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toosicktoocare · 4 years

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emergency contact

pt 1 of 2 and also found on ao3!

(i promise i’m not ignoring my prompts- this idea just kinda popped into my head)

“Hi, may I speak with Mr. Evan Buckley?”

Frowning, Buck pulls the phone away from his ear. He doesn’t know the number; however, the area code is local, so he can probably rule out a scam call. At least, he thinks, the woman on the other line sounds very much real and not a robotic recording about to lead in with a cruise ship he didn’t sign up for.

“Uh, yeah. This is Buck—I mean Evan. This is Evan Buckley.” He clears his throat. He can hear a lot of background noise—a lot of muffled speaking, intercoms crackling. He’s heard it before, but he’s struggling to equate the noise to a particular memory, only having a small rock of dread burrowing low in his stomach to go by.

“Hi, Mr. Buckley. I’m Nurse Johns at LA General. I have you listed as the second emergency contact for Christopher Diaz.”

Buck’s stomach bottoms out, leaving him nauseous, weightless, and far too cold despite the LA sun beating in through his window and warming his bed. He shivers and forces himself upright in bed, muscles rigid, jaw a tense, jutted line.

“His father,” Buck starts into the phone, shaky, “Eddie—Edmundo Diaz—”

“—didn’t answer. You’re next on the list. Sir, if this is incorrect, I’ll need to move on to the next person—”

“—no!” Buck jerks to his feet, nudging abandoned clothes around with his foot until he finds a pair of gym shorts. “I’m… His father’s on a shift with the LAFD. Is Chris okay? What’s going on?” Composure, he thinks, is out the window. Then again, he’s never been capable of the whole ‘cool, calm, and collected’ thing when it comes to Chris. He snags the same shirt he tossed to the floor when he climbed into bed this morning after his 24-hour, a short-sleeved, blue shirt, and slips it over of his head, careful of his phone.

“Sir, I can’t disclose that over the phone.”

“Right,” Buck mutters, nodding more to himself. “I’m on my way now. Tell Chris—tell him Bucky’s on the way, okay?” He ends the call, taking the steps down from his loft two at a time. He’s only faintly aware that he’s shaking, and the rock of dread’s grown triple in size and sits heavily against his gut. He fumbles with his keys, pockets his wallet, and just remembers to slip on a pair of sandals. If he weren’t moving against a rush of fear, he’d take the time to give a mental ‘look who’s laughing now’ to everyone who’s made fun of the sandals in the last two months since he purchased them, but, the fear is a cold hand that’s pulling on him, disrupting his thoughts, chiseling against his composure.

He doesn’t dwell. He races out of his apartment, and in seconds, he’s in his jeep and whipping out of his parking spot. He knows LA well, knows the traffic patterns, and he’s unfortunately hitting lunch rush, which, he thinks, is probably similar to some twisted second layer of hell. He wishes, more than anything in this second, that he had an engine, that he could dominate the road with the power of a siren, but his jeep will have to suffice. Still, his grip on his steering wheel is tight, his knuckles fading white, when he hits the first of many red lights.

He uses hands-free to call Eddie, not surprised to get his voicemail after only two rings.

“Eddie! Chris is in the hospital—They didn’t give me any details, and I’m on my way now. They called you first. I’m next on the list?” Buck pauses briefly on that, gets lost in that fact, but then he shakes his head. “Look, he’s at LA General—just get there when you can, okay?”

He ends the calls, somehow feeling even worse, and then he tries Bobby. Logically, he knows that if Eddie’s not answering, Bobby probably won’t either. Still, when he’s teetering on the edge of panic, Bobby can talk him down, can ease him safely back to the present.

“Buck?”

Buck’s foot slips a little too hard on the gas, and he sucks in a sharp breath. “Bobby? Bobby! Where’s Eddie?”

“Currently? He’s probably making his way back to a second story window, hopefully with one of the victims of an expansive house fire.” A pause. “What’s going on, Buck?”

Buck peers around, swallows back a groan at the cars on every side of him. “Look, can you get Eddie to LA General ASAP?”

“You’re at LA General? Are you hurt?”

“No! I mean, I will be, but it’s not me—it’s Christopher. Bobby, I don’t…” Buck sighs, drags a free hand down his face. He can feel his lungs constricting. The pressure of panic’s a bitch.

“They didn’t say anything over the phone. They tried Eddie first, and then they called me. I’m—”

“—Buck, take a breath. I’ll get Eddie there as soon as possible. You be careful driving there, okay? Keep us updated.”

Buck comes back down to earth with a low breath that’s been trapped in his lungs. “Thanks, Bobby,” he says, and he means it, pushing his gratitude hard into the two words. The call ends, and Buck forces his focus onto the road, onto making it to the hospital in one piece because Christopher needs him.

***

Concussion.

It’s the only word Buck keeps coming back to. He’s being led down hallways that are too bright, too loud, and annoyingly familiar, and the nurse is explaining that Christopher took a tumble at school and is currently being monitored for a possible concussion. Buck nods when appropriate, offers a few non-verbal affirmatives, and then he’s stopping before two large, glass windows, and behind them, Chris is sitting in bed chatting with another nurse. His hand finds the glass, fingers spread out, anxiety spread even to his palms.

“You’re welcome to go in. We’ve told him you’re coming.”

Buck nods absently. He’s going to go in—of course, he’s going to go in. He just needs to take a single second to fully capture the image of Christopher alive and breathing in his mind, an image that can break through the muddle, clear his head, bring breath back to his lungs.

“Mr. Buckley?”

“Sorry,” Buck mutters, nodding. He turns when the nurse opens the door for him, and he wills away any and all fear etched deep in his face the second he crosses over into the room.

“Bucky!”

“Chris!” Buck’s no stranger to concussions, so though animated, he keeps his voice soft, and he walks toward the end of the bed, glancing at the clipboard. “How’re you feeling, bud?” He asks, satisfied to see that the doctor’s notes are promising.

“My head hurts.”

“I bet it does,” Buck mutters, sympathetic, and he drops onto the edge of the bed, one hand resting atop Christopher’s covered knee. “What happened?”

“Me and Caleb were playing firefighter, and I fell down a step.”

Buck sucks in a sharp breath, holds it in his lungs to brace for the familiar wave of guilt that’s soon to tangle in his breath, jab past his rib cage to his lungs. “Is that so?” He settles for, breathless, and Christopher’s face falls, his eyes dropping to his lap.

“Don’t tell dad. He’ll get mad.”

“Chris—”

“—Mr. Buckley, I presume?”

Buck’s never been more thankful for a doctor to walk in for he wasn’t sure how to unpackage Christopher’s quiet plea in a way that wouldn’t be considered as overstepping Eddie’s parental authority but also in a way that wouldn’t have Christopher demanding he leave.

“Uh, yeah—It’s Buck.”

“Okay, Buck. Want the good news?”

“Will it be followed by bad news?” Buck asks, one brow arched, stomach twisting. “Because his father—”

“—no bad news today,” the doctor interrupts, and Buck huffs out a quiet sigh of relief and gives Christopher’s knee a squeeze. He gives a nod, and the doctor plucks the clipboard up.

“Christopher’s been cleared of a concussion. He’s got a few scrapes and bruises, and his head will probably hurt for a few more hours, but otherwise, he’s fine. I’ll leave a note at the front desk to begin the discharge papers. He should be out within the hour.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Buck mutters, and he nods when the doctor and nurses exit, giving him space to breathe; though, he’s not sure how much he can actually breath encompassed in four, blinding walls that bring back a pressing dark cloud of memories.

“Buck?”

Buck blinks slowly, peels his gaze from the door to see Christopher smiling softly at him, poking at his side.

“Can you lay with me?”

Buck eyes the small bed, mentally works round the best way to squeeze in, to maximize Christopher’s comfort, and he slips his sandals off and climbs onto the bed, impossibly gentle when he adjusts Chris. When he’s got Christopher against his chest, he sighs, and Christopher sighs with him, content, safe.

***

“That’s the last of them, Cap,” Eddie coughs lightly, tugs his helmet off. His lungs burn faintly from smoke inhalation. It’s not bad by any means, but he’s dabbling with the idea of having Hen look him over anyway.

“Should I help with fire…” Eddie’s words trail off when the 122 pulls up onto the scene, their members already hopping out of the engine and working the hose. “Was backup necessary?” He glances back over his shoulder. Sure, the fire’s large, but he doesn’t think it’s classified as a level high enough to warrant local support.

“Are you okay?”

Eddie whips back around, squints at Bobby. “Yeah, why?”

“Let me clarify: are you okay to leave the scene right this second, or do you need to a look-over now?”

Eddie’s still struggling to read Bobby’s tone for it’s always frighteningly composed, even in the face of emergency. “I’m okay now.” He nods slowly, and then Bobby’s turning on his heel and wordlessly gesturing him toward the engine.

He slips into the back, pausing to see Bobby sitting in the back with him, stationed across from him.

“Cap, what—”

“—have a seat.”

Eddie sits slowly, slips his headphones on, and then the engine’s roaring to life beneath him and pulling away from the scene. He’s alone with Bobby because Hen and Chimney left earlier with a patient, and he can’t shake the feeling that he’s in trouble for something. He replays his actions at the house fire, yet he can’t find an error that would warrant a private conversation with Bobby.

“Buck called,” Bobby finally says, and Eddie drags his gaze from the cars moving onto the road shoulders, now finally tuning in to the fact that the sirens are wailing overhead still, the engine demanding the street with the shrill sounds and flashing lights. The sirens shouldn’t be on unless…

“Is he okay?”

“Buck’s fine. The hospital called him because Christopher was brought in. They tried you, and he was next on the emergency contact list.”

There’s dread, Eddie thinks. Dread when he rides up to a call and gathers the first, initial assessment of the situation. And then there’s bone-deep, crippling fear—fear that twists in his gut, pools into his lungs, walls around his heart. It drains the blood from his face, freezes his muscles, steals his breath, and buries his mind in a series of what if scenarios that range from grim to downright terrifying.

“Eddie, breathe.”

He does, but only because his mind is trained to respond on command to Bobby’s voice. The breath he sucks in his short and cold, and he finally reaches in his pocket for his phone. He’s got four missed calls, three voicemails, and a series of texts from Buck, all fairly close in time to the other.

He goes through the texts—he won’t be able to hear the voicemails right now, and he really doesn’t think he’ll be able to stomach Buck’s panicked, broken voice.

[From: Buck] Chris is okay. He fell at school and hit his head

[From: Buck] no concussion. Doc said he can be discharged within the hour

[From: Buck] I’ve checked him over. There’s a bruise on his side I want to keep an eye on but otherwise he’s okay

[From: Buck] we should talk about why he fell

[From: Buck] but not until later! Sorry that last text sounded weird…

[From: Buck] discharge in 20 minutes. I’ll bring him back to yours if you aren’t able to come yet. I still have the spare key you gave me

He’s blinks around the tears pooling in his eyes, swallows thickly. “Buck said he’s okay. He fell at school.” He’s aware his voice is shaking, and then Bobby claps him on the knee.

“That’s a good thing.”

It is, Eddie thinks, swiping the back of his hand over his eyes. He works on his breathing, controlling it, counting breaths, but when they pull up to the hospital, the fear comes back, muted now, but still there, always there.

He hops out of the engine, Bobby not far behind, and in just seconds, a nurse is guiding them back. When he reaches the door and looks beyond the glass to see Christopher curled up against Buck’s chest, he breathes, deeply and fully, for the first time since he pulled himself up into the engine. Relief, he thinks, is the singular image of the two most important people in his life safe and together.

***

“Christopher!”

Buck whips his gaze from his phone where he’s got a story pulled up to read to Christopher, and he slowly turns Chris over just as Eddie rounds the bed and pulls Chris to his chest tightly. He notes, to himself, that Eddie’s in full turnout gear, that he’s got soot smudges on his face, that his jaw is a set, unwavering line jutting against his skin.

“Daddy!”

“¿Estás bien, hijo?”

“Sí.”

Buck wordlessly slips from the bed, toes his feet into his sandals. He crosses his arms and backs away from the scene, feeling all too overwhelmed, suddenly suffocated despite the brush of relief before him, and then Eddie’s looking toward him, frowning, eyes unreadable, and Buck offers a small smile.

“The discharge papers,” he motions toward a stack of papers on the end of the hospital bed. “I’ll bring my jeep around.”

“Wait, Buck—”

Buck slips out of the room, eyes cast to the ground, and he bumps right into someone, his hand coming up to fist around the turnout jacket and his head dropping against a shoulder.

“You okay, Buck?”

There are so many ways Buck wants to say no, but the one that’s most alarming, one that’s been a nagging twinge in his lungs, is the one he opts for. “I don’t think I can breathe.” His voice is breathless, and then Bobby’s guiding him with a hand to his back toward the nearest exit. The second he bursts through the double doors, he sucks in a sharp gasp that breaks way to a few coughs, and he’s being gently eased onto the edge of the sidewalk.

“Easy, Buck. Breathe with me, okay?”

Buck meets Bobby’s eyes, nods, and drags his gaze down to Bobby’s chest, watching the steady rise and fall, mimicking it, until the fog clouding his brain breaks, leaving him far too tired. His shoulders slump, and Bobby claps a hand to his shoulder.

“What’s going on?”

“I didn’t know…” Buck sighs, dropping his face into his palms. He can hear his therapist’s voice reminding him that he’ll feel better if he’s more open with others. “I’m really overwhelmed right now.” He can feel Bobby’s hand tighten around his shoulder, a wordless sign to continue. “Just… Getting that call that Chris is in the hospital really freaked me out. I know he’s fine, but just… He’s the last person I ever want to see in a hospital bed.”

“Now you know how I feel every time I get a call that you’re in the hospital.”

“Bobby,” Buck groans, lifting his head to match Bobby’s smile.

“You look tired—I don’t imagine you got much sleep before the call?”

“A few hours,” Buck admits, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Not sure I’ll get back to sleep anytime soon. I’m exhausted, but it’s definitely going to take some time for the adrenaline to die down.”

“Do you need me to take Eddie and Chris back?”

“Nah,” Buck drags himself up to his feet, yawning. “I’m going to need to physically see Christopher safe in bed before I can even think about unwinding.” He can see one of the engines not far off in the parking lot, and he laughs quietly. “Though, I bet Chris would love to be back in the truck.” He frowns at Bobby’s turnover gear. “Did you leave right after a call?”

“I requested the 122 to come in for backup.”

Nodding absently, Buck looks back toward the doors they came from, and he crosses his arms, fingers digging into the skin. He knows that he’s taken all necessary steps when faced with an abrupt situation, yet he can’t shake the underlining burn in his stomach that he overstepped, that he didn’t get here fast enough, that he should have added a step, or even removed one, when getting here.

“You did good today, Buck.”

His shoulders slump, tension falling with them, and he huffs out a low sigh.

“Thanks, Bobby.”

***

“You keep looking at him like he’s going to disappear.”

Buck jumps; he didn’t hear the shower cut off, nor did he hear Eddie slip into Christopher’s room behind him.

“I keep thinking he might,” Buck whispers, and Eddie tugs at his arm, urging him up from the chair he’s got pulled up to Christopher’s bed. He lets Eddie guide him from the room, but when Eddie tries to ease him onto the couch, he digs his heels into the floor, and Eddie turns to him, brows furrowed.

“Buck—”

“—when were you planning on telling me I’m second on Christopher’s list of emergency contacts?”

Buck doesn’t miss the deep, calculated sigh Eddie breathes, and he opts to remain standing when Eddie sinks down onto the couch, only watching wordlessly as Eddie runs fingers through his damp hair.

“It was Chris’s idea.”

Buck blinks slowly. “What?”

“After the tsunami. When we were leaving the hospital, he mentioned how you saved him. He said he wanted you to be the person who comes to save him again.” Eddie pauses, rubs smally at the shirt fabric just above his chest. “I resisted at first—I told Christopher we couldn’t ask something that big of you, but I’ve seen countless times since then how far you’ll go for him, so I called and had you added second on the list.”

Eddie takes in a low breath, and Buck’s mutely envious because he can’t do the same.

“If I can’t get to him, it needs to be you.”

Buck’s struggling to pick something to focus on. His heart wants to chase the heat of Eddie’s words, yet the guilt, as it always is, is an overpowering force that leaves him shaking his head, backing up until the back of his leg hits the coffee table.

“It can’t be me.” He watches Eddie’s face fall, but Eddie still nods, understanding even now.

“I get it. I should have asked first. I know it’s a big responsibility—”

“—what?” Buck shakes his head again, crosses his arms. “It’s not the responsibility. You know I would do absolutely anything for that kid. It’s the fact that it’s my fault he ended up in the hospital today.”

Eddie cocks his head to the side, lips in a firm line, and Buck knows this look well—it’s Eddie’s way of signaling for Buck to continue, knowing well that Buck will finish on his own, that he doesn’t need verbal prompts to guide him toward his point.

“He was playing firefighter with one of his friends at school, and he fell down a step.”

The silence that follows feels thick enough to clog Buck’s lungs. He wants to sit—his legs are shaking, but if he sits, he can’t flee as fast, and he just knows Eddie’s going to ask him to leave, to not come back. And, Buck thinks, Eddie should. Eddie should yell at him for filling Christopher’s mind with stories from work, for encouraging this imaginative behavior that dropped him onto a hospital bed.

“Is that it?” Eddie says instead, calm, and Buck frowns, jaw opening and closing, struggling for words.

“I mean, I’m waiting for the part where you tell me how this is your fault,” Eddie clarifies, and Buck sinks onto the coffee table at this, not trusting his legs to hold him upright.

“Eddie, I’m constantly telling him stories from work, glorifying the job, painting all of these verbal, detailed images that fill his mind and plant ideas.”

“And you think I don’t?”

“Eddie—”

“—Buck, we have the same job. If Chris asks me what I did at work, I tell him. I spare him the calls that don’t go in our favor, but otherwise, I tell him.”

Buck blinks slowly, mind operating around 30% capacity, and Eddie leans forward, cupping a hand to Buck’s knee.

“No one’s at fault. Kid’s got one hell of an imagination.”

“Wait, hold on. You’re not mad?” Buck expected yelling. He expected to get kicked out of Eddie’s house, and yet, Eddie’s calm before him, relaxed, a little tired around the edges, but he’s showing no signs that he’s seconds from blowing up.

“There’s nothing to be mad about.”

Buck can only blink at Eddie. He’s faintly aware that his eyes are watering, and then Eddie’s pulling him back up by the arm.

“Okay, we all know by now that you get sappy when you’re tired.”

Buck stops in the doorway when Eddie steps into the bedroom, watching as Eddie pulls back the covers and motions toward the bed. He shakes his head, one hand gripping tightly at the doorframe.

“Eddie, I’m not taking your bed. You should be with Chris. I’ll go—”

“—Chris will want you here when he wakes up. Plus, it doesn’t take but basic math to realize you’re working on only four hours of sleep after a 24, so you’d be doing everyone a favor by shutting up and getting in the damn bed.”

“Eddie.”

“Buck.”

Buck holds Eddie’s gaze, breaking it after a few, heavy moments with a weighted sigh. He shuffles toward the bed, kicking off his sandals and climbing in on the side farthest from the door, knowing that the side closest to the door is reserved for Eddie, to accommodate Eddie’s needs to be the first to act if something happens.

The bed is heaven against his sore body, and the second his head hits the pillow, he’s struggling to keep his eyes open. The adrenaline is fully fleeing now, leaving him exhausted to the core in more ways than one. He blinks slowly, watching as Eddie climbs into the other side of the bed, sighing loudly, and he rolls toward Eddie, studying the way Eddie gingerly rubs at his chest for the second time.

“You give your oxygen mask to someone during the house fire?” Buck asks around a yawn, and Eddie nods.

“It wasn’t for long.”

“You didn’t get checked over.” It’s not a question; Buck knows, based on the sight of Eddie arriving at the hospital looking rough for wear and donned in full gear, but Eddie still responds.

“No, but I’m fine.”

Buck forces himself up on one elbow, frown deep, brows furrowed. “You should get checked out now. I can call Hen—”

“—did you forget I was a field medic?” Eddie arches a brow, and Buck sinks back against the pillow.

“No, you always find a time to remind me. You can’t check yourself over, though.”

“And how many times have you ignored a fractured rib because you ‘checked yourself over?’” Eddie fires back, and Buck groans, draping an arm over his eyes.

They fall silent, and Buck’s body is urging him to give in to the fatigue draping over him. Still, he can’t fully settle. The adrenaline of the last hour and a half is a flame that’s almost completely burned out. Still, it flickers smally, and he rolls onto his side, watching Eddie.

“The bruise on Christopher’s side. We should—”

“—I looked, and we iced it until he fell asleep. Now, please shut up and sleep.”

#911 fox #9-1-1 fox #buddie #fanfic #hurt/comfort #fanfiction #evan buckley #Eddie Diaz #christopher diaz #Bobby Nash #whump #whumpfic #op is 100% not a dr #my writing #my 911 writing

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lady-o-ren · 3 years

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The Dig

Part Two (Because I was bullied into this . . .)

//Which can be read (HERE) for easier reading// And Part One (HERE)

In a little rented room above auld Geordie’s pub, Claire Beauchamp stood in nothing but her silk undergarments as she flipped open her weathered suitcase (once belonging to her dear uncle Lamb) she had heaved atop her bed. She rummaged through the contents, blowing at her curls clouding around her face, before pulling out a single dress of pale blue.

It wasn't something she usually packed whenever she went off on a dig but the dress had caught her eye in a department store window in London just before coming to Suffolk. She reasoned one never knew when the occasion might call for her to dress in something other than dirt stained trousers.

And never had she been more relieved by an impulse buy.

Or thankful for a rainy day that halted her excavation.

It was a chance to be with the Scot who thought her more precious than the iron rivets they discovered a few days ago, proof that the burial site they were knee deep in was a ship to honor a fallen king. She would've kissed him on the spot if it weren't for Foster and Pound.

The kiss however did come later.

After her and the lads celebrated with too many pints, she and Fraser went back to Sutton Hoo, slightly swaying with every step beneath the twilight, until their arms found their way around one another. Soon they were laying side by side in the grass and dirt, the air cool on their whiskey flushed cheeks, and she wrapped in his coat. Big and warm and enveloping like himself.

"We may very well be unearthing a legend here ," said Beauchamp, leaning back on her elbows, eyes closed facing the moon.

Fraser grinned.

" Beowulf ?"

She laughed and turned her gaze to him. "Arthur, King of the Britons !"

He laughed along with her, a deep and hearty sound, then joking all aside said -

"Anglo Saxon, ye think?"

She nodded and rolled to her side, nearly pressing herself against Fraser's chest, heaving from a sharp intake of breath.

"I told you before that something grand and marvelous was buried here . . ."

"Ye did."

Then shyly Fraser said -

"Bha mi a ’bruadar mun bhròn mhòr. . . Remember that bit from my notebook?"

