.’ He thought as he put a hand out to greet her. “Hello! Welcome to U.A., new friend! I do hope that we will become close during our time together.” Mei shouted, full of pep though she unmistakably seemed like she was holding back. Ryūsuke looked back towards his mom with a small smile and a look of tenderness in his eyes before he turned back to the pink haired girl. Mei was wearing a plain black tank top and baggy cargo pants, a jacket tied casually around her waist, with a pair of red and gold steampunk goggles on her head. “Same here, Hatsume-chan. I do have to ask though, do you like tinkering?” After he said that the salmon pink haired teen lit up even more. “Oh yes, I do! I love working on more and more of my babies. The best way for me to get noticed by companies is to work, work, work!” The girl said everything about her seemed to cheer up. “Babies? I do believe you’re referring to your work, aren’t ya?” “Ah yes!”

Nedzu cleared his throat before continuing with the introductions. “This here is Shōta Aizawa. He’ll be teaching you how to fight without depending on your quirk and overall be your homeroom teacher despite you being a second year.” Ryūsuke looked over to Aizawa before approaching him and moving to shake his hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Sensei. I’ve heard plenty of you from Principal Nedzu but also my boyfriend. I do look forward to being your student.” he stated, calmly. Aizawa raised an eyebrow at the mention of his new student’s boyfriend but shook his hand regardless. “I’m going to assume your boyfriend is a student of mine, Padilla?” Aizawa’s voice was gruff and seemed tired, almost as if he was constantly in a state of perpetual tiredness. Ryūsuke nodded. “Denki Kaminari. Oh, and just so you know he’ll more than likely allow you to introduce me to the class but he will want to admittedly want to run up and hug me. He and I have known each other for years, practically our whole lives, but he hasn’t seen me face to face in eleven years. With all due respect sir, please don’t get on his case if he suddenly runs up to me.” Shōta narrowed his eyes but gradually nodded. “I’ll allow him some time to do whatever but if he goes over what I deem enough time then he’ll get punished. And don’t go making a habit of disrupting my teaching either. Dating or not, I won’t tolerate any kind of disruption.” Aizawa said sternly just to earn a nod in agreement.

“And last but certainly not least is your mentor, Recovery Girl,” Nedzu said lastly, gesturing towards the older woman. Recovery Girl hobbled in front of Ryūsuke, Mocha put her body in between her handler and the stranger. “Shhh, it’s okay Mocha. She already knows, girl.” the lilac tipped teen whispered softly in English to the German Shepherd-Border Collie mix dog, crouching down to scratch behind her ears. “Glad you could make it, dear. This is Mocha, I assume? Your service dog, correct?” Aizawa and Mei watched the dog almost curiously as they both noticed the vest she was wearing. “Yeah. She helps me make sure I take my meds amongst other matters. Everything I’ll need day-to-day will always be in my bag, so you don’t have to worry about any of that, Ma’am.” Ryūsuke explained while the older woman listened attentively to everything he stated before the boy turned to Aizawa. “And Aizawa, I will make sure that she doesn’t distract any of my classmates both inside the classroom and while training.” Aizawa nodded before asking, “Just so that I know, what is it that you have that requires you to have a service dog and are the papers for her with you at all times?” “Generalized Anxiety Disorder, sir, and yes. I make sure to carry them with me at all times along with a copy currently being made so I can carry them on me as a hero.” The thirty-one-year-old man raised an eyebrow before nodding in astonishment. “Smart kid you have, Mr. and Mrs. Padilla, he’ll make a fine hero. I would have never thought to have a copy of the paperwork for my hero costume, quite the intelligent thing to do.” Ryūsuke looked down at the ground, a small timid smile making its way onto his face as he continued to pet his service dog. “Thank you, Aizawa. We appreciate the sentiment and we just know that your help along with the help of the rest of the U.A. staff our son will make a stellar hero.” Preston Padilla said kindly through his broken and accented Japanese.

The long-haired male gave a curt nod in response before bending down a bit to allow Mocha to sniff his fingers, Recovery girl repeating the action. Mocha hesitantly sniffed the two’s fingers before licking both of their hands as a form of peace. “Now that we are all acquainted, Aizawa and Recovery Girl, why don’t you both take young Ryūsuke to go meet class 1-A? Ms. Hatsume, please return to class for now. I will let Power Loader know when you are needed again. Mr. and Mrs. Padilla, please follow me and we can talk in my office over some tea.” “Oh please Principle Nedzu, call us Preston and Kanoko.” Ryūsuke heard his mother say before she gave him a kiss on his temple and following after the rodent-like principle. His father chuckled softly as he shook his head before patting his son’s shoulder and following after his baby blue-haired wife. Mei smiled brightly at the tall blonde teen before giving him an energetic wave before she skipped back to her classroom. Ryūsuke smiled as he stood back up and adjusted his brown messenger bag before following after his two teachers to the classroom that held class 1-A with Mocha walking beside him. Soon he found himself in front of a very large door that had ‘1A’ printed on it. When Aizawa opened the door, all the commotion in the room halted. Dead silence filled the room as Recovery Girl and Aizawa entered, but not yet Ryūsuke himself.

