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myelocin · 3 years

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Postcards From: Kanazawa | Tsukishima Kei

Synopsis: The fear that comes with love is the realization that it isn't always just light. Love, rediscovered as both the fear and the drive that depicts the push and pull of whether it's worth it to say "I do," if the unknown is what's to come beyond the vow. In which it's a week until the wedding, and the both of you return to Kanazawa--to day one--as strangers.

Characters: Tsukishima Kei

Genre/Tags: Engagement!AU, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Happy Ending | WC: 10,200+

A/N: this is a piece commed by @tsukishumai ;w; tq for trusting me w u and ur bb boi ily to the moon n back

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commissions | ko-fi

The illusion of the soul is the false belief that love must always—always—be just light.

The truth is, it’s not. Love is many things. Primarily, love begins from desire. Then, that desire seeps into a drive that pushes you to keep wanting. Then finally, when it’s seeped in through the skin deep enough, love pools in the soul.

Love is bound to be raw at the very core. A desire. To say, “I want you,” and think it holds as much credibility as “I love you.” To look at what you know is only the tendrils of something at the very most, and trick yourself into thinking that it’s enough. A beating heart—bloody red. The line just barely hanging in-between what’s selfish and selfless, before it ultimately sways and becomes selfish sometimes.

Sometimes, being right now, Tsukishima thinks.

Sandwiched in-between you to the left, and Yamaguchi to his right, he finds his eyes flickering towards the clock a lot more often than he would have liked. Akaashi, who sat across from his seat on the table, was the first to catch on.

He quirked a brow, presumably in question earlier, and mouthed the question if he was in a rush. Tsukishima’s never been known for having too many words, but because Akaashi pauses and insists to relieve his question with an answer, he shrugs, waving him off and mouthing back that he’s alright.

“So,” Bokuto starts, his voice already slipping into somewhat of a slur. “How’s it feel to be the first to pop the question?”

You laugh, finding amusement in the man’s enthusiasm. Turning to Tsukishima, you sit and wait, expectant of a reaction.

In response, he just shrugs, but a smile breaks through and redefines the nonchalance of his expression anyway. Raising the glass to his lips, he takes a quick sip before answering smugly, “It’s nice to finally settle down. You should try it sometimes.”

Bokuto waves him off, cheeks flushed and eyes already drooping from the inebriation. “Nah,” he slurs, shaking his head. The exaggeration warrants a quick laugh from Sugawara, who sits on the other side, nursing his own drink. Continuing, Bokuto huffs and takes a slight pause before he connects the last of what he says with, “—getting married is nice and all, but I don’t know, man,” he laughs. “Just feels like I’ll end up hitting a fucking blank space after I do or whatever. Not my vibe.”

Visibly, Tsukishima shifts a little, the smile on his face maintained but the lighthearted energy that earlier fueled it just slightly more drained now.

From the corner of your eye, you notice it. Though, Akaashi’s the one who gives him a pointed stare, to which the former simply ignores.

“But—“ Bokuto continues, as if trying to remedy the cracked part of the atmosphere that isn’t even visible in the first place—“If that’s your thing, then I’m obviously not going to judge you for that.”

Tsukishima responds by his silence. Bokuto, with his head still warped around the heavy state of his inebriation, doesn’t do so much other than sip a little more of his barely filled glass of beer, Tsukishima’s apathetic expression just a blur in his eyes now.

“You seem happy, though,” Bokuto notes, then raises his glass towards you.

Blinking at being the sudden subject of his interest, you raise your own glass of water. The ice inside shifts, clinking against the sides of the glass, and slowly, Tsukishima watches. There’s familiarity in the way it moves down: trickling slow like the patience inside him that’s suddenly running by the clock. His palms just barely gripping the utensils, clammy. While his head, still whirs at Bokuto’s halfhearted words.

It’s halfhearted, he reminds himself.

The thought of hitting a plateau after “I do,” in a way is terrifying.

But he is happy, right?

The way his palms respond solely through tensing suddenly spikes the fear that maybe his ring will slip. So he looks at you, trying to find an anchor to keep the love he pushes to stay intertwined with his truth afloat as he responds, “Of course I am. I’m happy.”

You look back at him, eye to eye, though you find something waver just for a split second— wondering if there’s credibility in the saying that gold will always deliver truth.

The rest of the night flows easy.

Almost naturally, he’s quick to wave off Bokuto’s invite for more drinks at the bar just down the street, tugging your interlaced hands towards the parking lot as soon as the group found its way to the exit.

“You know he probably just wanted more company,” you laugh. Thirty minutes after making it back home, instead of jumping straight into the shower and getting ready for the night routine, you instead take out the suitcase and take your place, seated on the floor in the living room.

“We needed to pack,” you hear him respond, his voice a little distant from the bedroom down the hall.

You shrug. “Yeah, but we could have made time.”

“Sometimes we can’t just make things, if we don’t have any to make it with in the first place,” he sighs.

You chuckle. Perhaps it’s just one of those nights again. In the ten years you’ve known Tsukishima Kei, you found that he had a tendency to become a multitude of things.

A stranger, at the start, because that’s where every connection begins. The neighbor who lived with his grandfather across the street from your childhood home. Kanazawa was a long way from Sendai, but before his parents had whisked him off to Miyagi some years later, he had been the friend that oftentimes spent his afternoons with you.

Strawberry cake and tiny sips of boxed juice from the convenient store down the street, and not much conversation exchanged between the both of you. He’d tell you about the things on his grandfather’s old encyclopedia, and you’d listen with rapt attention, finding it nice how he seemed to carry a little bit of the stars the more his eyes gleamed. He just talked about dinosaurs, you remember. At ten, Tsukishima had always been a wonderer.

Then he moved.

From the friend who told you stories and shared his juice boxes with you under that tree, to the occasional email that would pop up on your phone, when you were in highschool and weaving your way in and out of pathways and dead-ends. Miyagi was a little like Kanazawa, he said. There was a lot of quiet in the two cities. His email would come once a week, then twice when you reckon he felt a little lonely.

You’d reply with the same kind of enthusiasm as he had established, though you still couldn’t deny the fact that the notification with his name on it never failed to have you smiling—at least just a little bit. At fifteen, Tsukishima was far from a stranger, but he was also falling just a little short in making it to the halfway mark of being a friend too.

The once-a-week emails were welcome, none the less. It stayed like that, until once a week turned into twice. Though most were just the customary how-are-yous and obligatory holiday greetings once the seasons came and went, one year it turned into emails about the little nothings.

‘I had strawberry cake today,’ it once read. ‘The one we used to share tasted sweeter.’

‘I joined the volleyball team.’

‘Winter here is a little colder. I remember your puffy green jacket.’

‘I don’t know if you want to know…or if I should tell you...but our team won, and we’re going to nationals.’

Somehow, you were managed to be convinced by one of your friends that same week to travel with your own highschool’s volleyball team to assist in the preparation for nationals in Tokyo. It was just a coincidence, you used to reason. You were there, and so was he. There was a hundred other courts his team could have played at, and your priority was assisting your own team in what they needed.

But still, you couldn’t help but wave back and cheer the loudest from your stands when he perfected the block and scored the winning point for the first set.

It was then, where you realized that perhaps Tsukishima Kei wouldn’t just be a stranger.

Kanazawa to Miyagi, but somehow Tokyo became the in-between. Childhood friends to the sort-of friends from the other ends of the country sharing a few scattered memories in slices of strawberry shortcake and random dinosaur trivia from an old man’s outdated encyclopedia.

He was the first to approach you after that match. A hand held out to shake, perhaps to commemorate the evident shift between strangers to friends—but it was nice.

Because after that, friends turned into something more.

Maybe Tokyo really was the middle ground. After you graduated and moved out of your respective cities, Tokyo became the third place of hello.

Then things just slipped into place. He was here, and so were you. He had plans to stay, and you just signed the contract that bound you to the city for the next two and a half years. The apartment right down the hall from yours was recently vacated, and he was looking for a place to stay.

His new work place, coincidentally enough, was just a stop away from the train station closest to your place.

You had always doubted the presence of serendipity and everything that had to dictate with the celestial control of fate, but the ease that came with the relief of him signing the lease the very next week almost seemed to validate what had been just a farfetched something.

From strangers, to friends, to lovers, then to this:

Ten years later, a ring on your finger, and an I do, bound to be said just a little over seven days from now.

Tokyo was kind to the both of you. His mother’s close enough to visit on the weekends, while Kanazawa was just a shinkansen away from Tokyo station. A new apartment with enough space for two, plus maybe an extra, and a bakery right down the street with the best strawberry shortcake made fresh every day.

The wedding’s just a week away. His grandfather, still living in Kanazawa was meant to travel with Akiteru to Tokyo last week, but because plans changed, the both of you were instead tasked with going there yourselves to travel with him. While Tsukishima hesitated, you didn’t. Yes was easy to say in a situation like this. Though your parents had moved to Tokyo some years ago, you were aware that his grandfather didn’t.

The house across the street was still his, while the one you grew up in just now became a summer home your family would frequent to when Tokyo became too swarmed with tourists.

You look at the half-filled contents of the suit case on the floor in front of you. The right side’s meant to hold your clothes, while the left was left bare for Tsukishima’s. You turn and look at him.

“You can just grab the stuff you need me to bring for you and I’ll fold it in. We should probably catch the first train tomorrow if we wanna get there before sundown.”

What comes as a reply is only prolonged silence.

You let what he started stay for a little, but because you had never been the type to be fond in gouging out answers from the blank spaces, you sigh, and break the impending silence before it could get a chance to even settle. “You’re quiet again, Kei.”

When he makes it to the living room, instead of coming back out with a stack of clothes, he stands by the wall with his hands in his pocket. His eyes shift from wall to wall, but skip over you.

Knowing that you’ll just prompt another conversation again the more he keeps his silence, he sighs, swallowing the hesitation and clinging onto the bits of courage that floats by him in the moment. Grasping at the very tips of it, he forces the words out of his mouth. “Are you really coming with me?”

You raise a brow. “Back to Kanazawa? Of course. I’m from there too, you know. Plus I haven’t seen Grandpa in a while.”

He shifts his gaze to the side, thankful for the blur that came with forgetting to slip on his glasses. He’s always had a tendency to give in the moment he looks at you, so the vagueness in the blur was a welcome change. “It’s just for a week,” he mutters. “I think I’ll handle the trip just fine.”

“Plus,” he adds, the hike in the tone of his voice giving away his panic. “—I heard there was a problem with the florists? Maybe one of us needs to go in and fix it ourselves just in case.”

In the ten years you’ve known him, you’ve always considered it a given that you’ve well perceived him by now. In front of you, he’s stammering. While Tsukishima has never been the face to poise and perfection—because at the end of the day he still is just a boy—you knew he only stammered when he was nervous.

Perhaps trying to manipulate the situation through a wordless exchange was his way of doing so. In your head, you chuckle. Tsukishima Kei is many things, and is witty when it counts—but he could never be blunt when it came to the things he was unsure of.

You try to gouge out his truth. Speaking straight to the point, you let him know that there’s no purpose in trying to skirt around. You turn to him, his sweater half folded on your lap. “You know I could have believed what you just said, but,” you pause, giving him a pointed look, “—you’re not even looking at me.”

“Is this about what Bokuto said earlier?”

The way he shifts his weight from one foot to the other awkwardly, confirms your suspicions that that it is about that, before he can muster up the courage to even say it. “Tell me,” you initiate. You’ve never been afraid to speak what needs to be said. “What’s got you so afraid?”

Once more, he hopes for the silence to speak for him. And like before—it doesn’t. Silence was never meant to fill in the blanks. What it did, rather, is add three seconds more on the clock that’s ticking regardless. Tsukishima bets on a timed clock to speak for him, and because you’ve never been the type to shrink at the presence of raw truth, you huff and poke into what obviously hits for him just a little deeper.

“You’re afraid we’ll hit a blank space after we get married, aren’t you?”

He doesn’t look away, but little by little, his body language starts slipping bits and pieces of the truth you’ve already long sensed. “I think I just need to think this through.”

“What?” you scoff. “You planned to go to Kanazawa by yourself for a week to what? Soul search? To decide if you even wanna marry me?”

“I’m sor—“

“That’s what you’re not supposed to say,” you interrupt him. “You don’t say you’re sorry for how you’re feeling, because you’re allowed to feel it how it is, but shit, Kei,” you exhale, pausing to suck in a quick breath. “You couldn’t have just said this earlier?”

He looks away again, the guilt evident on his features. “You’re mad.”

“Do you blame me?”

This time, he turns to you. “No,” he murmurs. “I don’t, but I’m gonna be blunt here—“

“—first time—“

He gives you a pointed look, but in the moment, you don’t really have much in you to care too much.

“I think I need space to clear my head.”

“Sounds like you’re contemplating on whether you wanna stay with me or not,” you respond. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that.”

Tsukishima’s steady, this time. “Of course I wanna stay with you.”

“But,” you counter. “You aren’t sure if you want to marry me.”

He looks away. “What if—we hit a plateau after.”

“That’s still not an excuse to back out before we even try, Kei,” comes your reasoning.

“You’re right,” he sighs. “It’s not.”

Then it’s you, who shrugs this time, giving in a little and throwing him what you hope he doesn’t see as a lifeline. There’s no comfort found in knowing that an out is a means of mercy when it comes to love. Why should there even be an out?

You settle for just cracking the door open instead. Though it was never locked, the fact that it remained close must have been understood differently by him.

“Let’s go back to Kanazawa separately, then,” you propose. The open suitcase in front of you still has the right half filled with his half folded clothes, so you reach in, taking it out one by one. “You stay with your grandfather and I’ll stay at my parent’s house.”

Tsukishima raises a concern. “He’ll wonder why we aren’t staying together.”

In response, you shrug. “Just make something up then.”

“Is this just a passive aggressive way to say you’re mad at me?”

You scoff. “When have I ever been passive aggressive, Kei? I’ve said shit as it is since day one.”

He flinches, maybe because of what you said or the tone of the deliverance, but either way, you decide you can’t give much of a shit. It’s a given that you’re angry, but because being hurt just paves the path to silence more than lashing out, it’s not much of a surprise that you probably look deflated in front of him.

“What I’m saying is,” you explain. “Let’s go back to Kanazawa as strangers. Do what you gotta do, however you’ve gotta do it to get your head sorted out, and then we’ll talk. I’m not dancing around in circles with you on this. Either we get married next week, or we don’t.”

He panics. “I don’t want to lose you—“

“You’re already talking like you’ve decided that you won’t be at the other end of that aisle, Kei.”

Words feel lacking all of a sudden, so you pause. The absence of the split second brevity has Tsukishima standing still, his breath held, throat dry.

But like always, clarity seems to weave its way through the cracks in the room and find you first. “Yes or no isn’t easy to decide between,” you finally mutter. Eyes to the half folded sweaters you meant to tuck into the other half of the suitcase, you realize that you’ll need to switch to a smaller trolley now because you won’t be needing this much space anyway. “I don’t know what I should tell you, because I don’t know that we’d be having a possible fallout a week before the wedding. But at the same time—I don’t want to say you’re despicable for feeling like that, Kei. It just—“

“—fucking sucks,” you sigh.

“If you feel like you need a week to figure whatever this shit is, then okay,” you nod. “Okay. Let’s be strangers for a week and by the time we’re back in Tokyo, you give me a yes or no and be fucking blunt with it.”

Later that night when you turn your back against him and face the wall, his whisper breaks through the quiet. “Why are you still patient with me about this? You could have just left me.”

You shift, laying on your back and sighing to the makeshift glow in the dark stars stuck to the ceiling of your room. “Because I love you,” you sigh. “Loving someone just means you have to exhaust every other option before even thinking of throwing in the towel.”

He sleeps that night, feeling heavy.

He woke up later that morning, feeling the same too.

In a sense, things admittedly started weird. You woke up before he did this time, when he usually would be the one trying to be quiet when he slipped out of bed. Even though early mornings had never been a thing for the both of you, there was still something unpleasant in waking up to an empty bed.

The sheets on your side were done, and your phone that usually would be pinging with email notifications by now wasn’t there.

It’s odd, he thinks. While he agreed to be strangers for a week, the walk to the train station was the same. Silence was normal, but the five extra inches that added to the distance between the both of you wasn’t. You nodded his way when he pointed at the shinkansen’s direction, and wordlessly would hand him his usual brew when you stopped at the coffee shop just before going in.