Her eyes softened and her features took on a pretty shade of pink remembering a great deal more of what that book contained.

How each page held a piece of his heart.

And laid a hand over his chest, against that fervent beat.

"Of course I do," she answered back, but frowned a little when Fraser bashfully kept his gaze to the small gap between them where a dandelion bloomed.

"Weel, I wrote it that night after we first met, from a dream I had. Sounds a great deal better in the gaelic though. . ."

Beauchamp raised her hand to cup his cheek, thumbing the fine cut bones beneath his skin, before pressing her soft warm mouth against his lips.

"Tell me," she insisted, when they managed to part and nudged her nose against his.

And so he did, voice low and more than a little breathless.

I dreamt about the mourning.

The deaths of great men. Terrible men. Old and young. Of Kings lost in battle buried beneath us.

They cried out to me and the Earth came to life and twisted her roots around me, dragging me inside her womb. Dark and cold, breathless like a cave.

But I wasn't frightened. I saw lights rushing around me, bright as the twilight sky. The souls that lie ahead. Surrounding us.

They brought me to you.

He shrugged sheepishly then.

Just before she kissed him again. Knowing she'd never want anyone more than she did right then and there amongst the swaying trees and spirits of auld.

This man whose soul spoke to her own.

Too bad a crack of lightning had to ruin the night.

But at least the rain blessed them with a day to themselves in apology.

Taking one last glance in the vanity mirror (that was about as big as her compact) and another quick check that her nails were clean of dirt, Beauchamp left her room and walked down the hallway to Fraser's, knocking softly against his door. When no one answered she pressed her ear curiously to the door hearing voices and knocked again, just a bit more louder, tapping the toe of her slingback heels against the beaten wooden floor. With still no response (and patience never being a virtue she ever possessed) she flat out turned the knob finding it unlocked.

She poked her head in and found a room even smaller than her own and the source of the voices coming from a small red radio playing an adaption of a film from the windowsill.

- I might have known you were here. I had a feeling just as I hit the floor.

- That was your hat.

- Oh, Susan! Just look at it! Look!

Fraser himself was fast asleep and spread out atop the bed sheets dressed for a date to the cinema with his long arms crossed above his head and his big feet dangling off the edge of his too small bed.

Beauchamp stood watching him for a moment, filled with a sudden tenderness at his sleeping innocence . . . and a bone deep wickedness that gave her an idea. She closed the door quietly behind herself and flipped the lock, grinning as she did so. She then slipped out of her slingback heels and crossed the room in two short strides (the floorboards creaking with the pitch of a mouse beneath her), to carefully lay down beside him.

Fraser turned to her in sleep, a throaty murmur on his lips, and laid a heavy arm around her slim waist, gathering her heart to heart. She sighed happily and reached to caress a curl hanging low at his brow, admiring the color that reminded her of the scorching sunsets in Giza she basked in with her uncle so many years ago. Her fingers then threaded through his thick mane down to where they began to curl at his neck and was rewarded with an unexpected smile. Pure and sweet.

"You're too perfect for words, lad," she whispered against his wide mouth, but before she could seal their lips together his long blonde lashes fluttered open.

Fraser gazed at her sleepily, his smile only growing wider as the word Sorcha was adoringly breathed against her cheeks.

She wanted to ask him what that one meant. It might be her favorite bit of gaelic so far.

But then . . .

"Claire!" Fraser exclaimed, and nearly toppled them both out of the bed if not for Beauchamp clinging to his shoulders, steadying him above her.

"How di' ye - Why are ye -"

Beauchamp giggled loudly at his befuddled face and at his hair sticking up in all directions like a sunflower crown. She coasted her hands up the wide breadth of his shoulders to cup both his scarlet cheeks.

"You're door was unlocked, and you know how cold I easily get . . ." she playfully pouted, and tugged his face closer, enjoying how his skin felt like a glowing hot coal between her hands.

But Fraser pulled away.

"Claire. . ."

She sighed yet kept her amused grin.

"You're not a lad of sixteen, you know. You can have a girl in your room."

"I ken that," he answered back, with a defensive spike in his voice.

Beauchamp ignored his tone letting her hands wander to his chest, the muscles taut beneath his crisp white shirt straining to contain his racing heartbeat.

"We even spent a night under the stars together."

"That was altogether different."

Her eyes flashed with mischief as she toyed with the buttons of his shirt. "How so?"

"For one," Fraser breathed hoarsely, placing a hand over hers lest she get too carried away. "It wasn't all night, the thunder made sure of that, and we mostly were talking anyway."

"Mostly?"

"And two," he said firmly, ears pink. "There wasn't a bed either of us could fall out of."

"No, there wasn't," she agreed, deciding he'd had enough of her teasing (and only because she had never taken anyone seriously enough to go slow). "But you can still keep me warm, Fraser. Virtue intact. I promise."

He arched a ruddy brow, doubtful of the lass with cheeky hands and a red cheshire grin that could lure a man to break every sin. Yet he eased himself beside her anyway and in the only way that worked.

With their legs twined together, nearly flushed against one another.

And his big hand braced along her back, the fabric soft against his callused palm as he smoothed it up and down, feeling the gentle rise of her ribs as she breathed in absolute contentment.

“Better than sitting in the cinema don't you think?” said Beauchamp, as she nuzzled her face to the crook of his neck, warmed by his skin that smelled freshly clean. Yet she found herself missing the scent of a hard day's labor on him.

“Aye, much - wait!” Fraser shifted to his elbow. “We missed the film didn't we?"

Beauchamp, a little annoyed at being jostled, shook her head and tugged at his collar to settle her lad back down.

"No, there's still some time left. Cary Grant just lost his intercostal clavicle bone to a dog named George. . . Or was it a leopard named Baby?"

Fraser stared at her like she'd gone completely daft until he noticed the radio playing in the background and heard the inimitable voices of Grant alongside Katherine Hepburn.

- Now it isn't that I don't like you, Susan, because, after all, in moments of quiet, I'm strangely drawn toward you, but - well, there haven't been any quiet moments.

"Oh,” he chuckled lightly, dropping his head to the side. “I must've fallen asleep listening to Lux Theatre . What I meant was the actual cinema though.”

“I think Judy Garland is merrily singing down that yellow brick road as we speak. But don't be sorry," she said, with a kiss to the hard line of his jaw, before the words could fall from his mouth. "It would've been far too crowded anyway."

“But you got yourself all dressed up," he protested, as his eyes traveled down to where her dress had been rucked up tight over her breasts and waist (and where his hand involuntarily flexed over the winged flare of her hip) before hastily clearing his throat.

"Ye look lovely by the way, mo chridhe. More than lovely actually. . ."

That shy and tender smile of his was her undoing and made her feel light-headed and reckless.

"Either that clever mouth of yours keeps on with the compliments, Fraser, or . . ."

Her voice carried off as her knee glided up between his thighs and her arms clasped around his shoulders so that any thoughts Fraser had of being a gentleman were forgotten in a wanton blaze of heat.

Some time later, with Fraser's cheek pillowed against her breasts, breath hot and seeping through the thin blue fabric thoroughly wrinkled now, he groaned.

"I wish we weren't in a room above a pub that reeks of cigarettes and wee."

She hummed softly, her fingertips stroking the back of his head, twirling around his curls. Admiring their beauty.

"Where should we be then?"

Fraser lifted his gaze to hers, blue eyes glimmering with that undeniable emotion that should've scared her yet it only made her want to claim him forever.

"A woman like you. . ." He smiled. " In a tent somewhere outside the ruins of a temple or in a cave in the Himalayas."

Her chest bounced with sparkling laughter.

"How about when this is all over and our names are the talk of the town, you take me anywhere you please. Preferably with a bed we can both fit in."

It was a tantalizing thought yet Fraser couldn't help but think of Scotland. Of his home Lallybroch. With her hand in his passing through the centuries old stone archway as his lady of Broch Turach.

Someday, maybe. God willing.

"I can think of a place," he murmured, and tightened his hold around her lush frame and pressed a daring kiss of hope above her heart. Felt her shiver beneath his mouth.

- I've just discovered that was the best day I've ever had in my whole life!

- But I was there!

- That's what made it so good!

And together they drifted off listening to the rain and the silly, sappy music.

I can't give you anything but love, baby.

That's the only thing I've plenty of, baby.

Dream awhile, scheme awhile

We're sure to find happiness . . .

A/N: There’s a lot of notes so I’ll keep them to ao3. And there’s probably mistakes galore but I needed to post this before cringe settled in and I deleted it, Thank you for reading!

#jamie x claire #outlander fic #outlander fanfiction #gobbledygook writing

62 notes · View notes

egoisticeuphoria · 3 years

Text

You Warm Heart

Chapter II (part I) : Identity

Genre : mafia au

Choi San x (f) Reader

#drama #comedy #action #romance

Words : 8.7k (part II)

Your body was heavy. Your forehead drenched in cold sweat. Your breathing went faster and faster. You couldn’t control what was happening. Your glued on your front as if you were waiting for something. Someone to save you. The door in front of you opened up. Bright lights were coming out from the room. A man dressed in suit standing on the other side of the room looking your way. It was Kai. The wedding melody was playing on the background. A bitter taste on the back of your tongue. A strong arm grabbed yours and started walking you down the aisle. You didn’t want this. You tried to move your body, to run away once again. But this time was different. You had no strength to do as you wished. As if your soul was stuck on somebody else’s body. This wasn’t the life you wanted. Not like this. The eyes of the man in front of you were shining as the lion’s eyes looking at its prey hungrily. You look d around you. The church was full of people. Even Soyeon was there. Why was she there? She was smiling at you with the brightest smile. You wanted to cry. This wasn’t the real Soyeon. She would never be happy with an arranged marriage. You looked away to avoid her smiling eyes but then you saw San. He was standing far away from the seats. His eyes glued to you and your wedding dress. He looked... weird. He was also wearing the same clothes as Kai. You couldn’t understand the reason though. His eyes looked sad as if he was about to cry. The arm that was holding you tightly pushed you to Kai’s arms who looked at you in awe.

“You look stunning, my love.”

Your eyes seemed to finally take action because you felt some burning tears come down your eyes. You opened your mouth to shout loud that this wasn’t the was thing should have been. No voice could come out your mouth though. It was a dream... no... it was a nightmare... It all felt so real though. Weird. Frightening. Disgusting.

You opened your eyes. You lifted your hands to wipe the tears off your face. Your breathing was finally on its normal pace. You hold your head with both arms as you tried to calm down from what you’ve just seen.

The phone rang. You picked it up knowing it was Soyeon.

“Good morning, Soyeon.” a sigh came out of your mouth.

“Good morning, y/n. Did you sleep well?” you could see her wide smile even from some miles away.

“Uhm, well, no.” you scratched your forehead.

“What? Why not?”

“Soyeon, I have a question. Please, be honest with me.”

“Of course, y/n. What is it?” Soyeon asked full of curiousity.

“Did you tell those mobsters my name and address?”

“Of course not! Why would I?”

“That’s what they said...�� you said as you stood up from the bed now walking to the living room.

“What do you mean?” suddenly, Soyeon’s voice sounded worried.

“Yesterday night... I met with the mobsters again.” you continued while walking up and down the hall.

“What?! What the hell– What happened?!” before you could open your mouth to breath a response she cut you off. “You know what? Let’s meet up. I’ll come pick you up. Be ready at 15 mins. I’ll be there. You’ll tell me the details over coffee.” and with that she hang up the phone leaving you literally speechless.

You went to take a quick cold shower and got dressed in a simple morning outfit. Just a white T-shirt and short jeans.

15 minutes passed fast. Soyeon came ringing the bell on your door. When you opened up for her she rushed her way in your room.

“Girl... There are so many men outside the building... What the hell happened here?”

“I’ll tell you. Not here though.” you pushed her and yourself out of the room and got in the elevator.

On the first floor you could see men in black all over the place. As if a dark cloud came down from the sky right on your building. You felt weird. After what happened yesterday, things were pretty strange.

“Okay, we better stay quiet till we get out of here. I know a good quiet place to talk.” Soyeon whispered in your ear.

“Good. Lead the way then.” you grabbed Soyeon’s arm and walked alongside her as she led the way to the unknown to you quiet place.

You two walked in silence once in a while turning back to see if anyone was following you. When you saw no one behind you you started walking faster.

Soyeon stopped walking which made you stop too. You looked at her. She smiled while looking in front of her.

“Here we are. This is the place.” after her confirmation you looked where Soyeon was looking. There was a small cafe in the corner. ATZ Café. It looked plain. And nice. It really looked quiet. Not many people seemed to be inside. That’s what you wanted. Less people around the better. You wanted to talk with Soyeon in quiet. Tell her what happened yesterday and try to figure out a solution to avoid that from happening again.

Soyeon pulled you inside and sat on a table far from the windows. She fixed her clothes and stared into your eyes as a hungry teenager waiting for her meal.

“So... begin.”

“Alright then...” you started talking and talking and talking. You told Soyeon what happened after you two had went separate ways. You told her about the steps you heard near the elevator but when you turned back there was no one. You told her about the guys that broke in your apartment and how Wooyoung helped you eliminate them. You also told Soyeon about Wooyoung taking you to San’s mansion and that you left there by foot by yourself. The only thing you didn’t want to share with Soyeon was what happened between you and Choi San. That was too much for you yourself to handle. Also you knew that if Soyeon heard what happened she would start rooting for you two. You didn’t want that. Not at least until you found out what your feelings were for San. Because you wanted to realise what exactly you felt when San attacked you with kisses. You felt weird. Was it bad weird or good weird though? You felt the need to see for yourself by time what it meant to you. By time.

“What the hell?!” Soyeon was in awe at the news of your yesterday’s adventure. “These things happened in just one night? Your first night in Seoul? Girl, that’s insane.”

“Exactly! Insane.” you agreed with her words.

A young boy with the cafe’s uniform came to take your orders.

“Excuse me, girls. Are you ready to order?”

“I’d like some iced americano. What about you y/n?”

“I’ll have a black tea.”

“Okay, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Thank you.” Soyeon told him with a smile.

The boy left to make your tea and Soyeon’s coffee. There was a man standing beside the waiter that took your orders. The man was faced in a way where you couldn’t see his face. You could only see the back of his head. It was red haired head. Although you didn’t notice it, he did. When Soyeon called out your name a while ago, he lifted his head surprised. Surprised to see you again so soon. He turned around and looked at you.

It was no other than Choi Jongho, San’s little brother.

His eyes glued on you as he couldn’t believe you visited his cafe. Did you know or was it Soyeon who suggested the place? He felt like walking towards you. He wanted to speak with you, to come closer to you. With a wide smile on his face he started walking.

It took him 10 seconds. He raised his hand so you could see it and waved at you.

“Hi. Good morning.” his face seemed happy as you could see the smile attached on the corners of his ears. You lifted your head facing him and finally realising where you’ve stepped in.

“W-what are you doing here?” you asked all nervous. You felt like falling in a trap like a wandering and hungry mouse. You were afraid that this smile on Jongho’s face meant no good news. He raised his eyebrows surprised at your question.

“Uhm, this is my cafe. I own it.” he said while looking around the room. You looked at him as if he was talking about something bad, horrible. You just couldn’t believe how unlucky you were. “Look, y/n, I have to tell you something... My brother wouldn’t say it so I’ll do it in his place.”

“Y-your brother?” you seemed confused. What about his brother? What was it that he wanted to tell you and his brother wouldn’t?

“My older brother, San.” he looked at you as your sudden question confused him. Didn’t you know already? But then again... Jongho never really introduced himself to you. The thought hit him and he stepped back a little to bow lightly in order to make a proper self introduction to you. “Excuse me. My name is Choi Jongho. I’m Choi San’s little brother. Nice to meet you y/n.” his smiley face returned making you unconsciously smile. Soyeon noticed your smile so she decided to speak up regardless Jongho being a mobster.

“Nice to meet you Jongho. I’m Jeon Soyeon. Y/n’s best friend.” she smiled and stood up from her seat to bow politely pulling you with her. She shook you lightly whispering in your ear to introduce yourself as well. When you came back to your senses you bowed lightly.

“I’m Park y/n. Although you already know me. Anyways. Nice to meet you Jongho.” you looked around to check if San was there. Fortunately, he wasn’t.

“What’s wrong y/n?” Jongho noticed you were worried over something.

“Oh, I just... I’m checking for something. Nice cafe by the way. It’s really comfy here.” you gave him a compliment with smile that made him get excited.

“Thanks y/n. It’s really great to hear that from you.” he smiled back with the cutest smile which made you giggle. “Y/n, I really want to make a proper apologise to you for what happened yesterday night. I’m so... SO sorry. My brother is such an idiot sometimes. Stubborn, arrogant. I have to make it up to you.” Jongho’s eyes were full of pain as he was talking. You felt sorry for him feeling this way because of you and San. You didn’t like seeing him in pain even though you didn’t know him well.

“It’s not your fault, Jongho. You don’t have to apologise in your stupid brother’s place. Jongho looked up at you and smiled lightly.

Soyeon, who was observing over your little conversation, sensed a cute atmosphere between Jongho and you. She found Jongo’s actions around you cute and it wasn’t hard for her to realise what kind of feelings Jongho had for you. By the way... what were you talking about with Jongho? Soyeon noticed that your conversation with him was something you never mentioned. She was eager to learn though. She had her plan. She stayed quiet for the time being and just listened carefully.

After a while the waiter came with the tea and the americano. He noticed his boss talking to you two so he felt like he could be close with you as well. He smiled brightly and put the disk down on the table.

“Here you go, pretty ladies.” when these words left his mouth Jongho’s smile disappeared and an angry facial expression appeared on his face.

“Jay.” Jongho called out his employee’s name angrily.

“Yes, boss.” Jay stood straight up realising he made a mistake.

“No talking to the ladies. Get back to work.”

“Yes, boss.” Jay turned around and run off behind the counter. He quickly started cleaning off the counter with his eyes never looking at you and Soyeon again. Soyeon and you laughed at Jongho’s serious face and Jay’s reaction to his boss’ orders.

“It’s fine, Jongho. You didn’t have to be so strict to him.” you said and Jongho’s eyes met yours again.

“I actually had to. Discipline is what matters. If I’m being nice he won’t improve himself.” Jongho came closer to you and you nodded as his words made sense.

“You’re right.” you smiled at him. Jongho smiled back looking straight at you.

“Sit down with us Jongho. Let’s chat for a little bit, then you can return to your cafe duties.” Jongho turned to Soyeon then back at you.

“May I?” he asked giving the point of wanting to sit next to you.

“Oh, of course.” you took your bag from the seat next to you and Jongho sat on it. He immediately shared a bright smile. Jongho was extremely happy to be near you. He wanted to know more about you.

“So, y/n, where do you come from?” you looked at Jongho with a serious expression. You felt insecure about revealing your identity to him but you also felt like even if he knew your secret, he would keep his mouth sealed for good. You took a deep breath and smiled again.

“I’m from Busan.” Soyeon looked at you in surprise as you began to reveal your real self. She immediately looked back at Jongho to view his smiley reaction.

“From Busan. That’s nice. Really nice. Your accent doesn’t resemble Busan’s accent though.”

“I grew up speaking the Seoul accent. Back home nobody speaks with the Busan accent.”

“I see. That explains it.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The conversation with Jongho went on and on. Sometimes Soyeon stopped just observing and joined you two in your long chat. You talked about your hobbies and dream jobs. You felt relaxed while talking to Jongho. It felt nice to have someone to talk to about such things. Jongho could be a good friend. A really good one.

After a while and after you both have drank your drinks, you hear the sound from the door openning. The three of you turned your heads to the direction of the door. Your eyes widened as you saw two familiar faces coming in the cafe.

“Yunho. Mingi. Welcome.” Jongho stood up and walked to them. They greeted each other then Jongho turned to you again. “Come sit down with us.” Yunho and Mingi tunred their faces to you. They looked each other in surprise.

“What’s this? Why is y/n here?” the black haired man said. Soyeon looked at him and then at you. She covered her mouth with her hand and giggled. You blushed lightly after realising that you have become famous among those guys in just one night.

“She just came over with Soyeon for a coffee.” Jongho replied instead of you.

“Did you know this was Jongho’s coffee shop?” the auburn haired man.

“No. We didn’t.” you replied immediately not waiting a second for Jongho to reply in your place again. “I had no idea this place was yours.” Jongho looked at you then back at the standing men. One of the men walked forward and placed his hand on his chest.

“We know you but you don’t know us. We still haven’t introduced ourselves.” it was the black haired man that took the lead. “My name is Yunho, Jeon Yunho. Nice to meet you, y/n and Soyeon.” after Yunho, the auburn haired man stepped forward as well and smiled.

“I’m Mingi. Song Mingi. Nice to meet you girls. Also sorry for the late introduction.”

“Oh, it’s fine. Nice to meet you guys as well.” you said as you stood up to shake their hands. Soyeon repeated your movements after you. They both seemed nice guys.

“Yunho and Mingi are my brother’s main bodyguards.” Jongho said first.

“Although San prefers to call us his friends. Our main job in the family is to protect the boss.” Mingi explained to you and Soyeon.

“I get it. That’s totally normal.” you spoke without thinking.

“What do you mean normal?” Yunho asked and crossed his arms. For a second you thought of what you said some seconds ago and began to stutter while trying to explain yourself.

“N-n-normal. H-he wouldn’t he cannot protect himself alone. O-of course he would call his bodyguards just friends. Just how proud is he.” The guys and Soyeon laughed loudly at your reaction and it felt like your words didn’t make any sense. What mattered was that you believed your words. You shook Soyeon off to make her stop laughing.

After the laughing was finally over, Jongho tunred to Yunho and Mingi.

“Anyways, guys. Why are you here? Did anything happen?” Jongho asked them and the guys’ faces went from smiley to dead serious.

“Come here.” Mingi pulled Jongho and the three of them walked far away enough from the table for you to not listen to them talking. Soyeon got worried.

“Do you think anything bad happen? They seem serious.” Soyeon asked and grabbed you by the arm lightly.

“I don’t know. I’m as curous as you right now.” you replied to her while holding her.

For three whole minutes the boys kept staring at you then at each other. This made you anxious. What was wrong?

Eventually the guys walked up to you again.

“Y/n, listen carefully.” Mingi spoke up before the others.

“What is it?” you asked full of curiousity and worry.

“It seems like you’ll have to stay at the mansion for a while.” Yunho continued the announcement. You looked at him even more curious than before.

“What do you mean– Which mansion are you talking about?”

“The Choi mansion. San’s house.” Mingi spoke again. You felt hot blood on the front of your forehead. Soyeon looked at the guys full of worry about you.

“Stop kidding. This isn’t funny.” Soyeon told the guys and grabbed your arm tighter.

“I’m afraid that it has to be like this.” Jongho said while looking at the ground. Mingi and Yunho found some guys out of your apartment. The last night’s incident came as a flashback to you and your eyes widened.

“The guys from last night...”