“As I told all of you earlier, we will be having a new student. They will periodically be in this class but will mostly be training under Recovery Girl. They are an older student, granted not by much, so they will be given more work than you all and have larger expectations though you all already have high expectations from myself and my fellow teachers. They also are still listed in this class and will be training alongside each of you but is technically not my student. That is why no one has been kicked out and replaced. Now that that is over, please come in Padilla.” Aizawa announced, voice firm as ever since Ryūsuke has met him in person this morning. The tall blonde nudged his service dog to encourage her to begin moving before him as he started into the room gaining a few gasps from the pupils he would be treating throughout the year and more than likely in the future. As he got to the center of the front of the room, he cleared his throat before he spoke. “Hello, I’m Ryūsuke Padilla and this here is Mocha. Please take care of me this year and the years to come. If you have any questions for me or Mocha, I have no problems answering them.” He introduced, voice dark yet warm. He could already tell that a few of his classmates were a tad unsettled or intimidated by him. Nobody moved for a second before a male with blue hair and glasses raised his hand. When the new student acknowledged him, he stood and began to speak in a rather uptight and formal tone. “With all due respect, pets are not allowed on campus and the clothes you are wearing are not appropriate for school. Ignoring the rules of this prestigious institute is considered insulting to this establishment and unbefitting of a U.A. student.”

Ryūsuke raised an eyebrow before he began to snicker. “What’s your name real quick?” he asked, amusement noticeable in his speech. “Tenya Iida.” The fellow teen responded, voice tight and formal. He was annoying this Iida kid and this was incredibly clear to everyone in the room. “Well Iida-kun, Mocha here is my service dog. She is a registered and trained PSD or in better words Psychiatric Service Dog. As to the inevitably asked reason as to why I have a service dog, I have GAD or Generalised Anxiety Disorder and Mocha is here to help me with everything that comes with having it. If any of you want to know in more detail about what she does to help me, please wait until lunch.” He said knowingly before continuing. “As for my wardrobe, today I'm currently just observing and allowing Mocha to get to know all of you and to get a grasp of the surroundings. My first official day is tomorrow.” Tenya flushed a little before nodding in recognition and sitting back down. Nobody made a move to ask another question before a hand belonging to a boy with green hair and freckles suddenly shot up. “Yes, …?” Ryūsuke said calmly, allowing the male to say his name. “Izuku Midoriya. W-what’s your quirk? I-i mean, I assume it has something to deal with healing considering you're learning under Recovery girl… B-but could you explain how it works?” Midoriya had asked loudly but still quite timid sounding as if he was scared of offending his new classmate. “Well Midoriya-kun, my quirk is called Lightsing. A carbon copy of my mom’s quirk but unlike my mom, I don't have to be in direct contact with the person I’m healing though they do have to be in a certain range,” The blonde started, his voice showing admiration for his quirk and almost giving off the air of adoration for the said Quirk. “Essentially Lightsing is a healing based quirk that also has a weak defense. The defensive part of it is really only enough to protect me and those I’m healing. Overall, though, my quirk works by using any form of music that I myself make such as humming or singing to which it then uses electricity to heal wounds. The only real drawbacks of my quirk are that in order for me to heal anybody, I need to sing or hum a song linked to the person or persons and that it can make me pass out or make me extremely exhausted. Basically the reverse drawback of Recovery Girl’s quirk.” Everyone nodded in understanding as they listened to Ryūsuke talk about his quirk and Midoriya began to make notes on the new student’s quirk.

Sero smiled a bit before raising his hand to which Ryūsuke instantly recognized him and smirked a bit. “Yes, Sero?” He playfully growled; the blonde male in front of the class knew that he’d say one of two questions and was prepared for either one to come all the while ignoring the scattered gasps that rang out in the classroom. “Firstly, hey man! Good to finally meet you in person. Secondly, who’s your favorite Japanese Pro Hero?” The lanky teen had a proud and snarky smile on his face as he asked the question but he knew it’d gain him a laugh from his friend’s boyfriend. “You already know this and the same goes with Princess but the rest of your classmates don’t know this. My favorite Pro Heroes, since I truly only have two and they’re both tied as my number one favorites, are Eraserhead and Midnight. Ironically.” Ryūsuke said, chuckling softly to himself as another two hands shot up. One was of a guy with red hair and sharp teeth while the other was of a girl who seemed frog-like. “Girl with green hair can go first.” The Japanese-American said decisively. “Padilla-kun, pardon me for asking but who is the person you referred to as ‘Princess’? I’m Tsuyu Asui by the way.” Asui said and Ryūsuke himself could tell that she didn’t want to assume anything of him. He gave a reassuring smile to her before saying, “I’ll answer that in a second but I have a feeling Kirishima is going to ask something similar. Go ahead.” “Uhm, h-how do you know Sero and how do you know my name?” The sharp-toothed male asked, quite unmistakably confused. “So to answer you both, ‘Princess’ is a nickname I have for my boyfriend and he knows you both fairly well. I will admit I recognize a majority of you but I don’t remember all of your names.” Ryūsuke said, rubbing the back of his nape while deadpanning slightly.