Seated beside you in the train, he tries to ignore the urge to poke you on the side and make conversation. Words have always come easy when it came to moments with you, he noticed.

Tsukishima’s aware that he’s always been dubbed as the kind of person who never preferred to say too much, and while that was true—to an extent—he realizes that there is some truth to the saying that silence kills.

You’re seated beside him on the train, eyes to your phone, and earbuds in place. He resorts to just staring at you through his peripherals, caught in between wanting to satiate the want to talk to you by breaking the silence, or keeping it as is.

This is where fear grips him a little tighter. The deal was, as you had pointed out just last night, that the both of you would move through the week pretending to be strangers again. You’d stay on your side of the street, while he stayed in his.

It’s a given that his grandfather’s bound to ask about you, and so in the event that it does happen, you would just spend a few hours with them and pretend like everything was fine.

You made it clear that you’d try to exhaust all the options before resorting to that, though. And it’s easy, he thinks, doing so. It doesn’t take much to fake a phone call from work or a last minute meeting with an old friend that wouldn’t be able to make it to the city for the supposed wedding.

The lines were drawn, and the outline of what was to be expected in the next week was made clear.

He thinks of what you said before you slept. Love, as that one drive that has you exhausting all your options before even thinking of quitting. It’s fair, he thinks. You’ve always been the rational thinker in the relationship.

But then again, he doesn’t doubt your hurt either. A week was lengthy, he realizes, and to act as strangers again just a week before the wedding was a different kind of test when it came to your patience.

Still, he owes you truth.

You’ve always told him to lay things bare, and even though what’s bare is ugly, because love always pushes to try—he stays, doing just that.

Undoubtedly, this is a jump. There’s no question in the fact that the possibility of reaching the peak and coming face to face with a plateau scares him. But still, his thoughts counter, to face a drop that doesn’t guarantee a landing somehow terrifies him even more.

The sound of your phone vibrating snaps him out of his thoughts. Before you answer it, he snags a look of the name written on the screen—Akiteru’s.

Tsukishima sighs, shooting you a cautious stare as you pick up the phone and turn to him.

The tone of your voice is easy, though you look at him, unbothered. “Hey,” you answer. “Just got in the train, so Kei should be calling you in about three hours when we’re there.”

In comes a pause, before you chuckle a little. Unconsciously, Tsukishima scooches in, curious. But before he could get a chance to lean in too close, you pull away a little, looking at him curiously, an eyebrow raised. “I meant to tell you,” he hears you say, and as you look at him, he chooses to hold your stare.

“Kei and I will be staying separately for the week.”

Beside you, he shifts, fighting the urge to turn away and face forward.

Assuming that your flinch afterwards was only a response to what he’s only certain is Akiteru’s sudden outburst, the prior nervousness of his stare shifts into concern. Understanding the are-you-okay that he mouths, you wave him off. “We’re fine,” you laugh. “I just miss staying at the house that’s all, and I’m pretty sure Kei wants to spend quality time with his grandfather.”

You stay silent after that, which truth be told, doesn’t exactly help with his nerves.

“He’s right next to me,” you add. “We’re fine, I swear. Just wanna enjoy Kanazawa in different ways that’s all.”

To put it bluntly, the first day is awkward.

His grandfather’s waiting from outside the gate the second you make it to that familiar street. Nothing much has changed, the two of you notice. The gate’s rusted a little by the edges, and the door’s still got the same chip on the left side he always said he’d take a look at.

“Heard they were cutting down that tree,” his grandfather says, when it’s a little over three hours later and you’re all seated at a local restaurant for dinner. His old friend owned the place, he explained. Low lights, home cooked meals, and a family run business you vaguely remember your father talking about when you were young.

Tsukishima pauses, eyebrows rising in question. “What do you mean that tree?”

“The one you used to run off to,” he laughs.

Elbowing him, you nod towards his grandfather before pointing out, “We met by that tree, you know.”

His grandfather’s quick to responding, laughing at Tsukishima’s perplexed expression. “Seems like your grandfather’s memory is doing better these days than you, boy.”

You suppose that at the end of the day, it shouldn’t have been a big deal that he forgot. You’ve never been one to dwell too deep within the symbolic little nothings that’s bound to come with life. Rationally speaking, maybe you’re just a little miffed because of what he said the night before. And maybe that’s the reason why you’re taking this a little harsher than you would have on a normal day.

But strangers, you remember. Strangers wouldn’t care if the other forgot.

So with that, you shrug. You take another spoonful of the food in front of you and shift your body just slightly to the left—to which Tsukishima took noticed—and leaned forward. Without even saying much, his grandfather already has his attention on you, the smile on his face kind.

He’s always been kind, you remember. With a smile, you choose to keep the peace in the room at bay, willing yourself to ignore Tsukishima’s stare boring holes into the side of your head from beside you.

“Now that I think about it, I don’t remember a lot of people stop by that tree,” you comment, as you take a step into nostalgia.

His grandfather shrugs, absentmindedly nodding his head as he mulls over your word through a spoonful of broth. “It was in the middle of a residential area. Bound to get taken down if you ask me. People nowadays need a place to park.”

This time, you really feel his stare beside you almost intensify. Truth is, you can make sense of what you know he only fears. The point in life was to brave through the unfamiliar to establish a consistency in familiar grounds. To continuously rise from day one, only to hit the peak and possibly come face to face with a plateau instead of something greater than even the height of all highs—you admit that it’s terrifying.

The plateau, that perhaps works sort of like that tree.

It’s been there, so here it still is.

You’ve both been at that tree—at the start—so here you both still are. Side by side back in Kanazawa, sharing a meal like I do, isn’t hanging on the line.

His grandfather’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. “You’re not wearing your ring.”

Tsukishima’s voice is quick to cut into the conversation, his voice smooth. “She just doesn’t wanna lose it.”

You nod along to his lie, undecided with how to feel in regards to how smooth he seemed to have delivered his lie.

“You know, now that I think about it, it’s good that they’re cutting down that tree.”

Tsukishima speaks his mind this time. “Last week, you said you were looking forward to coming back home so you could visit that tree again.”

You don’t look at him when you answer. “I know, but your grandfather has a point. When things change, what else can you do but get rid of it?”

“Oh nothing’s changed,” he laughs across you. “Even before the two of you were born, people would always talk about how it’s just there when the space could have been used for parking.”

“Then why put off cutting it down this long?”

“Who knows,” he laughs. There’s an unfound wisdom in his eyes that read through your soul when he looks at you. “Maybe cutting down what people already see as a permanent fixture will do more harm than good in the long run.”

“Even if it doesn’t contribute anything?”

Tsukishima thinks of his fear, then of the plateau.

Through the rim of the glass, he keeps a steady eye on his grandfather, breath held as the anticipation for his words begin to really settle.

“People these days just see what’s the most obvious from the surface and consider it as the only fault then run with it. Maybe it’s not the tree,” he laughs. “Maybe it’s just the people. They want convenience so they cut off everything around them instead of adjusting to it.”

The food tastes bland in his mouth, suddenly.

“Goes to show how selfish people can get sometimes,” his grandfather finishes, as an afterthought. “A shame, really. That old tree’s done nothing but give people shade.”

At the end of the day, you really had to give his grandfather a lot more credit than what was due.

The second and third day was awkward. Even though you tried to stay inside for most of your day, venturing outside and meeting up with old friends was inevitable. And really, you should have remembered that he often started his day with a couple laps walked around the block.

On day two, he hinted that he could sense something was off. Tsukishima had been a lot more silent lately, he pointed out. First, as just a passing comment, then by the third time he’d bring it up and wouldn’t get too much of a response out of you, there came more emphasis to what he says.

He passed by the tree every time you’d round the street too. It occurs to you that passing through it was a shortcut, and contradicted his prior statements to having a route that catered towards the long way home, but you chose to not comment much about it.

The second day was curiosity, and you figured that you could live at least just a week with it.

The third day, on the other hand, gave you a little more trouble than you had bargained for.

You’re on your way home from an old friend’s house, and ironically enough, both Tsukishima and his grandfather are out by their front door, tending to the weeds of a garden that doesn’t even look remotely grown.

Tsukishima’s the first to look at you.

Stubborn, and frankly intent on upholding your end of the deal in staying strangers, you attempt to wave them off with a passing greeting as you look through your bag, feeling around for the keys to the gate.

“You don’t have to think of an excuse,” you hear him say. “He’s back inside now. It’s just you and me here.”

It’s funny how ever since you’ve made it back to Kanazawa, he’s been the one to break the silence a lot more lately.

You don’t turn. Strangers, you think. The deal was to pretend the other was a stranger.

“Cam,” he calls out again, the desperation in his voice inching more and more out of its shell. “I’m really sorry.”

You turn around, the buried anger getting the best of you in the moment. “You know the more you say that, the more convinced I am that I should just give you back your ring right now and go back to Tokyo alone. You talk like the only thing you’re sure of is the fact that you won’t be marrying me next week, Kei.”

The moment you shift your gaze from the ground to his eyes, a part of you aches at the idea that you may have to bid farewell to gold. Swallowing down the mass of emotions you hope isn’t entirely just made of anger, you steady yourself and sigh.

It hits you that it’s been a long day.

“It’s just you and me here,” you repeat, slowly. There’s a flutter in your heart that tells you it’s still love that stares back when you look at him. “Then why do you feel so far away, Kei?”

He doesn’t sleep that night.

Day three of being strangers, but he hasn’t had anything figured out. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but what only grew was the silence. The distance is really just a few feet away—across the street and through the leaves of that tree that your father would always say he’d get to.

The light from your room is still turned on, though the curtains are drawn.

8PM and it’s early. 8PM, and on a usual day, you’d usually be seated beside him in your Tokyo apartment’s living room, mulling over the nothings that went on in your day.

It’s nice to talk about the rest of the world as if all they’re meant to be is just a passing blur in the background, he thinks. He’s never been much for words, but you were.

Then again, you had always been one for truth.

Reality is, he knows he could always swallow his doubts, walk across the street, cover the distance, and apologize to you with an I’m sorry, that covers all that needs to be addressed in a standard apology. Life can be lived as easy as that. You swallow your own thoughts, adhere to what they say needs to be done in the way they tell you how to do so, and be done with it.

But he knows you just as well as he knows himself.

You’d call him a coward—and truth be told, he’ll think the same.

Present wise—he does think he is a coward.

Tsukishima sighs, knowing that blinking at your closed curtain visible from his window won’t do much of a difference. Begrudgingly, he sits up, grabbing his glasses from the bedside table.

The streets around the neighborhood are quiet this time of night. The perks about living away from the city was the silence, he thinks. As soon as he tugs on a sweater, he makes his way downstairs, carefully, so he doesn’t stir his grandfather he presumes is sleeping on the room across the hall.

He exhales, relieved at the barely audible creak the door clicks to as soon as he shuts it and turns the lock from the outside. The keys, jingling in his pockets, is the only sound that rings in the quiet.

It isn’t lonely, but it isn’t comfortable either.

Kanazawa has always been a town he’s considered as a piece of constant that’s meant to drift inbetween.

Neither like Tokyo or the towns by the outskirts of Okinawa, it stays as is. Twenty years ago, the crack on the sidewalk was there, and now, twenty years later, it remains.

There’s comfort in recognizing constants, Tsukishima admits. The tree just down this road, the crack on the asphalt, and the fact that your room is still the second window to the left visible from his on the second floor.

When he was younger, he remembers he often would stand under your window, caught in between wanting to knock on your door and ask permission from your parents if you could accompany him for the afternoon, or just wait around until you’d come down yourself.

While he left a lot of things on chance, the conscious choice to stay rooted in the spot by your window remained constant.

The gravel under his feet crackle everytime he’d take a step. The moon’s hazy behind the clouds tonight, he muses. While you’d wish for the stars, he found a temporary safety in the midnight clouds. A timelessness felt when it’s midnight, stays.

Before he turns to the corner that would lead home, he stops midway—recognizing the tree from a good few meters away.

There’s a sense of feeling an urgency to let something go, the more he stares at it. Nearing autumn, the colors start to change, and just like that, he’s reminded of the impermanence in life.

As the earth eventually changes throughout the years, he fears that perhaps in love—it would too.

“You’re out late,” is the first thing Tsukishima hears as soon as he enters the room.

From the genkan, he peers over the shelf, noticing the lights from the kitchen is what floods into the dim living room. Slipping on his house slippers and making his way around the corner, Tsukishima gets a feel of the warmth that’s radiating from the familiarity of the space.

After his grandmother had passed, his grandfather stayed in Kanazawa. Though his mother often expressed her desire for him to move with the rest of the family in Tokyo, every time, he’d only wave them off and say that there’s too much rooted here for him to just up and leave.

Walking into the kitchen, his grandfather’s the first to raise a mug his way and offer a smile. “I’d ask you if everything’s fine, but I think I’ll just wait around and see if you’re even willing to tell me.”

Tsukishima chuckles airily. “Sounds like you wanna ask anyway.”

He takes a slow sip. “Okay then,” he nods, smiling like he’s just struck a deal. “First question is—are you okay?”

In response, Tsukishima smiles, pulling the chair and taking the seat across his. He nods. “’Course I am.”

His grandfather’s eyes don’t leave him. “You’re not wearing the ring, and neither is Cam.”

Suddenly feeling like he’s caught in between a blocked exit and the spotlight, Tsukishima freezes, but wills himself not to look away. “Just needed some space, that’s all.”

“To think?”

He sighs. “To reconsider.”

“Ahh,” the older man sighs. “Cold feet. Pretty normal, if you ask me.”

He raises a brow in question. “It’s normal?”

“To be nervous, yeah,” his grandfather laughs. “But looks like it’s a different case for you.”

Tsukishima doesn’t respond, his eyes fixated towards a spot on the wall that feeds more into the blank space of his thoughts than anything more.

“You’re afraid,” Tsukishima hears, and as soon as the retaliation he tries to string together at the very last minute don’t come—he realizes the core of all the chaos in his head is meant to be just like that—

Blank.

“What are you so afraid of, boy?”

In the silence, he lets the rawness of his truth slowly spill. “What if I hit a plateau after this?”

His grandfather wastes no second in countering. “How is it life if we just keep climbing? What’s the point in doing all that work if we never get rest?”

Tsukishima laughs. “You know, by that logic it can just go the other way around too.”

He settles in his seat, trying to appreciate the silence instead of looking for company in the noise, before he adds, “What if we decide we don’t love each other anymore?”

“That’s not all there is to a plateau,” he laughs. “It’s a valid fear, but being afraid isn’t all there is after you marry someone.”

“Then what’s there?”

With a smile, his grandfather leans back, raises the mug to his lips, and relaxes—his eyes looking fondly at a faded photograph hung beside the wall clock. “Everyday,” he answers. “What’s there after I do is just everyday.”

Sensing that his grandfather means to say more, he chooses to retain his silence. Sighing softly, his grandfather keeps his smile steady as he continues to speak. “Everyday you wake up. You roll over in bed, you think about the checklist you do to consider a day done, then you come home, eat a meal, rest a little and start the whole day over the next day. Everyday’s like that.”

He shifts, leaning forward with his arms crossed supporting his weight on the table as he eyes his grandson with a smile. “Best part is, you can do all that with someone you love. Makes the boring part of the plateau a lot more bearable.”

“You wake up with them and complain about how boring the rest of your day will be, then come home and eat a meal with them. Wash the dishes, share the silence, and just go to bed knowing you’ll wake up with somebody.”

The smile on his face is honest, then he shrugs. “It’s nice, though. The plateau after you hit a certain point in life is just inevitable, Kei. You can either complain about life alone or complain about it with somebody. At least there will be two pairs of slippers by the genkan waiting for you everytime you come home. You’ll say you’ve made it home and someone will greet you. You’ll roll over in bed at 2am and someone will be there with you. The point of climbing in life is to get somewhere, not ascend past the norm.”

Tsukishima stays quiet, pondering over the truth in his grandfather’s words. “So life’s just meant to stay in the middle?” he asks, slowly coming into terms with his grandfather’s redefinition of the plateau. “Life’s meant to find a consistency in everyday,” he corrects.

A few moments pass before he stands back up, pointing to the counter with a thermos. He knows it’s yours. The old one that your mother refused to throw away, because there’s a crack by the lid and a couple faded sailor moon stickers stuck by the side.

“Look at that,” Tsukishima hears. He turns his head just in time to see the old man offer him a patient smile, the message in his eyes delivered without a hitch. “That old thing’s seen a couple of decades, but it still gets to you when you need it, right?”

It’s not so bad to have an old thing be your constant, right?