“Exactly... it seems that San’s men had left their spot for a bit and they found their way in there. You can’t stay there. It’s too damgerous. Too risky.” Yunho added. “We can’t just let a girl alone in a dangerous place.” You looked at Yunho with a serious face. He couldn’t possibly know about you not being just a normal girl. A normal girl would be weak. But you... No. How could you? You grew up in a fierce environment just like San and the other guys did. There was no single proof of your background. You just had to make sure you won’t get caught.

That was the moment when you realised that in order to keep your secret from them you had to act weak. They had already seen you fight but that was with other girls. You just needed to act as if you were inferior to guys’ power. That was nothing hard.

“Actually, it’s San’s house but we all live together. So, you won’t be alone with San, if thaat’s what troubles you.” Jongho and moved a step closer to you. You laughed it off.

“Don’t worry. It’s fine, I guess. Since you’ll be living there with me, I don’t mind having you around.” you said to Jongho and smiled brightly. Jongho smiled back with your answer.

“That’s good to know.”

“Great. It’s decided then.” Mingi said and stretched out his arms.

“You come home with us.” Yunho added. “About your stuff–”

“I’ll go pack them up. There are some things I still have to do so I’ll finish them up and come over to the mansion.”

“Are you sure y/n? It’s dangerous over there right now. What if anything bad happens to you?” Jongho asked all worried again.

“Then you can just watch over me while I’m finishing things up. I won’t be in danger as long as you’re around. Right?” Jongho sighed at your words. He was happy to hear you felt secured around him.

“Great. This way I’ll be able to watch over you.” Jongho’s face got all smiley again.

“Then, I guess we’ll have to say goodbye for now.” Soyeon looked at you and gave you a smile although you could see the worry in her gaze.

“Yeah. I’ll contact you as soon as I get to the mansion.”

“You better do.”

“Oh, and something else. Yunho, can I ask you a favor?”

“Sure, what is it y/n?”

“Please take care of Soyeon for me. She was probably seen by those guys at my apartment this morning so she might also be in danger. Can you do it for me?” Yunho looked over at Soyeon. She looked back at him and smiled. Yunho turned at you and smiled. He nodded his head.

“Of course, y/n. If I don't bother her.”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind you being around. But I’ll have to warn you about one thing. I’ll be going to a lot of clubs. You may not be able to follow me there all the time. I need my privacy.” Yunho looked at Soyeon and smirked.

“I’ll try to keep the needed distance.” Soyeon chuckled at Yunho’s words.

“Good.”

“Alright, then. Let’s get moving. Jongho, it’s time.” Mingi spoke up and walked to the door. Yunho followed Mingi slowly.

“Come on, Soyeon. I’ll take you home for now.”

“Okay, see ya y/n. Stay safe!” Soyeon hugged you tightly and followed Yunho to his motorcycle. They hopped on and run off. Mingi rode his motorcycle and headed to the mansion. Jongho turned to you.

“Let’s go. Jay, I’m leaving. Take care of the shop while I’m away.”

“Yes boss!” and with that Jongho held you by the hand and walked with you out of the cafe.

“Get in.” he said after showing you his car. You nodded. You got in the car and sat on the passenger seat. Jongho got in as well after seeing you closing the door and started the engine.

The ride lasted less than you imagined. Jongho made sure to drive fast so you could finish up faster than expected. He parked his car in front of the building your apartment was and you both got out. Jongho looked around to make sure no one was spying on you.

“It’s clear. Let’s go check upstairs.”

“Alright.” you walked to the elevator and got in. You waited for Jongho to walk inside and pressed the button.

When you reached the floor, the doors opened and you walked oit of the elevator. You looked straightt ahead. Your eyes met with a man that held a key on his right hand amd was about to unlock the door of the apartment next to you. He noticed you and turned around to look at you. You walked closer to him to greet him but then Jongho jumped in front of you with his eyes stuck on the man.

“Who are you? Why are you here?” Jongho attacked the man with questions.

“I–I’m just living here.” then his eyes met yours and he pointed a finger at you. “Oh. Aren’t you the lady from last night at the club?” his question let a flashback intrude your mind. His voice, his gaze, it all reminded you of the barman from the club.

“Oh. Are you maybe... the barman of the club?” the man smiled as you recognised him. Jongho stood straight up watching you two.

“Nice to meet you again, my name is Lee Taemin and as you know I am a barman at the club.” he waved his hand in a cute way. He seemed really friendly.

“Nice to meet you as well, Mr. Lee. I’m Park Y/n.” you did the same to him with your hand.

“Oh, just drop the honorifics. Call me Taemin.”

“Is that fine? Hahaha, okay. You can call me y/n then.”

“Great.”

“Oh, and uhm, thanks for the help last night. The guy would have really caused me trouble.”

“It was nothing. It’s fine.” Taemin smiled really brightly after your thanks. Jongho looked at him then at you.

“What guy?” Jongho looked kind of more worried after hearing about an incident he wasn’t aware of.

“Oh, it’s nothing important. It’s not that I’ll see him again or anything. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know your boyfriend would be jealous.” Taemin spoke quickly.

“He- no, he’s not my boyfriend.”

“I’m not. But her real boufriend will get really angry if I tell him his girl was talking to some barman, and even calling him by his first name.” Jongho had reached his limits with Taemin being all friendly with you.

“I’m sorry, dude.”

“Jongho, what the?” you looked in his eyes. What was he talking about? Was he too worried about you? Was he worried because of Taemin?

“Let’s just get this over with and go home. We’re running late. San is waiting.”

“Okay, okay, fine.” you turned to Taemin. “I’ll see you next time, I guess. Byebye.”

“Okay, bye.” Taemin put on the sweetest smile till now and finally unlocked his door. After he entered his apartment there was nothing but silence in the atmosphere.

Taemin’s face changed. The sweet smile from before turned into a wicked, sick grin that painted his face nasty. “Gotcha birdy~”

Jongho walked to your apartment’s door. You followed him annoyed.

“You know, you didn’t have to be mean to him. He was just being nice.”

“No man working at a club is nice. Now, please. Pack your things. I’ll be waiting in the living room.” Jongho walked his way in the apartment as if he owned the place. You walked to your room and closed the door shut. The door made quite the noise. Jongho noticed that his behaviour made you pissed but he was as pissed as you were. He didn’t like Taemin’s face. He didn’t look like a decent man.

You sat on the bed all angry.

“Why is he acting like that? I mean... He’s here to help me but why would he get angry because of Taemin? There’s nothing wrong with him, is there?” you sighed and got up to pick up your bags.

After finishing your things up you walked out of the bedroom and joined Jongho in the living room. Jongho noticed you and got up from the couch.

“Are you ready?” your eyes turned on the suitcases in your hands then nodded at him.

“I think that’s all.”

“I’ll take these.” Jongho grabbed the suitcases from your hands and stood up the door. You opened it and you both walked to the elevator. You looked at Taemin’s apartment door. It was closed. Would he get offended by Jongho’s behaviour? Anyways. You pressed the button on the elevator.

When you finally left the building and got in the car Jongho placed his hands on the steering wheel and sighed deeply. You didn’t look at him though. His head turned toward yours.

“I’m sorry for earlier. I really am.” his words were soft coming out of his mouth that itade you look at him.

“Why were you like that to him? He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know. I just... I don’t know... I don’t like that guy.” Jongho tried to calmly tell you his reasons. You nodded your head.

“I see. But you could be more kind to him.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful of my actions next time. Let’s go home for now.” Jongho started the engine.

Back in Busan, your fiancé, Kai, had decided to visit you at your home. He came on his red Porsche. He parked his car in front of the mansion, your old home, and got out of the car. He fixed his dark blue suit and walked in the house. All the maids were totally simping over his stunning looks. Your step mother headed over to him to greet him.

“Welcome, dear. How have you been? How is your father doing?”

“Hello, Mrs. Park. I’m very well, so is my father. I thought it would be nice to come over for a visit. I hope I’m not causing any trouble to you.” Kai has always been sweet talking to your step mother. That’s why she liked him so much. You hated him. Not only for this. He was stunning, indeed. But not stunning enough to become your husband. You didn’t want to take him just because your parents said so, or because he made every girl melt with just a single glare. If he really wanted to win a place in your heart he had to change his personality. You had no single interest in him as he already was.

Your step mother guided him to the living room and they both sat down on some pretty golden lux sofas. She kept on telling him about his good looking appearance and how well suited he was to you. That was when he looked around the house only to see the staff and your step mother.

“By the way, where is my fiancée? I haven’t seen her in a while and I already miss her. She didn’t even call not even once since the engagement. She’s so cruel. All I do is love her but still–” his words her cut off as your step mother covered over his question.

“Actually. That rascal... She run away.” she laughed a little to make it seem funny. Kai looked at her. He was at a loss of words. He didn’t ever imagined that you would run away because of this. He knew you didn’t stand him at all but he never thought you hated him that much as to run away so you could not marry him. He felt hurt. But he laughed it off as your step mother did. Their laughs were just ironical. It was as if you had become their little easy prey that you could hunt wherever you hid yourself. Nasty. Rotten. Their laughs filled the house and that made Chaerin come out of her room and fown the stairs. She hid herself behind the wall near the living room and listened to what her mother and Kai were talking about.

“How cute of her to run off just some days away from our wedding. She’s really sweet. Don’t you think, mr.s Park?”

“Indeed, my dear. Don’t blame her. She’s just confused. Her dad will find her and make her return before the wedding for sure. It’s just a matter of time.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about that actually. I have a lot of friends in the whole country. I’ll just notify them and it’ll all be done.”

“As expected of our dear Kai. Y/n is so lucky to have you. Also so stupid that she doesn’t see the treasure she’s offered.”

“She will. I’m confident about this.” Kai smiled at your step mother. His phone suddenly rang and he took it out of his pocket to check who was calling him. On the phone was written the name Lee Taemin. “Oh. I have to pick this up. I’ll be back in a minute.” your step mother nodded as he stood up and walked a little further away for her. “Hello my dear friend. How are you?”

“Hey Kai. I’m doing just fine. How about you? How do the wedding preparations go?”

“It’s all fine except one thing I didn’t count that well.”

“You know, I might have found something interesting here in Seoul.”

“How much interesting?”

“Very much. Tell me, isn’t your fiancée’s name Park Y/n?”

“That’s right. Don’t tell me...”

“Yeah, I saw her in Seoul. The first time she was at the club I work with her friend. The second time I saw her was out of my apartment. She was with some other guy though.”

“Another guy?” Kai chuckled at the thought of you cheating on your soon to be husband. “Do you know who that guy is?”

“Actually, he was at the club as well but they didn’t talk at all there. He’s that little brother of that sly fox mafia boss Choi.”

“Oh. I see.” a nasty grin covered Kai’s face. “She just keeps getting more interesting to win her over. Now she even goes to other bosses in order to avoid me? Really interesting. And cute.”

“Shall I keep a close eye on her?”

“Just learn about her whereabouts. I’ll be coming to pick her up. Thanks for your help. You’re a really good friend Taemin.”

“Anything for you Kai.” Kai hang up and lowered the phone from his ear. The grin on his face just grew bigger. His look and aura became scarier.

“Fine. I accept your challenge y/n. Just wait for me.” he walked back to the living room after fixing his grin to a sweet smile as before. “I’m sorry it tooke so long. It was really important.”

“Oh, it’s fine Kai. You don’t have to apologise for this.”

“Actually, it was a friend of mine. He told me he found y/n.” your step mother and Chaerin’s eyes widened. “I’ll go pick her up in a few days. There’s no need to worry over her anymore. I have eveything under control.”

“That’s so sweet of you Kai. Oh, please, bring y/n back so you two can get married.”

“I definitely will.”

“Good. Now, if you please, the dinner is ready. Let’s get to the table.” she and Kai took off to the dining room.

Chaerin who was hiding all this time run back up to her bedroom and fell on her bed. “Where are you, big sis? They all have gone crazy here... How can I help you when you left without telling me anything?” she raised her head up. “I’ll call Chanyeol. He may be able to help.” she grabbed her phone and typed Chanyeol’s number. She was really detremined to help you with destroying Kai and he mother’s awful plans.

Back in Seoul, you and Jongho had arrived at the mansion. A butler was holding your bags. Jongho led you inside. He walked you to the living room where other seven men were sitting on the lux black couches. When you enterned the room they all stood up to greet you with the warmest smiles. All except one of them, San, who just kept looking at you with no reaction. You recognised only the four of them. Wooyoung, Mingi, Yunho and San, the big boss. It was about time you met the other three guys of the gang.

“We’re here.” Jongho announced officially. “Y/n will be staying with us from now on.” the other guys came closer to greet you.

“Hey y/n, we meet again. If I knew earlier that you’d be coming here I would have come over to fetch you.” Wooyoung was the first one to greet you but he was pushed back by the guy next to him.

“Wooyoung, for god’s sake, let the ones that haven’t introduced themselves do it properly.” he smiled at you and bowed lightly out of respect. “Hello y/n, my name is Hongjoong. I am a lawyer and San’s advisor. Nice to finally meet you.” he was taller than you. His bleached hair were shining under the bright lights of the living room. He was really handsome and looked like the more normal out of all of them.

“Nice to meet you as well, Kim Hongjoong.”

“Hi. Nice to meet you. I’m Park Seonghwa.” he had nice black wavy hair that fell on the sides of his eyes. “I’m the oldest one among the guys. I’m a captain in the gang, if you know what I mean.”

“I know.” the guys’ eyes locked on yours as you said that. You realised that only an insider would have known the positions in a mafia gang and you didn’t want to seem like an insider at all. “I mean... I’ve seen a lot of movies, that’s why.” the boys nodded their heads understanding what you actually meant.

“Hello there.” another guy with black hair popped from behind. “I’m Kang Yeosang. It’s an honor to meet you, the one who marked our San’s heart.”

“Shut up Yeosang.” San growled. Yeosang laughed after managing to make San make a sound in front of you.

“Finally. You too come to greet y/n.”

“I don’t need to. I’m going to eat. Whoever wants to come is welcomed.” San went over the dining room and sat on his chair.

“Y/n, come eat with us. You must be pretty hungry.” Hongjoong offered you.

“It’s fine.” though your stomach didn’t seem to agree with your mouth cause after that it growled like crazy of hunger. The boys chuckled. “Fine. Let’s go eat.”

The boys led you to the dining room and sat on the table next to San. After a while the food was served and you all started eating. Most of the time you were eating, the boys asked you to talk to them about your life, so you did. Except cutting off some details. They, too, shared some funny stories with you. They seemed to enjoy your company and you didn’t find them annoying at all, in contrast of what you thought of them last night at the club. They were really warm and kind. Just like a family. They teased each other in front of you which made you laugh at their silliness.

After finishing the food the boys sat back on their chairs just looking at each other.

“How about we play some games?” Wooyoung said as he stood up from his chair. They boys found his idea interesting and stood up as well.

“Let’s go to the gaming room. Y/n come with us.” Mingi said and grabbed you by your hand. You took his hand willingly and walked with them to the gaming room. When San noticed you holding Mingi’s hand he stood up straight and started walking behind you. His eyes were completely locked on your united hands. You hadn’t noticed him behind you but you felt someone staring at you. You turned around only to be starlted by how much San was close to you. He bumped into you as you stopped walking.

“What’s wrong y/n?” Mingi asked you then looked at San who now was looking at Mingi with eyes full of jealousy. Mingi understood that San was like that because he was holding your hand. He smiled at San and let go of your hand. “Ah, sorry.” then walked past you and him leaving you alone in the hall for a moment. San looked at you as if he wanted to say something.

“Y/n... I–” he opened his mouth to speak but you interrupted him.

“They’re waiting for us.” you started walking away slowly. San got irritated at how you didn’t want to pay attention to him so he decided to force you look at him. He grabbed you by the arm and pinned you on the wall near him. You gasped out for air as your back bumped into the wall hard. He succeeded. He made you look at him. Although it wasn’t the exact type attention of attention he wanted. He still had succeeded.

“Listen here. If I’m about to speak, no one interrupts me. Not even you. So you’ll sit here and listen to what I have to say to–”

“If you scream growl at me again I’ll kick you hard where I hit you yesterday. I don’t find it difficult at all.” San gulped at the last night’s bad memory. He backed off you and now you were free to go. You flicked your hair and walked to the others.

“Where were you y/n?” Wooyoung whined.

“We were waiting for you.” Yunho said.

“I was gazing at the huge walls.” you laughed it off and joined the boys on the pool table.

After a whille San arrived and Wooyoung jumped on him.

“Where were you San? Did you get lost in your own house? Or perhaps, were you gazing at the huge walls as well?”

“No.” he answered sharply and his eyes fell on you who had stopped playing as he walked in the room. Wooyoung noticed the awkward atmosphere so he decided to lighten it up. He put an arm around San’s neck and chuckled.

“Come play with us. It’ll be fun.”

“I don’t want to.” San tilted his face away from Wooyoung’s. You noticed that Wooyoung was trying to lighten up the mood for San. You were aware that you pissed him off earlier. He wanted to tell you something amd you didn’t let him. Would he want to apologise? Whatever it was he was goimg to tell you, you’ve lost the chance to listen to it. You decided to help Wooyoung and make San play with you. You thought of using the easiest method. Make him feel that you doubt his confidence. You grinned and spoke up.

“He will probably lose. That’s why he refuses to play with us.” San looked at you.

“What?”

“Are you that afraid to lose?” you continued just wanting him to fall completely for this. Which happened.

“Are you assuming that I’m weak and a coward?”

“What? Am I wrong?” your grin got bigger as you got what you wanted.

“You shouldn’t say such things to him.” Hongjoong whispered in your ear.

“Just watch.” you whispered back at him which made Hongjoong curious. San walked up to Yunho and stretched out his hand.

“Give me the pool cue. I’m going to prove to y/n that I’m no coward. Bring it on.” your grin got even bigger after San had accepted your challenge.

“Let’s play.” you said but Wooyoung stopped you both before starting the game.

“Wait. How about making a bet?” he suggested.

“Yeah let’s make a juicy bet.” Seonghwa continued Wooyoung’s idea.

Taglist : @reeateez @xduygu-arsx @paigeeastman @moonmark98 @leicy0756 @kpop-khh-writer-trash @chonsayeosang

(whoever wants to be added just say so)

#ateez #kpop fluff #male x female #kpop smut #ateez mafia au #ateez san #san x reader #choi san #identity #ateez angst #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #san scenarios #san smut #san fluff

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bestiesenpai · 3 years

Text

Idolatry - Getou Suguru

I love aliens and someday I will fuck one

Content warnings: manipulation/blackmail

“Mayday, mayday! Mission control, please come in, this is astronaut Getou Suguru!” The red emergency lights were on, multiple different sirens were going off in the background and Getou had just lost the rest of his crew.

“Mission control, can you hear me?!” He slammed on the control panel, desperately flipping switches and trying to regain control of his failing aircraft. All his training back on Earth hadn’t prepared him for the possibility of a black hole opening up and sucking in half his ship, ripping it apart and taking it somewhere unknown.

“Please, please, please!” There were frantic tears and sweat dripping down Getous face as he tried to get the thrusters back online. His ship was in shambles, slipping further and further into the blackhole.

Looking up through the windshield, his view of space before him was slowly fading away and he felt an intense pull from behind him, almost as if he was being ripped apart himself as he and his ship were pulled into the blackhole.

Getou didn’t think he’d wake up after that. The world had gone completely black, all the oxygen yanked from his body and the cold vacuum of space compressed around him. Getou hadn’t expected to wake up on firm, solid ground. And much less surrounded by otherworldly creatures.

“Is it really him?” He wasn’t sure how he understood the things before him, their voices warbled and distorted, but he could. Getou could only watch with fuzzy edged vision as the creatures crowded around him and their features became clearer.

“It must be! Just look at his face!”

“He’s got the hair as well, and his skin is milky white like in the stories!”

“Our God has returned to us, what a joyous day this is!” Someone cried and Getou was lifted up from the ground and removed from the rubble that was his spaceship. Struggling to breathe, he was sure there were a few cracked ribs under his skin.

“Be gentle now, the journey from the heavens wasn’t kind on him.”

“To the temple, at once!”

Placed on a long gurney, Getou was transported to the temple in question. With his vision going in and out, he could just barely make out the bright blue trees and foreign animal sounds passing him by. The creatures that had lifted him up were now closer to be viewed and Getou could tell they weren’t of human origin.

“Oh, how we’ve waited for this day!” The heat of whatever jungle Getou was in had a light sheen of sweat gathering on his skin, but the warm air helped lull him into a more relaxed state, almost falling asleep despite the situation.

Carried up the steps of the temple, Getou barely came to when he was stripped and submerged into a pool of light green water, nearly scalding him and scented with what appeared to be rose petals floating around him.

“Call the shamans, we need to make sure everything is correct!” There was rustling around him, figures darting in and out of his half lidded gaze. Someone was lifting one of his arms to wash him, immediately letting go when he let out a pained groan.

“He needs medicine, quick!” In an instant something was being poured down Getous throat, an ice cold liquid that spread across his body and made a shiver go through him. There was a heavy silence in the air for a moment as he was observed, and all of a sudden, he felt better.

Sitting up a little straighter in the solid gold tub he could now see, Getou stayed silent as his body was washed. The creatures around him avoided eye contact, bowing their heads when he turned to look at them.

They were gentle, washing the dried blood off Getous face and combing through his hair with their long pointed nails. He’d never received such lavish treatment before, and as he relaxed further into the tub, a man dressed in robes not unlike the ones Getou owned back home came to the side of the tub with a heavy tome, reciting something in an unknown language over Getou.

He was lifted out of the tub and dried gently, dressed in a soft green robe like the man that had prayed over him, and escorted to another room. He could tell this was at the heart of the giant gray stone temple, a skylight and large windows high on the vaulted ceilings letting in plenty of natural light and illuminating the lavish scene in the middle of the room.

In the middle of the room atop a short flight of stairs, sat a golden, red tufted stool only a few feet up from the ground and surrounded by a multitude of pillows and ornate gold decorations. Several oriental rugs were draped across the floor, covering the cool limestone underfoot.

A thick mattress lay just behind the stool with semi-sheer curtains curtains concealing it and the many pillows and blankets atop it. Hundreds of candles were lit around the room as well, lighting up dark corners or simply for decoration around and atop the rugs and stool.

Able to walk on his own now, Getou slowly went up the steps with only a mild drag in his sore legs. Skimming his fingers across the seat of the stool, he walked past it and to the bed, pushing the curtains aside and melting into the squishy mattress.

Even though he couldn’t really keep track of the time, Getou was sure a week had passed since he’d crash landed on this mysterious planet. In that time, he filled in the blanks of what was going on around him.

He was being worshipped as a God, an altruistic being that had fallen from the heavens as foretold in the legends of the people that lived here. Apparently, he was one of many gods and goddesses that the planet believed in, and it just so happened that his sudden appearance aligned with a prophecy that he would arrive.