It seemed that everyone was done asking questions now and when the teen at the front of the class let his eyes land on his boyfriend, he noticed the eccentric blonde was eyeing down the long black-haired Pro Hero to his right and seemed about ready to fly out of his chair to jump onto his boyfriend. This gained a snicker out of Ryūsuke, a sigh from Aizawa, and confused looks from the rest of the class. “You get two minutes, Kaminari. Use them wisely.” The older male said, sounding completely done with life. Denki didn’t hesitate to launch himself out of his seat to glomp Ryūsuke, proceeding to scare the shit out of his peers. The dirty blonde-haired guy grinned as he hugged his boyfriend in front of the entire class, the two teens slowly turning in a circle while Mocha wagged her tail when noticing Denki. “Do you wanna reveal to them that we’re dating now or another time, Princess?” Ryūsuke whispered into Denki’s ear, making sure that what he said was in English. His smaller boyfriend seemed to think about it before nodding and mouthing ‘now’ before pulling back to kiss the taller of the two teenage boys on the lips. Once again, gasps surrounded the classroom as they watched the two kiss. Kaminari was extremely flustered but seem happy and proud of himself as he finally pulled completely away to greet the service dog. “Can I pet her even though she’s on duty right now, Ryū?” Everyone was still in shock and seemed further astounded when Padilla had responded with, “You know you’re not supposed to but I’ll let it slide, for now, Princess. I don’t want you getting in trouble because Mocha and you want to shower each other in love. Especially since this is her first time meeting you in person.”

“You’re dating the bootleg Pikachu?!” They heard a brash voice scream out as Denki crouched down. Ryūsuke’s eyes narrowed at this particular voice. “Why yes, I am Katsuki Bakugō. Now start respecting my boyfriend or you’ll have another thing coming during training.” The Japanese-American male said glowering at Bakugō while his boyfriend disregarded the entire thing in favor of petting Mocha, who loyally stayed next to her handler and enjoyed being pet. “Okay, enough Padilla. Both of you sit down so I can begin class.” Aizawa stated roughly, earning him two nods as Kaminari went to his seat and Ryūsuke guided Mocha to his new desk in the classroom. Recovery Girl nodded in acknowledgment to her new student than to her colleague before going out the door to her office. As the newest 1-A student sat down, his Border Collie-German Shepherd mix service dog lied down on the floor underneath his desk before class began.

#bnha fanfictionbnha ocbnhamy hero academia fanfictionmy hero academiamy hero academia ockaminari denki

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gaperezmakes · 6 years

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Original Fic Fest Day 1 – Characters (Iblan Light)

It is Day 1 of @originalficfest! Today’s prompt is about characters. As I said in my Intro, I’m going to deliver two entries for each prompt. Let’s get into it!

Era of the Iblan Light

While the Iblan Light series is mainly about Iblis’ journey, there are four characters who generally drive the plot along. Here’s the Big Four, a little about them, and where they stand between Rebirth and the next book in the series.

Iblis of Light: The powerful deity whose consciousness has been sent into the past. With his knowledge of the future, Iblis has accidentally created a new timeline, that he must keep under control if he wants to return to his proper future. After the terror of Emergency Order 52, Iblis has spent much of his time helping to establish the new Tribunal Council government, as well as strengthening the position of his church in Capital City and the Union.

Cerina Burmen: Iblis’ longtime girlfriend, capable of using the rare floraemancy (plant magic). Currently attending Suramen National University in Uwaye, the jungle nation south of the United Nations of Iblis. In the new timeline, Cerina is studying a powerful magical substance she calls the “Verdant Essence,” a crystal of distilled and condensed plant life essence she intends to use as a counter to the deadly Crimson Essence.

Swift: The orphan and vigilante has become a faithful ally to Iblis of Light ever since the end of Emergency Order 52. Although he has declined to become an official steward of the Tribune like Iblis and Dusk, he has put forth his own efforts to keeping Capital City safe as the new government establishes itself. With nowhere else to go, Swift has moved into the Burmens’ old home with Iblis.

Dusk of Iblis: Iblis’ spiritual brother who keeps him focused on keeping Capital City safe. As a former steward and protector for the Consulate, Dusk has also taken up the charge to help establish the Tribunal Council. Dusk has taken up a position as leader of the ARC, doing his best to keep the space station an international neutral ground. In accordance with the wishes of Iblis the Enlightened (Iblis of Light’s predecessor), Dusk has banned all military research on the ARC, opting instead to put its considerable resources into focusing mainly on medical research instead. When he can, Dusk assists Iblis (and Swift on occasion) in keeping the peace in Capital City.