Twenty minutes after his grandfather climbs back to his room upstairs, Tsukishima’s seated on the side of the table beside the window. Peeking through the half-opened blinds, he can still see that the light from your room is still flicked on.

Without mulling over the decision, he takes his phone out, scrolling through the contacts until he taps your name. A swipe without too much pressure, because even his thumb’s memorized where your name is by now. Kind of like muscle memory, he supposes.

Bypassing the unannounced rules about what to do as the strangers you had claimed from the start of this week, it results to the lack of hesitation as he types a quick text and presses send without a thought that would counter it.

I love you, it reads.

From his spot in the kitchen, he leans back and smiles, pouring himself a cup of the tea he knows you brewed yourself on the nights where he can’t sleep.

The lights from your room stay on for a few more moments before it dims, but before the metaphoric silence could take root, the screen of his phone lights up.

Stop walking around at night. Drink the tea and try to get some sleep.

Exhaling almost in relief, it’s the slow beating of his heart that resettles him back into the love he’s known everyday.

It’s not quite the end, but it isn’t exactly somewhere unpleasant either.

Two days before you’re meant to return to the city, instead of spending the day in your room—like you had initially planned—you somehow found yourself in the passenger seat of his grandfather’s old car, with a grocery list in hand.

You sigh, understanding what his grandfather’s trying to do.

As you look down, there’s nothing much written in the grocery list. He had complained about some back pain earlier, followed up by his insistent request of desperately needing his groceries done so when Akiteru was to arrive later on, dinner would be taken care of.

Beside you, with his hands on the wheel, Tsukishima sighs. “We could have just ordered in food for dinner. It’s just Akiteru coming,” he mumbles.

Keeping your eyes to the window to your left, you shrug. “He likes making the ordinary special, I guess.”

Tsukishima stays silent after that, mentally thankful for the green light and the empty roads. The more stops, the longer silence would stay. And even after the sort of middle ground from the night before, he doesn’t know what to say to you.

After making a quick turn, he pulls up into the parking lot and kills the engine. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he turns to you, with an expectant look. “You can just stay here if you don’t wanna go in with me,” he offers. “It’s a short list, I can be in and out in a bit.”

You wave him off, already slinging on your bag and opening the car door—the list on your hand. “It’s alright. I think I’m more familiar with this area than you are, so we can just meet back in the car in thirty minutes if that’s okay with you.”

“You don’t need me to come with you?” he raises a brow.

You shake your head no, but upkeep the smile on your face anyway as you exit the car and close the door.

Something about what you say sticks with him, the more he thinks about it.

He can distinguish the hesitation laced each of your decisions. You look past him, but not exactly at him. You speak to him, but keep the conversations short. Though conversation was rare between the both of you this past week, the times that you did speak to him, your words often were clipped short.

It’s your means of upkeeping your end of the deal, he realizes.

You’ve always been one for communication, but then again, patience can only stretch so much.

He respects your wish for distance and walks the opposite way from the grocery store, towards a building he doesn’t really known. It’s a gallery, he realizes. Three steps past the entrance, he notices that he’s one of the few that’s in the room.

Traditional artwork line the wall, hung in frames that have rusted throughout time.

Tsukishima stares, eyes drawn to the pieces of art he recognizes from the few scattered memories in his childhood that relate to his time in the city.

A fieldtrip, when he was seven. He remembers leaving the house upset over the yellow hat he had to wear, and the rain boots his teacher wouldn’t let him change out of. Unlike the present, rain was present that day. He stood beside you in line, and had to tilt his head up at the piece of art he always thought was the prettiest out of the bunch.

And now, almost two decades later, he still thinks the same.

He smiles at the memory, finding the comfort of returning to what’s familiar, pleasant.

As if caught by an epiphany, and suddenly enveloped in a sense of a rediscovered home, here, within a room that’s familiar, he finds purpose in the permanence of love.

Love, that’s never meant to be stretched into the likeness of what the poets declare as the absolute form of love after “I do.”

Staring at the piece of art with the rusting frames, the strokes within the canvas still depict the same story. It still is beautiful.

It’s doesn’t become more—but it stays as is.

And maybe that’s what his grandfather was trying to convey.

To fear a certain phase in love is something that comes and goes, but it often never stays. It can linger, but eventually, it too, fades.

What stays is what’s rooted.

Primarily, just you. Truly, just love.

That tree in that old street, these paintings on the walls, and the kind of serenity that washes over him at the thought of you.

The fear in life comes in the form of thinking that beyond the peak lays a plateau. Beyond “I do,” what’s next to come is love, dwindling until “I don’t love you anymore,” is the only thing left to be said.

It’s fear, that spoke to him the past few weeks, so this time, as he gives in, he listens to love.

It’s quiet.

But through the smoke in the room, the message that’s meant to deliver truth comes in full clarity. Illuminated, it appears before him as it is. A painting that’s struck him as beautiful then and now, and the thought of you as the face that’s always been the first to greet him every morning for more than just a few years now.

An old man stands not too far from him, hands clasped behind his back as he stares—with a smile on his face—at a similar painting on the wall. Sensing Tsukishima’s presence, he looks over and redirects the smile his way. “Been coming here for years, and looking at this still feels the same.”

Poking at the doubts, Tsukishima responds, “Are you afraid that it won’t get old?”

The gentleman laughs, though soft enough so it doesn’t echo too much in the halls. The joy lingers around Tsukishima, on the other hand. “To have something grow old with you isn’t a bad thing. Day one, this piece was beautiful, and now, almost forty years later, I look at it and think the same too.”

A beat of silence passes, but the man speaks once more.

“My wife, when she was alive, showed me this piece. Maybe I look at this and still find it beautiful after all these years because I think of her, but I don’t think trying to focus on that matters much. The feeling’s the same, even if it grew old.”

Reciprocating the older man’s goodbye with a nod to the head, it’s then where he laughs, a little bit more of the truth unraveling as each moment comes and goes. Thinking of his words, he dwells on its meaning.

Standing there, alone in the museum hall, the smoke clears, and he presents himself his words of blended truth and patience.

Love is timeless, his thoughts say. The plateau after the peak is as possible as the drop, but life’s meant to be lived in the lows and in betweens as much as the highs. Time moves in waves, and perhaps love doesn’t always grow stagnant. It can be timeless, even though the frames rust. His hair will grey, and maybe you’ll stop linking your pinky with him beneath the sheets during the rainy season’s thunderstorms, but the root of love stays.

Within the plateau, time will move, and you’ll both grow old, but the taste of the tea you’ll brew for him will remain the same.

And thirty minutes later, when he makes it back to the parking lot with you waiting by the door, the love that steadies his beating heart will be the same too.

Steady, present, and timeless.

Eyeing the dashboard, you’re the first to break the silence. “Why’d you buy a postcard?”

Rolling into a stoplight, he eases on the brakes and shrugs. “Lived here for so long, and I don’t even own a postcard from here.”

“Me neither,” you blink.

A couple minutes pass, and the car’s rolling again, but he misses a turn. Assuming that he’s just not used to the usual route, you stay quiet—until about he pulls up to a familiar street.

Parked to the side, through the windshield, you find yourself face to face with a familiar tree. “Kei.” He hums.

The coming autumn has a few leaves beginning to change its colors, you notice. The summer hues, unbalanced, as bits of red begins to bleed through the green. “You were supposed to turn there, not here.”

He shifts the gear into park, then takes his hands off the wheel, leaning back. “I know.”

It’s quiet after that, but it isn’t all that unpleasant either.

This is the part where the questions begin to poke at you, the what-ifs in love let out in the open as you voice a little bit of your vulnerability. And because the truth is daunting, you hope he understands you through the metaphors. “Do you really think they’ll cut it down?”

He doesn’t allow the silence to take more than a moment. “I think so,” he nods his head.

“It’ll be good though, I think,” you add, nodding your head.

It’s quiet in the room even though the words of your truth coaxes the unhealed wound to resurface. As it comes into light, it doesn’t sting.

Sitting shoulder to shoulder beside him in the car, the tree that witnessed the first hello stays rooted, and watches.

He doesn’t turn to you as he speaks, but in a way, you feel as if a farewell was the finale that was meant to be delivered somehow. “It’s good,” he starts. “Letting go of something that needs to be let go of.”

Tokyo

Tsukishima’s the first to speak.

“I’m not good with words,” he starts.

There’s a hush in the crowd, so you stay with it, knowing you’ll only add to the silence should you choose to respond. It wasn’t your turn anyway, so you will yourself to be still and listen.

“Hey Cam,” Tsukishima continues, choosing to begin his vow with a hello. “I think a lot about what love’s supposed to have meant, mean, or eventually mean in the long run. I thought too much about it to the point where it…” he trails off, blinking at the piece of paper before flicking his eyes up to you with a slight shrug. “—to the point where love began to scare me.”

For a brief moment, he closes his eyes, confident in the fact that when he opens them, he knows he’ll see the world in clarity this time. With the smoke cleared and the scattered pieces of all his doubts set in order, the words of his truth may not speak of the most tender poem of love—but within the lines lies his truth.

As he lays his truth on you, he holds a breath and lets it all go. “I wanna wash the dishes with you for the rest of my life,” he laughs, exhaling softly, his shoulders shaking a little. “Never occurred to me how much of a liar the downside of your thoughts are when you listen to everything that isn’t love,” he continues.

Your shoulders relax, and even through the blur of the veil, you can tell his eyes are steadily watering.

“I’m sorry,” he says, the microphone just barely picking up what he says. You nod your head anyway, wishing you were holding his hands instead of the bouquet. Reassurance comes in many forms, but you know he’s always been the type to receive it well through physical touch.

A kiss on the cheek, your head on his shoulder, or your hands squeezing his. But the smile you give him suffices for now, you think.

“I wanna wash the dishes with you for the rest of my life. I’ll wash, and you dry. Nothing much happens in our day usually, but nothing has to. I’ll listen to you talk about how shit the traffic is in the city, because I know you’ll listen to me talk about the same complaints I have from Monday to Friday anyway.”

You realize he’s written his vows in the back of a postcard—the one you saw on his dashboard a few days ago, from Kanazawa.

He sniffles a little then looks up, laughing to himself at how emotional he’s getting. Allowing more than just truth to trickle out slow is a part of love too, he realizes, so with a soft laugh, he lets the tears be and speaks again. “What needed to be let go of was let go of,” he exhales, like he’s been holding his breath for this long.

In a sense, maybe he has. Sometimes fear grips you tightly enough that it shifts your point of view from one thing to another. What’s love, becomes fear. Then what’s fear, becomes the smoke that buries the core of truth too deep within the haze.

“I let go of the thought the thought that after marriage, if nothing great would come then that would be the end of love,” he breathes. “I stared at that tree and thought of Grandpa’s words again and again then wrote my apology and I love you on the back of a postcard that only had one a couple of blank lines at most.”

He waves it for you, then to the crowd, to see. The words, jumbled up together look almost incomprehensible written so closely together, but in a way, you have a feeling that he’s just speaking the rest of his truth as it comes in the moment.

The truth in love, you realize, is that its truth comes, fully unraveled the moment the initial plan falls apart.

He puts down the postcard, and just looks at you.

“There’s a lot I don’t think I will ever understand when it comes to love, but maybe I’m here to just feel it and not try to decipher it.” He pauses, ignores the few tears that roll down, and shrugs his shoulders, admitting to himself that the truth in his love is the first thought that comes.

“Love doesn’t have to the greatest,” he tells you. “I just wanna wash dishes with you for the rest of my life and hear about how traffic was unbearable.”

You smile, and your assurance reaches him.

“I think that counts as love too,” he finishes, the smile on his face tender.

As he leans in after I do, he murmurs a question in your ear that you’ve been expecting since the start.

You could have just left, he said. How did you deal with me and still choose to stay?

Your answer was said without a hint of hesitation. With a shrug, and an honest smile, you told him, “Because I love you.”

“I think we both had to let go of the thought that to love always means to have the biggest reasoning behind it. We do things for love, and because of love. That’s just how it is,” you shrugged.

Oddly enough, it’s in that same exact moment where he remembers Bokuto’s question from that dinner a week and some days ago.

How does it feel? he recalls, and even though words have never found him first nor met him in the middle easy, he gathers what he can and just settles on the conclusion that it just feels like love.

Wherein love, is this.

An identical band on his and your finger, and the taste of I do pleasant on the tongue. I love you, as a truth that’s easy to fathom and healing to hold, and the fear of what comes next just a passing thought that goes as soon as it comes.

Later that evening his grandfather sits him down and asks him what he really thinks about why people have been putting off cutting down that tree for a few decades now.

With a laugh, the hesitation that often turns decisions is made clear to him. “You know I think that people would decide things and think they’re so solid on it before even being face to face with it. The second they get to that tree with a chainsaw, I promise you they changed their minds. You think you go there and cut off or let go of one thing, then realize you’re cutting off something else in the end. They go back to what’s been there and realize that it’s not the problem at all.”

Tsukishima sighs, and his grandfather watches, the smile on his face easy. It’s like watching some emerge from a smoked out room, he thinks. Clarity’s always been a blessing, and he’s glad his grandson’s finally found it.

“Sometimes going back to the start is the one thing you need to be reminded that it’s worth it to keep going.”

“Sounds like you’re not talking about the tree,” his grandfather comments. Looking at you, Tsukishima smiles. “You could say that too.”

298 notes · View notes

jeankirschteinswifey · 3 years

Text

Pretty (Tech x Reader)

Words: 1.36k

Warnings: reader is injured (so blood is mentioned), close death experience, slight cursing, reader is drugged at one point, illusions to smut towards the end, but nothing explicit.

Summary: You’ve always had feelings for Tech, ever since you've met him. But after getting injured on a mission, Tech helps you get better and you admit your feelings unknowingly. Lucky for you, Omega and Wrecker convinced you that Tech has feelings for you too.

a/n: SHOUTOUT TO MY FRIEND LIZ FOR HELPING ME WITH THIS DAMN FIC (@elizabeth7567) (also, taglist and masterlist are pinned, requests are currently open!)

You grunted in pain as you made your way back to the Marauder, seeing only Tech standing by the entrance. You pull your hand away from the cut, seeing it covered in blood. Fuck, this just what I needed. You think. You look up and see Tech running towards you.

“Y/n! How much pain are you in.” He asks

“Not much,” you say as you hiss at the pain, “the normal amount.”

“Y/n. The normal amount IS none.” Tech says, your mind starts to go blank.

“Then, maybe a bit more-” the last bit is cut off as you pass out into Tech’s arms, hearing him call your name.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake up in a cot and you assume you're on the Marauder. You try to sit up, but inhale sharply at the pain coming from your side. You look towards it seeing a bacta patch on it. You start to peel it just to see how bad the cut was.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” You hear someone say. You jump slightly at the voice. But immediately recognize it as Tech’s voice.

“What happened?” You ask.

“I don’t know, you came back covered in blood and weren’t responding to your name after a while. I honestly was a little worried.” He responded.

“Well, that would explain the pain in my side and the throbbing headache.” You say with a chuckle but it turns into a coughing fit, making your head throb more. You groan. And you hear Tech rummage around in some supplies, but you were too exhausted to see what he was getting. He came back with some meds and water.

“Here, take these, it’ll help with the pain. Later on I can give you a stim as well.” He says.

“Thanks Tech.” You hum. You take the meds with the water. You notice that he got up to leave.

“Wait!” You say, he turns back towards you, a bit confused.

“Can you stay? Just for a bit longer?” You ask. He stands there for a few moments, but eventually comes back and sits down next to you.

“Sure, I’ll stay.” He says. You gave him the DOPIEST smile. You knew the drugs were starting to kick in.

“Heyyy Tech” you say as you yawn, he hums in response as he looks up at you.

“Did I ever tell you how pretty you are? And how much I like you.” He blushes.

“U-uhm. N-no, I don’t think you have.” He stutters. You giggle.

“Well then, I think you’re pretty.” You laugh out and then you eventually pass out from the drugs.

Tech didn’t leave your side the entire night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake up the next morning, less sore, but still in pain. You get up out of the cot, sharply inhaling as pain shoots up through your side, but you succeed and start to walk towards the living area in the ship. Only half of the bad batch is there when you get up. Hunter, Echo and Tech must’ve gone to get some supplies. You greet Wrecker and Omega, then go to sit down on the couch.

“Hello y/n! How you feeling?” Omega says to you.

“Hi Omega. And better, it’s not as bad anymore, still a little sore though!” You respond to the young girl.