Not one to live in a lie, Getou had originally wanted to tell the truth once he was able to speak more properly. It wouldn’t be right for them to place such strong faith into him when he truly wasn’t what they wanted, but he found it harder and harder as time went on.

And that was because of the treatment he received. He was bathed everyday, fed delicious meals whenever he wanted and was showered in praise and admiration at every second. To say Getou was soaking up all the attention was an understatement; he was absolutely drowning in it.

“My Lord, may I approach?” It was midday, the sun beaming down through the ceiling directly onto Getou, warming him up and making him radiate with light. A temple worker he’s never seen before enters the room, head bowed and with a familiar set of objects in their hand.

“You may.” Getou quickly noticed the basin, towel and pitcher of water and sat up a little straighter in his stool. It was time for his midday foot bath. You made quick work of the steps and knelt down before him in a moment.

Getou watched as you silently poured the water, keeping your head bowed per usual. Craning his head up to the sky, Getou lazily studied the windows above him. There were no clouds in the sky on this planet, but it didn’t stop the sky from looking beautiful.

“You’re quite handsome, my Lord.” That comment had Getou’s head snapping back down and coming eye to eye with you. No one else had ever made eye contact with him, not even the shamans that spoke with him about sacred texts. The sudden change unnerved him, making him blush.

“I didn’t know you were allowed to look upon me in such a way.” Getou said, dipping his feet into the bath and relaxing his legs. “I am a God, after all. Wouldn’t a comment like that be considered blasphemous?” Regaining control over his suddenly rapid heartbeat, Getou still felt a light veil of heat across his face.

“It would be, if you really were a God in the first place.” Getou nearly choked on his spit as he heard the words come out of your mouth.

“E-excuse me?! I am a God!” His face erupted in a dark blush. This was bad, really bad. The smirk on your face told him all he needed to know; the jig was up, you saw right through him. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t still try and keep up the ruse.

“An arrival from the sky may have been foretold in the legends, but you are not what was promised to us.” Your words were quick and concise, an almost harsh tone underlying them. “It was my job to go through the rubble of the craft you arrived in, and I found quite a few things labeled from a planet called ‘Earth’.”

He and Gojo just had to have too much fun with the label maker, didn’t they?

“Earth is what us God's call the place we reside.” Clearing his throat, Getou tried to soothe his burning cheeks.

“Then why did I find this?” Digging into a hidden pocket within your robes, you pulled out a thick manuscript, personally typed and signed by Getou outlining his position within the team and the duties he’d fulfill while on the mission that ultimately brought him here.

The edges of the paper were all burnt and crispy, but most of the pages were still intact. Flipping through them, you showed him all the polaroid pictures that were stuffed inside of Getou in his space suit and at the control panels of the ship, and with Gojo and other crew members.

“I didn’t think a God would carry around so many papers about his job. I thought you just knew.” Tossing the manuscript to the floor, you sprinkled smelling salts into the water and grabbed onto one of Getou’s feet, raising it only slightly as you let him mull over the new information before him.

“So, I assume you’ll have me killed for lying, then?” There was a heavy pit sitting in his stomach, but Getou knew this day would come, it was only a matter of when.

“Kill you? Never!” Your sudden laugh gave him pause.

“Then what? What will happen to me now?”

“I intend to use this information to my advantage.”

“You want to use me to climb the ranks at the temple, don’t you?” Narrowing his eyes, Getou could already see the plan formulating behind your eyes.

“Precisely, my Lord. Over the course of a few months, I will become your most trusted advisor.” Letting go of his foot, your hand slid up Getou’s leg, your pointed nails scraping against his skin. “And before the anniversary of the sun’s return, I will be the highest shaman in the temple. Your right hand, if you may.”

As you spoke, your hand went higher and higher, skimming the edges of his long silken robe and going under it, cupping his knee for a moment before stopping midthigh. If anyone walked in right now, what would they say to the scene in front of them?

“What’s in it for me?” Getou shuddered as your nails dragged lightly along his skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake that had his senses tingling. You flashed him a smile, one full of rows of shiny black teeth.

“Why, you get to remain the all powerful God of this land, bestowing wisdom upon the subjects that worship you.” Sidling up to Getous legs, you fully pushed apart his robes to reveal his soft cock. “And…”

“And?” Getou pressed as you trailed off, subtly opening his legs as much as he could with his feet still in the basin. You chuckled at him, hand grabbing gently onto the base of his cock. Getou had come to learn that the creatures on this planet were often colder than he was, and your lukewarm hand was a testament to that.

“And I’ll keep you nice and happy.” Brazenly leaning over his lap, you sucked the tip of his cock into your mouth, your long tongue lapping out and wrapping around him, the tip going all the way down to his balls.

“Ah!” The unexpected pleasure shooting up his spine made Getou curl inward, knocking over the basin and spilling water onto the rugs. His hand shot out to grasp the back of your head, urgently trying to ground himself as his mind turned to mush.

“Don’t worry about the mess, my Lord. I’ll clean it up.” Pulling off his cock, you licked your lips and looked over your shoulders.

“You- what’s your name?” Getou panted, his legs already starting to tremble.

“(Y/N), my Lord.” You grinned, beginning to slowly jerk off his cock.

“(Y/N).” He tested the name on his tongue but he couldn’t speak any further as you thumbed the tip of his cock.

“But you don’t need to worry yourself about that now.” Now that his feet were free, you could slide in between Getou’s legs and get to his cock easier. “Right now, it’s all about you.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto suguru #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen scenarios

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star-lemonade · 3 years

Text

School reunion (1/3)

A.C.E Junhee x Reader

Cw: bulling, kinda angsty, Junhee is a sweet heart though

Rating: T (Series R)

Word count: 3.6 k

Summary: You hire someone to accompany you to your school reunion.

I can’t believe I’m actually doing this. The laptop sat on the kitchen table and the page in the browser was taunting you. You stared at the screen from your spot against the kitchen counter. The empty boxes waited for you to fill in your information. Should I really do this?

You sighed and filled some water into the kettle just to delay having to make a decision. The other thing on the kitchen table was not better. It was an invitation to your school reunion. The reunion was scheduled for the Saturday of the following week at your old school. School. Even the address on the paper brought a bad taste to your mouth.

“You’re so ugly, who would ever date you?”

“I dare you to kiss her.”

“Yak not even for money”

You shuddered. No, no, there is no way I will go there alone. You sat down at the table and began to fill in the form. Name, address, phone and age. On the next page they asked about the occasion or event and you typed: school reunion.

Time? about 3 hours. I won’t stay there for too long.

Gender preference? Hmm I don’t actually care. ‘Don’t care’ was not an option, so you chose ‘man preferred’ over the ‘man only’, ‘woman preferred’ and ‘woman only’ options.

Age preferences? 25-35. I can’t show up there with an 18 year old.

Your finger hovered over the enter button. The shadow of your school days was still haunting you and made your hand heavier until you finally clicked check out.

You had officially rented a plus one for your school reunion.

A day after you had filled out the form you received a message from an unknown number.

“Hello, this is Junhee. I will accompany you to your school reunion next week. Would it be okay if I asked some questions so I can prepare?”

“Hi, Junhee. What do you want to know?”

“How should I introduce myself?”

You chewed on your lip. As you typed the next message your face felt warm.

“As my boyfriend.”

It felt so sad to ask this of a total stranger and you prayed he would not judge you for it. Please don’t question this, please don’t question this.

“How long have we been together?”

I guess that is a valid question someone could ask. You thought about it for a moment. It should not be too short but also not too long. The fact that you did know much about each other would make it not believable that you are together for years.

“A few months maybe?”

He asked a few more questions like “where and how did we meet?” (“at work while getting coffee”) and you answered them with whatever struck your mind.

“Okay. I think this is enough for me. Thank you!”

You sighed. This was actually more complicated than you had anticipated. At least now it felt real as opposed to just a scam to get money from people. Three dots appeared on your screen again.

“One last thing. This is also in the terms of service, but we all must remind our customers about this: I am not a hooker and you did not book sexual favours.”

Your face burned when you read that. Surely no one had asked for that before, had they?

“Of cause not, I just don’t want to go alo-”

Before you really thought about it, you had accidently pressed ‘send’ instead of backspace. Oh no. OH NO.

“Shit.”

My escort knows how pathetic I am. ‘As if he did not know before’ another part of you interjected. Your phone vibrated again.

“It’s okay, I will do my best to keep you company :)”

You did not know what to answer and just send:

“Thank you.”

As the reunion neared you found yourself thinking about it more. A sort of dread had settled in your chest. After all these years you would finally face your bullies. The people who had belittled you for not been pretty enough and made you believe that you could never find anyone who loved you. The worst thing was it seemed that they were right. You were single and you even had to hire someone… no. No, you would not let them get to you. The past years had been the happiest you had ever been. You had friends, even if they were not many, and you did well at your job. There was nothing not to be proud of. Even if you were single now, that did not mean you were unlovable. It just meant that you had not met a person that fit. You would walk in there, head held high and show those petty bitches you were not afraid of them anymore.

Your mood oscillated between confident and anxious for the whole week. You did not want to give them the satisfaction of knowing you were still so affected by them, that their mere presence could make you stay away. No, you had to go. Like this you killed the time to the day of the reunion.

You had rented a dress from a rental service. It was not too fancy but you simply did not own that many dresses and the ones you had did not seem appropriate. Someone on the organizing committee had decided that nice dresses and suits were what they wanted to see. You had messaged Junhee to wear something appropriate for that dress code.

“In a few hours it’s over.”

Your mirror image was not convinced by this but it was all you could do now. Backing out last minute would make you look bad, even if you really wanted to. All of this seemed like a bad idea. What if they found out that you had hired someone to play your boyfriend? You would be the laughing stock of the whole school and this after you had not been in school for years. For a moment you considered just taking off the dress, putting on some sweaters and sitting down on the couch. Your phone made a noise. A new message had arrived.

“At 5 pm at the station, right?”

Junhee.

“Yes. See you there.”

As if it was mocking you, the sun shone from a bright blue sky. The people on the street smiled more than you had seen in some time. On the other hand it was maybe your imagination. Now that you were walking to what could be the worst night of your recent history, everyone seemed in a better state than you.

You arrived at the station.

“I’m wearing a red dress.”

Maybe the dress was a bit much. It had seemed like a good idea. Wearing red would make you stand out. Now, however, that was the opposite of what you wanted to do. Fading into the background, turning invisible and just straight up going back home was what you really wanted right now. The only thing that was that held you back was the thought of the money you had spent upfront for your plus one.

Two young women stopped next to you. One of them sat her backpack down and tried to stuff a paper bag into it.

“Should I help?”

Her friend watched her struggle with amusement. Despite her offer she did not help backpack girl but looked around instead.

You shifted your attention to your phone. Junhee had seen your message. Good. I hope he will be here soon. So we can get this over with.

“Jeez, I wish my boyfriend looked like that,” the girl said as her friend proclaimed: “I’m done. Let’s go.”

Backpack girl dragged her friend away. At least she had a boyfriend. It was not like you needed a man in your life but it would be nice sometimes. Next week I will try tinder. From past experience that was not likely but the thought alone seemed to pacify your mind for now. Getting a boyfriend was future-you’s problem. Present-you had to worry about that goddamn school reunion.

Someone said your name.

“Hmm?”

You were not sure which part shocked you the most: the crisp black suit that hugged the man’s body perfectly, the curly dark hair that looked straight out of a romcom, the beautiful lips and handsome face, the million dollar smile or the soft voice that said your name. It was hard to choose.

“Ehm?”

“Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Junhee.”

“ID please.”

You showed it to the sour faced student behind the supermarket counter. He nodded and you paid. Buying hard alcohol in broad daylight was highly suspicious but this situation called for it. You definitely could not do this sober. Junhee had sat down on a bench not too far from the supermarket. The black suit and white dress shirt fit him perfectly. It was as if watching a photo shoot for the next wedding catalog. Oh, this is a catastrophe. You unscrewed the bottle and took a good mouthful. The cheap alcohol burned in your mouth and all the way down. No one in their right mind would believe he is my boyfriend. It could not be more obvious that you had hired him. Junhee watched the cars go by. The sun made his hair seem more brown than black and the light breeze moved the soft locks. You took another gulp and stuffed the bottle in your handbag. Did I accidentally book a model? There had not been an option for that of course. I should have asked for a photo. You left the store and walked over to Junhee. Maybe I should just send him home and go drink at a bar.

When he saw you, Junhee stood up. His charming smile filled you with dread. This is a car crash waiting to happen.

“Did you get everything?”

You nodded. Soon the alcohol would hit your brain. Maybe then you would care less about everything. You could not bring yourself to send Junhee away. He had come here, looking sharp and you had paid money for him to be here. Your stinginess won against better judgment, so your only option was the original one: go to your old school.

It felt like there was a black cloud of doom that thickened as you got nearer. The bad experiences from the past made every step you took towards that hell hole more difficult. You wanted to run away.

“Can I take your hand?”

Junhee. You had almost forgotten about him. He had not said anything for the past ten minutes or so. Maybe he felt that now was not a good time to talk. You offered your hand. He interlaced his fingers with yours. It had been some time since you held someone’s hand and it made your heart beat faster. Or maybe it was the liquor.

You turned the corner and there it was. The building looked the same as in your memory. Whoever had the idea of starting the evening here before instead of going to a restaurant directly, did not have your gratitude. Walking through the front door stiffly, you clenched your hands. Your whole body was tense. You were ready to fight or flee at any second.

Voices were coming from the gym. Next to the open door stood a table. On it were pens and stickers. As you approached a woman came through the door and smiled at you. It was the most fake smile you had seen in some time.

“Welcome! Please make a name tag for yourself.”

She made a swiping gesture to the table. You let go of Junhee’s hand and wrote your name on a sticker. The woman watched Junhee as he made a tag for himself. You had never been the jealous type but right then wanted to claw her eyes out.

“Have fun.”

You almost felt her looking as you entered the gym. The hall was filled with bar tables groups had formed and all eyes were on you. At one of the empty tables you stopped.

“I will get something to drink. What do you want?”

You barely heard your own answer over the ringing in your ears. The ceiling had been decorated but it made the hall seem more shabby. As if the paper garlands were only there to hide the cracks in the grey concrete. You looked around.

They looked back at you from the other table, pointed and smirked at each other. Your bullies. They looked old. The ten years since graduation had carved lines into their faces but they tried to hide it by applying too much makeup.

You felt sick.

“Hey.”

A hand landed on your shoulder and you jerked. Junhee pulled back his hand. He studied your face.

“Do you want to leave?”

You looked up. Leave? Leaving meant giving up. They won if you left. No, no you were strong. Your hand strangled your purse. You would not run away from them. Junhee‘s brown eyes watched the tremor in your hand.

“Let’s go,” he whispered and took your hand. Your skin was cold and sweaty against his as Junhee dragged you out. You were so shocked, you did not even say anything until you had left through the front door.

“Stop!”

You ripped your hand free from his grasp.

“You should not stay there any longer.”

“That is not your call to make,” you snapped at him.

His face flushed.

“No, but it is the right one.”

Before you could talk back he continued in a calm tone: “You don’t care about any of those people and they don’t care about you.”

He waved his hands.

“I don't know what happened in the past but you are not here to meet some old friends.”

Your eyes burned. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. It’s humiliating. You tried to blink the tears away but your vision blurred.

“Not here.”

Junhee grabbed your shoulder and led you away. The tears fogged your vision, so you just followed wherever he was going. Your feet moved on their own accord and you were thankful for it. Holding back an undignified sob took up all your mental capacity.

“Sit.”

You collapsed on the bench. There was nothing holding the tears back now. You looked like an idiot in front of everyone. Your bullies had seen you turn up with an escort only to run away the second they looked at you. And now you cried on a bench in front of said escort. How pathetic had your life become? You had not felt this bad since leaving school.

Get a grip. There was nothing to be done here. You did not feel better by telling yourself this, but at least one of these could be fixed. Try to stop crying.

You concentrated on a point on the ground. The concrete was cracked there and something green had started to push its way to the surface. Plants are amazing. They can even exist in these places.

Your eyes still burned and your nose was all clogged up, but you had stopped crying.

“I’m sorry, Junhee.”

You looked up. There was no one around. When did he leave? You sighed and your eyes burnt again. I guess it is just that kind of day. Going home sounded like a good idea but you could not bring yourself to get up. The weight of your sorrows kept you on the bench. You could not even blame Junhee for leaving either. Usually you were very composed and rarely had outbursts of any kind, but today was just not your day.

“Here.”

A bottle of water entered your field of view. Your gaze followed the arm that was holding it up until you met Junhee’s eyes. You took the bottle and almost cried again because he was still here. For better or worse he had not abandoned you on a bench.

The water was cold. It had clearly been in a fridge not too long ago.

“Thank you.”

Junhee sat down next to you and waited while you drank the water. This day, although it was not over, was already a train wreck. Very carefully Junhee asked: “Can we get something to eat?”

You nodded slowly. Food was not a bad idea. You had skipped lunch because you had not been hungry at the time.

“Sure.”

Junhee stood up and looked around, hands on his hips. He turned to you and asked in a hushed tone:

“Where do we have to go?”

There was nothing funny about it but you laughed anyway. Junhee looked like a lost puppy and when he saw you laughing, he pouted. Now this really was funny.

“The station is that way.”

Junhee looked at his phone. He took off his tie and pocketed it.

“Technically I’m free to go now.”

You raised an eyebrow. “We just got here and ordered food and you want to go?” was what you wanted to say but swallowed it. You were still embarrassed and grateful that Junhee was there with you. He had made dumb jokes all the way to your favorite restaurant. It was almost on the other end of town but it was the only place you wanted to be right now.

“So, you wanna leave?”

“Leave? No, no!”

He waved his hands frantically.

“I … meant I’m not here because of work now.”

The soju had painted Junhee’s cheeks a rosy red. It looked good on him.

“What do you do when you don’t do this?”

You gestured vaguely at you and him sitting together in your favorite restaurant. Surely it had to be model or something like that just based on what you had seen so far. Technically you were not supposed to ask personal questions but your contract was done. Technically.

“I’m a student. I study computer science, but I will graduate soon.”

He took a sip from his drink. That rang a bell in the back of your mind. Computer science? Someone was talking to me about that not long ago. Who was it?

The waiter came and set your food on the table. He opened the lid of the barbecue that was mounted in the table.

“Have a good meal.”

“Thank you.”

When you left the restaurant, the sun had set. You felt a little awkward. It had been nice spending time with Junhee even if you had been very distressed earlier. Before you could really think about it, the words fell from your mouth.

“Thank you for spending the day with me. It was nice.”

You did not look at him. It felt unnatural but you meant it and had to say it.

“It was nice for me too.”

Junhee’s hair was not as neat as earlier. The waves had flattened and the way he always combed it left it looking disheveled. His cheeks were flushed from the food and the drinks.

You were not sure what to say. “Goodbye for ever” seemed a bit odd.

“Good luck with your studies. See you around.”

“Goodbye.”

You left Junhee at the restaurant and walked home. It was not too far so you could walk. The night air was refreshing after the stuffy restaurant. It also cleared the dryness of your eyes and nose.

Your apartment was dark and empty. You took a quick shower, put on your pyjamas and went to bed. The day had been emotionally exhausting and you were drifting into the fuzzy precursor to sleep. Your mind drifted through some memories and thoughts but nothing was clear. It hit you. You were wide awake because your brain had found the answer to the question. You grabbed your phone from the nightstand. The light from the screen nearly blinded you.

John, a name he had chosen because none of his overseas clients could pronounce ‘Seungmin’, was the CTO of a company that had their offices in the same building as your company. Without thinking much about it you sent Junhee John’s number.

“He is looking for some computer science people. Maybe that’s something for you. Anyways good luck and best wishes.”

You tried not to think too much about that day. It still felt like a defeat even months later. You had run away from your bullies. They had looked at you and you had folded. It was a bitter memory. The logical part of you noted that it was not worth your time, that you should focus on the tasks at hand and live your life.

You spent time with your friends and on your hobbies. Indeed your spirits lifted slowly. The less time you spent ruminating about the past the more time you could spend on other things.

“Let’s get lunch. I’m starving.”

You agree with your colleague. You grabbed your phone and keys. Your colleague was already at the elevator and held open the door.

Two floors down the elevator stopped and the door opened.

“Hey!”

John and some of his staff entered. You waved and smiled. John was a man in late 40 or early 50s, you had never asked, but he gave off the youthful energy of someone who loved his job. A ‘ding!’ announced the closing of the doors but John jammed his leg and arm between it.

“Hurry up, newbie! We can’t have you starve on the first day!”

Steps echoed in the hallway and the newbie flew into the tight space. The young man had dark hair and wore round glasses. With the dark blue sweater and the jeans he gave off the youthful vibe of a university student. He was very handsome and your face burnt.

Junhee.

#wkcnet #noonasinnetwork #Junhee x reader #Junhee smut #A.C.E smut #a.c.e x reader #kpop x reader #a.c.e fanfic #A.C.E fics #kpop fanfic #non idol au #star writing #queue for the lemonade stand

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vannahfanfics · 3 years

Text

Raincheck

Category: Angst, Drama, Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Hitoshi Shinso, Ochako Uraraka

Hello everyone! This is my story for the @shinsoubigbang! When you get a chance, also check out my partner's artwork; they did an amazing job illustrating a scene from the story. :)

The wind tugged at Hitoshi’s lavender locks and whipped at the capture weapon around his neck as he perched on the edge of the rooftop. He hunched like a gargoyle as he carefully surveyed the sprawling mess of back alleys below his sneakers. Crime always festered in dark places, especially on cloudy, moonless nights like these. Hitoshi could almost hear the whispers of malcontent and mischief rising with the wisps of fog. His instincts were buzzing, tingling just beneath his skin, indicating that his hunt for criminals would soon bear fruit.

His lilac-hued eyes snapped to the side as the air suddenly rang with the rhythmic clacking of heels. A young woman in a waitress’ garb quickly strode down a cobblestoned back road. She clutched her purse tight to her chest and feverishly looked to her left and right. Despite her vigorous attempts, her caution did not avail her. Hitoshi watched a shadow slink out from behind a dumpster. A knife glinted in the dark as its blade caught the dull yellow light spilling from the nearby streetlamp. The shadowy figure crept up behind the unsuspecting woman, reaching for her brunette hair bunched in a bun—

and that’s when Hitoshi swung down in a dark fury, his capture weapon wrapping tightly around the man’s wrist. The woman screamed and stumbled into the wall as the hero wedged himself between her and her would-be assailant. The mugger cursed and tugged violently against his bindings, but he could not best the hard-earned muscles of Hitoshi’s arms, which flexed as he drew the capture weapon so tight that it ceased the man’s blood flow and forced his fingers apart. The knife clattered to the ground, useless, and the startled thief met Shinso’s cool, cold purple eyes.