And here are a couple of characters I’ll be talking about tomorrow:

Joseph Burmen: The alias of a powerful biomancer, a mage who utilizes the innate power of the human soul to cast their spells. Joseph mysteriously disappeared after Cerina left for school, later sending her a letter explaining the conditions of his disappearance.

Helen Burmen: Joseph’s wife, also living under an alias. Rescued from the hermit nation, Nobe by Joseph many years ago, Helen has become a strong and courageous woman. She disappeared alongside Joseph and has not been heard from since.

And here’s a short little bitty-bit with the Big Four together.

The boys waited at the docks impatiently, waiting in disguise. Swift’s was the simplest, with him just wearing a thin hoodie underneath his now-signature red jacket (”But I like it!” was his excuse for ruining the point). Iblis and Dusk had magically shifted their appearances. Dusk, more limited in his abilities than Iblis, had changed his short hair to a dirty blonde color and softened his naturally strong jaw. His now jade-green eyes were locked on the sea before him. Iblis had decided to match Dusk in height, but opted instead to change his hair to a medium-length chestnut color, except for a single green highlight that ran across his head. He gave himself a rounded chin, and put on a few pounds. His warm brown eyes were constantly scanning the horizon to see if the ship was arriving yet. She was supposed to be here hours ago. What was taking so long? Iblis wanted to start pacing. What if something had happened? What if the ship ran into something and sank? What if pirates attacked? What if--

“She’s fine.” Dusk’s voice was flat as he looked over, annoyed, at his brother. “You know she’s fine. Stop making up scenarios in your head where she’s in trouble. You know Cerina can handle herself.”

“I know that,” Iblis replied, his gaze never breaking from the horizon, “It’s just--why wouldn’t she let me teleport her?”

“Because she doesn’t want to always depend on you. You know these things.”

“I’m faster.”

Dusk shook his head, “You’re a child.”

Swift caught their attention by pointing out the ship rising from the horizon. It wouldn’t be long now. Not unsurprisingly, Dusk could see Iblis starting to twitch and fidget. He gave Iblis a less-than-polite nudge and a cold stare. Iblis returned his own and returned his focus to the ship. Swift just chuckled and shook his head.

“I have never seen a man get so worked up for a girl he doesn’t even get to sleep with.”

“Sex isn’t everything, Swift.”

“I know that,” he shrugged, “I’m just surprised, is all. You two have been together long enough, I’m surprised you haven’t.”

“We’re going to be together for the rest of our lives. There will be plenty of time for that later.”

“Whatever, dude, I’m just sayin’.”

“We don’t all look for the loosest women around, Swift,” Dusk interjected, looking over his shoulder down at Swift.

“One, I don’t look for the loosest women around. Two, I don’t always sleep with them. Sometimes I just spend the night and make them eggs for breakfast--unless they’re vegan. In which case, I panic and escape before they wake up.”

“I’m pretty sure they’ll have an egg substitute you can use.”

“It’s not. The same.”

Iblis stifled a laugh at his friend’s expense as he continued looking out to the seas. It was the first time Cerina was actually returning home for one of her breaks. He had popped in to check on her every once in a while, and she always looked run down and tired. But he could see the determination burning brightly in her eyes, even on her worst days. She wasn’t going to quit. This was her dream, and she would do whatever it took to accomplish it.

Soon he could see her standing behind the guardrails on the bow, looking right down at him and smiling warmly. She knew who he was no matter what disguise he wore. The minutes passed quickly before the boat docked. A security team from the docks was quickly dispatched as the passengers prepared to come ashore. They pushed the throngs of people back (something that was not a problem for the trio standing far away from the crowds of people), leaving a wide open space for the passengers to disembark quickly and efficiently. The ramp off the boat was lowered, and a small team of customs agents quickly moved aboard, setting up a makeshift checkpoint just before the ramp.

More time passed as Iblis started fidgeting more and more. The urge to pace around was growing unbearable. Where was she? She was here. He saw her. Dusk, once again, nudged Iblis. With a near-silent whisper, Dusk told him to calm down. She would be here any minute.

“Hey, guys.” They all turned and saw Cerina standing there, pulling a pair of suitcases behind her. She looked rested for the first time in a long time, a peaceful glow surrounding her. Her long, grass green hair was braided, although her bangs still covered one of her baby-blue eyes. Cerina was wearing a long blue skirt and a plain white t-shirt. Several thin bracelets or various materials dangled from her wrists, most of them not even matching.

Swift was the first to greet her, giving Cerina a big hug. “It’s good to see you!”

“Oh my god, you don’t stink anymore!”

“Yeah!” Swift responded with a big, doofy smile on his face, “I bathe regularly now! I hate it! Buying soap is the worst!”

Cerina laughed as she turned to Dusk, opening her arms for another hug. Declining, Dusk extended a hand instead. She sighed and returned his handshake, “Still a stick in the mud, huh?”