“Tech didn’t leave your side the whole night, he didn’t say why.” Wrecker says. You were a bit shocked by his words. You couldn’t help the blush that crept to your cheeks.

“I did ask him to stay until I fell asleep, but I didn’t expect him to stay that long.” You said with a sheepish smile. Wrecker and Omega seemed to notice and had a devilish smirk on their faces.

“What?” You asked.

“You love Tech, don’t you!” Wrecker says.

“Wha- No I don’t!” You yelled back defensively.

“It’s completely obvious y/n! And Tech mentioned you said something to him last night that confirmed our suspicions.” Omega said. You were confused, you couldn’t remember anything after you asked Tech to stay with you. Then it hit you. Oh shit. You called Tech PRETTY last night.

“Don’t worry y/n. Tech seems to love you too.” Wrecker says.

“Wait- really?” You ask, very shocked.

“Yeah! He’s ALWAYS talking about how kind-hearted you are, how you always make him smile and how pretty he finds you. And I’m assuming he was happy to find out that you find him pretty too.” Omega says while laughing. You smiled at this. Tech feels the same way, you thought. Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the door to the Marauder opening up, the three remaining members of the bad batch coming up the stairs. Seeing Tech made you blush so damn hard, now knowing he feels the same way. He turned to look at you and blushed as well. He’s so cute. You think. Wrecker must’ve been reading your mind cause he lightly elbows you in your good side and makes kissy faces. You shove him lightly to the side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and the bad batch are all outside playing with Omega. She’s still getting used to being in different environments. Tech was standing off to the side on his data pad, but hearing your laughter, it made him smile. You make your way over to Tech. Seeing you walk towards him made him blush. When you realized he was blushing, it made you blush too.

“How’s your cut?” He asks.

“Honestly, a lot better, it doesn’t even bother me anymore!” You respond.

“That’s good.” He says. You were both silent, the tension unbearable. You hear him clear his throat.

“So...uh, about what you said the other night, about me being ‘pretty’, uhm, what did that mean exactly?” He asks.

“Oh, uhhhhh… that I kinda...uhm….have feelings for you…?” You say. He blushes hard at your response. Fuck why is he so cute??? You think. “It’s completely fine if you don’t feel the same way, but Wrecker and Omega mentioned that you might-” you ramble.

“Wait, Wrecker and Omega mentioned that I might have feelings for you too?” He asked. You nodded.

“Were they right?”

“Well, yeah, of course I have feelings for you y/n, I’m still pissed that they told you.” He says.

“Wait, you told them? I thought they were just guessing.”

“Yeah, I told them that I’ve had feelings for you for a while now.” He said as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Did...did they ever mention my feelings for you too?” You asked. “I never told them, but they said they had ‘suspicions’” you say jokingly. He smiles at that.

“Nah, they never told me that you might have feelings for me too. But I’m glad I found out from you and not them.” He laughed.

“Well shit! Now I wish I found out from you instead of Wrecker and Omega. That would’ve been way better!” You say while laughing. He laughs too. Then he asks,

“So what did they exactly tell you?”

“Well they told me that you said I’m kind and I always seem to make you happy…” he looks at you knowing that's not all. That smartass, “and they told me you think I’m pretty too.”

“And I already knew that you thought I was pretty,” he said with a smirk. You roll your eyes.

“Stop being such a smartass.”

“But you love it don't you,” he said as he came closer. You couldn’t wait any longer.

“Oh just shut up and kiss me already!” You yell as you grabbed Tech’s face and slammed your lips against his. He was honestly in shock, but gave in and kissed you back. You could hear Wrecker in the distance “WOOOOOOO FINALLY TECH! YOU FINALLY KISSED THEM!” and you could hear Hunter leading Omega back to the ship, Echo bringing Wrecker back too, leaving you and Tech alone outside the ship, lips still locked. After breaking away, you realized the sun had started to set so you and Tech went back inside the ship.

Hunter wasn’t happy when he could hear what you and Tech were doing that night.

#tech x reader #tech x you #fluff #star wars #bad batch x reader #bad batch #star wars x reader

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luckyspacerabbit · 3 years

Note

would you ever share the background you created for kai leng? i'd be so interested in hearing it!

Hehe, yes! Thank you for waiting anon. I wanted to really think this through and make sure I was working with all the possible details of his character.

Okay, so my goal with fleshing out Kai was not to excuse him as a villain or to necessarily redeem him, but to humanize him and hopefully incur sympathy because I find his depiction as a mysterious lackey boogeyman to be 🙄 one dimensional and playing on racist tropes like the yellow peril ✨ (also bioware making him predominantly chinese + a lil russian. extrapolate what u will lol)

So here is my background for Kai :) Lots of childhood headcanoning and then some general talk about his character/why I chose certain elements as I did (such as dumping that dumb phantom blade for butterfly swords AEORHIG)

Childhood: According to the wiki, Kai is Earthborn, and from his general heritage we can assume that he grew up in Northern China (omg that's where my ancestors are from). The most populous city there is Beijing, which, if there was a spaceport or alliance recruitment anywhere, it would be there.

I headcanon that he was born to a bit of an unsteady family, where it was likely there was estrangement and unsafe conditions between the mother and father that may have created a sense of helplessness and neglect from a young age.

In my canon, Dan Hyun's mom, Hannah Shepard was the head of an agricultural research facility on Trident, and was an old friend of Kai's mom (From University, possibly).

As conditions worsened throughout Kai's childhood, his mom decided to take a chance and flee with Kai (age 10 at the time) to Hannah Shepard's science facility on Trident (Sentinel Agricultural Research Facility), where she and Kai would stay for about two years as his mom worked to save enough money for their own place .

Since Dan Hyun was already being homeschooled, it was easy enough for Kai to join up alongside her.

Dan Hyun (12 at the time) was extremely happy to have a friend since life on the facility could be really lonely-- but with all these changes Kai was having a difficult time adjusting, especially when Dan Hyun felt put off by his competitive attitude. After so long feeling neglected and growing in a tumultuous home environment, he craved external validation: homeschool provided an avenue for that. They developed their own academic-based competitive rivalry that counted towards friendship, but grew distant when he moved out with his mom about two years later.

When Dan Hyun was 18 (Kai at 16), she managed to apply to an Alliance Research Training program and receive admission-- something that was considered highly prestigious, despite her parents' reluctance. Kai had already begun to build resentment towards her due to the way her parents treated her (very preciously, sheltered, and without exposing her to the difficult parts of life) in contrast with what he lacked in family and world kindness, creating a drive to supersede her and compete with her once again, if only to have tangible proof that just because he began in a lower place didn't mean he couldn't surpass the vision of success.

After this event, they would strike up a still somewhat friendly rivalry again that continued until Kai enlisted in the Alliance at the age of 18 (his attempts to join directly at 16 failed in my canon lol, but he sure tried )

Alliance Service:

Kai took the combat-driven route while Dan Hyun was receiving training for her eventual research establishment in Akuze, meaning that in their line of work, they never crossed paths-- Though they maintained occasional communication and met up here and there whenever Kai was back from his tours.

This is where I believe his decline truly began.

Some habits, like his desire for tangible proof of success and seeking external validation, manifested more heavily in this time. Collecting badges off of dead soldiers (To remember his skill first hand) is a notable one, but I speculate he relied heavily on the word of his commanding officers to counter his self-esteem. Titles were incredibly important because they were proof. When he began to feel a loss of control which led to emotional outbursts and breakdowns, he would fall back on these bits of evidence that he had done something, anything.

The weight and violence of service combined to break away his mental strength and conditioned him to that of a soldier.

Famously, he was discharged in 2186 after his N7 designation. In a bar fight on shore leave, he murdered a Krogan (OKAY. Listen. The wiki says "first-degree murder" but first degree requires premeditation and bar fight implies heat of the moment. So IDK I think the details around this one are a little fishy. He was on leave but he was a soldier, so ? he probably just had a weapon on him? Okay, I'm not excusing him but premeditation is a bit different from manslaughter so just something I've pondered. It separates intentional killers from accidental murders).

At this point, he is formally incarcerated and set to serve a twenty-year sentence.

Cerberus Contact:

The year is 2177, and Kai has lost everything he's ever worked for. His prestige is gone, he is at the worst place he has ever been, his mom won't talk to him, and he has no one. He had even stopped hearing from Dan Hyun, the only person he could have considered a friend once.

Through a small TV in the prison, he is able to hear about the attack on Akuze, and its one survivor: Alliance Scientist Dan Hyun Shepard. In the attack her biotic abilities (Which she had kept secret for many years) were revealed, prompting immediate recruitment into the N7 Program and a contract for ten years of service. This drove Kai into rock bottom-- while he had nothing, Dan Hyun was steadily on track to uprooting the only thing he had ever felt like he had accomplished.

This is when Cerberus intervened, promising him a home, freedom, belonging, and success.

So of course Kai agreed. Why wouldn't he? He had nothing left in his miserable life and there would never again be a place for him.

Cerberus Intervention:

It's my belief that Kai wasn't necessarily "alienphobic" in the beginning. Instead, I think The Illusive Man saw a very clear opportunity to recruit and nurture a broken man into a pawn of service. TIM is incredibly smart-- everyone who works for Cerberus is. He knew what Kai needed was validation, the promise of success held directly on the tip of his tongue to drive him into tenacity and action.

Organizations like Cerberus, even in real life, prey on people at weak points, fulfill their needs and drape their ideology on top like icing on a cake. That's not to say that Kai is completely innocent-- he ate the sweets and readily threw the world to the side in order to attain more-- but it does give some perspective.

Kai in Cerberus:

In ME2 we know there is some apprehension on Kai's part about the role Shepard will play. He is already starting to feel slighted from failures with Rasa and takes even the possibility of rejection from TIM extremely hard and with violent emotional outburst. This evidences how much TIM has whittled him away over the decade of service. Kai feels as though he owes everything to TIM, that TIM saw something in him-- failing him is disproving that and accepting what Kai has feared all along: that he truly is a worthless and incapable person.

Kai and Shepard:

Kai is best known for his direct antagonism towards Shepard in the events of ME3, directly killing their allies and potential love interests in a way that is extremely personal. Yes, it is part of the job, but at the same time, it's clear Shepard gets under his skin. It's because in the end, after all that setup, Shepard is the one person who can take it all away from him.

They can replace him as TIM's prodigy/ They can bring an end to the organization that gave him everything (From his cybernetic enhancements (uh indoctrination cough couch) ) to his purpose in life. Kai threw it all in with them because he didn't see another choice.

My Canon: The End

So how do things end for Kai in my canon?

As you're aware, you can unalive him, violently. But Dan Hyun is very emotional and due to their shared childhood, I like to believe that there was still a grand feeling of kinship between them, a recognition of the other due to shared insecurities. I don't think there was ever a time Dan Hyun looked at Kai and saw anything other than her slighted friend (which is very romanticized, but SHE is very romanticized), it was just about getting Kai to see that too.

She locked him down the best she could, yelled, cried, and beat the shit out of him, but ultimately, preserved his life. After the crucible had been fired and Thane (alive ofc) attended to, she sought to right things between her and Kai: whatever form that takes. Who knows if he'll ever be able to live comfortably in society again-- but at least here, he has the chance.

Random Tidbits:

Some notes! At his best, I like that Kai is portrayed as Loyal, Hard Working, Methodical, Clever, Tenacious, and Factual. I think sometimes he can be written off unfairly as wimpy or scared, but in truth, he's very sure of his abilities and able to calculate his chances extremely well. He's smarter than fandom gives him credit for.

He has an interesting conflict between arrogance based on title and humbleness. He knows he wants to be the best but he never airs it-- like when Rasa suggests that he wants to be the leader for Humanity but he grows quiet and says to just focus on where things are at right now.

His time as a soldier absolutely affected him in ways I think sharpened him to the killer he became. It instilled values that remained with him in Cerberus, such as when he berates Bates for abandoning his squad and calls him a traitor. Kai doesn't betray-- he's quite literally ride or die.

Also? The ninja sword is super dumb because Kai is Chinese and the swords and Phantom's themselves are designed to appear Japanese in aesthetic. Ninjas= Japanese, but China did have their own sect of Assassins which I believe gave birth to Wu Ching as a type of Martial Arts? Or was drawn from it hmm

To keep to accuracy, Kai would have trained more towards their martial art techniques which focuses on close combat and quick movements, as well as the use of dual blades called butterfly swords (You'd likely recognize them as a set of rogue daggers).

That's all for that meta! Phew. If anyone actually read to the end, hey wassup, hope you enjoyed, and take most of this with a grain of salt since it's my headcanons and background work :) Thank you again for reading!

#my meta #kai leng #anon #asks #PHEW #THAT TOOK A WHILE #HAHAH #dan hyun shepard #mass effect #meta

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years

Text

A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 1/57, 97.7k words

I was like “hey brain I’d love to do a shitpost social media au” and then it was like r e w r i t e m i r a c u l o u s

I don’t even know if it really even counts as miraculous anymore so much has changed god damn it --

Rena Rouge had never been so excited for anything in her life.

Of course, at first glance people would find that insane. She was going to a meeting, after all.

But it was the people that were also attending that had her practically vibrating she was so excited.

All the heroes of Paris were to be gathered under Master Fu’s orders. They hardly ever worked together, so having all four (five, including her, she reminded herself) together was pretty much a once-in-a-lifetime event. She wished she was still a reporter, this was the kind of thing she would have killed to report on back in the day…

Still, a part of her had to wonder why exactly they were all there. Master Fu had been vague when he’d called. She had some theories, of course, but all this waiting was starting to shift her excitement into nerves. She attempted to smooth out her tail, but ended up just tucking it under herself to hide her anxiety. Maybe she shouldn’t have come so early.

The first person to show up after her was Carapace. He’d poked his head through the door, the hood of his sleeveless hoodie pulled so low over his face that it partially hid his face. Then he broke into a wide smile and pushed the hood up a little to show the green glint of his mask. He made his way inside and took a seat next to her.

“Salu -- Bonjour!” His confident smile melted into an uncomfortable one. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Salut,” she said, not wanting him to feel awkward.

Besides, that was kind of his whole shtick. Carapace was the relatable hero, the one you could vent about your problems to.

(Well, technically you could vent to all of Paris’s heroes, they didn’t mind… but Carapace was the only one that felt close enough to actually try it with.)

Silence lapsed between them as they sat there. She tried to remember whether she had met him as Rena Rouge or not and he seemed unsure whether she wanted to talk, but they were distracted from their thoughts when Chloe walked into the room.

Chloe just kind of… does that. If Carapace was the personable one, Chloe was the one who felt the most unreachable. She was open about her persona, had to be after everyone found out about it, and exactly how relatable can a mayor’s daughter be? She’d leaned into it, though, opting for golden jewelry and wings that glinted in the light.

Neither of the present heroes said anything to Chloe, and Chloe didn’t acknowledge them.

Was it rude? Technically. But what else were they supposed to do? Chloe had made it clear a week ago that she didn’t like them. There’s no good conversation that can come after you get shit-talked on live tv.

The last person to be on time was Chat Noir. The original hero. He gave them a smile worthy of a model as he slipped inside. “Bonjour.”

“Bonjour,” said Rena and Carapace, and even Chloe gave a quiet hum of acknowledgement.

The leather of his black suit made a high-pitched squeaking sound against the chair when he sat down that made both him and Rena’s hair stand on end (literally).

Master Fu walked in to find Carapace trying to soothe two very frazzled miraculous holders and Chloe ignoring them on her phone.

He sighed and gently rapped his cane on the ground.

Instantly, the room quieted. Chat and Rena snapped out of their shock.

“Bonjour,” chorused everyone.

He smiled tensely. “Bonjour. Where’s Ladybug?”

“Not here yet,” said Chloe. She set her phone down on the table and crossed her arms over her chest. “There’s nothing in the papers, either.”

Master Fu nodded a little bit and took a seat at the head of the table. “We can wait for her. There’s no rush.”

Carapace hesitated before raising his hand. “There’s… a bit of a rush. I was procrastinating a college app and it’s due tonight…”

“It shouldn’t be long,” said Master Fu.

This was true. About five minutes later Ladybug burst into the room, panting softly. “Bon… jour...”

“Thanks for finally showing up,” said Chloe.

No one knew for sure, because Ladybug’s eyes were completely white, but they got the feeling that she was rolling her eyes.

“There was an akuma.”

“Really? There was nothing on the news…” said Rena, genuinely confused, but she trailed off when she realized that maybe getting one of your childhood heroes in trouble was a bad idea if you wanted to have a good relationship with said childhood hero.