“Someone taught you the wrong way to pick up women, mate,” Hitoshi tsked while wagging his finger scoldingly. The mugger’s face turned an ugly red-purple hue, and he vehemently resumed clawing and yanking at the capture weapon.

“You motherfucker! I’m gonna—” He wasn’t going to do anything, actually, which he realized when his jaw slackened and his eyes clouded over as Hitoshi’s Quirk washed over him.

“Do me a favor and stop struggling, will you?” Hitoshi tutted. The man obediently lowered his arm, standing still as a statue as Hitoshi loosened the bindings and looped them back around his neck. The hero returned his attention to the young woman, who was still pale-faced and hugging the dirty brick wall while staring at the mugger in horror.

“He… He won’t do anything?” she squeaked as Shinso abandoned him to walk over to her.

“Him?” he asked with a jab of his thumb. “Nah,” he reassured with a wily smirk. “He’s completely under the control of my Quirk. He won’t do anything I don’t put in his empty head. Now, miss, are you hurt?” Still gawking apprehensively at her attacker, she slowly shook her head. To Hitoshi’s relief, however, her rigid body slowly relaxed, and she turned to look at him.

“Thank you for saving me… I should have known better than to use this shortcut, but it’s my daughter’s birthday party and I wanted to hurry home after my shift since I couldn’t get off for her party…”

“I’m sorry you had to miss it,” Hitoshi said genuinely. “It’s dangerous around here, though. I’ll call in a police escort to get you home safely in addition to handing over this guy if you don’t mind waiting a little longer, okay?” Though she probably didn’t want to waste any more time, the near-catastrophe rattled her thoroughly enough to comply. Hitoshi walked out of the side street onto the sidewalk flanking the main road. After phoning the police, he paused to open a video message.

“Hey, ‘Toshi!” Ochako’s bubbly round face dominated the screen, cheeks rosy and brown eyes sparkling as she waved excitedly. “I just got back from my P.R. trip to America. You wouldn’t believe all the amazing things I saw! We should get together for lunch tomorrow so I can tell you all about it. I’m sure you’re on patrol right now and will be until morning,” she said, leaning back in the camera frame, and he could see that she was dressed in a pair of fluffy white pajamas printed with green aliens in spacesuits. It made him chuckle; she always had adored silly pajamas like that. “I’ve got a bit of jet lag so I’ll be awake for a while, so call me when you get off, okay? Bye-bye now!” she chirped while waving before the video cut off.

Hitoshi stared at the frozen image of Ochako’s big bright smile, a soft one forming on his own lips. After he’d joined Class A in U.A.’s Hero Course, he’d become fast friends with all of them. However, to everyone’s surprise including his own, he’d gravitated the most to Ochako. She was just so bubbly and bright, the perfect counterpart to his subdued and relaxed personality. He found her endless optimism and drive refreshing, so much so that they still kept up with one another even after graduation.

His big fat crush on her might have had a little to do with that, though.

Hitoshi waited impatiently for the police with the waitress. He asked her questions about her daughter, and though she eagerly embraced the small talk to ease her nerves, Hitoshi really just let her responses go in one ear and out the other. He was too busy mentally configuring his schedule, trying to figure out the soonest he could call Ochako. In the end his impatience got the best of him, as he ended up calling her number as the police officers were loading the suspect into the back of the squad car and the other was taking a report from his would-be victim.

“Wow, that was fast.”

Hitoshi smiled at her cheery voice buzzing on the other end of the line. He leaned against the hood of the patrol car and slid one of his hands into his pants pockets.

“I just happened to have a break,” he shrugged. “I wanted to call and see how you were settling in after your trip.”

“I’ve only been gone two weeks, but it still feels kind of weird to be back!” she giggled. He could envision her grabbing one of her fluffy pillows— probably the big sun plushie wearing sunshades— as she reclined against her headboard. “America was incredible! I can totally see how it was the birthplace of heroes. I can’t wait to tell you all about it, ‘Toshi.”

“Are you sure you can wait until tomorrow?” he joked. In the background, he could hear the police radio crackling about a carjacking and a high-speed chase through town. As the sirens began to wail and red-and-blue lights painted the dark night sky, Hitoshi straightened up and looked around with narrowed eyes. “Hey, Ochako, hold on a minute. I think—”

He never got time to finish the sentence.

Everything was a blur as the car came careening down the street, followed closely by a police cruiser. The air filled with squealing tires and burning rubber as the police car braked harshly, but the carjacker had no care to do so, instead opting to plow right through the two police cars parked in the middle of the road in his effort to get away. One of the police officers managed to tackle the waitress into the safety of the alleyway, while the other was bowled over by the criminal, who was attempting to use the chaos to escape, even though he was handcuffed.

Hitoshi was not so lucky. As the car zoomed past the cruiser, crunching the metal with a sickening sound, it glanced him. Even being glanced by a car going over one hundred miles an hour was enough to send Hitoshi flying back into the alleyway. His phone was slung from his hand as he crashed against the rough ground; he released a strangled gasp as he felt several of his bones snap. As he rolled down the alley, the back of his head smacked against the cobblestone. A white rush flooded through him from head to toe, filling his brain with cotton and his ears with a persistent ring. When he finally came to a rest on his back in a mangled mess of limbs, he was staring uncomprehendingly at the sky, blood leaking out of his lips.

Dimly, he could hear Ochako’s voice echoing through the alleyway. He’d somehow managed to turn the phone on speaker.

“‘Toshi? What happened? ‘Toshi? Hitoshi?!”

The sirens continued wailing. The blue-and-red lights flashed around him like the stars falling to earth. He could feel blood leaking out from the back of his head, coating his lavender hair in thick, sticky globs. The woman was screaming and crying, while the police officers were shouting into their radios for an ambulance. As the darkness encroached on the edges of Hitoshi’s vision, he hung onto Ochako’s frantically screeching voice like a lifeline.

He had to live. He had to live. He was going to meet her for lunch tomorrow…

~~~~~~~~~~

It began with a dull pounding ache. It thundered at the base of his skull, rising in intensity with each inch he crawled towards consciousness. The persistent pain made him want to drift back into the sweet embrace of sleep, but unfortunately the ache prevented it. He groaned lowly, lolling his head from side-to-side and hitting the hard plastic of the neck brace hugging his throat. His purple lashes fluttered open, and his eyes were greeted with bright, burning white.

He blinked slowly, uncomprehendingly, at the nondescript white tiles above him. He could hear a heart monitor blinking steadily beside him. He could feel a thin hospital gown rubbing against his bruised skin, the casts wrapping his right arm and leg to immobilize them, and the bandage covering his swollen right eye. He was in a hospital, clearly, but what had landed him there in such a deplorable state?

As he tried to remember, there was nothing. Emptiness. A blank slate.

He furrowed his eyebrows in mild panic. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t summon up memories about much of anything. He knew his name— Hitoshi Shinso— but that was it. As he shifted on the bed, breath hitching and his heart rate jumping on the monitor, it alerted the nurses outside.

“He’s awake!” a nurse called as she bustled in through the doorway. “Hey, hey, it’s all right. You’re safe, in the hospital,” she cooed as she leaned over his bedside. Hitoshi looked at her with wild eyes. “What’s the matter, hun? Are you in pain? Do you need medication?”

“Don’t remember,” he grumbled.

“What, honey?”

“I don’t remember anything…”

The nurse gasped and straightened up, hand flying to her mouth. She looked nervously at the other nurses crowding the door. As they began to murmur worriedly to one another, the doctor strode in, frowning over Hitoshi’s chart.

“Doctor, he says he doesn’t remember anything,” the nurse reported in a quiet voice. The professional looked at her before walking to Hitoshi’s side. Hitoshi squirmed uncomfortably under his stern, inquisitive stare.

“Son, do you know your name?”

“Hitoshi Shinso.”

“Do you know how you got here?”

Hitoshi shook his head as much as the neck brace would allow. “Can you remember anything from the last week?” Another shake of his head. “Last month?” Again, he shook his head. “What do you remember?”

Hitoshi squeezed his eyes shut as he struggled to summon something, anything, from the recesses of his mind. A few snippets floated up in the sea of emptiness, which served to ease him just a little. “I’m a hero… I graduated from U.A. High School… But I don’t remember going there. I just know I did.”

“Well,” the doctor sighed as he straightened up, tapping the pages of his chart, “you suffered a basilar skull fracture and an epidural hematoma. We had to puncture your skull to relieve the pressure on your brain, but you still developed a very severe concussion. It seems the head trauma has induced amnesia.”

Hitoshi’s heart rate skyrocketed, causing the monitor to wail shrilly.

“Will I get my memory back?”

“Most likely. It may take some time, however, with an injury like yours. Some of your classmates are here; they’ve been waiting for you to recover from surgery. I can bring them in if you would like. Their presence may help to jump-start the process.”

Hitoshi nodded robotically, still trying to process the great hole that had suddenly developed in his life. Time seemed to blend together, because the next thing he knew, a green-haired young man was inching into the room with a shaky smile. The doctor probably informed his supposed friends of his amnesia because the freckled boy treaded lightly and carefully— like he was afraid Hitoshi would shatter with one wrong word.

“Hey, ‘Toshi,” the boy smiled as he pulled up a chair to his bedside. Hitoshi squinted at him. There was something familiar about that quivering smile, nervous twitching, and bright emerald eyes, but that was all. “I’m glad to see it’s okay… It’s me, Deku— er, Izuku Midoriya! Not that you would know that, I guess, considering the amnesia and all… We went to school together, y’know?”

Hitoshi swallowed, but his mouth was dry so it made it a little difficult.

“I see,” was all the lavender-haired boy said. At this time, a blond-haired skinny boy with a lightning-shaped streak of black in his bangs bustled in, red-faced and looking like he’d run all the way there.

“Holy crap, is it true, Deku?” the boy panted, rushing up to grip the back of his chair. Izuku pouted over his shoulder at him.

“Yeah, Denki… He doesn’t remember anything…”

“Oh, man,” Denki said while nervously running his hand through his hair. “Ochako’s gonna be devastated…”

Hitoshi perked up at the name. As soon as it passed Denki’s lips, it sent a jolt of recognition through him. Oddly, aliens and stars and the color pink suddenly came to mind. The two boys immediately noticed his reaction and exchanged hopeful glances.

“Do you recognize that name?” Izuku asked hopefully.

“I think so…” Hitoshi said quietly, fisting the scratchy white hospital blanket. “Ochako…” The name seemed to roll off his tongue so perfectly, and it sent a bubbly, happy feeling rising up inside of him.

“That’s great! She was so worried about you, Hitoshi! It took her forever to get answers out of the first responders, and then she had to handle calling all of us, and then she was really upset when they wouldn’t let her see you because you were in surgery, so she’s been a mess all night—” Izuku babbled, but Hitoshi ignored it as he tried to process the way his heart was fluttering at the hazy image of a sweet round-faced brunette trying to surface in the void of his mind.

“I think… I think I was in love with her.”

Izuku stopped mid-sentence, emerald eyes blowing wide. Denki had his hand over his mouth as Hitoshi looked at them in muddled confusion. “Were we dating?”

“Uh… no,” Denki coughed uncomfortably. Hitoshi’s frown deepened and he looked back down at the blanket. If that was the case, then why did just the mention of her name summon up a sense of deep fondness and happiness within him? “But, uh,” Denki continued, scratching at the side of his face, “we’ve all known you’ve had a crush on her for a long time— everyone but Ochako, that is.”

“Denki!” Izuku gasped scoldingly, whirling around in his chair.

“What?! The man’s got amnesia! I gotta help him out, right?” the blond argued defensively. Hitoshi was too busy blushing to listen to their quibbling. So, I do love her… But she doesn’t know. So, did I never tell her? Why not?

“‘Toshi? Where is he? ‘Toshi! Hitoshi!”

As she came barging in the room, tears streaming down her ruddy cheeks and brunette hair a mess, he immediately knew why. Even flustered and sobbing and disoriented from lack of sleep, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever clapped eyes on. Even with no memories, he knew that. She tripped over his IV cord in her effort to scramble to him, face-planting against the tile floor. He jolted up in bed, the heart rate monitor picking up the leap in his heartbeat, but she was so frantic that she immediately recovered and practically threw herself down on the bed beside him.

“I was so worried!” she sobbed, grabbing at the blankets as her tears rained down on his face and into his lavender hair. “We were— we were on the phone, and, and then, there was this big crash, and then the sirens, and— oh my God, ‘Toshi, you wouldn’t answer me, and no one would tell me anything, and I-I-I— oh, ‘Toshi, I’m so glad you’re alive!” she rambled through her tears before burying her face into his chest. Hitoshi grunted when pain flared across his body as his broken ribs crunched under the assault, but like hell he was going to say anything. Ochako wailed into him, drowning the thin cloth of the gown with tears and snot. As her body wracked and heaved, it jolted Hitoshi a little, but he gritted his teeth through the little stabs of pain.

When she’d calmed down enough, she quietly asked against his chest, “Is it true? You have amnesia?”

“Yes,” he admitted in a small breath. Ochako breathed in deeply, shakily. Then, she shot up, her teary brown eyes gleaming with determination.

“That’s okay! We can work through it!” Hitoshi’s heart fluttered at her use of “we.” She grabbed his hands and squeezed them tight, giving him a watery smile. “I’ll be with you every step of the way, ‘Toshi. We’re gonna get you better, okay?” she said softly and threaded her fingers through his lavender hair. Her fingers skimmed over the shaved patch in his head and the sutures from where they’d had to split his skull open, and she hiccuped as a fresh wave of tears streamed down her cheeks. “I-it’s gonna be okay.”

He wanted to tell her that of course it was, now that she was here. But words failed him, as he was too lost in the watery sea of her chocolate-brown eyes and the feeling that everything really was going to be okay. He remembered Ochako, and that was enough comfort to him to face all the trials ahead.

~~~~~~~~~~

He was discharged from the hospital a week later. In addition to his head injuries, he’d sustained a broken arm and leg, three broken ribs, two fractured cervical vertebrae, and a myriad of scrapes and bruises. Because of the severity of his wounds and his amnesia, it was difficult for Hitoshi to manage by himself, so his friends took it upon themselves to care for him. Nothing humbles you like being unable to do even the most menial tasks, like put on clothes or bathe yourself. Hitoshi’s friends took it in stride, though, and always batted away his emotional expressions of gratitude. “It’s just what friends do,” they said.

It made Hitoshi wish he remembered their friendships. Maybe then it would make him feel less like a charity case.

Though his friends rotated shifts around their hero duties to help him throughout the day, Ochako always cooked dinner for him— without fail, every night. They would always insist on sharing the load, she stubbornly refused them. Toting in groceries, sometimes still in her hero uniform and beat up from the toil of the day, she’d grin determinedly.

“My mom always said that nothing helps you heal faster than a good meal. That’s how I can help!”

Hitoshi couldn’t find the words to tell her that her presence helped him heal more than food ever could. He’d sit in his wheelchair watching her cook, the way she turned up the radio and danced around the kitchen singing into the wooden spoon. Swinging her hips, she’d whirl around to serenade him with a goofy smile. Hitoshi never knew the words to the songs. He’d just grin back, charmed by her zest for life. It was so dazzling, so blinding, that even now he couldn’t find the courage to tell her how he felt. She was like the sun, so radiant and sublime that he felt like he couldn’t ever compete.

He should say something to her. Really, he should. But… the words just couldn’t come, just like his memories.

Three weeks in, Hitoshi’s memories had trickled in somewhat. Most of them were dredged up by old stories his friends told him, so there were still tons of gaps. Still, it made Hitoshi feel a little better; he no longer felt like he was trapped in a void and a stranger to himself. Looking back, it was a terribly scary and lonely feeling, for others to know more about you than you did. Though the doctor kept telling him to give it time, Hitoshi had already resolved himself to the fact that maybe he might not ever get them all back. His past would just be a jigsaw puzzle of little snatches of memory and secondhand information.

As much as he tried to convince himself that it was all right, he couldn’t. He hated the not knowing— the not knowing all that time he was in love with Ochako besides those feelings. He wanted all of it, every moment he’d ever had with her to treasure and savor. It was maddening, not having that, so Hitoshi decided to just make do with the new moments. Now, if he could just get over himself and ask her out.

“‘Toshi? Do you not like it?”

Ochako’s sweet voice dragged him out of his thoughts. He was reclined on the couch with a bowl of noodles growing cold in his hand, the fork still halfway raised to his lips. It had been a new recipe, Ochako had said. Hurriedly, he scooped the noodles into his mouth and gave her an approving hum.

“No, sorry. I was just lost in thought. It’s really good.”

Ochako smiled relievedly, melting into his armchair. She set her empty bowl of noodles on the coffee table, idly flipping through the television channels as Hitoshi finished off his food before it really did grow cold and unappetizing. Eventually, Ochako decided there was nothing worth watching and flipped off the television. She rose to get their dirty dishes, and Hitoshi watched her with lidded lilac eyes. How could every move a person made be pure magic? As she waltzed out the room into the kitchen, the fluidness of her body just amazed him.

Yet… something was wrong. He could tell. Her body was tense, the edges of her smile crinkled, her eyebrows just barely furrowed. She tried to pass it off with a smile to him as she walked back in, but Hitoshi wasn’t buying it. As she proposed renting a movie, he cut her off, gesturing for her to approach. Confused, she walked over and sat on the edge of the coffee table beside him.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he ordered. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment at Hitoshi’s brusque command. She shifted on the wood, pressing her hands between her thighs and rolling her bottom lip under her front teeth. Hitoshi waited patiently for the girl to gather her thoughts.

“I haven’t been sleeping,” she admitted finally. “I’m tired.” Now that she brought it up, he could see the dark lines ringing the undersides of her eyes and the way that her body sagged. He wordlessly ordered her to elaborate, making her cheeks flood darker. “I… Ever since the accident, I’ve had nightmares, ‘Toshi,” she said hoarsely. The tears sprung to her eyes and began to roll down her cheeks, making her try and wipe them away with the heels of her palms. “That was the worst night of my life, hearing those awful sounds and not knowing what was going on, and— it felt like forever before I could finally find you, and then they told me you were in surgery and you might not make it, and I just— oh, I can’t get it out of my head. That night is just on replay for me, over and over.

And the worst part is that it’s so selfish of me!” she wailed, leaning over and burying her face into her hands. “You were the one in the accident, not me! If anything, you should be the one who’s haunted by it and I have no right to complain, but I… but I… I feel trapped…” she moaned miserably. “If I hadn’t picked up the phone… Then maybe you wouldn’t have ended up like this…” she revealed in a harsh whisper.

“Oh, Ochako, no!” Hitoshi cried. In his effort to comfort her, he slid off the couch a little, making his brittle bones flare painfully in protest. He didn’t care. Clumsily, he gathered the crying girl into his arms and dragged her onto the couch with him. It was a tight fit, but she still curled into his side, crying into his shoulder as he hugged her tightly with his good arm. “God, Ochako, don’t blame yourself for what happened to me. It wasn’t your fault.”

“But… If I had done something different…” she protested weakly, shaking her head and smearing her tears across his shoulder. To snap her out of her spiral, he pinched her cheek and tugged hard. She shot up into a sitting position, looking at him with wide eyes and her teeth and tongue peeking out from underneath her stretched lips. “‘Toshi… Ow… Tha’ hursh...” she slurred in protest and blinked rapidly as the tears continued to prickle at her eyes.

“Listen to me,” he said sternly. “The accident was not your fault. It was just a freak thing, okay? If anything, it’s my fault for picking up the phone because I couldn’t wait until my patrol was over to call you.” As he spoke, the memories of that night and all the nights before came flooding back. As they rushed in like water, the flow of his words rose in tandem. “I was just so excited that you were back that I just had to hear your voice, right then, and I wasn’t paying attention to anything but you, and—”

He stopped short, cheeks flooding pink as he realized what exactly was tumbling out of his mouth. Ochako stared dumbly at him, a little drool leaking from the corner of her mouth as he was still stretching it. He stiffly released her, causing the skin to snap back. There were pink imprints in her skin where he’d pinched it; she slowly reached up to rub at it, blinking sluggishly.

Well. The cat was out of the bag now, so Hitoshi might as well let it go wild.

“Ochako… I don’t want you here every day because you feel responsible for what happened to me.” He smiled softly and reached up to cover her hand in his own, cupping her cheek. “I want you here because I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

“You remembered?” she asked meekly. As a fresh wave of tears streamed from her eyes, Hitoshi’s smile widened, and he thumbed them away.

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “I never forgot, Ochako.”

She sucked in a breath, then let it out shakily. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed a few times, tearfully processing the situation. After a few minutes of just silently crying next to Hitoshi, her cheeks began to flood pink again.

“I… I would really like it if you kissed me right now,” she admitted bashfully. Hitoshi snorted with laughter, but hell, who was he to refuse? He gently moved his hand to the back of her head to pull her forward. Ochako melted into his touch, allowing him to maneuver her as he would to bring her face close. Her hands felt onto his chest, digging into the soft fabric of his tee-shirt. Hitoshi held her there for a moment, centimeters away, to admire the gorgeous view of her lidded brown eyes and flushed cheeks.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed. Her blush darkened and she shyly bit down on her bottom lip. He chuckled as she wiggled in impatience but opted against teasing her more. He closed his eyes and the gap between them, pressing their lips together in a sweet but passionate kiss. Ochako hummed as his mouth smoothed over hers, so naturally like it had always belonged there. Hitoshi kissed her languidly, savoring the softness of her lips and the aftertaste of chicken broth that was oddly pleasurable. Nothing promotes healing like a good meal, he thought with a mischievous smirk. Ochako would probably explode from mortification if he told her that. She was so cute when she was flustered, though, that it might always be worth saying.

They kissed idly for quite a while, until their faces were flushed and they were a little out of breath. Ochako had draped herself over his chest and wormed her legs between his, careful not to jar his mending bones. She looped her arms around his neck to play with the ends of his fluffy lavender hair, chin propped on his chest so close that he could lean in and peck her lips every once in a while.

“What are you thinking?” she asked him after he’d been quiet for some time. A smile slowly spread across his lips.

“I was thinking…” he said, pausing to give her another soft, sweet kiss, “that we never had that lunch date, did we?”

A smile slowly spread across her face, lighting her up like the sun. Bright as it was, Hitoshi couldn’t tear his gaze away; he wouldn’t, even if it blinded him forever. He would be glad if it was the last thing he ever saw. Giggling, Ochako snuggled into him, fluttering her long brown lashes.

“No, we didn’t. You asked for one heck of a raincheck.”