“My brother insisted that I come along,” Dusk replied, returning Cerina’s smile, “I am glad to see you’re safe, however. You look well.”

“I did a lot of nothing on the ride over. It was relaxing.” She flexed her arms, “I also managed to get myself a bit of a tan for once!” She gave Dusk a small hug (which he awkwardly returned) and turned her attention to Iblis.

He could feel his face getting warm. His eyes darted away as he quickly turned his head to look somewhere else. Cerina just walked up to him and grinned, putting her hand on his cheek and bringing his attention back to her. Their eyes met.

“Hello, love,” she said soothingly. Iblis just took her in his arms and surrounded Cerina in his embrace.

“It’s been a while,” he whispered. She just looked at him with a smirk as he let go of her.

“Y’know, for a being who can travel the world in literal seconds and can see me whenever you desire, you are awfully sentimental.” Iblis just shrugged off her observation.

“Alright, well we don’t have all day.” Swift walked over to Cerina’s luggage and grabbed the handle on the larger suitcase, “So let’s grab these and--” The suitcase fell to the ground with a very large, very noticeable thud that caught some people’s attention. Swift just stared wide-eyed away from the accident, as if not acknowledging that he did, in fact, drop the suitcase would make it as if nothing happened. “I hope there was nothing important in there.”

Cerina just laughed and shook her head, “That one is just for my textbooks for next year. Things are getting serious, and I need to be ready for when school starts again.”

“Well, we don’t have time to waste, then,” Dusk hauled the heavier suitcase over his shoulder and grabbed the smaller one, “It’s time for us to go home.”

“Of course!” Iblis opened a portal leading back to the Burmens’ house just outside of Capital City, “There’s so much I can’t wait to show you!” Abandoning their disguises, the group walked back home, the portal closing behind them.

And that’s where we’ll end for today! I, of course, am making two entries. If you’re interested in seeing something else, feel free to check out my Black Empire entry! And if not, that’s cool too! I hope you’ll come back tomorrow when we’ll have a nice little story with Joseph and Helen.

#originalficfest #original fic fest #character #day1

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norafinds · 6 years

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Around the World with Vintage - Tanaka Kiyomi (Akanesasantique)

The best thing about being a vintage girl in the modern world is having the internet and finding other kindred souls from other parts of the world. This month on the Around the World with Vintage series we visit the coastal Yokohama in the beautiful Japan.When I came across Kiyomi whose wardrobe constantly turns me green with envy I just had to learn more about her. The way she puts together her outfits is artistic and detailed and now that I know what she does for living it totally makes sense. She graces my Instagram feed regularly with her posts at Akanesasantique and we chatted about the vintage trends in Japan and how the World War II affected the fashion movement there.

Tell us about yourself

I’m a 38 year old vintage enthusiast, pianist, lover of art. I was born in Tokyo and spent my childhood, in the late 80s, in Los Angeles. I studied classical piano at a collage in Tokyo, and a conservatoire in France. I lived near Versailles for 5 years. During that period, I encountered early 1960s fashion that inspired me to start wearing vintage clothing. I used to frequent booksellers along the Seine river, and bought a lot of old magazines such as ELLE and Modes et Travaux.

Do you live in Yokohama? As a seaport town people are probably dressed more casually do you think there’s a big different between Yokohama fashion to Tokyo or Osaka/Kyoto?

No. I don’t think that people in Yokohama dress more casually than people in other towns. Yokohama has always been an elegant town rather than casual. There was a fashion movement called HAMA TORA(=YokoHAMA TRADditional style) which encouraged classic and elegant dressing. It originated in a university in Yokohama in the late 1970s but this specific style lost popularity in the 90s when the university moved location. In addition, as fast fashion become popular, Yokohama loses is individuality like other cities. Unfortunately, I’m not very familiar with Osaka/Kyoto fashion though I have heard that Osaka fashion is bolder than Tokyo.

Japan is a very fashionable country and vintage has gained popularity but mostly people combine vintage with modern pieces or go for a specific style like rockabilly rather than wearing vintage authentically. You have however chosen to stick to a more authentic style. Why have you chosen to do so and how do people react to your looks?

My closet mainly consists of clothing between 1930s and 1940s.The 1930s is important era in cultural history of 20th century. Replacing culture of 19th which had been ruled by aristocrats and landlords, new cultural trend had arrived. Through this era, the base of contemporary fashion style and dress code had been matured. I really did not want to be a COSTUME player who turns away from the modernity of after WW1. At the same time, recklessness of today’s fashion, which is not constrained by any dress code, brings discomfort to me. Meanwhile, there are many kinds of clothing in my closet. The dress used to be owned by a duchess, casual homemade dresses in war time era, and an old stock dress of mail order catalog company, .etc. I love everything of these dresses, the fabric, the sense of colors and the delicate sewing details are amazing. I enjoy mixing and matching them but I’m not concerned with those original value. So, my way of wearing vintage is absolutely free and based on modern spirits not obeying customs in past. I feel like that is a real pleasure of dressing vintage in our modern time.