Thankfully, Ladybug didn’t seem all that annoyed. “That’s because the news anchor and her crew got swallowed by it before they could get any information out. Anyways, it’s dealt with.”

With that, Ladybug took a seat in the last open chair. There was a beat as she smoothed out the red and black folds of her dress and then she crossed her legs and smiled at everyone.

Master Fu sighed and shook his head, slowly placing his cane in his lap.

“Now that everyone is here, would anyone like to guess why?”

The heroes of Paris stiffened a little bit. That sounded a lot like they were in trouble. They didn’t want to be in trouble.

Rena slowly raised her hand. “Is it… because of what Queen Bee said last week?”

The heroes’ expressions soured a bit at the memory. The video of Chloe trash talking all of them to an interviewer had blown up, and now they could hardly do anything without having at least one reporter hounding them for a response.

None of them could give any, though Rena was sure at least some of them were tempted. The public was supposed to think them all friends, or at worst friendly coworkers. It gave them hope, seeing them all working together for team ups, and analyzing their friendship dynamics kept them relatively distracted from the fact that it had been six years since the first hero had first arrived on the scene and they still had virtually nothing on Hawkmoth.

But now that illusion had been shattered (and trust her, she knew a lot about illusions). Akumas had been more active this week.

“That’s precisely it. Thank you, Rena.” Master Fu regarded them all carefully. “What do you think we should do about it?”

Really, they’d had no clue what to do about their image.

Chloe hadn’t been joking, she’d made that plainly obvious, so saying she didn’t mean it or that was just the type of friendship they had wasn’t going to work…

“Act more like friends…?” Said Ladybug when no one spoke up.

Master Fu nodded.

“Oh, so more team ups or something?” Said Chat.

Carapace shrugged. “Don’t know how much of that I can do, since I’m the only one that can consistently get in the water, but…” He shrugged again. “... sure, I can do that.”

The old man drummed his fingers on the table lightly to bring their attention back to him.

“Yes, that, too, but I was thinking something more… convincing.”

Rena decided that she definitely didn’t like the way his eyes gleamed.

“So, until you manage to defeat Hawkmoth, you will all be living together.”

Everyone opened their mouths to argue but he held up a hand to silence them.

“And you’ll be doing it publicly, posting regular content about it to a social media platform of your choosing…” He put his hand down. “Now you can complain.”

The teens all immediately started attempting to talk over each other, their voices steadily increasing in volume as they tried to be the one to get their complaints heard.

Rena was silent. Part of her thought that she should be complaining. She had siblings, after all, she had a life outside of heroism… but she couldn’t help but smile. She would be living with her childhood heroes (for a long time, probably, because the Hawkmoth situation was not getting better)! And, really, her sisters could get annoying at times. She’d love an excuse to get away.

So instead of arguing she leaned back in her chair and watched everyone else.

Chloe was the most passionate about it, her jewelry flashing with every wild swing of her hand. Her voice was the loudest, but with the other voices in the room and the fact that she was literally buzzing in her anger it was hard to make out what she was saying.

Chat seemed distressed and Rena could see his mouth saying “I don’t think I’d be allowed to” repeatedly even if she couldn’t hear him over Chloe’s screeching.

Carapace’s face was set in an uncharacteristic frown as he complained. Sure, of those voicing their complaints, he definitely seemed the most relaxed, but the fact that he was frowning was in itself proof of just how upset he really was.

Ladybug was quiet, though she didn’t look particularly happy about it. Her lips were pressed into a thin line as if she was holding herself back from yelling as well and her fingers worried at the hem of her dress.

After a minute of this, Master Fu raised his hands for silence and instantly got it once again.

“Are you done?”

The general consensus was ‘no’, if the looks on their faces meant anything, but they nodded anyways.

“Good. Chat Noir, I’ve already worked everything out with your dad, we’ll discuss it more after the meeting is over.”

Chat relaxed a bit.

“Carapace, your schooling will not be affected. In fact, you’ll likely have a better college experience since all your food and toiletries will be paid for by me.”

Carapace’s expression shifted to a thoughtful one as he considered this.

“Queen Bee, must I remind you of the fact that you’re on thin ice as it is?”

Everyone’s eyes shot to Chloe, who had paled considerably. Her angry buzzing quickly lowered to a dull hum and she settled back into her seat.

Master Fu seemed sated by this, and he looked at Ladybug and Rena.

“And I’m assuming I don’t need to convince either of you?”

Rena shook her head instantly. Ladybug took her time to consider, but eventually shook her head as well.