Hitoshi scoffed, making her stick out her tongue mischievously at him. One heck of a raincheck, indeed. That was okay, though. Even sad moments were moments, too, and Hitoshi valued every moment with Ochako like the most priceless jewel on Earth. Though he’d like to collect every one he could, he thought as they cuddled and began to drowse, he wouldn’t mind stretching this one out a little. It marked the beginning of new memories, after all.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#shinchako #shinso x ochako #shinsou x ochako #shinso x uraraka #shinsou x uraraka #ochako x shinso #ochako x shinsou #uraraka x shinso #uraraka x shinsou #hitoshi shinso #hitoshi shinsou #ochako uraraka #uraraka ochako #shinso hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi #my hero academia #mha #boku no here academia #bnha

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musehyacinthus · 3 years

Text

Shoot Your Shot: Part 1

This is my first published work in over a decade, and I'm so excited to share it with everyone! Dash is my oldest and most treasured oc, and I'm so happy that I finally have the confidence to allow everyone else a peek into her life. This was originally supposed to be a short one shot, but is now going to be a 2(?) part series. I will hopefully be posting more work in the future that explores more of her background, as well as introducing some of my other oc's.

It was June, and the air was warm and sticky, which wasn’t ideal; the humidity made Dash’s hair all frizzy, and it always seemed to happen on a day when she wanted to make meringue.

This morning in particular, her eyes snapped open, bolting upright in her bed with a gasp. She had been having the most amazing dream, in which she was about to take a bite of the biggest, most beautiful lemon meringue pie she had ever seen. However, just as the fork reached her mouth, she woke up, returning to the sad reality where she did not have a mouth watering dessert in front of her. She smacked her lips, trying to recall what the pie had tasted like, but it was already gone. Tragic.

It was then that it dawned on her that she had the ingredients to bring that beautiful pie to life in the kitchen. In an instant, she rushed to her bedroom window. Maybe, if she was lucky, the weather would be on her side today. She pried open the window, a warm, thick breeze blowing against her skin. She groaned. No good; meringue wouldn’t peak in the humidity. No matter how good at baking someone is, they’re no match for mother nature. Pursing her lips, she pulled the latch shut, deciding to settle for banana bread muffins instead.

A couple of hours later, the muffins were nestled in her bag as she hopped off the trolley that crossed the Brooklyn Bridge.

“Thanks!” Dash chirped to the driver, exchanging waves with the man before she bounced away, not noticing the large, gray clouds looming on the horizon.

She clicked her tongue rhythmically as she walked, matching the beat to her steps and scanning the docks for her friend, Twitchy. The purpose of her trip had been to return a book he lent her, but he was nowhere to be seen.

A group of four other teenagers had gathered nearby at the edge of the docks, crouching in a large circle on the ground. Curious, she inched forward, craning her neck to see what was going on.

As she approached, she could see they were surrounding a long piece of brown string that was tied in a circle, surrounding a cluster of marbles.

Her heart skipped a beat. She was fantastic at marbles! She always kept her own pouch on her in case of a marble emergency, which happened more often than one might think.

Now that she was closer, Dash knew the kids to be Newsies like herself from her other visits to the borough. Among the group was a short, round faced girl with glasses and hundreds of freckles who Dash remembered was named Abigail. Her curly, brown hair was pulled back into two braids, her eyebrows knit with frustration as she gazed down at the ring. There was also a pale, skinny boy with sandy, blond hair and brown eyes that Dash didn’t recognize, and a tall boy with broad shoulders and dark hair standing just behind Abigail and watching the game intently. The way he hovered over her, he seemed almost like a bodyguard. What was his name again? Something with a chuh sound…. Chuck? No. Chatter! That was it! She remembered now, she found it funny the first time she learned it because Chatter really didn’t say very much at all. He was a friendly enough guy, but he seemed to like observing and listening more than he liked talking. He and Abigail seemed to always be around one another when Dash saw them, their significant height difference almost comical. Finally, Dash’s eyes rested on the figure closest to her with their back turned. Their brown cap was pulled down low on their face as they knelt on the ground, but she could recognize those bright red suspenders anywhere. He was at an angle where she could just see that was holding a red shooter in his hand, weaving it through his fingertips thoughtfully.

Dash’s feelings toward Spot were… mixed; she could never stop herself from riling him up, and the two would often butt heads due to their wildly different personalities. Spot took himself so seriously, and for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why. It frustrated her that he tried to make himself seem so high and mighty, and she knew the kids in Brooklyn respected him, but as far as she could tell, he was just… some guy. The way he constantly tried to have the attention of those around him was so silly, and just made him come off as a bit of a show off.

She hadn’t seen him do anything particularly intimidating, but the Newsies back in Manhattan would often go on and on about how nervous he made them. She just failed to see any real reason for their apprehension. Then again, she really hadn’t been living in New York all that long; his reputation had been around for a good while. Maybe they all knew something she didn’t.

In any case, as far as she was concerned, he was just a kid who wanted attention. That was fine, of course, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to tease him. It was fun to challenge him, and she found herself getting extremely competitive in his presence. Of course he wasn’t going to back down from a challenge.

Dash would come to Brooklyn every once in a while to exchange books with Twitchy, who she knew was pretty close with Spot. He never seemed to show any signs of being intimidated either, and was an even bigger culprit than she was when it came to pushing Spot’s buttons. He would go to great lengths to make him look silly, like the time he filled Spot’s pockets with bread crumbs and got the neighborhood pigeons to follow him around all day. There was also a time when he dressed up in the same clothes as Spot, and had bribed the other Brooklyn kids with candy to pretend that he was the real Spot for an entire day.

Dash watched as the boy she hadn’t recognized leaned forward, closing one eye and taking a deep breath. He flicked his thumb, his yellow shooter zipping forward and smacking into another large, purple marble. Both marbles rolled over the string, coming to a rest on the other side. The boy whooped with delight, and Abigail let out a cry of astonishment.

“That was a cheap shot, Sonny!” Abigail crossed her arms in front of her chest, staring daggers at the boy. “You know I just got that marble yesterday!”

“It ain’t my fault I got good aim!” Sonny grinned, shrugging and walking over to claim the purple shooter for himself. “Sorry, toots.”

Dash thought Sonny didn’t look all that sorry.

Abigail huffed, sitting back and crossing her legs.

“Fine, whatever. Your turn, Spot.”

Spot, who had been silent the entire time, was already leaning down to shoot his own red marble. He extended his arm, appearing as still as a statue as he aimed the little glass ball toward the center.

At that moment, an idea popped into Dash’s brain. Slowly, without making a sound, she crept up behind him, biting her lip to keep herself from giggling and giving herself away. Finally, just as Spot started to release the shooter, Dash exclaimed “HI, SPOT!”

The boy let out a rather undignified yelp and his hand jerked, the marble rolling into the ring and bouncing gently on one of the mibs. It hardly budged, and Spot’s shooter halted beside it. The other three Brooklyn newsies broke out into laughter, and Spot’s shoulders tensed, turning his head slowly to glare up at Dash.

Dash just smiled, waving down at him.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said hi.”

Spot grunted and rose to his feet, his hazel eyes narrowing at Dash. Despite his intense stare, her expression remained unchanged.

“I heard ya, I heard ya.” He grumbled, glancing her up and down. “You messed me up, y’know.”

“Golly, did I do that?” she feigned surprise, her eyebrows raising. “Whoopsie daisies. Can I play?”

“We’re in the middle of a game.”

“Actually, it’s just endin’!” Sonny chimed in from behind him with a smile. Spot glanced back and shot Sonny a look, who quickly clammed up.

“Aw, that’s okay.” Dash shrugged, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. “It’s no big deal, Spot’s just afraid that I’ll beat him at his own game.” she looked back to Spot, and she swore she saw his eye twitch.

“No. I am not.” He replied firmly.

“Are too.”

“Am. Not.”

“Are tooooo.”

“NO, I am-” Spot’s voice had grown higher pitched in the heat of the moment, but he quickly paused, giving a sideways glance at his Newsies who were all staring at them. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat, his voice now sounding much lower than it had a moment ago.

“Fine.” He said cooly. “Fine, you wanna play? We’ll play. Clear the ring, Sonny.”

In a matter of moments, the ring was reset, thirteen mibs resting in the center in a cross. Dash fished her sack of marbles out from her bag, a little blue pouch that her father had fashioned for her out of some spare fabric. She had about a dozen shooters she had collected over the years, but there was a very special one she wanted to use for this occasion.

She rummaged around in the pouch for a moment before pulling up a shooter that was minty green and blue with little white swirls. Sonny whistled, leaning in to look at it.

“That’s real pretty.” He mused. Dash beamed, tossing it up in the air once and catching it.

“Thanks! It’s the first marble I ever won back when I was younger.”

Abigail raised an eyebrow. “You sure ya wanna use that thing, then? Seems pretty special to be usin’ in a game. Don’t wanna end up like me and have it taken from ya.” She glared pointedly at Sonny, who only grinned back at her innocently with large, doe like eyes.

Dash nodded. “Oh, yeah! This guy is my go-to shooter, he’s real lucky!” She held it up proudly, admiring the way the colorful swirls glistened in the light. “I’ve never lost a match with him!”

Spot was also staring at the marble, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Huh. Oh, well, it’s your funeral, girlie.” He stretched his arms over his head, shifting his gaze back to her. “You better say your goodbyes now, ‘cause that thing’s gonna be in my pocket real soon.”

Dash stuck out her tongue at him. She wasn’t nervous; her lucky shooter had never failed her before, and this game would be no different.

The two knelt on opposite ends of the circle, and the others sat off to the side as spectators. Spot motioned his hand toward her.

“Ladies first.”

Dash positioned herself in front of the ring with her shooter. Without any delay, she flung her marble forward, grinning at the satisfying clack it made as it smacked into one of the mibs, sending two of them rolling out of the ring. Dash whooped loudly, and Spot continued to watched in silence with a serious expression.

“Nice!” Abigail grinned.

Her shooter was still within the circle, which meant she was able to shoot her marble again from the inside the ring. She hummed, hopping to the other side and returning to her knees to the left of Spot. As she reached for her shooter, her shoulder briefly brushed against his. Spot jumped as if he had been shocked, scowling and moving a few inches to his right. Dash barely even noticed him, focused on finding the right angle to shoot her marble. She flicked it once more and the marble struck another mib, but it didn’t have as much force as the first hit. It rolled a few inches and stopped just before reaching the edge. Dash shrugged, flopping backward onto her behind. “Oh well. Your turn.”

Spot nodded, adjusting his cap. Dash saw him glance over at the other kids for a fleeting second, then returned his gaze to the marbles. He cracked his knuckles loudly, which Dash found rather unnecessary, and flexed his hands at his sides. He scooped up his red shooter, assuming the position. His eyebrows knit together and he bit his lip.

This was ridiculous; the longer she waited for him to make his move, the more restless she felt. She drummed her hands on her lap as she waited. After what felt like centuries, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Can’t you go any faster?” She huffed.

“I’m focusin’.”

“Focus faster!” she urged.

Spot’s jaw clenched, still not looking at Dash. He exhaled, finally releasing his marble. It hit two mibs at once, sending them flying out of the circle in opposite directions. Sonny cheered loudly and Abigail nodded with approval while Chatter clapped politely beside her. The marble stopped right where it hit its mark, meaning it was still in play.

Spot grinned, clearly pleased with himself as he turned his attention back to Dash. She clapped, nodding slowly.

“That was great, yeah! Hey, at this rate, maybe we’ll have a winner by Thanksgiving!” she teased. Abigail let out a cough that Dash could have sworn was a laugh.

Spot’s grin snapped back to a scowl, squinting hard at her. Dash smiled back. Sometimes it was just too easy.

Spot closed his eyes briefly, regaining his composure. When he opened his eyes again, the look in his eyes had changed.

“Oh, I ain’t movin’ fast enough for ya?” he asked, stretching out his arms and making a big show of moving into shooting position once more. Slowly, he leaned forward, maintaining eye contact with her the entire time. “That’s no problem. I can go faster.”

He set his eyes on Dash’s lucky shooter, and before she could even process what was happening, he shot his red marble straight for it.

Dash’s eyes widened in horror, and she gasped as the shooter crashed into her minty blue sphere, causing it to roll right out of the ring.

Her heart sank, realizing what he had just done. She looked up at him in dismay and was met with a smug smile.

“Oh, would ya look at that? Seems like ya lucky marble ain’t so lucky no more.” He snickered. “Oopsie daisies.”

The other Brooklyn kids appeared stunned at what their leader had done, exchanging nervous glances with one another. Sure, he had joked about taking the marble, but it didn’t seem like they thought he would actually take it.

“Spot…” Abigail started, but Spot ignored her, plucking the shooter from the ground and rolling it across his palm as he stood.

“You were right, Abby. She shoulda listened to your advice, don’t’cha think?”

For a minute, Dash was speechless. Did that really just happen? Was he being serious right now?

Her shock quickly turned to rage. She rose and stormed up to him, lunging toward the marble.

“No! That’s not fair, you can’t-”

“What exactly ain’t fair here?” Spot interrupted, snatching it away and holding her prized shooter high in the air. “I ain’t no cheater, ask anyone here! I won this here marble fair and square!” He looked over at the others for confirmation, daring any of them to argue. “You all saw it, right? No rules broken, yeah?”

Reluctantly, the three nodded in agreement, which only fueled Dash’s anger. She grunted and jumped toward his raised hand in an attempt to grab it, but he stepped back, barking out a laugh.

“Better luck next time, short stuff!”

Dash grunted, jumping up and down as she tried snatch her marble. “Oh, that’s rich, coming from you! You’re barely three inches taller than me at most!”

“Still, it’s three inches you ain’t got!” he snickered. “I’m playin’ the game the way it’s s’posed to be played! When ya shoot your opponent’s marble outta the ring, you claim it! That’s the rule!”

They danced around one another, Dash hopping up toward his hand and Spot pulling away at the very last second. Dash could feel her cheeks burning. She grit her teeth and let out a loud groan. “Why are you being such a jerk?!” She exclaimed, taking another swing just as he jumped out of the way. “You only shot at my marble to be mean!”

“I’m the jerk?” He scoffed, side stepping when she tried to snatch it again. “You’ve been pickin’ on me this whole time! ”

“Was not!”

“Were too!”

“WAS NOT!”

“WERE TOO!”

“Hey, now,” Chatter spoke up for the first time, stepping forward. His voice was deep and soft. “Maybe we should all calm down…”

But Dash didn’t want to calm down. She was fuming, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. Logically, she knew she shouldn’t be getting so worked up over a silly, little marble, but she couldn’t control it; she was livid! How dare he take something from her that he knew was special to her! How dare he hold it over her head and taunt her with it! The way he smirked down at her made her stomach bubble with anger. She wasn’t going to let him get away with this.

She lunged once more, but this time, she wasn’t aiming at his hand.

She reached for his head, plucking off the brown cap from his head in one quick swipe and scurrying backward with a triumphant “HA!”

Spot blinked in surprise, his free hand instinctively moving toward his head. His caramel hair was now in disarray, falling in wisps across his face.

“Ha ha. Very funny, girlie, give it back.”

“No.”

“Seriously? Dash, c’mon.”

Dash was already scooping up her bag of belongings and throwing it over her shoulder, a wild grin on her face. It was juvenile, sure, but it was the only thing she could think to do in the heat of the moment. She offered him a quick salute, then bolted from the scene of the crime, leaving a flabbergasted Spot behind her.

She was already halfway down the block before she heard an enraged bellow behind her:

“DAAAAASH!”

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End of Part 1

#newsies #newsies fanfic #newsies oc #newsies oc fanfic #hyacinthus writes #newsies original character #dash #spot #pls be kind this is my first fic since i was 12 asdfgdsa #oc x canon #cringe culture is dead oc x canon is cool now

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chogiwank · 3 years

Text

Redamancy - Doyoung

A/N: I have more planned for this fiction so I am planning on a part two. Thank you for all your support everyone, I apologize for not posting for so long but I am so thankful for all of you sticking by me. I hope you guys like this story! Feedback and criticism is appreciated. I am slightly rusty in my writing so I do apologize for shitty writing if so. I will try and post more works!

Word Count: 2K

Genre: Angst, Fluff, NonIdol!Doyoung (Established Relationship)

Warnings: death and mentions of cancer. Future mentions of ghosts/supernatural (possibly).

Summary: Redemancy - an act of loving the one who loves you. She was looking for redemancy, she found it, but she could never keep it. Will she ever get a fate anything less than cruel?

Each morning she woke up to the polaroid covered wall. Plastered with old, once happy, now sorrowful memories. The reminisce of goofy, romantic dates: road trips, plane travels, stay at home dates alongside many others. Five years together gave a lot to remember with promises of marriage, a forever home, and children. The vows proved to be vain. On her nightstand lay the last Polaroid of their final date. The last Polaroid of his smile, she would never see again. His signature gummy smile, big and bright as he sat on the bench. A plaid green shirt, paired with his jeans and sneakers, a simple exterior. The background lit up from the strings of carnival lights, and behind were strings of the multiple events that happened prior and after. It brought despair, a lost future, he who had captured her heart, now a mere memory, broke her.

She pulls the white duvet covers over her face out of annoyance, from the bright warm light rays shining in her face, through the crack in the curtains. She rolls over successfully escaping the light, but the covers were too hot to burrito under. Eventually giving up, she throws the covers to the side, and sits up on the side of the bed. Her legs dangling over the edge of the bed, she scoots forward to stand up. Stretching her body and yawning out of her cozy slumber. She checks the time on the wall clock, 9:15 AM - a perfect time to wake up for the weekend and start having some fun. She walked off to the bathroom to get ready and prepare herself for the day.

She brushes her teeth with mint flavoured toothpaste and brushes out her bed hair. Brushing out the hair gently, to soften it and take out the fizziness, and settling down flyaways. Through her process of fixing her looks and picking out clothes, she got hungry, craving something such as French toast with a drink on the side and some fruits - not too heavy and not too light of a breakfast. And so, she puts on her outfit of choice, sliding on her shoes at the door, but her ears perk up hearing a ding at her apartment door.

Who could it be? She wondered. She did not make plans with anyone before, its so out of the blue. She opens her door and sees a familiar face - her boyfriend, Doyoung.

“Dons! Hey, love, what are you doing here? “She embraced him warmly and flashed a welcoming smile.

“Don’t you remember Y/N? It’s the special day today!” She was confused, she furrowed her brows at Doyoung’s words. Doyoung caught on at her confused expression and chuckled, “OH! Do not tell me you forgot! It’s our five-year anniversary, baby!” Her eyes grew wide at his words, and cheeks flushed from embarrassment. Frantically apologizing to him, as she completely missed the date and did not even have anything to buy him. He told her not to worry, and to follow him out. He knew she must be hungry, so they caught a bus over to their favourite café in town to buy breakfast. She thanked him and happily dug into her breakfast, her stomach was growling throughout the car ride, and Doyoung kept teasing her about it. She couldn’t help it, when a girl has to eat, she has to eat!

And so, the couple finished their breakfast and Doyoung suggested that the two catch a bus and head over to the annual summer amusement park. She gleamed with joy, excitedly grasping his hand in hers. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she quickly dug through her bag, left a tip on the table for the workers, and tugged him out of his seat, dragging him along, running towards the bus stop, “well then we better get going, or else we’re going to miss the bus!”

And so, the two ran as fast as they could, laughing as they catch the bus last minute, thankfully the driver was kind enough to stop the bus and open up the doors again for the two. They thanked the driver and walked to grab a seat. Panting and quietly chuckling catching their breathes after running, they sat at the back of the bus. “wow, that’s about all the exercise I need today“ Y/N laughed at Doyoung’s comment. Hitting him with a witty response, “you do not even exercise, do not even say that!”

The bus ride was about a thirty-minute (30) ride to the amusement park near the pier. Doyoung and Y/N made non-stop conversation the whole way, these two never stopped talking when they were together – honestly, that is one of the best things ever. When you have someone, you can continuously talk and talk and talk to, without either of you getting bored or tired. And that is the same person you can have a couple moments of silence with without the awkwardness which occurs. – These two were meant to be. Friends, best friends, and girlfriend and boyfriend. There was nothing more either one could ask more for.

The two walked across the pier decorated with food, tickets, and game stalls. The waves of the blue coloured water below hit the pillars of the pier lightly. Doyoung stopped in his steps to play one of the pier games, a ring toss game. If he gets all of the rings in, he wins the big prize. He played the game and ultimately won, asking Y/N to pick out the prize and she got the giant stuffed plushie, “ I don’t know how we’re going to carry this around but for you, anything. Don’t lose it though you air head.” Doyoung teased Y/N, messing up her hair. She pouts at him for doing so, and turned her back on him, until she felt his fingers creep up her sides to tickle her. She laughed her lovely laugh and begged him to stop, and so he did – after a couple minutes that is.

They carried on with their day at the amusement park, playing many of the games, winning multiple prizes, no more big ones though, they did not even have a car to carry them, or the luck. The couple walked around and at the end of the pier they reached the rides. Roller coaster, ferries wheel, teacups rides, all that fun amusement park stuff. They were both thrill seekers, so of course, they ran to the biggest roller coaster first. The waiting line was 45 minutes though, but worth it - the ride was amazing and gave them great excitement. They moved on to the other rides, like the teacups, Y/N messed around and spun them faster and faster, until the two got dizzy. They walked off that ride with wobbly legs, holding on to one another to make sure they did not fall. That was enough for the rides for them today.

After a while, they moved on to trying the different food stalls – hotdogs, nachos, cotton candy, ice cream. All of it, until the two began to feel sick. They were not going to return to the rides after this, neither of them needed to throw up today and inconvenience themselves. They took a break and sat on one of the benches decorated with potted fern plants at each side. They talked and cracked jokes, admired the beautiful, coloured lights lit up around them, all around and throughout the amusement park. Basking in the cheers around them and the darkness of the night lit up from stringed lights, the twinkling stars and smiling moon.

There was a photographer taking pictures near the fountains, which switched through purple, blue, green, and red lights, giving them colour. They asked the man and paid their fee to have their photograph taken, he kindly accepted. He told them to pose and Doyoung lifted Y/N up into his arms, and spun her around. The photographer snapped a beautiful picture of them in the dark, fountains behind them in purple, and the couple lovingly smiling at each other. The love in their eyes bright, and true for each other. They thanked him and took their polaroid, amazed at the picture.

Later, Doyoung asks Y/N if she feels good enough to head on to the Ferris wheel, and then head home. It was 10 o’clock of the night, she happily nodded. And so, they walked towards the Ferris wheel and waited in line for their turn. Doyoung helped her step in, teasingly, Y/N curtsied as he helped her in, grabbing her hand, following her in after. They sat on one side of the Ferris wheel box, Doyoung’s arm around her, resting on her shoulder and her head on his shoulder. They slouched in their seats and admired the view of the pier. The shinning lights were so bright underneath them as the ride took them higher and higher. Finally reaching the top the ride stopped, letting them look at the town feeling like they were on top of the world.

The impeccable view of the park and town was breathtaking. The dark night was lit up by the lights in apartments, houses, and the amusement parks rides. The moon was glowing brightly, and the stars were out to compliment it, there was no cloud in sight, a clear night sky. There was something about the nighttime that was entrancing, maybe it was the view they had, or maybe Y/N loved this hour of the day more than the mornings and afternoons. No idea. But this day, this night was different, it was too good to be true and one of the best days she has had with Doyoung in a while. She lift her head up to look at Doyoung and he flashed his gummy smile at her.