My vintage looks often attract attention of others, especially on historical tourist spot like a classic hotel. Sometimes I get compliments from fashionable elderly persons and kids.

What do you think about vintage shopping in Japan? I mostly see 1960s and 1970s Japanese vintage clothing but never found any older pieces. Why are they so rare?

There are many vintage shops in Japan. However, I don’t often go to local vintage shop in recent years so I don’t know a lot of them. All I can say for sure, most of vintage items in those shops are clean, easy to wear for vintage beginners. Though they seem more pricey than other countries.

It’s actually impossible to come across the true Japanese vintage as most was destroyed in the WW2. The life of Japanese people was hard for several years after war. For these reasons Japanese vintage before ready-made clothes became popular (before 1960s) very rarely exist in fact.

Are vintage clothes are popular in Japan? Is there any particular style that is more popular than others? I often see rockabilly vintage girls but not as many from earlier decades like you?

No. not really popular. Certainly we see many second-hand clothing stores for re-use, but they are not so fashionable. There are also no one specific popular styles among vintage lovers in Japan. Why not earlier decades? In my personal opinion, modern people tend to prefer loosely clothes with stretch material rather than tightly fit. The vintage clothing before 1950s is cut closer to body. I guess it would be hard to accept its characteristic silhouette.

How do you feel about mixing vintage with modern clothes? I have seen numerous times Japanese women wearing vintage bed jackets as summer cardigans with jeans but rarely see head-to-toe vintage pieces.

That actually seems difficult for me. I feel that mixing vintage and contemporary clothes is more difficult than mixing different eras of vintage together. Modern mass-produced clothing doesn’t easily match with vintage. There is a great difference in fabric, pattern and sewing method between them. In contrast, I wear sometimes tailor-made clothes, they are also modern clothes and not are vintage reproductions, though they go well with vintage.

What do you think are the most sought after vintage pieces in Japan?

That’s hard to say. Because vintage lovers in Japan have respective originalities and strong tastes. Some like rockabilly vintage, some wear American or European vintage with antique kimono, and others mix 1970s vintage and modern jeans, etc. The list is endless. Their needs are too various, more complex than general people. So, I can’t think of any right answer.

Is there a lot of WWII memorabilia still around in Japan? What about WWII-related clothing such as uniform? What is the general sentiment regarding these pieces?

Nowaday we can’t really see WW2 memorabilia. Japan is a defeated country. Most of　Japanese are conscious of a feeling of negative heritage about WW2. However, the prewar memorabilia remain even now. For example “Sailor fuku” (=sailor style uniform) for high school girl and graduation gown for female university student, consisting kimono and overskirt called “Hakama” were born in this era, they are still generally worn today . The pre-war Japan was very rich in culture.

We don’t see a lot of Asian vintage girls around, why do you think that is and do you have any advice for any other Asian girls who want to start wearing vintage?

In Asia, there used to be no role models of western fashion because of the undeveloped mass consumer culture. As an exceptional case, in Japan, western fashion lifestyle has become accepted ever since the prewar era . Nonetheless, for many Asian people, vintage clothing is still new culture.

If I was to give some advices for Asian girls who want to start wearing vintage: find a good quality shop and with knowledgeable owner. For beginners, it is not easy to buy vintage online, better to getting advice from experts . I myself havelearned many things from them.

If there is one thing that you want people to know about you, what will that be?

Since I started Instagram and etsy shop in 2016, I’ve met many vintage lovers all over the world. I’ m very content with my vintage fashion life. Furthermore, I’m thinking that I would like to embody the composite art that combines the fashion and music of olden times. Because the base of my aesthetic always presents in the music, though I am attracted to a lot of fields.

#around the world with vintage #atwwv #tanaka kiyomi #akanesasantique #interview #vintage girl #japan #japanese #yokohama #vintage

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happybeetlebug · 7 years

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MV theory time!

Before I get into this, I am EunHae biased. But you not being EunHae biased does not mean Hyukjae isn’t an extremely important part of Donghae’s life.

Warning: I am too invested and already had these ideas about Hae during his service and this song is me proving my ideas to be true, as there is finally a written source for me to go off of other than just speculation based on body language and psychology. In conclusion, this will be sad and I am sorry.

P.S. Lyrics from ‘One More Chance’ will be bolded.

P.S.S. I have too many things to address up here someone help me

carry on

- The room with the TV is a memory of before he left for his service. The girl is there at first and then she disappears. (This scene “rewinds” the events)

- Leeteuk being confused when he walks into the room could indicate when he went to the army and felt completely alone in a new place. “Even when I’m alone on the street we walked together.” This also supports him looking around his surroundings and crying. I think it’s good to note that Teuk is wearing a red sweater just like Hae, so he is representing Donghae and how he felt when he first joined the military. “I can’t believe anything, as if it’s all a lie” and “It was going so well for a moment so I thought it would last forever/was that thought and mind all selfish of me?” Now these lines are honestly so heartbreaking. When he left for the military, he did all of his 2 month training by himself at the unit. This proves how lonely he was during that time and couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that he was alone and had to complete his training without anyone he loved near him.