“Great. Now, shall we talk logistics?”

~~~

Taglist:

@nathleigh @mialuvscats

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kakyoinryoko · 3 years

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im curious what u think jotaros life pre sdc was like

probably not good from what we see but i’m not super into speculation about this sort of thing beyond what can be inferred on a pretty base level... like, i feel no need to have detailed headcanons about everything that happened to him exactly. i have vague ideas but nothing super in depth outside of how him being gay and trans affects things already established or implied. i don’t know what exactly jotaro’s high school fights would revolve around, for example, and i don’t particularly have any desire to come up with any headcanons for this. i say this but i’m about to drop an entire essay here i guess. cool, embarrassing, etc

i’ve talked about it a little before but i think Something happened to him between entering high school and reaching his third year that kinda fucked him up, and whatever it was caused him to start acting more coldly and harshly towards his mother, who he previously was very openly loving towards. i’ve heard people say that the only reason holly sees him that way at the beginning of sdc is because she has illusions about her son being a better and kinder person than he is, but that’s just not true. i don’t think the imagery of him dressing like a proper student and being happy to receive a valentine and smiling at her and openly expressing his love for her cooking were false memories, i think he actually said and did those things, it was just stuff that happened when he was younger, probably a first year. i’ve said it over and over, but as it is, in the present day (as of sdc), she fully understands what her son is like. she’s introduced into the series asking the cops how many people he killed. that was her instinctual guess upon hearing he was arrested—this says to me 1) he’s never been arrested before, but 2) she knows about the fighting he gets up to and has feared that this is where it would end at some point. she also emphasizes the fact that he can’t fool her when it comes to his tough guy act—she realizes that it’s deep beneath his extremely rough exterior, but he IS a good and caring person at heart. she never says anything about him that isn’t true, and anyone brushing her off as a dumb naive woman just isn’t reading between the lines. or maybe isn’t reading at all frankly. it’s all right there in front of you.

as for his past. at a guess. it seems like he doesn’t really have any friends at all, at any point in the manga, outside of the people we see him interacting with in the parts themselves. as of his childhood and teen years, the fact that he’s half american and his father is largely absent is one possible reason i have heard brought up before, but i think it’s also because he comes across as pretty weird and hard to get along with. as an autistic person i see a lot of myself and my own struggles with interpersonal relationships in jotaro, so i think his issues with people are in no small part because he is autistic himself. i’m not going to belabor the explanation here because others have made better posts than i could about why he reads so heavily as autistic, but i think it comes down to him missing social cues, and not coming across the way he intends to, and not being able to read the implications in the things people say to him, and him being trans on top of that would make him feel like even more of an odd one out. i think he would deal with that by being kind of a sukeban type, so at least his ostracization feels like he’s in control of it and he’s being strong, but even so, acting like a scary tough girl isn’t a replacement for transitioning.

i think he would start transitioning (which is to say, changing his name and presentation and starting testosterone, but that’s about all) late in middle school, around 14, so that by the time he’s a first year in high school he’s fully stealth. and it makes him happy at first, because people are talking to him as a boy, and using a boy’s name for him (perhaps part of why he’s so chill about people calling him by first name the second they meet him, since that’s a little odd to do otherwise), so for a time he’s a happy enough kid. i think t hits him pretty hard and fast, and he shoots up almost immediately and gets to be like six feet tall and buff and deep voiced by the time he’s like 15, so suddenly he’s not so much the awkward american girl as he is the super tall strong guy that the guys all fear and respect and the girls all have a crush on, which is maybe nice at first, but i think the allure would wear off pretty fast.

i don’t think he necessarily realizes that it’s because he’s gay, but we see ourselves pretty clearly that he doesn’t enjoy the attention from girls beyond maybe thinking it’s a better alternative to having them mock him like when he was younger. he hates having them crowd around him and fawn over him—he has no interest in any of them in the first place, and none of them ACTUALLY care who he is, just that he’s tall and strong and handsome, and he hates that. and then, of course, guys fearing and respecting him turns into people wanting to fight him, and something terrible happens as a result of that, and he ends up an extremely guarded and hostile person as a result, even to the ones he loves. it gets to the point where he’s a target for actual serious violence, even from grown adult gang members as we see at the start of sdc, so his desire to keep people away from him as a means of keeping them safe kicks in—and this is something that sticks with him for the rest of his life, even into his 40s with his daughter. only tangentially related but i think the true tragedy of part 3 is that he was finally getting over that mindset, he was finally starting to see value in keeping people close to him and trusting in and relying on others. but primarily we see him express this sentiment towards kakyoin. and kakyoin dies. and more specifically dies for jotaro. so that all comes crashing down hard, and he’s right back where he started.

back to the main point i also feel i should mention i’m 100% of the belief he has perfect grades and attendance even when he’s more into the delinquent act. i say act mostly because i don’t think he’s actually hugely into the whole bancho subculture; i don’t think he would actually join any gangs, i think he prefers to keep to himself until other people go looking to start shit with him, which he always finishes handily (allegedly, no one has ever seen him get hurt before). probably including the teacher who he ran off, regardless of whatever happened then—he says himself that injustice and harming the weak makes him extremely mad, so there was definitely more going on there than just “jotaro got mad at a teacher because he’s a violent person and beat the shit out of him for no reason and so the guy got scared and quit,” though i don’t really care to speculate deeper than that. the teacher was not an innocent party is all i’m saying.

i suppose this is all just an unreasonably long winded way of saying “idk but i sure think about it a lot.” basically just extrapolations from the way he interacts with his peers from what little we see, and from the bio about him coming across in a much more cold and aloof way than he thinks he does, and from his relationship with his mom, and from what we see based on her memories of him when he was younger.

#op #i ate dinner in the middle of writing this so it took a bit LOL sorry #i did not proof read it very well either. but you get what you get.#long post #i’m so sorry but i forgot how to do a read more on mobile. sorry. i hate this more than you. i promise

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karmasuna · 4 years

Note

Headcanons for Bakugou, shinsou and a character of your choice where they like a foreign aka English speaking reader and they try to keep up being nice in Japanese but they overhear them talking to their friends from home and they're louder, more crass, and a lot more energetic and talking as if they're on their last 3 brain cells if you know what I mean? Maybe the guys overhear how good looking they are or how cool? They should know enough English to get a gist

ahh i accidentally went down the thirst road instead of crackhead really aha i’m so sorry if it isn’t what you wanted, but i had a lot of fun writing this so thank you for the request (^^;)

warnings: implied smut, swearing

Bakugo Katsuki

○ He doesn't really talk to you that much, but he did know of your existence and acknowledged you and knew you were strong

○ When you did interact with him though, you would usually speak with with more of a formal tone and you didn’t use much slang or anything

○ Although your first language wasn’t Japanese, you still insisted on communicating with your classmates only in Japanese so you could practice more

○ And you only knew enough to communicate with them and didn’t really know a lot of casual words to express your emotions properly

○ That gave off the illusion that you were a very polite and timid person

○ So when one time he walks past your room and hears you chatting loudly with your friends he’s shocked

○ You seemed so much more cheery and lively when you were speaking in your native language

○ Bakugo couldn’t help but become interested in what you were really like when you could express yourself well

○ He comes up with the bright idea of asking you to tutor him in English

○ Of course you’re suspicious, since his English grade was just s few points shy of yours and you knew his English wasn’t that bad

○ He insists on it anyways, saying he needed more speaking practice

○ So you agree, and every now and then he would barge into your room and demand for you to start talking only in English

○ The first few times he had come you were a nervous wreck since Bakugo is scary and that’s a fact

○ But eventually you get used to it and start to loosen up, him being the only person who you spoke English who was physically with you, so of course you’d have a lot of emotions to spill that you normally couldn’t express through Japanese

○ And it was right as Bakugo was about to once again barge in to your room when he overheard your conversation with your friends on the phone

○ Hearing his name being mentioned in your conversation makes him just stop right before he was about to come in, interested to hear what you had to say about him

○ He quietly opens the door just a little, hoping to be able to catch your words

○ And he’s very surprised when he hears you start absolutely gushing about him, talking quietly about how hot you thought he was and how you’d totally “let him tie you up and step on you”

○ The blonde understands every word that comes out of your word separately but it takes him a bit to figure out what you were talking about

○ But once he connects the dots he can’t stop the huge smirk spreading across his face when he realizes that you’re absolutely thirsting over him with your friends

○ He lets you have your fun, waiting until you ended your call before coming in to your room

○ You acted no different around him, greeting him like normal and like you weren't totally lusting over his waistline just mere minutes ago

○ He plays along with you for a bit, waiting for you to get comfortable before catching you off guard with his next statement

○ “So you want me to tie you up and step on you huh, you nasty girl,” he says calmly and totally out of the blue, turning you into a panicked, blushing mess as he watched you try and fail to come up with an excuse with amusement in his eyes

○ And that’s the story of how your boyfriend discovered the first of your many kinks and he totally steps on you later that night

Shinso Hitoshi

○ Shinso would get to know you over your shared love over video games, and he quickly notices how you became a totally different person when you were gaming with your friends and talking to them in English than when you were talking in Japanese at school

○ And he would occasionally tease you about it, saying some less-than-elegant things that you said when you were speaking in English back to you when you were at school and making you embarrassed

○ You know how people sometimes say that someone becomes a totally different person when they’re using another language? That was you

○ Only the purple-haired boy would know of all potty mouth when you were talking in English, since no one else would believe him since you always seemed so timid and polite when you were speaking in Japanese

○ So this man would try to get evidence to prove you weren’t as pure and innocent as you looked

○ And as luck would have it you leave your phone unlocked when you get up to go to the bathroom while you having one of you regular gaming sessions with him

○ He can’t help but peek over at your screen, and he doesn’t know if he should be surprised or sad you what you had typed to your friend

○ Sure enough, there was all the profanity he was hoping to get physical evidence of, but the topic of your conversation was something he wasn’t sure he should take a photo of because sure he wasn’t the nicest guy, but he also happened to have a crush on you and didn’t want to ruin your life

○ In your texts you were talking about how you would pay to suck “his” dick and touch “his” abs, whoever “he” was

○ He’s kind of hurt to know that you had your eyes on a guy already, but it’s not like he’s surprised since there were so many hot guys in U.A

○ What he wasn’t expecting was the next text from your friend that made his heart speed up as he read it

○ “i mean, he’s already next to u so just go for it lol what kinda guy wouldn’t want to get his dick sucked lmao”

○ It didn’t take him any time to figure out that you were talking about him in your texts, and he’s more than happy about his little discovery, quickly turning back to his console as you come back from your bathroom break

○ And you continue the match you were having with him

○ Just as you got the upper hand and he was about to lose to you he pulls his last card to make you lose - whoever lost would have to pay for takeout and he wasn’t about to cough up twenty dollars to feed your food addiction

○ “Ten dollars and I’ll let you suck my dick,” he says calmly as his character continued to fight yours on the screen and you drop your own console in shock, and your character is defeated in no time as your brain short circuits

○ “Don’t act all innocent Y/N, I would've totally let you do it if you’d just spoke up earlier.”

○ You end up not only paying for takeout but you also lose ten dollars that night 👀

#bnha #bnha scenarios #bnha headcanons #bnha fluff #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bakugou headcanons #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #shinso x reader

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crescentsteel · 4 years

Text

Just Friends - Part 6

plot: fubu set up with Kuroo , model fem reader warnings: a bit spicy at the end word count: 6.7k

A.N:

I’m putting a short pause on this series. because it’s October: 1) kinktober; 2) Halloween drabbles

next part will be j u i c y

I listen to Erutan while writing

THANK YOU SO MUCH to those who leave wonderful comments in the chapters. I always read them and get silly happy

Lmk if you want to be part of the taglist

I accidentally deleted this chapter. I hate myself

Part 5 | Part 7 | m.list

Your eyes alternate among the four men who are blathering in front of you. You’ve been in events like this before, so interacting with guests isn’t a problem for you. But this. This is mayhem. Much of what they’re saying doesn’t make sense to you. You’re pretty sure that they introduced themselves, but their names didn’t stick because one would interrupt the other before they’re even comprehensible.

Despite them towering over you (except for the orange-haired guy who’s a tad shorter than the rest), they seem like boys squabbling over who gets to talk to the pretty girl first. You had to press your lips together as a disguise of a civil smile, but in reality, you’re stifling a laugh from leaking out. It would be rude since they’re guests as well.

The laugh stuck in your throat instantly evaporates when you see a familiar figure approaching, a figure you know all too well. You try to get a clearer picture, but he turns to the blonde-haired guy, only revealing his side and back profile to you.

You lose awareness of the other four from before. Your eyes are solely focused on him, waiting for him to face you so you can confirm that you aren’t daydreaming. Before you left Japan, it was frequent that you saw him in certain places you go, but it was just actually your brain conjuring his images to fill in the void you felt.

Being out of the country, the daydreams stopped. And now that you’re back, right on your 1st day in Japan, you’re back to seeing illusions? That can’t be. It’s been months for Christ’s sake. You’ve moved on. Maybe it was just someone with the same build, or ..

“I’m so sorry about th-”

Or it really was him.

You definitely aren’t hallucinating. But damn. You aren’t prepared for Kuroo to appear before you, and more so, you aren’t prepared for how he’s looking exceptionally good tonight. He’s donning a formal black suit with a red tie which you haven’t seen him in before. It was always shirt and pants. In his graduation party, it was just long sleeve polo in navy blue and black denim that he wore. You didn’t think much of it. You thought ruggedness was part of his charm. But no. This refined ensemble also suits him. It suits him too damn well.

You can’t believe it. It’s been months and yet, the sexual pull he has on you is still intact.

“Sorry about them.” He says with the signature mischievous grin he has.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ was what you want to say, but you’re on official business. You peek at the four boys, and just as you thought, they’re staring.

You give your rehearsed smile and bow. This is not the time and place for a reunion. You pray that he gets the drift.

Of course, he doesn’t. You become alarmed when he advances directly face to face with you. You take a step back to provide enough space between you two. You can’t have him too close. However, he still catches up. Before you can even react, his hand is already in your hair as his fingers tuck the strands behind your earlobe.

“How’re you, kitten?”

The feel of his skin directly on yours, despite being the lightest of touch, stirs something wistful in you. It gives you unwanted and unnecessary recollections of his graduation party.

You scold yourself mentally. Like you told yourself a while ago, this is not the time and place. When you look around, you see that the blonde and black and white guy was gaping in shock while the remaining two look puzzled.

He hasn’t changed. Still an expert on taking advantage of a situation to make you lose composure. Does he think that you’re going to let him do as he pleases?

Hell no.

You give your best goody-girl impression and beam at him.

“I’m sorry. Who are you?” You say in perfect English, your pitch higher than your usual talking voice. “You must be mistaking me for someone else.” You add. Kuroo’s brows raise at your trivial retort. You peek at the boys to see their reactions. It was priceless.

The blonde guy is slouching, his face buried on the shoulder of the orange boy while his own shoulders are shaking. Orange boy is shushing him. The black and white guy doesn’t bother hiding his boisterous laughing. The black-haired stern guy looks repulsively at Kuroo.

You can’t tell if they understood the whole phrase, but the ‘who are you’ is basic. You’re sure they got that one at least. You turn your eyes to him again and purse your lips to the side. You tilt your head a bit and flutter your eyes in a demure manner.

He grits his teeth as he shoots daggers at the four. “Scram now. Before I report you to your manager.”

“Introduce yourself okay, Kuroo?” Black and white calls out and laughs while walking away. The blonde guy joins him, letting out his suppressed laughter while hitting black and white’s back.

After they’re out of sight, Kuroo’s attention is on you again. His irritation is gone and is replaced with amusement that twinkled in his eyes.

“I didn’t know you spoke English.”

You look down and drop the doe-eyed act. In just one blink, your eyes are sharp and your lips curled into a corner. You cross your arms before meeting his gaze.

“Since childhood actually.” You say proudly with your normal voice. Then, you dive straight to the point. “What are you doing here, Kuroo?”

“I’m working. What’re you doing here, y.n.?”

“I’m working.”

He doesn’t say anything, but the devilish smirk on his face doesn’t leave his face while his eyes are glued on to you. You don’t falter. You hold his gaze with the same daunting expression. Just like before, you always find yourself wanting to topple his presumptuousness. You don’t back down. You’re always ready for whatever remark he’s going to throw at you.

But instead, you’re met with a change in his demeanor. His face softens up - his eyes glint with yearning while his previous smirk dwindles down to something that looks equally sad and glad at the same time.

You’re ready for anything, but this. You didn’t think you’d see him again, but you’ve held up well. You will not let yourself get carried away with Kuroo’s musings, be that sexually or emotionally. So you look away, breaking the spell that held you both captive. You clear your throat before speaking.

“Let’s do what we should be doing here then. See you around.” You try to dismiss yourself from the situation as quickly as you can, but your attempt to walk past him is useless. One pace and he’s already blocking your way entirely.

“Why the rush?” Something about the way he dominates the space in front of you tells you that you won’t escape.

“We’re both working right now.”

“Dinner after this, then?”

You let out a defeated sigh. “You’re not going to give up, are you?”

“Not a chance.” His eyes are gleaming in success when he hands you his phone, just like he did that morning after you had sex the first time. You know that he’s thinking the same. You share the same meaningful gaze at how familiar this scenario is.

You shake your head while typing the number you just got this afternoon.

–

You sit across Kuroo at the coffee shop he took you to.

“What’s this about, Kuroo?”

“What? Can’t I invite an old friend to dinner?

“Mmmhmm.” You browse at the menu and decide which tea you’ll have. You can’t have caffeine right now. You need to be able to sleep after this very long day.

“You look good, y.n.”

You scoff at the comment. Is this his attempt of a small talk?

“Tell me something I don’t know,” you sneer while still browsing.

“Oya? Let’s see then hmm.” You feel the table vibrate as he taps it with his fingers.

“It was shitty the way you left.” The tapping stops in unison with how you feel your heart skip a beat.

Your eyes snap up from the menu. His one arm is on the table while his hand rests on his chin, his eyes piercing yours with a serious intensity you’ve never seen before. Are you ready for this conversation? You still don’t want to tell him what really happened then. You might not feel the same anymore, but it still doesn’t sit well with you. It was your own naivety that got you in that situation. After a while in the US, it registered to you that you did not have any right to be angry at him. He hurt you, yes, but it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t even owe you an explanation for that night. He could have sex with anyone he wanted without letting you know. Your inexperience led you to believe that you two had some kind of exclusivity.

But you can’t have him know that. You both have nothing to gain from letting him know. He’d probably laugh at you, or worse, feel bad about it. Despite your relationship, you know he’s a good person. He might feel obligated to do something about it. You don’t want that. You don’t need that.

“Are you ready to order?”

The waiter came at the right time. Your thoughts were about to go somewhere bleak. You smile at the waiter.

“Green tea, please.”

Kuroo doesn’t move and lazily tells the waiter, “Whatever she’s having.”

You face Kuroo again, ready to answer him this time.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t want to make a big deal of it. I tried to tell you at the bar, but…”

Unpleasant memories surges in your head. You shake your head to chase them away. “I wasn’t feeling very well suddenly. Then I just got busy the following days. I had to process a lot of papers. Next thing I knew was I was about to leave.”

You hope the lies sounded real to him. You didn’t need to process papers. Your visa and passport are ready. You’ve always flown to other countries, courtesy of your family trips. The miserable truth was that you were wallowing in misery in your apartment.