That was when Doyoung broke apart from Y/N, reached into his trench coat’s pocket and pulled out a small red velvet box. Y/N was puzzled, furrowing her brows, and tilting her head in confusion. Her eyes grew wide as she sees him get down on one knee, look up at her, pop open the box and reveal a ring, with a gorgeous diamond in the middle, shaped like a circle, two tiny complimentary circle shaped diamonds decorated it. It was a gorgeous ring, and Y/N’s tongue felt like it was caught on something, her chest felt heavy, but she was happy. He flashes his gummy smile again , and asks her for her hand in marriage, to live together as husband and wife. If she was ready for that step. She was, she really was ready. But did not know how to express it. She felt nervous, but why? She did not know but she knew she could not say no. Although verbally that was hard for her, she lost her words. Instead, she took the ring and slide it on her left ring finger. Smiling and crying a couple tears of joy, she says a soft “I do,” and throws herself around Doyoung, embracing him in a tight hug. The two whisper each other sweet I love you’s, holding each other close as the ride starts up again, and brings them down from the top.

Full of glee, the two walk out hand in hand, giving each other a quick kiss. Y/N speaks up and asks, “why don’t you stay over at my place today? It is late, might as well.” He happily accepts, and the couple begins to walk out of the amusement park. They walked together for about 5 minutes to reach the nearest gas station, where the bus stop was. The bus stop bench was empty, perfect for them to sit for the next 10 minutes, until the bus was arriving. Doyoung excused himself to head to the gas station’s bathroom, “I think I drank too much of those sodas.” Y/N nodded and smiled at Doyoung as he heads inside.

She took out her phone to scroll through her social media while she was waiting for him. Laughing at the funny pictures showing up on her Instagram feed. Suddenly, she hears loud noises coming from behind her, in the gas station. She turns around and her eyes grow wide out of fear. She sees Doyoung and the cashier held at gunpoint from the robbers. She did not know what to do, should she call the police? Does she run? Can she jump in to help and save Doyoung? She must save him, but she can’t she’s defenseless. She panics, looking around to see if anyone at all is there she can call out to. No one, no one was there just her, just Doyoung and the cashier. They were held at gunpoint, she was there away from the danger, she had to call the police. With shaky hands, she watches the cashier pull out the money from the machine, and she begins dialing the emergency number. Her breathing was hard, she felt choked up, her eyesight blurring from tears. She heard a voice on the other line answer, and she explained the situation – the lady confirmed they will be sending police over right now, and that Y/N should keep herself somewhere safe.

And so, the line went dead, Y/N eyes frantically shifted, and breath hitched as one of the robbers shot the cashier with their gun, and the same one shot Doyoung. Right in front of her eyes. She screamed out for him and panicked even more. She ran, and ran, and ran far from the danger. She ran down to the trees, to blend in with the darkness – to avoid the same misfortune which she experienced Doyoung face.

She mumbled to herself, angry, scared, distraught. She cried and cried and cried, she punched the ground with her hand. What is this cruel fate? What is this? Why would this happen? This could not happen. Today was so perfect, so amazing, so fun. Why would such a cruel fate take over? Maybe she just passed out after the immense amount of cotton candy and hotdogs she ate; it was just a nightmare in a food comma right? Wake up, Y/N, wake up! She screamed in her thoughts repeatedly.

And then, she noticed her hand. Her left hand and ring finger. She spots the silver diamond ring Doyoung gave her, and she knew she had to face the truth. She had to accept that the universe just took him from her. They took away her love, the one person she invested herself in for five years. Took away someone who loved her in all her best and worst times. He helped her when her mother died from cancer – it was the hardest thing she ever went through. Seeing her mother’s health deteriorate for two years, as she fought a never-ending battle, that kept taking her life away, slowly, painfully. It made Y/N lose her sleep, and it made her school grades suffer, it made her emotional stability a mess. It made her a mess. But Doyoung was there for her, to help her, to comfort her. She was a wreck, and he was her support when she lost one of the people she truly loved and cared for. And then came Doyoung, he began to build her up. He made her believe there was more for her to live for. Her mother’s life was not hers. Her mother would want her to continue and not give up. She needs to continue life and continue happily. That is what he told her. That was six years ago, last year of highschool. And now, she lost the person who built her up when she was broken. That shattered her. It shattered her heart into millions of pieces. The pain she had not felt for five years, returned.

The pain was going to ruin her again. She felt as if the universe despised her, and her happiness. She was always refused to have happiness, true happiness that is. Her happiness with her mother was snatched away, and now her happiness with her boyfriend, her fiancée, the love of her life was taken away. She could not get any of it back. She could not even erase the memories from her mind. It was such a tragedy, she hated it. She hated herself. She hated her fate, and whatever it had planned for her. She knew there could not be anything good ahead for her. Not after this, she can not trust what it holds for her. She does not want to know or experience this anymore.

Out of her anger and sadness, she strikes a hard punch to the tree, her knuckles becoming scratched and bloody. It was her fault. Her mom, Doyoung and any other death she experiences in front of her, was probably going to be her fault. She should have helped them. She should have gone inside to help Doyoung, maybe, maybe if she did, he would be alive. Or she would at least be in his place, or even with him. She would not have to be lonely.

That is what she hated so much, she was always lonely, and when she was not, she ultimately ended up alone again. For once, she felt like she did not need to be, but now it just proves to her, she deserves her loneliness.

And so, Y/N at this point believed not all stories have happy endings, and hers, was never meant to be happy.

#nct #nct smut #nct doyoung #nct x reader #nct imagines #kim doyoung #doyoung smut #doyoung fluff #doyoung angst #nct 127 #nct u #nct fluff #nct angst #nct au

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thejudgingtrash · 4 years

Text

Invisible Strings (2,5k)

(Ruby Red!Percabeth AU and I hope tumblr doesn’t mess up things again 🙄 Not beta’d, this was just a random sprint for a scene)

“Mister Jackson!” yelled Mrs. Dodds as she was trying to chase after the taller student who unfortunately had longer legs, better stamina and much more urgency to get out of this situation. An unwelcoming combination and another chain of chaotic events that had unfolded.

“Come back at once!” Percy didn’t think to march back to that wretched woman that called herself a math teacher. Why now? Why me?, he cursed in his thoughts. Alas there was no time. He had to flee if he didn’t want everyone to witness what was about to unfold.

“Percy!” Grover huffed as his best friend had just shoved his backpack into his stomach. He was more than aware of Percy’s… condition, but that didn’t mean that Percy could just do what he wanted, whenever he wanted. That and he was much slower due to the cast around his foot and the tight pants from the mustard yellow school uniform.

But things took a different turn as Percy’s stomach turned and the feeling of the quick drop from a rollercoaster reappeared.

“Argh!” Percy yelped. Nausea spread through his body like a mutated infection and he felt sick. Waves of heat followed, however, there was no fever. But it was no ordinary sickness that plagued him, no. It was much worse.

The two boys fled as best as they could, Grover with his crutches and Percy’s backpack in his hands and Percy who tried to not trip and turn invisible in front of the entire few confused students in the hallway that were watching. Not to mention a certain crazy teacher that was chasing after them.

“Quick! Into Mr. Brunner’s classroom! The room should be empty, the sixth graders are on a field trip,” Grover remembered and took a sharp turn with his best friend following. Percy ran into the classroom; possible students be damned if they were in there. Luckily, his best friend had been right. The room was unlocked and entirely empty. Chalk dust and smelly remains of unwashed teenagers stood in the air.

Grover barely sneaked into room as it happened right in front of him. The student would have never thought that he would see it happening live in front of him.

“Take care of my-” Percy was unable to finish his sentence. His vision blurred and it literally felt like someone had pulled the rug under him. His feet didn’t feel like they were touching the hard floor anymore.

Grover’s jaw dropped as Percy seemed to have been pulled up by an invisible hand and pulled back into nothingness with force. Perseus Jackson had disappeared and Grover had no idea where he was. Or rather when he was.

For Percy it felt like a minor earthquake. His vision shook and his feet found the ground again. Instead of the bright daylight in the old castle that usually was his school, it was the middle of the night. The tall windows showed the moon in all of its beauty. But now there was no school. It was quite literally an old castle. Instead of neon tubes amounted on the ceiling there were dozens of candles trying to bring light to the room. Instead of two dozen wooden desks where students normally sat around to at least pretend to learn something and a blackboard in front of them, there was only one mighty secretary in the middle of the room. It overflowed with scrolls and books, coins and other instruments. An abacus? Swords stacked on the walls? Who knew.

Percy grimaced at the thought of the carelessly displayed candles that were a fire hazard as he was alone in this room. It was good for him for the moment to have a source of light but with his clumsiness it would be a matter of minutes until he would accidentally knock something over and set everything ablaze.

Bookshelf after bookshelf was stacked against the wall, some with carefully crafted decorations, many books written in Latin and therefore nearly unintelligible for Percy. Taking Latin in class and understanding Latin on a whim were two very different things. The dim light did the rest as it was simply not bright enough to snoop around further. Percy walked around the desk and looked at the other items on the table. A fancy quill, dark ink, a couple of envelopes, a tricorn hat and an unfinished letter.

Beloved mother, the person wrote and didn’t bother to finish the correspondence. July 17th, 1764 was marked as the date in the upper corner. What a lousy child, Percy shook his head. His eyes moved to the left where a finished letter remained. It had been written by someone else.

To my dearest son Apollo, the first line was the most Percy could read as the cursive was way too embellished and elongated for him to decipher in such a short period of time. Apollo! His heart swelled. The friendly school ghost was still alive, not a ghost yet and thriving in 1764. Technically that meant Percy could try to sneak out and look out for him…

A laughter erupted outside the door and the doorknob turned. Percy was lucky he didn’t scream. He was ready to jump underneath the table for all he cared. He wasn’t in the mood of getting chased through a house in a different time period yet again. The young student was lucky. He was able to hear the muffled voice of a woman say, “Oh no! Not in here Zeus! I do not wish to defile your son’s study yet again!”

“Alright, my dear. Let us make sure my wife shall not interfere this time,” sighed Zeus. The woman’s laughter slightly echoed as they moved further away.

Percy frowned. Yikes, Apollo was right when he said his father was a rake. Then he shook his head and carefully approached the door. The steps got quieter. The student inhaled and with all of his courage he turned the doorknob. A cloud of perfumes and spices hit him straight in the face. Then the sour and foul smell of sweat, urine and other unpleasant things followed.

Percy sharpened his senses. He could hear music. String music to be exact and a pianoforte in the background. More laughter, heels stomping on the floor. Or where people dancing? Dancing to the string music? Conversations tried to dominate and drown out the music but it was an everlasting fight of audience and musicians. Who could be the loudest?

The hallway that Percy was used to was no longer covered in its ugly orange coating, instead a lovely violet was illuminated by dozens of candles that hung around in the walls and standing still in candle sockets. Gone were the lockers, the corridor was filled with pompous vases and statues, expensive artwork which included a painting of Apollo smirking at the observer. Percy cracked a grin and shook his head. That was Apollo to you.

“Wait!” pleaded a young woman as someone else climbed up the stairs. It was a tall man and from his stance and body language he seemed to be more than just displeased. The young woman fought her way up the stairs with the hoop skirt and layers upon layers of fabric.

“Please wait! Let me explain!”

The man she seemed to hunt down, didn’t bother listening to her and it was a matter of mere seconds until Percy got exposed. Panic spread through his synapses and the muscle memory forced his feet to go. He took a turn around a corner and approached the first door. The room was already occupied as the door stood ajar.

If Percy didn’t know any better it was that Zeus guy and his mistress as a middle-aged man in the finest robes was kneeling on the floor and taking the pair of tights that covered his lover’s milky legs. Oh my god no, Percy thought and approached the next door in a haste. He opened it and was greeted again by an empty room to his relief.

But the steps only got louder and louder. Percy looked out for a hideout. There was nothing but a couple of sofas, another row of bookshelves and a contrabass in the room. Oh no, Percy thought as the steps approached. He looked to the windows, only to realize they had been covered by heavy looking curtains. Better than nothing. He ran to the window and thanked the gods for the broad windowsills. Percy was scrawny enough to fit onto them.

“It’s not what you think it is!” The woman tried to explain as the man stormed into the room.

“Oh yeah?” The man huffed. He sounded familiar. Way too familiar. Percy decided to pull a little bit of the curtain aside. He saw the broad shoulders of the man and the emerald green tail coat he was wearing. The man had long black locks that were tied into a pony tail. A proud stance that prevented the golden heels on his feet from looking utterly ridiculous.

“Also, it would be improper for me to run after you. It should be you defending me, in case something happens,” the soft voice of the lady demanded.

“Me defending you?! Anna, did you forget you carry daggers in your corset and had a goddamn sword hidden underneath there?” The 18th century man pointed to the wide skirt.

“I don’t think-” He had crossed his arms and spun around in an annoyed whiff only for his eyes to widen and his face to pale. Percy behind the curtain pressed his hand against his mouth as he was also shocked. The man standing in front of the other woman, was him. Him as in Percy.

It was weird looking at yourself for the first time without a mirror in front of you. Was your forehead really that wide? You really needed to visit the saloon soon again. Whoever that other Percy was, he made a waving motion with his hands, signalizing “Hide!” to student Percy.

“What are you doing there? Could someone be spying on us?” this Anna lady asked. The candle light brightened up her face and Percy saw her light gray eyes for the very first time. Her heart shaped face made him speechless. His heart stopped beating for a second or two. The pointy nose and rosy cheeks, white teeth and the light eyebrows. The way she bit her lip as she was calculating the next move, the slight worry in her eyes. She didn’t look as ridiculous with that huge red wig as most other people would. The green dress hugged her curves despite the ridiculously large amounts of fabric surrounding her. She didn’t seem much older than he was, but the authority her voice carried made her seem that way.

“Nothing, nothing!” the other Percy clearly lied.

“Did you already forget?” Anna huffed as she tried to place her hands around her waist without ruining the beautiful dress. Her eyes were glued to his back. “I can tell when you’re telling a-”

She did not finish her sentence as she had been cut-off by the other Percy. Cut off by his lips, to be exact. The Percy behind the curtain looked shocked at the scene in front of him.

The strange girl and his other self separated. “I’m…” The other Percy harrumphed and looked to the side. “I’m terribly sorry, I don’t know what overcame me and-”

“Oh, shut up!” the beautiful young woman barked, grabbed the other Percy by the ruffled collar and pulled him in for another kiss. The pair kissed as if there was no tomorrow left. The Percy on the other side of the room had never kissed a person in his life. The truth or dare kiss five years ago from Nancy Bobofit did not count. But as far as he could tell… he did a great job. At least Percy assumed he did as the woman grabbed his hair and didn’t seem to want him let go. Oh wow, the large hands found her tiny waist and Percy hoped that both of them remained steady on their feet. From the swaying it looked like they would fall flat to the ground.

Then the wicked feeling came back. The dizziness, the spots in his vision, the rumbling ground. Percy’s fingers clung to the windowsill as he felt being spewed into his right time line. If he had been sorting his thoughts right, he would have disturbed the wood shop class by Ms. Minerva. Percy closed his eyes and shoved the curtain aside. No screams or gasps, no puzzled students. He opened the sea green eyes again.

Oh yeah, the kids are on their field trip, he remembered. Ms. Minerva otherwise would have reprimanded him further to Mrs. Dodds pleasure. The flabbergasted student quickly left the room. Percy had to lie to janitor Argus about why he was still at school and fortunately managed to get away with his lame excuse of forgetting his smartphone in a classroom. Said smartphone he just pulled out of his pocket and pressed the first number in his call logs.

“Grover!” Percy exhaled. “I just spent my time in 1764, I saw an unfinished letter in Mr. Brunner’s classroom.”

“You are okay! Where are you? Mrs. Dodds wants to murder you!”

“Just got out of school, I’m on my way home.”

“Oh, thank goodness!” Grover sighed into the speaker which created a little bit of static. “You were gone for almost two hours! I shoved all of your stuff into Jason’s stomach who was not pleased with you ‘skipping school’ earlier.”

“Shit,” Percy cursed. Two hours? How? It felt more like five minutes, did he truly spent that much time lingering around? He should have picked up Estelle from band practice an hour and a half ago. His mother would kill him.

“There’s something else I need to mention,” Percy began. “I didn’t just land there in 1764… I saw someone…”

“Who?” Grover asked.

“Myself,” Percy answered. “It was clearly me… Or a twin brother I didn’t know I had and I was…” Kissing a pretty girl. “Having an argument… with some weird girl that I didn’t know either. I shooed myself away for her not to notice me! Grover, what the hell is going on?!”

Percy imagined how Grover’s eyebrows rose and how he was fumbling with the zipper of his favorite jacket as he always used to do whenever he was trying to connect new information. Someone else yelled in the background. It sounded like Mrs. Underwood.

“We need to talk about this later and strategize, mom needs me downstairs,” proposed Grover. “Percy, you have to speak to your mother about the time traveling! She knows more about all of this, she has to! Who knows into what time period you’ll jump next! Pretty sure that London in the 1940s seems more than just dangerous with world war two going on. Or… I don’t know. Any other year when vaccines still weren’t a thing yet. Catching the plague or medieval herpes sounds horrific.”

Percy winced. Both at the thought of more uncontrolled time jumps and also at the thought of medieval herpes.

Grover was right. He needed to speak to his mother and confess. It wasn’t his annoying cousin Jason who had inherited this weird time traveler gene.

It was him, Perseus Jackson, the poorest bastard one could imagine.

I tried and I blame you for everything @marisolsnose 🤷🏾‍♀️

#pjo #invisible strings #Percy Jackson #annabeth chase #grover underwood #percy jackson and the olympians #percabeth #percabeth fanfiction #pjo fanfic #mel writes

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authorlmfletcher · 4 years

Text

Merry Christmas @csulliven ! I’m your secret santa for @mlsecretsanta ^_^ Hope you enjoy it!

Also on Ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28383465

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Snow in Paris. How romantic.

Adrien sighed as he watched the large snowflakes falling softly from his bedroom windows, secretly wishing that he was sitting on a rooftop somewhere with Ladybug. An image of her rosy red cheeks in the cold air, dark hair covered in white as she laughed made him smile.

“Ready, Plagg? Time for patrol.”

His kwami grunted noncommittally, tossing back an extra piece of camembert before Adrien called him into the ring. Chat Noir pushed himself out the window almost before he was fully changed, black suit melting over his body in a familiar and comforting feeling.

From the rooftops, he watched children dancing in the streets with arms outstretched to greet the snow. Strings of lights draped over trees and over buildings, creating a warm and magical glow to the night sky. A few windows showcased trees twinkling with lights. It was perfectly wonderful, and all Chat could feel was empty.

Christmas always hit him the hardest, the memories of his mother’s smile, joy, and laughter at this time of year flooding his thoughts everywhere he looked. He missed her so much. While usually he could keep the swirl of emotions under control, the holidays pulled them so close to the surface that nothing he tried could tamper them down. At least this year he wouldn’t let himself fall into the same angst-fuelled stomp around Paris from the year before.

Reaching their meeting point, Chat Noir flopped onto the rooftop, sitting with his legs dangling over the edge. He couldn’t help the curl in his back nor the soft frown on his face as he watched a young family walking down the street, each parent holding one hand of their child in the middle, swinging him high into the air as he screeched with joy.

He missed those days.

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Snow in Paris. Crap.

Marinette’s feet slipped out from underneath her as she stepped out onto her balcony, a soft squeak escaping her lips as she frantically waved her arms to regain her balance. Tikki chuckled softly behind her. Marinette shot her kwami an unamused look.

“You’ll be fine. Go - Chat will be waiting.”

A quick set of words transformed Marinette in a brilliant flash of pink, a spotted suit appearing on her skin before she launched herself off her railing to yo-yo over the rooftops to their designated meeting spot.

Trying not to slip as she landed on their rooftop, she noted the unusually despondent position of Chat’s body.

“Hey Chat,” she called out. He turned and gave her a muted smile.

“Hey.”

That wasn’t her usual exuberant kitty. Deciding that patrol could wait, she plopped herself down beside her partner and gave him a good long stare, trying to telepathically discover what exactly was making him so sad. No answers came to her.

“What’s wrong, kitty?”

His hesitation to answer gave away a lot. Civilian issues, she realized. Something that mattered enough that he actually let it bother him when he was in his super suit. That worried her a little.

“I - “ he shifted his eyes to peek at her, “I’m just finding the Christmas season hard. It’s all bright, and cheerful, and beautiful, but - it’s not like that for me.”

Ladybug blinked, trying to process. Christmas always made her happy. The colours of the lights. The smells of fresh baked cookies. The snuggles on the couch watching a movie together with her parents. The excitement of homemade gifts. This was her favourite season! But, Chat - obviously it wasn’t the same.

“Oh,” was all she could think of to say, her brain already slipping into planning mode. Something had to be done. No one should be unhappy at the happiest season of the year! She looked around the view of Paris, pieces of an idea popping into place in a typically Marinette/Ladybug fashion.

“I have an idea.”

Chat looked at her startled when she got to her feet.

“An idea for what?”

“An idea for you. Come on. Follow me.” And then she was swinging across Paris. It took longer than she expected to arrive at her destination - a large building built like a square. Landing on the rooftop, she turned to find Chat close behind, a confused look on his face.

“What are we doing here?” he asked.

“Look,” she replied. A simple gesture brought his attention to the ice track laid out on the top of the building in a long path. “Transform to ice.”

He gave her a startled look, shocked as she gulped down one of her power up macrons. Fumbling through his pockets, he followed her lead.

“What are we doing?” he asked again. She just laughed, grabbing his hand and dragging him onto the ice.

“Come on. I think you just need some fun.”

She had to admit that the sheer look of surprise on his face was worth it. It took a few laps around the icy path before his usual boyish grin took over and he started to show off with spins and acrobatic displays. It felt like hours later when they both collapsed onto a bench with tired legs and hearts full of laughter. Ladybug felt thankful that her little plan had worked. She never wanted to see that hollow look on his face ever again.

“Thank you, Ladybug,” he said softly, dropping his ice transformation with a sigh. “I needed that. Christmas season is just … hard for me. It makes me think of someone I miss a lot.” Throwing his head back, he stared at the sky a moment before grabbing her hand for his trademarked knuckle kiss.

“Anyway, thank you for the special evening. I should probably get going - I have a crazy day tomorrow and need to get some sleep.”

Still on the bench, she watched him vault away. Detransforming, she sat there for longer with Tikki as the little kwami chomped away at a cookie.

“Oh, Tikki. I wish I knew more about Chat Noir. Who could he miss so much that he gets that sad over the holidays?”

Tikki simply chewed, not answering. Marinette sighed. “I know. I just wish I could do something to make Christmas special and happy for him instead.”