- Yesung’s Multiple doors shows how he keeps facing the obstacles but everything feels the same, like he isn’t moving forward and is stuck alone. Another point, the same setting in each “room” reflects his lines of being sorry that the days are always the same in other songs he has written. “Another tomorrow that I thought it’d be okay/As time passes by, it’s getting deeper.” These lines reflect the repetition he experienced during service. Wake up, do training, eat, sleep, repeat. It’s tiresome and he was probably left alone with only his thoughts the majority of that time, which could worsen his feelings of longing for the person he loves. “I thought I’d become new as the longing for you passes away/As if the clock in my heart has broken, it’s always the same time.” Notice there is only two objects and two colors in this scene. The colors also don’t blend with each other and are obviously very different on the color spectrum. The objects, a chair and empty picture frame, are also very different. These are the same color, but the picture frame is higher up on the wall. Now you may be saying “Of course a picture frame is higher up and what does this have to do with anything?” BUT basic psychology, whether he helped the set up or it was done unconsciously by the design team, tells us that he feels separated from some else. He, in this case, would be the chair, and the other person (I say Hyukjae) is the picture frame, who is farther in this journey than he is. Blue and red also seem to be a theme here, as he is wearing red and walking away from a blue room. He is constantly in blue rooms (As each part of the journey is portrayed by the members), meaning the other person would have to represent that color and he is always thinking about them.

- Siwon walking behind girl on narrow path with snow falling represents the song they released before going to the army, “Winter love”. Hyukjae talked about having to leave first and will let his foot steps in the snow guide Donghae to him again. Donghae talked about not wanting to leave and watching him fade into the snow, with only footsteps to follow. As Donghae expresses his worry in the song, Hyukjae reassures him that things are going to be okay in the background. This song was also Hyuk’s idea and during this time period many people commented on how sad they acted. Any ELF/EunHae shipper during this time knows how different they seemed before enlisting. They were supposed to do their service together but something got in the way and Hyuk couldn’t join Hae in the police (I think it’s because he failed the test but I don’t think that was ever confirmed).

Now for some noteworthy lines of ‘Winter Love’ - Hyuk’s will be italicized.

“Slowly becoming far” (”It’s all good” x3)

“I’m suffocating” (”It’s okay” x3)

“Your back view, your hand which once held out to me” (”Don’t wanna let you go”) - I have to compare this line with one from ‘One More Chance’, “I wouldn’t let go of that hand once again.” This is like a parallel, he regrets letting go of his lovers hand and is reminding himself that once they are back together, he doesn’t want to separate ever again.

“Covering my eyes, I can’t see you no more”

“We can’t stop separation”

“This is not the end, baby”

Hyuk’s rap - “The conversation between the two of us will be hidden for a while. Don’t forget to leave a bookmark. This isn’t a full stop, it’s a comma, a beat that has lagged. We have to stand shoulder to shoulder when we meet again. Snow that is falling covers us, in the cold wind tears roll down my face. Even though you’re not here, I’ll draw out footprints for you so that you can come back any time.”

“Looking at your back view”

“I’m calling out to you”

“The time has come, I have to leave now. The time has come, I’m leaving first”

(Credit: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=huMu89TPgn0)

-The hallway Shindong is in is dark inside but the windows have colors and light. Only a little amount of that is being let into the hallway and it shows how there were happy moments but overall it wasn’t the same. He is confined in this dark environment with only small moments of happiness. Note: The entire hallway is dark blue and the light I noticed more than the rest was yellow, which are colors normally associated with sadness and happiness. “Now the both of us are used to being in different times/Even if I cry going back to the moments that you and I met.” These lines show that even when he adjusted to being alone, he still felt consumed by memories and couldn’t help but feel sad. “Without realizing myself, I turn to you again,” this reflects how the rooms are all covered in blue (Excluding the ‘Winter Love’ room) and no matter what part of this journey he is on, his mind constantly returns to how things were with his lover.

-In Heenim’s room, the TV’s buzzing in and out represent memories, “Do all the times of happiness get erased too?” The exit sign in the distance represents the end of this journey is near but all the memories are still haunting him and he doesn’t understand/know what to do with them other than let them fade and warp his mind. “Even if I cry going back to the memories that you and I met.” Something important to notice is the room because it is the same as the first one shown and the one Hyukjae raps in. Each member (except for Hyukjae in my opinion) represents Donghae on this journey alone. If the TV’s are his memories and EunHae had a scene in this room at different points of the MV, then they are the memories of the two together and their relationship (Whatever that may be). “Do our distinct features get forgotten too?/does that time even exist?” these fit really well with this scene as the broken TV’s can represent his mind and how he see’s these memories. The fuzziness of the TV’s is a visual of blurred faces and moments they shared together.