“But I did try again, right? I mean I asked to meet up before I left.” You add casually, a tad cheerier than your earlier tone.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you leave?”

‘Because of you.’ That answer is still crystal to you, but of course, he’ll never know that. “Modeling,” was your answer instead.

His brows knit together in confusion.

“I thought you didn’t like it. Weren’t you doing it only cause you’re cut out for it?”

What. You told him that? You don’t remember doing so, yet he did. You think fast, racking your brain for something believable to back up your lie.

“I wanted to know what would happen if I actually tried.”

He just keeps staring at you as if he knows something you don’t, his eyes searching for any trace of doubt in what you just said. But you just meet his stare firmly, refusing to lose ground.

“Is it worth it?” It shouldn’t be a strange question, but the way he said it is. You must’ve imagined it, but it sounded like it quelled an inkling of loneliness. Perhaps you’re getting tired and projecting the feelings you had at him.

“It is.” The only truth you’ve stated in this coffee shop. You still saw modeling just as a job, yet you presently enjoy the hustle and bustle of making a name for yourself. But back then, it was what you hopelessly clung on to so your head isn’t full of him. It diverted your thoughts from Kuroo until you no longer thought about him, until the feelings faded.

“But enough about me. What happened to you after graduation?” You shift the subject to him so you’ll have to stop talking.

He removes his arm from the table and sits up straight. He takes his wallet out and hands you a calling card that read:

Japan Volleyball Association, Sports Promotion Division

You stare at it with amazement as you read it once again in your head. Holding the same expression, you gape at him.

“You don’t have to look so impressed, y.n.” He says that but he’s grinning too wide.

“It’s just I-I. Uh. Wow.” You struggle for the right words to say. You don’t know how to express the happiness you feel for him. You couldn’t think of a better career for him. He was so determined at university, to the point that he dropped out of its volleyball team. Yet, his laptop background was a volleyball stadium. He’s also kept his volleyball jerseys. You know because you once rummaged through his drawer to look for a shirt you can borrow. He worked hard and in the end, he was able to keep volleyball in his life in his own way.

You don’t have any passion for anything and you never had to work hard for anything. Witnessing someone strive at something and succeed, especially Kuroo who you were with at the last steps before his success, you can’t be anything but happy and proud.

Unhesitantly, you get up from your seat and sit beside him. You loop your arms arounds his neck and haul him in a congenial hug. You couldn't resist it. You had to do something to let out how you feel.

Before Kuroo can even react, you let go. Your arms drape until it is only your hands that are touching his shoulders.

“That’s great to hear! You’re perfect for it.”

He’s once again immersed in the marvel your orbs hold. Your smile reaches your eyes, and what a vision it is. He witnesses it again, how you truly value his accomplishment. You’re an international model, but you never showed this much enthusiasm when you talked about your career. Compared to yours, his job seems mundane. Yet, you celebrate it like it’s a really wonderful thing.

Rather than saying anything, he pulls you back to his embrace, wanting to feel your body against him for the second time. You gasp at his action, but he doesn’t let go yet. Only now does he become aware that he missed you this fucking much.

“Glad to have you back, y.n.” No haughtiness, no games, only sincerity. He can feel your uneven breathing and your chest beating wildly. Suddenly, he’s conscious of how good you feel like this, how you seem so perfect enveloped in his own body, how you should belong to him.

He releases you and looks straight at you, your eyes mirroring the yearning on his own.

“Let’s take this somewhere private,” he says softly. You lower your eyes. But before you do, he catches the pained glimmer in them. You push him lightly away, effectively breaking the contact.

“I can’t,” you say sternly, which winds him up.

“Why? Are you dating someone?”

“No. I just,” you suspire before carrying on, “ don’t want to go back to what we were, Kuroo.”

“And what were we exactly, y.n.?”

That’s when you return your gaze at him, but no remains of the sad glints he saw previously. He waits for your answer to the question he’s been asking in his head before you left.

A dry smile forms in your lips.

“Fuck buddies is how they call it.”

So that’s all it was to you. Can’t say he’s surprised. Disappointed, but not surprised. He wished it was something more.

“But I think that we did become friends at some point, you know,” you add, which gives him a sliver of hope.

“And what are we now?” he presses on.

He sees weariness setting in your pretty face. As much as he wants to keep the conversation going, you look like you should be taking off already.

“You okay?” he asks.

You cover your mouth as you yawn, then proceed to rub your eyes, smearing your eye make up a bit. “Sorry, I just flew in this morning.”

“Let’s go then.” He calls the waiter and asks for the bill.

“I’ll drive you home. You still live there?” He asks, referring to your old place at Roppongi Hills.

“Yes, but I don’t have my car yet. I’ll just take a cab.”

He smirks at the misunderstanding. “What I meant is I’ll drive you home with my car.”

“Tch,” you say, but you smile softly. “To Roppongi Hills then,” you add.

He hands the bill to the waiter and doesn’t wait for his change. He gets up to which you follow. “This way, maam,” he says mockingly while leading you to his car.

He let you rest on the way. Your eyes were closed the whole time. You must be really worn out, so he just focused on driving. But the whole ride was only short. In no time, he’s already at the parking area of your place. He stares at you for a while, just taking in your presence, savoring the idea that you’re really back.

He leans in a bit to caress your cheeks. So soft and warm.

His eyes trail to your lips, which is not the best thing to do at the moment. It just fueled his hunger to claim that luscious mouth so he can taste you again. What he’d give to feel you melt in his arms again.

He lets out a harsh breath at where his thoughts are taking him. He wakes you up before he loses control.

You blink a few times and compose yourself rapidly. You unbuckle the seatbelt, but do not move after.

“I think it’d be cool if we stay like this. No sex. Friends without the benefits. Just friends.” Even though you aren’t looking at him, he knows how serious you are.

“Yea, yea. I kinda got that already. I’m not an idiot.”

“Really? I beg to differ most of the time.” The short nap seems to have gotten some of your sassiness back.

“Well this idiot just gave you a ride home. Be a little grateful?”

“Aww. Did I finally tick you off?” you taunt teasingly, to which he mischievous grins at.

“Of course not. If anything, I’d love to accompany you to your room since you’re too tired. As a friend and all that jazz.”

You smile sarcastically and roll your eyes. “Goodnight, Kuroo.” You open the door and hurriedly step out. He immediately opens the window and yells.

“Night, kitten!” which echoes at the parking lot.

You don’t look back, but you flash your middle finger as a response while you keep walking.

He’s bawling at his seat. You’re not a person who curses. Doing so cracked him up even more. The both of you still enjoy trying to get under each other’s skin. And he’s won tonight’s round. Jesus Christ, you’re really something. When was the last time he laughed like this?

Just friends? He snickers to himself. Fuck that shit.

–

Your encounter with Kuroo somehow put you at ease. You won’t deny that something is still there. You definitely felt it, but it wasn’t as chaotic and messy as it was before. You believe they’re just tailends of the past, and now that you made it clear to Kuroo that it’s not going to be the same as before, you can have some peace of mind. All the times you both said you’re just friends, now you can actually say that without pretense.

You like Kuroo. He’s cool and you two share the same humor. With the recent lack of communication and absence of sex, you’re sure that your feelings will completely go away very soon.

But aside from him, you also want to reconnect with another friend.

You press the doorbell on Kenma’s new home the second time. What is he doing? He said he was home. You get your phone to call him, but the door opens all of a sudden. Instead of Kenma, it’s the 6’2 counterpart of the duo.

“Why are you here?”

You two utter the same words the same time, which earns a raised eyebrow from you and a smirk from him.

If he’s here, then you’re at the right place. But why did he have to be here? You want to talk to Kenma alone. You don’t mind Kuroo, but there are things that only you and Kenma know about.

“I think I’m allowed to be at my friend’s house.” He said.

“You’re not his only friend, you know.”

Your peripheral sees something shuffle at a distance behind him. “Let her in, Kuroo.” You hear the familiar nonchalant voice. He looks at where the voice is coming from.

“Haa? I thought it was just us today.” Even though he says that, there’s a knowing tug in his lips.

“Huh? You’re the one who came here all of a sudden.”

Kenma’s annoyed voice reached your ears. You use your fist to cover your mouth from laughing, to which Kuroo pouts at.

“If you’d excuse me then.” You say teasingly while you let yourself in.

Kenma waves languidly at you with a warm smile, as warm as Kenma can possibly be. He still looks the same, except that his hair is longer now and the black roots are more prominent. He’s still wearing the regular baggy clothes, but something about his eyes seem keener.

“Heeey. How are you?” All the saltiness with Kuroo is gone, replaced by amiability exclusively for Kenma.

“All good. My channel and company are doing well recently so I moved out.”

You squint your eyes a bit. Did you hear him correctly? His channel and company?

“Sorry, I don’t quite get it. What do you mean?” He frowns, also looking confused as to why you’re confused.

“You didn’t know? He already founded his company before you left. He also has shit ton of viewers on his gaming channel. Pfft. You really call yourself a friend?”

You ignore Kuroo’s side comment. All you can think about is why you didn’t know the information he just said. You thought Kenma was just a regular student who comes over to play sometimes. Not only that, he’s nothing like the CEOs you’ve met. And he’s as young as you are!

The other night it was Kuroo, now it was Kenma’s turn to amaze you.

And just like with Kuroo, you don’t hesitate to give him the congratulatory hug as well. It’s so gratifying to know that these two you consider friends are successful in pursuing their passion.

Kuroo is a bit shocked at your gesture. He didn’t know that you two were that close for you to hug him like that. Still, he finds it nice that you and his childhood best friend get along swimmingly well. Kenma always had this aversion to people in general. He doesn’t speak much and usually won’t talk until spoken to. More specially, he’s not any good at physical affection.

So naturally, Kenma’s stunned as well. Kenma’s eyes fly to him for a few seconds, but looks down before he can figure out what Kenma was thinking. But he can imagine Kenma awkwardly pushing you away while looking uncomfortable. He already has a plan. He’ll mockingly offer you a consolation hug with open arms since Kenma will refuse to let you. He can’t wait to see you riled up.

Only to be taken by complete surprise when Kenma puts a light hand on your back while patting your head. For someone like Kenma, this is already more than just a friendly hug. What the? And to deliver the finishing blow, Kenma has this almost affectionate smile while doing those.

Goddammit.

Kuroo was feeling fuzzy earlier, but now he’s stumped and irritated at the scene taking place. Kenma never motherfucking ever hugged someone, let alone a girl. A smoking hot girl who, ironically, he’s pining after. Is something between you and Kenma that he doesn’t know about? You seem to share a deeper bond that he’s not aware of.

He’s counting the seconds in his head. When the hell are you two gonna stop this mushy touchy session?

He exhales when you finally broke off from the seemingly not ending contact.

“Wow! And I thought I was rich.” You say jokingly.

“You still are, y.n. By a lot more.”

You ignore Kenma’s last remark and let your eyes travel at his new home. Kuroo can tell what you’re thinking. He thought the same at first. It was big and homey, but a little too humble for his pay grade.

“When did you move?”

“Two days ago.”

“You should’ve told me. I could’ve hooked you up to other options.” Yep. You do share a similar opinion.

“Like Roppongi Hills?”

You look at Kenma inquisitively. “Hmm. Yeah! That’s actually where I live.”

“Kuroo told me the same thing. I wonder why.”

You and Kenma look at him simultaneously. “What? It was cool. You should see her unit. It screams ‘I’m hella loaded’.”

“Maybe I should. Can I drop by some time, y.n?”

Tsk tsk. Unfortunately for Kenma, you’re way too uptight about the privacy of your home. He practically had to force himself in. And he only stayed less than 10 minutes cause you were so uncomfortable and on the edge the whole time.

“Sure! Tell me when. I just finished unpacking my stuff.”

What.the.actual.fuck. Are you shitting him right now? With him, you were all ‘JuSt a PeeK oK?’ but with Kenma, you might as well throw a freakin tea party when he visits.

“Oy, y.n. Why is it okay with Kenma but you couldn’t wait to kick me out when I was there?”

“Uhh.. Ermm.” Your eyes drift around the room, obviously thinking of an excuse. It better be a good one because this is bullshit to him.

“I’m just kidding. I like this best. I don’t need the fancy stuff.” Kenma blurts out.

That made him snap out of it. He let out a deep breath to calm himself down. You laugh nervously but still avoid any eye contact. He turns to Kenma and finds a subtle grin on his friend’s face. It was nothing worth noticing, it only looks like a lazy smile, to a normal person that is. But he has known Kenma since childhood. That was far from a subtle grin. That was the grin of a plan being executed well.

He never told the guy what was going on between you two back then. And even before something beyond than sexual relations took place, you left, so he didn’t see the point in telling Kenma. But of course the former brain of Nekoma isn’t just for games. He has already been figured out even without saying anything.

And just now, he was being played at. Kenma was deliberately baiting him until he does something out of jealousy that could possibly advance his relationship with you. He’s almost touched at the idea, but it’s too twisted for his taste.

He moves to where Kenma is and heavily puts an arm around him.

“Ayt. Scrutinize his house all you want. We’re movin to his game room.” He drags Kenma before you could react. He strides longer to create some distance between them and you.

When you’re out of earshot, he speaks in a piped down voice.

“Since when did you know?”

“Even before you did.” They’ll have a discussion for that later, but he needs to get to his point before you catch up.

“You don’t have to do anything. I can handle this.”

Kenma gives him a disagreeing look. “This has been going on for too long. It’s getting painful to look at you two.” Since they no longer spend as much time together, he sometimes forgets that Kenma is frighteningly intuitive.

“Heh. Don’t worry about it.” He already made up his mind about it the other night. He’s just going to verbalize it for his friend to hear.

“She will be mine.”

–

Work has increased more than you’ve expected. Because of your international experience, you’ve been getting more and more offers. There were days that you’ve been in two to three shoots in a day. That didn’t happen when you were in the US. Yes, you like being busy, but it’s beginning to be too much.

It’d be weird to say that you crave for a work-life balance, since you don’t really have that much of a life. Whenever you’re free, you try to get together with Kenma and Kuroo, but Kenma’s almost never free these days. Because of it, you develop a certain appreciation for Kuroo because in contrast, he always takes up your invites. Though they’re nothing big, just casual dinner, casual chat, and then he’d drive you home. Still, it was some sort of break from work. Kuroo’s become your go-to breather when things get hectic.

At first, you’re a bit wary to spend too much time alone with him. He’s Kuroo Tetsurou, your scheming ex-fuck buddy. He might pull something similar to what he did in the coffee shop, so you’re always on guard. But so far, he’s been behaving. The conversations you usually share are work-related and the times you spent in American and him in Japan. That’s all. He barely even touches you, so you feel stupid for being so cautious.

K.O

The videogame prompt brought you back to the present. You realize you were only absent-mindedly pressing the buttons while your mind was floating ingame.

“Are you even trying, y.n.? You suck more than usual today.”

“Ha ha.” You laugh monotonously at Kuroo’s insult. You put down the controller and leaned back. You stare blankly at the ceiling. “Work’s turned me into a noob.”

You feel him shift his weight in the soft cushion, so you look at him. He puts an arm on the backrest of the couch and pulls in his left leg so he can face you. He’s wearing a loose black muscle tee that did its job perfectly. You see his toned biceps stretched out. You’ve almost forgotten how immaculate he looks underneath that suit he’s always wearing. The outline of his toned chest is also more prominent because of the thin fabric. What about his thighs? They must be as glorious as the last time you straddled him.

What are you doing? Were you seriously gawking at him just now? Your eyes almost dropped down to his lower half if you had not caught yourself. Did he notice? You pray to whoever’s in charge out there that he doesn’t. You won’t hear the end of it if he did.

You focus on his face instead, but it doesn’t help. Your mind can’t stop thinking how ridiculously sexy of a man he is. That’s saying something since you’ve worked with international male models.

God, the lack of sex for almost a year must be hitting you only now.

“That’s just an excuse.”

“What?!” You flip from your seat. Did you say that out loud unconsciously? You’re tired, but you won’t slip up like that.

Kuroo grins from ear to ear. How could he not notice? You didn’t even try to be discreet about it. He’s sure you were thinking of something sexual based on your agitated reaction. And also, it’s still engraved on his mind how you look when you’re horny. Although, it wasn’t explicit, you gave him that look. You want him.

Oh man, he’s tempted to do something about it. Very tempted. He’s willing to bet his car that if he made his move now, you’d actually let him. He just needs to get rid of the tiny space separating you two and he can touch you, feel your softness, trace the silkiness of your skin with his hands, and … ah no. He shouldn’t. He can’t lose control now. He’s been playing nice and keeping his hands to himself for a while, and he’ll keep doing so until you completely put down the walls you’ve held up against him. He can’t lose sight of his true goal, and that is for you to want him beyond sex. If he fucks you now, that might be jeopardized. No can do. He needs you to know that to him, you’re more than just a bed warmer, than just a friend.

Rather than teasing you for being so worked up, he comments on your disarrayed state.

“Work’s really whacked your brain, huh?”

You stay still for a few seconds, then groans harshly. You put your hands on your face and squeal, probably your way of releasing some pent-up stress.

“Yes! God, they just keep on coming. And I just want to relax you know. Like come on. Give me a break! I only have one body. And yes I get it that it’s up to me if I accept the job. But then it’d be a waste to refuse since I’m only starting to be known here. Can they at least not have the same schedule?”

He stares at you having your monologue and starts to feel bad for you. You never had this kind of episode even at your busiest days in university. You had good time management, but now you really are a wreck. No wonder you were carelessly eyeing him a while ago. You’re too drained to keep yourself in check. It was good to know though, that deep inside you still desire him, despite the no-sex barrier you established. Still, it troubles him to see you like this.

“Turn around,” he tells you.

“Um. Why?”

“Just do it. I’m doing you a favor, mkay?”

You glance at him doubtfully, like he’s planning to do something shady. This he laughs at.

“I’ll just give you a back massage. It’s the least I could do.”

Your eyes gleam at what he just said. “Wow. Who knew you were this thoughtful?”

“Shut up and turn around.” You comply.

“Hmm. You should take off your shirt.”

You fiercely look at him from the instruction he just gave, verifying that he is indeed going to do something suspicious. “Say what now?”

He replies with a haughty smirk, “I’ve seen you without anything, y.n. Seeing you in your bra doesn’t mean shit.”

You were about to flip. But he has a point. Also, the massage will feel better without your shirt. You sigh as you pull up the white shirt you were wearing. You slouch to cover your front. You do have your bra on and it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but still. You feel exposed.

‘This is a bad idea,’ you thought.

Kuroo thinks so too. Seeing your bare flesh like this makes him want to put into actions what he was just fantasizing earlier. He shouldn’t have suggested it.

To shake it off, he shook his hands in the air, literally, before placing a firm grip on your shoulders. You tense up at the contact, making your shoulders more stiff than they already are.

“Can you fucking relax?” he snaps. But he meant that to himself more than you. You still heed his direction anyway. When he feels you loosen up, he kneads the tautness in your muscles. Your eyes closed shut as he works on your shoulders for a bit.

“Mmmm,” you groan in relief.

He moves his hands on your arms, applying just the right amount of pressure to alleviate the tension in your body. You sat up straight when he found the rhythm and motion you liked. He tries to focus, but he constantly betrays himself. The plumpness of your chest is now for his viewing pleasure. That and your slightly parted lips and closed eyes aren’t helping the budding arousal in his shorts.

He accidentally squeezes harder which makes you throw your head back and,

“Ahhhhh”

At that moment, he can confidently attest that this is what hell is. Pure fucking torture.

He stops massaging your arms and pushes to make you slouch again. But he unknowingly does it a bit forcefully from the testosterone coursing in his body.

“Heey!”

“My bad,” he says coldly.

He continues on to your back, but does it more gently this time. He might hurt you if he’s not mindful of his strength.

From the absence of the sinful scenery, he thought he was finally safe from the lust about to rage in him. But you provided a different temptation this time. Your uneven breathing is loud enough for him to hear. Your tiny moans tainted the air, filling his head of images of you under him, writhing in a different kind of pleasure, one that will wrench out a louder, wilder moan.

“Harder, Kuroo”

His dick follows obediently. He feels his restraint ebbing away at every passing second. Damn it. He’s glad you’re enjoying this, but why the fuck does he need to suffer for it. Nuh uh. You need to have a taste of what he’s having as well.

He pulls you so your back is against him, your head resting on his chest. No complaints were heard from you. You probably thought he’s still massaging you. Well, he is, but with some extra service.

His hands move to your nape. He gives it gentle strokes with his thumb.

“That feels good,” you whisper.

“Does it now?” he answers with his voice a bit deeper than usual.

He replaces his thumbs with his middle fingers. Instead of rubbing, he slowly trails both fingers up to the back of your ears. Your reaction is immediate. You gasp as your body suddenly braces up. But he expected it. He knows those were your sensitive spots.

“Didn’t I say relax? I’m going to massage your head now.”

You abide quickly and lose the stiffness. You probably thought you just misunderstood the gesture.

He proceeds to rub your forehead with his fingers while his thumbs circles the back of your head. After a while, he caresses the sides of your face down to your neck. He does it like it’s part of the massage, until he’s delicately stroking you more than actually massaging. You remain still, but with every stroke, he feels your body getting warm. He also sees the goosebumps in your skin.

Oh yea. Precisely as he wanted.

He won’t do anything further than this, but he still has to add that cherry on top of his little seduction game.

His left hand stays on your neck while his right hand cards your hair through his fingertips. And exactly how he remembers you liking it, he fists his hand and tugs your hair.

“Hnnnnn” It was clear and crisp to him. That moan is the carnal kind that he’s been wanting to get out from your pretty mouth.

You should be yelling at him, telling him off, but you got so lost in it. Somewhere through it, you figured out that it was no longer a harmless massage. But it felt good. You couldn’t stop him. You reasoned with yourself that it was okay since technically, it’s still nothing. You aren’t even touching him, so you let yourself feel what small pleasure you could attain from it.

But the way he pulled your hair, it stirred up something in you that you’ve been suppressing arduously. And right now, at this moment, you’re willing to throw away your ‘just friends’ nonsense that you, yourself set up.

You’re about to face him when a loud thud catches both of your attention.

It’s Kenma who dropped his Switch on the floor while gawping at you and Kuroo. It clicks in your head how you two looked. You, on your bra, pressed against him with his hand on your hair.

Instantaneously, you move away from him and take your shirt to cover yourself with it. Your short-circuiting brain overlooks the fact that you should put it on rather than shielding yourself with it.

A blushing Kenma picks up his console from the floor.

“You shouldn’t have invited me if you had other plans” grumbling while heading for the door.

Part 5 | Part 7 | m.list

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #kuroo #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo smut #kuroo tetsurō #kuroo x y/n #kuroo x you #kuroo x reader #kuroo fanfiction #kuroo fanfic

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thessaliah · 4 years

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The reunion with someone you love, thanking someone who was unrewarded, saving of the pitiful who cry for help: universal themes in events and their connection to Roman and Olga

Benienma's charming New Year event ended and there were lots of good moments. Specially for Fionn fans who finally got their favorite to take the spotlight. Fionn is in Ireland, the equivalent of King Arthur, just like Cu Chulainn is the equivalent of Herakles, so the way FGO has handled him was horrible so far but he came around in this event and got impressive feats on his own. But I won't talk about Fionn, others have done before this. When this event dropped years ago, I and a lot of japanese players felt certain uncanny emotional parallel with Beni's old man and Mash's situation with Roman. A man who never knew happiness for themselves and always thought about the happiness of others, cloaking themselves in big lies, misunderstood alive but grieved in death. Who still died smiling because others were saved and happy, yet still they want to thank them and set things right, even if it's an impossible wish.

Mash is the one who speaks up, while she doesn’t overtly voice her parallel, we know it exists.

If I am to only fulfill my role between larger gears, There isn’t much to worry over, If “only” is good enough.

I’d like to try living, in the time I was granted. I don’t fight to suffer, Just like you said. Please, let the gentle rain fall upon me, upon our will. When I depart, I’d like for you to quietly see me off.

When I was done crying, I could no longer hear your voice. That’s how you urge me on, I see, telling me that there’s no road back.

I was born into this world to live. There is no other definite reason. I don’t need a mission or a meaning. I will live! I don’t want to Let my memories with you end in sorrow. Just like you said, The conclusion can be repainted, always.

Cut for length.

This is the song for her mental and emotional state after what she lost at the end of part 1 (Roman). It’s called Blank Space, it shows that, like Benienma, she’s continued her duty for the chance to see Roman again. This post isn’t about Roman, but also about Olga, since the prologue of Part 2 there are two heavy losses that weight Mash’s heart (also the player but Mash’s more vocal about it): first is her guilt of being unable to save Olgamarie (which was discussed and was the reason they went to save Goredolf) and the other is her sorrow with the separation with Roman whom she didn’t even properly thank for everything he did for her (was hinted how she is comforted by his room in Missions before being tore apart from it in the prologue where she had a breakdown and refused to leave). Events in FGO sometimes don’t exist in isolation, they connect to major plot arcs: Ooku continues CCC and is about the major plot of the Beasts, for example, Oniland and Christmas 2020 with Karna supply dragon lore which surely will be important in Britain Lostbelt or when Arthur confronts the Beast of Revelations. Plenty of events to build the Greek Pantheon and characters. As such, there are these small emotional catharses of events that are sometimes connected to the main characters (Mash and Guda) own desires and wishes. The desire of Guda meeting the one(s) he loved and lost again is ever-present, even in interludes:

(Abigail interlude)

The person singled out for this is always Roman. Aphrodite's song illusion in Guda's heart led toward Roman and is a mere possibility he was around (even without a blank without body, even without understanding what he's saying) what broke in Guda's defenses. It was always when they gave in about the doctor when the loop was allowed to continue. It was also the source of strength to break out of this. Because Guda can't face Roman unless they are proud of their answer and path, in death or life, they can't thematically meet again (exceptional events aside) until Guda is satisfied with their actions. Events sometimes feature this Roman-loss theme, or rather about being reunited with someone you separate from and lost what is the conclusion of one's journey: Sitonai reunites with that Berserker in Oniland, Beni with the old man, and there's that movie singularity that was all about a man who was misunderstood and made a villain by people who after his death realised their mistake and understood he loved his foster daughter's future and would protect it with his life. Mash was personally touched by that script (so was Roman, who was included by Nasu changing the original novel that was going to be published, to help the cast reshoot the movie for Mash's sake) and wanted to ensure to preserve it, the end of the movie is the daughter living well while the father is watching over, apparently alive, but with a different appearance who one day might meet his daughter again.

The other point of emotional struggle is to help or save those who pitifully want to be saved. While the reunion is nearly always involving a man (sometimes a father figure or someone who was a guardian), the saving part is almost always about a girl, usually, a girl who is doing evil actions and needs to be put down for the sake of others but Guda and Mash (if she’s around) refuse. Imaginary Scramble features two of them: "Gogh" (Clytie) and Yang Guifei. The Olga factor goes tacit in all but the male exception, Goredolf was a man, but the Olga connection was brought up explicitly in his case. This plot-line might have started with Ereshkigal Christmas event and Salem (on that note, Abigail's search and longing for her dead friend also connect and echos with Guda's losses). This started after part 1, because during Observer, those who were twisted or darkened or made villains were disposed of instead of saved (Ushiwakamaru in Babylonia for example, or all the Servants affected by madness in Orleans). Because it was not important during part 1, but it is for part 2.

(in a nonsubtle way).

IMO, the Greek Lostbelt was also a climax to voice what Mash’s (and Guda’s) wants. Mash finally breaks out and says she wants to meet Roman again and thank him for everything after the Person of Chaldea appears. They aren't speculating about his identity or his warnings, rather they are emotional about how he can't be the Doctor because his eyes are different and wish to meet him again in an emotional My Room scene. Olympus was for Olga, after U Olgamarie appears and they are left confused by her actions, that is Olga but she's their enemy, a Beast, but still they want to help her. Because that's always been one of their biggest regrets. Greek Lostbelt kicks the course of their personal emotional catharsis arc: Olga is there, but she's an enemy; an ally who resembles Roman appears but he's not their doctor. Man of Chaldea and U-Olga have the same function: to be different kinds of emotional hurdles Mash and Guda face, aside from their role in the plot (obviously they are more important than just angsty plot devices). So it begins their personal goal: meet Roman again, save Olga. Atlantis and Olympus also have a little of both. Olympus with that dream which had an emphasis Guda's feelings toward Roman, among all their losses, while Atlantis with the subplot of Corday and the nanomachines (which the priestess witnessed).

To wrap up, this is merely tangential, but this scene was translated at last, so I might give context to those who don't know it:

This weaver is "Miss Crane", who appears in Waltz in the Moonlight Lostroom, a special game released on anniversary with the plot by Nasu. Just to show how tied is Roman's story and Benienma's event narrative. The doctor created the Moonlight Room, that became a harmless singularity that exists linking past and future, similar to the Inn. Crane manages it by his request and one of Crane's goal is to reward him, even with the little she could do for him. Roman gets the broadcast of the Ball Crane arranged for him in the game’s ending. This foreshadowing that leads back to Roman was included in the same chapter Beni tells us her backstory and her wish to thank and meet that man again. And she did, in the very end, as a personal reward for her efforts, and his.

(Fate/Grand Order is a story of many meetings and departures, and meetings again).

Note that because I interpret that Mash’s and Guda’s emotional catharsis arc require: needing to help Olga (to exercise their regrets), and meeting Roman in the end (as reward), it doesn’t mean that Olga or Roman will be alive or playable in the end. Olga could sacrifice herself as Corday or Ophelia did after being saved (her choice is going to be important, because it seems build up for her to finally make a stand she wants), Roman can be met in a death-state or in the Lostroom/Moonlight room as connection of past and future. It’s just that those things needed to happen for the emotional closure and they have had a built up before the Greek Lostbelt.

#fate grand order #meta #olgamarie animusphere #romani archaman #lostbelt spoilers

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embyrinitalics · 4 years

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Calamiversary: Link’s POV II

Here’s some more scenes from Link’s POV—about 2.4k worth! (I rly hope this makes up a little bit for the fact that I haven’t updated in two months omg)

But you know how I said that reading through my old stuff makes me cringe? Yeah this is like, way worse. It’s all unedited, and I wrote these in December 2018, so it’s all old. It’s all embarrassing. 😬 But with that disclaimer, I’m going to put my personal feelings aside and let you guys read it if you want 😂

Also now that I’m looking at this I feel like they’re not in chronological order, like that scene with Revali stabbing him should have come after these ones with Mipha, but o h w e l l

Here u go!

Drowning

At first, all that registers is the pain, white and hot across my throat, and the numb realization that I’m going to die.

Of course, it’s not that simple for me.

The half of me that I’m always suppressing senses my weakness, slamming frantically against my defenses in the span of a heartbeat. I have to choose between saving myself and containing it. So I pour everything I am into holding him in, dragging him down with me in a white-knuckled grip. But he fights back.

The pain is agony, a thousand heated needles covering my entire body and then being driven down to the bone in nauseating synchrony. He thrashes in my hold, tendrils of his hate whipping out in places, and my vision blotches white. I feel the deathstroke across my throat heal; the earth quaking beneath my feet; the malice seeping out of me like blood oozing out of a wound.

I can hear myself screaming beyond the war, part agony and part fury. Part man and part beast. It’s slowly tearing me in two, ripping ligaments and shredding flesh as it claws deliriously towards escape. I grapple with him, desperately trying to hold on even as he starts pulling my limbs apart. But I know it’s only a matter of time.

Then I see her. Her light cuts through the pain, through the fear and the hate, brilliant and pure as the sun. I can’t speak; I can only stare, imploring her with my eyes to end me quickly.

She takes my face in her hands and I suck a sudden breath. Her glowing touch is warm and soft, comforting, and not the violent end I had been expecting—the touch of a goddess, and for a moment I can breathe.

Then her light engulfs everything—the woods, my body, and soon my mind. The relief from the pain and the peace of it is so indescribably jarring that I don’t resist, falling headlong into it.

And then I’m drowning. Drowning in the sensation of her between my hands, of the softness of her lips under mine, of the closeness of her. Drowning in sensations that are brand new and millennia old at once. I’m drowning, burning from the inside out, and even though it aches I don’t want it to end.

I remember myself, haltingly, and muster the will to let her go. I drop my forehead against hers, grappling with how much I want her—and with how far I’ve let myself fall. There’s no amount of leniency on her part that could possibly excuse this. But I’m not concerned with the consequences for myself; only with how my lack of self-control must have affected her.

“Forgive me,” I breathe. “That was—”

But she silences me, her soft, delicate fingers brushing my mouth with a feather-light touch that sends another pang of want rippling through my middle. Her eyes pierce into me, unendingly blue and so powerful I can’t help but wonder if it’s her magic. Then she exhales, drifting closer, her eyes falling heavy-lidded to my mouth just before they close completely. And the feeling of her lips meeting mine, electric, breathless, so warm, sends me diving under the surge of sensation again.

I draw her close, losing myself in her. There’s nothing even close to this—her touch, her taste, the sound she makes when I angle her head to deepen the kiss.

And I don’t know why I’ve denied myself for so long. I’ve always wanted her. And now that I’ve tasted this, tasted her—even all the armies in Hyrule couldn’t keep me from her now.

I smile against her mouth. Slaughtering them would be easy.

Through the intoxicated cloud swirling in my brain, the thought snags unpleasantly, like a potent flicker of light in a comfortable darkness. It’s enough to slow me down, enough to make me think.

Enough to make me realize this can’t possibly be real.

I stop, pulling away slowly to search her eyes. So familiar. So beautiful it makes my heart ache.

But she’s been dead for 10,000 years.

I want to ignore it, dive headlong into the illusion of her. But I can’t unsee it. I murmur, breaking the spell, “This isn’t real.”

She blinks, and suddenly she’s different. Still familiar. Still beautiful. Still alive. And then the pieces are snapping into place, and the woman in my hands isn’t the one I loved so many millennia ago. It’s the Zelda of this era, the one who only knows me as I am—as the Calamity. And we’re reliving one of her memories—one of my memories—

And it’s agony. All at once the peace is gone, the gentle, tremulous bit of happiness the memory had lent me and I had been nursing in my heart like a single spark in an endless night, and the hatred is flooding in. The anger. Everything the illusion had been strong enough to veil.

And I remember what I am. I feel the evil pouring through my veins like a poison. I feel it making my heart pound stronger. I feel it coloring my vision and filling me with desires I must never obey.

And it’s agony.

I’m quaking on the inside, partly from fury and partly from shock. And then I erupt.

“What are you doing here?”

She looks as lost as I feel, green eyes glittering with shock and fright. “I—I don’t know—”

“Is this some kind of a joke to you? You think that just because you have her memories that they’re yours to do with as you please?”

“No! I didn’t mean to do this—”

Oh, I want to break her. I want to hold her down and force her to taste some of the pain I have. I want to hear her scream. But I push her away instead, unwilling to give the monster the edge.

“Well undo it!”

She stumbles into the mantel, turning back with that pretty face covered in tears. And the satisfaction and the guilt churning together in my stomach makes me feel sick.

“I don’t know how!” she tries to reason. “It was an accident!”

I turn away and try to breathe. That glimmer of humanity, after 10,000 years without—and then to have it just wrested away—

“This how you operate when you don’t get your way, then?” I bite out before I can rein it in. “Prick the Calamity, see if he bleeds?”

“I told you it was an accident,” she says again, more quietly.

She sounds so miserable. A very small part of me wants to comfort her. But I’m so furious I can hardly see straight. Forcing me to relive this moment—with her—

What was she thinking? What in the name of the gods made her think she had the right? Hadn’t I been through enough? Hadn’t I endured enough torture over the last eon? Did she really have to reach down into my most private, most intimate moments and drag them into the daylight, too? The last, precious fragments of who I was, that I hold onto so fiercely, lest I lose myself completely—

Why?

“Magic doesn’t just materialize out of nothing,” I growl, closing the distance again, propelled by a fresh wave of anger. “What did you want to know? If it would hurt me to relive this? If I could even tell the difference between you?”

She winces like my words had been a slap. “No!”

“Then what?” I grab ahold of her, desperate for this to be over. Desperate to just—just feel nothing. “Do you want me to admit that you remind me of her? That I’m in agony every time I look at you? Is that it?”

“I don’t want anything! Let me go!”

“Would it please you to know that I am?” I murmur, my voice dangerously quiet, and she goes still. “Every time.”

And now, I realize numbly, it will be worse.

Because now she doesn’t just remind me of what I had with my Zelda.

Now I’ve tasted her, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to again.

Frightening

“I’m sorry about what happened with the Champions,” she says quietly, catching me off guard. “I imagine it was… frightening, losing control like that.”

Yes. Yes, it was. I don’t think I’ve ever been so afraid of anything in my life as I was in that moment, so close to rupturing, so close to tearing her apart with a thought, so close to losing myself completely and destroying everything I love in the aftermath. I want so badly to tell her, to unburden myself. I know she’s hoping I will. And that just… makes the temptation worse. She’s staring through me with unseeing eyes, full of the desire to understand, to heal even a little bit of the damage. I want to pull her closer, taste her again, thread my fingers in her hair and indulge in the warmth of her. I want to lose myself in her touch, in her lips, lose myself to her instead of to the monster working to claw its way out of me. I want to—

Gods!

“You were right,” I manage, finally. “They weren’t to know.”

“How have you been since?” she asks. So eager. So earnest. So gentle. It’s infuriating. “Any lingering effects? Urges to explode?”

“I always feel the urge to explode,” I scoff, grateful for the levity. “But no. The seal is as strong as it ever was.”

The Zora Princess

We stop to rest and I quietly remove myself. So I can breathe. So they can breathe.

The air tastes clearer once I put some distance between us, like grass and wind and the malice in my mouth instead of the honeyed flavor of their adrenaline. The pressure in the back of my mind eases somewhat without the constant temptation, but the hollow gnaw of the hunger is just as strong as it ever was. I lower myself into the prairie grass, beating back a groan.

The Gerudo and that bird creature are arguing about something. It makes Zelda laugh.

That’s good.

Then the wind shifts and the air tastes of sugar and salt, and I turn towards it slowly. It’s the Zora girl. She’s so short the grass is up to her knees, and her trident has become more of a walking stick than a weapon. She’s so quiet it’s easy to forget she’s there—but she’s one of the Champions, and royalty, if the headdress is any indication. I’m sure she’s stronger than she looks. The fact that she’s confronting me on her own is evidence enough.

I tilt my head at her as she draws close, feeling after that gentle spike in her heart rate as I fix her in my stare. It makes my spine burn.

“Princess,” I greet her quietly. “To what do I owe this honor?”

She leans on her staff, remarkably calm, and I can feel the tendrils of power wafting off her.

“You’re in a great deal of pain,” she says.

My lips move towards a frown as I draw the inevitable conclusion. Just my luck. “You’re a healer.”

“Yes.”

And her magic is a peculiar brand. Very strong, almost magnetized in the way it drifts towards injury. It’s what brought her to me. I wouldn’t be surprised if she could bring someone back from the brink of death.

I contemplate her usefulness for a moment; but I need to go much further than the brink, and that’s well beyond even her abilities.

Dreamcraft

I carry her up to the campsite, lay her near the fire and rouse it a bit so she isn’t freezing, and then grudgingly lift the sleepweb from the Zora girl. Her eyes open and then drift upwards, like she’s watching the spell float away.

Her eyes settle on me, finally, all golden and rippling, and she says, “You seem better.”

She’s a strange one. No demanding what I’d done, or where I’d gone, or what had happened. But she’s also sharp. Sharp enough that her bold-faced concern makes me feel manipulated. But she’s not wrong. I had been caught up in feeling terrified to notice, but the hunger had faded into background noise. Throbbing, like something swollen. I frown, trying to puzzle out how that had happened.

I finally admit, because it’s too easy to admit things when I’m with her, “We shared a dream.”

“And that helps?”

I can’t be sure if it’s the emotional implosion that follows one of her illusions merely drowning the hunger out, or an actual, measurable, residual effect of her dreamcraft. Either way, it’s worth studying. Which is horrifying.

“Maybe.”

We sit by the fire in silence for a while. That’s easy, too. Almost like we had been friends once, in another life. I’m watching the flames, and she’s watching Zelda, and then so am I.

“Could you enter her dreams now? While she sleeps?”

The idea of sauntering into her mind uninvited worms unpleasantly in whatever scrap of my conscience is left, vaguely reminiscent of guilt. But she’s plowed headlong into mine more than once, so it seems only fair. For some reason that reasoning doesn’t make the worming stop. I still haven’t answered, and her eyes glide to the side of my head. I call up the fire more, loosing a taut, tired sigh at her persistence.

“Possibly.”

It’s noncommittal and non-revealing, which I assume will grind her advance to a halt. But she slips around it like water in that infuriating way she does.

“You should try it sometime,” she says.

I tilt my head at her. “You don’t find the idea of trespassing on her mind morally objectionable?”

She shrugs. “Not as objectionable as you tearing a swathe of Hyrule up by the roots.”

And that’s logic I can hardly argue with. Her eyes say she knows. And suddenly I find the image of her pretty crimson skull smashed against the stone and its contents spattered everywhere very appealing.

“You need her,” she adds, too simply, too condemningly, and I have to swallow down fury and terror.

Because she’s right.

The night drags and drags and drags, dread and disgust whipping me into a tumble of disquiet and every quiet tremble of fear or pleasure from her tempting me into her head.

#Legend of Zelda #Zelink #Fanfic #Calamiversary #Calamitous #Link's POV #Calamity!Link #snippet

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