-Hyukjae in the first room Hae was in. Rain only on Hyukjae – “Don’t leave like the rain.” Rain is very important to Hae, as it reminds him of his childhood and father. Donghae associates rain with memories of his father who passed away when he was barely an adult. The original title “don’t leave like the rain” and Hyukjae being the only one with rain falling on him indicates that he doesn’t want Hyukjae to leave him like his father did. This room is the blue room Donghae was walking away from at the very beginning, which hints at the fact that Hyukjae is the constant blue we see throughout the MV and whom Hae couldn’t forget.

Now for the fun part (as if this hasn’t been a blast for me to write already LOL). Again Hyuk’s lines are italicized.

“Don’t leave like the rain”

“I was okay even standing in the rain”

In other words: “I was okay being away from you”

Meaning he didn’t leave with a sad heart when he went to his service. Hyukjae isn’t a very sentimental guy, but he does care for people a lot (he’s an Aries, he can’t help it). This line shows that he is in the rain, he has left just like the rain when he went to his service.

“Because everything was the traces that you left. because longing for you is a beautiful pain”

Unlike Hae, who felt consumed with sadness and could barely get through the day, the loneliness was strength for Hyukjae. He fought through the pain because he knew they still loved each other and it was worth it in the end.

“I thought that I would be able to endure it/I had a lot of mistakes and a lot of wounds too/truthfully I don’t want to be afraid of everything and want to end it too”

These lines may be misleading, but I don’t think they are talking about breaking up. When I was watching the SJ Returns jacket shoot episode, I was a little disheartened when the photographer said the song was about a break up. I think these lines show that Hyukjae didn’t know how painful and lonely he’d be without Donghae. In the past, Hyukjae used to joke about them not being close and would complain about having Hae around him all the time. I haven’t heard him mention anything like that since he’s been back, they even casually hint that they live together in the new apartment Hyuk bought. You know when Hae said Hyuk woke him up in the middle of the night to show him the lyrics to this? If they weren’t in the same room/apartment, why in the world would lazy tired baby Hyukjae make the travel to another apartment in the middle of the night just to wake sleepy baby Hae and show him lines he could easily show him the next day? Just saying. The line about wanting something to end isn’t about the relationship, but about the pain. It’s so unbearable that he can’t handle it either, he is struggling on his path alone, just like Hae.

“The rain falls, dries up, and disappears/ You can’t leave like that alone, please”

Here is where you can see Hyuk’s pain the most. He’s just as sad about the situation as Donghae, he just shows it differently. They are back together, their service is over, so why can’t things go back to how they were? Hyuk wants to continue the relationship but Hae is so hesitant and scared. This line is literally begging him not to think that he is alone, that there is still more path to walk together and he wants to take Donghae with him.

-Donghae walks into a dark tunnel alone, showing that these two years by himself were difficult, but he made it to the end by walking into the light at the end of the tunnel. “Where I’m going or when this ends/I feel like I am going on a path that I can’t find out” He ends on a beach to represent he found his foot steps, the stop and separation is like they still feel distant despite being in each others lives again. Note: EunHae left for their military service in the winter (Siwon’s scene + winter love song) and they returned in the summer (Beach scene). The girl in the MV is always in front of him, even at the end. When he see’s her, he doesn’t keep walkin and there is distance. This distance shows that he is worried about going further because he has been following footsteps this entire time and it’s difficult to see that he is no longer is on that path alone. Another note: They showed Hyukjae running in the rain and then Hae running towards the light which could mean they are running towards each other, but honestly, it could be a stretch. Going back to the whole colors thing, the beach is a beautiful purple color, which we should all know that blue and red make purple. So the colors/they have blended together finally because they can be together.

The line that stood out to me most was “Is a love like that even considered love?”

It just screams, to me at least, that he isn’t talking about something “normal” or “conventional” and is my most solid point about this song being about EunHae. Whatever their relationship is, they love each other so so much. It can be platonic, romantic, something else, it doesn’t matter. These two were supposed to do their service together but they couldn’t, they’ve spent almost every single day together, lived in the same apartment before enlisting, the list goes on. My overall point is that the two struggled a lot during this separation. They expressed their worries through ‘Winter Love’ and now they express their pain from being alone through ‘One More Chance.’ I don’t think Hae had ever been alone before his service. He had always been taken care of and loved on by everyone in his life, so this was a life-changing experience for him. This was a growing experience especially because he had to learn to live by himself without anyone he loved around him, and considering he is a very sad and lonely baby already, that experience was most likely filled with a lot of crying. He got sick a lot, meaning he didn’t take care of himself as much as he should have been, I was honestly worried that would happen. I don’t think I’ve ever written about how sad baby Hae is before, so sorry if it sounds like I rambled. Anyways, that’s my theory, feel free to add on!

(English translation credit: emzhaek)

ELF FIGHTING!

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