It took all of 5 minutes for a massive, crazy, totally insane idea to come together. Changing back to Ladybug, she swung home, brain whirling with plans, knowing there was little chance of sleep for her creative self yet again.

-----

Hands fussed with his hair. Others pulled at his clothes. Voices barked out orders as people raced around, moving props and backgrounds. The chaos of a photoshoot never got easier. The sooner he could get through these “fake happiness” last minute winter shoots, mostly for social media, the better. The head photographer shouted him in place - telling me which way to stand or sit, what to hold, how to pose, what face to wear. His body and expressions moved on auto-pilot. His thoughts wandered to the memories of the skating he’d done with Ladybug the night before. She understood him in a way that no one else likely ever would - able to read his REAL body expressions.

“Adrien Agreste, get your head out of the clouds and down here onto the fake snow,” someone snapped, pulling his full attention back to the business at hand.

The day promised to be one of chaos. Early photoshoot, obligatory fitness workout, rehearsal for a big presentation at an upcoming Christmas charity event, guest appearance on behalf of his father at two different events, another short photoshoot (outdoors - which sounded uncomfortable), followed by an evening at the 2nd or 3rd Christmas gala of the season. Hopefully there would be time to eat somewhere in there.

Rushing from thing to thing on his schedule, Adrien mused over the busyness. Why did Christmas obligate people to fill their lives with meaningless activities and fake smiles? He would give anything to just sit together with his family and enjoy each other’s company in quietude.

By the time he arrived home from the gala, dressed to the nines in one of his father’s top-line suits, that hollow feeling had returned. The oversized tree sparkling with lights and silver ornaments screamed how fake this holiday season felt - meaningless, impersonal, and just there because of obligation.

He was too tired to do much else, stripping down to slip into some comfortable pajamas and tossing an extra chunk of cheese at his kwami. Briefly, he transformed, mostly to check if there were any messages on his baton.

One unread message.

“Hey Chat, I have this idea. Can we get together tomorrow? Say…. 10pm? The tower?”

He typed back a quick message in agreement, mentally sifting through the day’s schedule, then flopped himself onto his bed with muttered words to transform back into his civilian clothes.

At 9:45pm, Chat Noir burst out of Adrien’s bedroom window and raced over the rooftops. The snow from two days earlier had vanished, leaving things with a slightly damp look. Crisp winter air singed his cheeks, but it felt refreshing after yet another busy day.

Ladybug stood waiting at their usual Eiffel Tower hangout, a large bag slung over her back.

“So, what’s up, LB?” he asked, wondering what exactly she hid in a bag that size.

“Follow me,” she said, jumping away. Whatever hid in the bag rattled as she took off. He hurried to keep up with her as she yo-yoed across the city, landing finally in a small park. She slipped the bag from her back, the rattling (and possible jingle?) sounding out. She unzipped it with deliberate slowness, giving him a grin.

Inside sat decorations.

“What are we -” he cut himself off as she laughed, pulling one of the silver spheres from her trove.

“We’re going to decorate this tree. Together. It’s an important Christmas tradition!”

Suddenly, he realized that he hadn’t even noticed the large evergreen tree in front of them. He must have frozen long enough with his mouth open in surprise that Ladybug had managed to hang 4 or 5 ornaments before asking if he was going to help. Springing into action, he carefully grabbed a ball and placed it onto the tree. A few ornaments later, he found himself wonderously tangled by tinsel with Ladybug laughing hysterically. He could feel his cat ears drooping as he asked for some help getting loose.

When the bag was emptied, they stood side by side admiring their work.

“Perfect.” He had to admit, she was right. They had done a terrific job. And it meant so much more to put together a tree with someone he cared about. Better than the team of professional decorators that Nathalie had hired this year.

“Tomorrow? Same time? Eiffel Tower?”

He had no idea what she planned to do, but he nodded, unable to stop the smile that crept onto his face.

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

Everything was ready. Flour. Ginger. Molasses. Sugar. Marinette looked around the bakery kitchen with the feeling that she’d forgotten *something* but time to meet Chat crept closer. Maman and Papa had been more than generous when she had asked to use the kitchen for a couple of nights.

“As long as you don’t touch any of the morning’s baking,” her mother had answered, not needing any other explanation.

“Time to go!” chirped Tikki, wide blue eyes twinkling. “I think he’s going to love this one.”

“I know he will.” Taking one last glance at everything laid out, Marinette transformed and raced to find her partner waiting with anticipation at the tower.

“Follow me.”

She led him back to the bakery with an elaborate explanation of how the owners had graciously let her use their kitchen. From there, Ladybug spent the night helping Chat discover the joys of making a gingerbread house from scratch. Much laughter ensued as flour ended up on faces, ginger sent Chat into sneeze fits, and Ladybug discovered her partner’s lack of skills in a kitchen. By the end of their adventure that stretched early into the morning hours, they had a pair of iced together houses, one more askew than the other.

“Go sleep now, Kitty. We’ll decorate them tomorrow night.” The excited twinkle in his eyes before he escaped made her smile when she finally crashed onto her bed for a few hours of sleep.

The next night consisted of a sugar-fuelled cat boy, happily slapping candies and decorations to his somewhat lopsided gingerbread house. The next, she set up a laptop with a Christmas video on a nearby rooftop with some thick blankets and a thermos of peppermint tea. An afternoon visit to a local library ended up with them sitting in the middle of the children’s section with kids climbing all over them as the librarian read The Grinch and other kids acted it out.

A midnight excursion wandering through Paris, taking in all the amazing light displays led to another spent window shopping well after most Parisians were sleeping. He hadn’t ever really just looked at window displays for their artistic value before.

The following night, all plans were thwarted by the Giftster - an akuma who wrapped everyone up in paper and bows out of spite over a poorly wrapped gift. It took longer than she hoped to defeat the villain,leaving her a little sad that her plan for the night was ruined - the hot chocolate bar she’d put together cold and the whipped cream melted to liquid by the time they arrived.

“It’s still purr-fect, Ladybug. I don’t mind at all. It’s the people we’re with that make the holidays special, not the temperature of the drink.” He poured himself a large mug of cocoa and piled the top full of marshmallows, syrup, and sprinkles.”Delicious.”

---

Adrien’s view of Christmas shifted. The anticipation of Ladybug’s holiday shenanigans brought him more excitement than he had felt for the holidays in a long while. Nothing would ever replace the hole left by his mother’s disappearance, but at least this made him feel hopeful again instead of melancholy. With less than a week left to Christmas, he sat in his class for the last day before the two week break. Marinette lay flopped on her desk, possibly asleep, as Nino and Alya argued the merits of their gift wish lists.

“What about you, Agreste?” Alya snapped, poking Marinette awake with her elbow. “What are you doing this Christmas? Any big plans?”

He shrugged. “Not really.”

“No running off and sending your dad into Christmas Godzilla mode this year, ok?” Nino quipped. Adrien felt himself flush.

“I won’t,” he murmured. “Listen - last year was hard. The first Christmas without my mom, ok? She loved Christmas and it just feels … I don’t know. Christmas season is just … hard for me. I miss her so much.”

Realizing that he was killing their fun conversation, he decided to turn himself around. “But don’t worry! No running off this year. I promise. I’ve actually had a friend from work making sure that Christmas is awesome. We’ve gone ice skating, watched a really fun holiday movie, and we even made these gingerbread houses - from scratch! Even Mother didn’t do that!”

He told them all about the adventures that he’d been having and how special they’d made the holidays become, carefully avoiding any mention of their superhero selves. The more he rambled on about the activities he had been doing late in the nights with Ladybug, the more Marinette’s eyes grew wide. He stopped talking when she let out a strangled sound.

“Are you ok, Marinette?”

She sat frozen, statue-like for a long moment, staring blankly at him. Suddenly she jumped with a yelp, clutching at her side.

“Oh, yep. Yep. Totally good. I’m totally fine. Everything’s fine.” She let out a wild and panicky laugh, blinking rapidly. “I’m good. Are you good? Everyone’s good, right? Ok. I’m just - I’m just - Ms. Bustier? May I be excused to use the bathroom?”

And then she bolted, racing out of the classroom in a gangly, flailing pile of limbs. The whole classroom paused in their conversations for a quiet moment as they stared at the door, then with a universal shrug, returned to what they were doing.

“That was weird,” muttered Alya, frowning. “Even for Marinette.”

-----------

“Just breathe, Marinette. Breathe. In. Out. Innnnnnnn. Ouuuuuuuuuuut. Innnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn. Out.”

From the bathroom stall she hid in, Marinette could hear and see her kwami giving anti-panic attack advice, a blurry red dot floating in front of her face, but she couldn’t process the words being said. Adrien Agreste. Chat Noir. Adrien Agreste? Chat Noir. Nope. It just had to be a coincidence that Adrien’s “friend from work” had taken him on all the same adventures that Ladybug had put together for Chat Noir. Totally a coincidence that Chat missed someone special while Adrien missed his mother. Just coincidence.

Oh crap.

Chat Noir was Adrien Agreste. ADRIEN AGRESTE WAS CHAT NOIR.

She threw up in the toilet.

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

Chat couldn’t quite put his finger on what was different that night as they listened from the rooftops to a group of carollers in one of the parks. Ladybug sat a little farther away than she usually did. She didn’t roll her eyes at his jokes or speak much at all. In fact, she didn’t even look him in the eyes.

“Everything ok?” he asked finally, unable to stand the awkwardness any longer. Her head snapped at that, eyes connecting with his for the first time in the night.

“Oh. Yes, sorry. I just found out something about a friend today and it’s been hard to work through, that’s all.” She smiled, but it wasn’t a real smile - her eyes skittering away from him. He frowned.

“Want to talk about it? In generalized terms, I mean.”

She shook her head.

“No. I’d rather just listen to the music, ok?”

“Ok.”

The next evening, with only 2 days left to go before the big holiday arrived, Chat found himself at a local food bank, handing out meals to families whose faces shone with so much gratitude that it made him feel embarrassed to live as he did. Ladybug still seemed preoccupied. He smiled at her every time she tried to stealthily look at him, wondering exactly what was going on behind those brilliant blue eyes.

At the end of their volunteer time, they escaped to the rooftops.

“Are we doing anything special tomorrow?” he asked, wondering if the magical sense of Christmas had worn off for her. “It IS Christmas Eve after all.”

She gave him a look he couldn’t quite define.

“Are you ok, LB? You’ve been really … off for the last day or so.”

He watched as she opened and closed her mouth like a fish for a moment before snapping it shut. She visibly straightened her back.

“It’s nothing big, I promise, but yes - let’s meet at the tower tomorrow?” When he nodded, she flashed him an almost real smile before swinging off into the distance.

Plagg had no ideas, simply focusing on his cheese and musing over whether Adrien had any stocking fillers planned. The kwami tapped suggestively at the pictures in his Gentleman’s Camembert magazine.

Adrien gave up, hoping that whatever bothered Ladybug would be resolved by the time they got together tomorrow.

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

Christmas Eve dawned bright and crisp, the cold smell of winter on the air. Marinette did not want to get out of the coziness that her oversized comforter provided. If it hadn’t been for the wail of her akuma alert alarm forcing her to drag herself out of bed, she might not have for the whole day.

The realization that Adrien Agreste - face of perfection and heart of gold - and Chat Noir - jokester and impulsive rogue were the same person had left her rattled. Marinette had needed a few days to process it all, but she was slowly coming to terms with how much it meant to her to discover the boy she deeply cared for was also her best friend.

She swung across the city to find a Grinch-like akuma, green from head to toe with a red hat and coat. With a single touch, the lights and decorations found on the streets of Paris simply vanished. Anyone found in his path transformed into lumps of coal.

“I think he has the wrong city. This isn’t Whoville.” Chat voice chirped happily - sickeningly so, given the early hour of the morning. “Good morning, milady.”

“Morning, kitty.” With a yawn, she searched the akuma for clues where to find their target. “I’m guessing it’s the Santa hat. But we have to keep out of range of his hands. Turning to coal sounds like a terrible way to spend Christmas.”

With a nod, he stood up and extended his baton with a grin. “40 feet.” Then he launched himself off the rooftops to place himself securely in the path of the opponent.

“Hey, is that your resting Grinch face?” he taunted, starting his usual distraction methods. She watched for the briefest of moments as the akuma threw itself at her partner with a growl. If she could just sneak in behind while it was distracted, she could probably pull the hat from his head.

Things never are that easy when fighting akumas. Realizing that a second superhero attempted to stealth attack him, the Grinch whirled around, knocking her to the ground mid-pendulum arch. She hit the ground with a roll, dodging away from the outstretched hand. Chat responded with a careful leap, vaulting himself towards the villain and narrowly missing the hat. Acrobatic flips moved him back out of the way of danger.

A few cheesy puns about the Grinch and being green later, Chat still somehow managed to keep most of the attention on himself while Ladybug attempted another grab for the hat. Failing, the Grinch growled, grabbing onto Chat’s baton and flinging the cat boy into the air. Ladybug watched in horror as her partner landed right in the akuma’s grip, wide-eyed and legs kicking.

Mere seconds felt like hours, a black heaviness overcoming Chat from his toes to his face. She screamed his name, panic clawing at her heart. No. No! Her yo-yo whirred with renewed vigour, calling her Lucky Charm. Into her hands dropped a carefully wrapped, red-polka dotted present with a tag reading “For the Grinch.”

A plan clicked into place.

“Oh, Mr. Grinch. I have something for you.” The akuma dropped the lifeless stone figure of Chat Noir to the pavement with a loud thud, turning its attention instead to her. She thrust the present at him with a smile, which made him stop and cock his head sideways with a frown. If she hadn’t been so focused on where the hands of her opponent were in that moment, she would have started singing. After all, music won the day in the story of the Grinch - hadn’t it?

“Merry Christmas.”

Cautiously, the akuma accepted the gift, settling down on the pavement beside Chat’s coal statue to rip open the paper and see what his gift was. The moment the lid popped free, a brilliant flash of light went off, blinding the akuma long enough for Ladybug to grab the hat and tear it apart. Away fluttered the butterfly, captured a moment later in her yo-yo with a snap. Bubbles enveloped the akumatized victim. In its place sat a confused man.

Grabbing the remaining pieces of the gift box, Ladybug threw it up into the air with a shout, releasing the Miraculous butterflies. They swirled around everything. Lights and decorations reappeared. People changed back from coal to themselves. She watched with relief as Chat emerged from his own coal statue, throwing her arms around his neck.

“Whoa!” he yelped, arms wrapping around her to prevent himself from falling backwards onto the pavement.

“Stupid cat,” she murmured, prying herself free to pay attention to the man on the ground nearby. Helping him to his feet, she found herself giving Chat the chance to interact with the victim - watching in silence as her partner graciously reassured the man that everything was okay now and Christmas hadn’t been ruined.

With a wave, they escaped to the rooftops.

“So,” drawled Chat, giving her the most curious of looks. “I have a question for you. Why did you shout ‘Adrien’ when I turned to coal?”

Certain that her heart stopped, Ladybug froze. She hadn’t. Had she? She blinked at him, wondering exactly what to say, brain scrambling for words.

“Why would I call you Adrien? That’s just silly. You aren’t Adrien - you’re Chat Noir. Completely different people. You must have heard wrong. I’m sure I shouted for you, silly cat. Chat Noir. Not Adrien.” Realizing that she rambled stupidly, she snapped her mouth shut and waited.

He narrowed his eyes at her, the gaze heavy and searching before he laughed. “Of course. I must have been mistaken. See you tonight then, LB?”

She nodded and he saluted before running off. Breathing a sigh of relief, she headed home, hoping to get a little more sleep before the busy part of the day before Christmas required her attention.

-------

“She knows, Plagg. I don’t know how, but she knows who I am.” Adrien lay flat on his bed, arms thrown wide, eyes staring at the ceiling. “Is that why she’s been acting strange lately? Maybe she figured out who I am and doesn’t like that it’s me!”

A million ideas and thoughts raced through his mind, distracting him through the day’s schedules. Appearances here, appearances there. Fake smiles and poses for media cameras. No family time like all his friends. His Instagram feed showcased Nino and his brother working on making cookies, Alya’s family sitting around in their PJs playing board games, Marinette hard at work in the bakery with her parents. Sitting in the back of the car that drove him everywhere, Adrien felt that emptiness that always seeped in around Christmas. Alone, isolated, and now - Ladybug knew who he was to the point of not being able to look him in the eye. Christmas sucked.

When their designated meetup time approached, he dutifully transformed into Chat Noir, stuffing the gift he’d put chosen for her into one of his pockets. Hopefully she would at least like that.

Ladybug stood on their favourite platform of the Eiffel Tower, pacing back and forth with wild arm gestures. She must have really been deep in thought since she didn’t even hear him land on the metal railing.

“Merry Christmas!” he called out, making her jump in surprise, hand clutched to her heart and blue eyes popped open wide in a strangely familiar and out-of-place motion.

“Oh, Chat. You scared me.” He chuckled. “Merry Christmas.”

“So, what’s on the plans for tonight’s Christmas adventure?” he asked. “Anything exciting?”

She blinked twice, staring at him for longer than should feel comfortable.

“Oh. Right. I thought I’d give you a special gift. It’s a tradition that my family has to open one gift each on Christmas Eve, so I thought it would be fun to do that with you.”

It would be fun, he thought. As long as she still liked him.

“Can I go first?” he asked, pulling the small package from his pocket and thrusting it at her. “It’s not much, but it seemed to scream like the gift you needed.”

Inside held two small pins. The first - a tiny ladybug with closed wings, the other - a small white circle with a set of black cat ears and green eyes peeking up from the bottom. She laughed, telling him that his gift was wonderful and that she’d find the perfect place for them.

She took a deep breath before she passed him a gift bag.

“For you.”

Carefully, he pulled out the tissue paper and unwrapped something soft. Into his hand fell a palm-sized hand-stitched doll of himself - Chat Noir. Digging into the bag more, he found a matching Ladybug. Something nagged in the back of his mind that he’d seen dolls like these before - back when Manon had been akumatized. Marinette had made dolls that Manon wanted to play with. He flipped them over to admire the neat stitching work and attention to detail.

“These are adorable. Thank you so much. Did you get these from Marinette Dupain-Cheng? I think she had some similar to these.”

She made a funny sound before answering. “Kind of? I made them for you.”

She had made them? He frowned in confusion.

Ladybug stepped forward, pulling the dolls gently out of his hands and putting them back in the bag before putting it on the ground. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and moved so that she was achingly close.

“Tikki. Spots off.”

He didn’t have time to close his eyes, other than to wince slightly at the bright and unexpected flash of pink light as Ladybug’s transformation dropped. In her place stood Marinette herself, a heavy black cat-ear hoodie pulled up over her head. An homage to himself, he realized. Two heartbeats later, she raised herself up on her tiptoes, hands clutching at his arms, warm lips pressing against his.

She stepped back before he could even react, whispering “Merry Christmas, my kitty - Adrien Agreste.”

He stared into her bluebell eyes, the pieces of the puzzle in his life clicking together in the most wonderful of ways. She did know. And she kissed him. Marinette Dupain-Cheng had turned a season full of disappointment and missing his mother into something full of memories and wonder. She had turned it into the best Christmas he had ever had.

“Thank you, milady Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Merry Christmas to you, too.”

As he dared to pull her close and kiss her for real, he realized that snowflakes were falling gently on Paris. How romantic.

#ml secret santa #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #lyramaearcher #miraculous fanworks #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #marinette and adrien #ladybug and chat noir #identity reveal #christmas #christmas fun

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savagetrickster · 4 years

Text

Perhaps You.

— BNHA BOOKCLUB BINGO EVENT —

anime | character: bnha | todoroki shouto

words: 3,098

prompt/crossed out: “Forehead Kisses”

Themes/Warnings: mildly angsty and pinning with happy ending

Inspiration/Song: a playlist of Korean OSTs from various dramas

Special thanks: @shoutodoki (her dm on discord was spammed by me and i still feel bad about it) and @prismaroyal for helping me when I was struggling with writer’s block for this fic! <3 I love you guys so much!

Beta-readers: @prismaroyal, @pixxiesdust,@hawks-senseis, @todoscript and @shoutodoki YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME!! <3

A/n: so this is the continuation to ‘Cause I’m a Fool that I promised! sorry I took so long; work has been keeping me so busy and tired that I can doze off right in front of the laptop every night! I could only work on this during the weekends hence the long delay!

Tags: at the bottom of this post <3

| previous (to ’Cause I’m a Fool)

The setting sun on the horizon waned in the gathering darkness of the approaching night. Long shadows in its orange rays were all over Neverland, between rides, and across the emptying paths.

The cable cars descending down to the main entrance of Neverland were fairly quiet and rather empty, now that most of its visitors had their fill of thrill and fun in the theme park.

Her eyes left the cable car station before them and darted over to her right.

Momo felt her heart flutter for the umpteenth time today.

Beneath his tousled hair that somehow still looked so flattering on him even after all the rides, she couldn’t help noticing how the soft orange glow of the setting sun accentuated his chiseled side profile that ran from his forehead to his prominent and angular chin.

Today at Neverland wasn’t counted as a date, but it was enough.

During the sleepover with the girls at her manor a few weeks ago, it took the mentions of graduation to make her realize her feelings for him.

Over the years, her admiration towards Todoroki Shouto wasn’t as simple anymore, and the thought of parting ways after graduation rattled her.

Even with the girls’ reassurance that she had the highest chance with him, that didn’t mean she was brave enough to say it as it is to him.

A smile softened Momo’s face as her gaze dropped to her curling hand, recalling with a bubbling gleefulness of how he held her hand through the haunted house earlier.

That was probably nothing more than trying not to lose each other in the dark, but the possibility of him feeling the same way about her made the hopeful anticipation inside inevitable.

“That was fun, Todoroki-kun.” Above her pinkish cheeks, her eyes danced as she returned her attention to the man beside her. “Thanks for coming with me.”

Shouto’s eyes reluctantly left the quiet chatroom that seemed to mock him through his phone screen. A subtle yet intense gloom followed him as he raised his head to meet her eyes.

The edges of his lips lifted for a smile, though his heavy heart ached with the clingy thought of the aloofness that lingered from your birthday wish for him from four years ago.

How it remained so, even at the end of today, was like an amplifying backdrop reminding him of the gaping distance between you and him.

His hand joined his other in his pockets to put his phone away.

“No problem, Yaoyorozu, thanks for inviting me.”

The smile on his face wavered slightly but held on as he tried to brush off the provoking reminder which refused to budge.

“We should definitely come here again.”

We? Momo inhaled sharply. Her heart sped.

“I’m sure the others would enjoy this as much as we did.”

Eh?

Her shoulders sank along with her heart.

The long shadow of the cable car station falling over them made Shouto turn his head back to the front to see a staff gesturing urgently at them to an idling gondola.

His hand flew to Momo. “C’mon,Yaoyorozu.”

Surprise snapped her gaze to his grip around her wrist.

Her legs fell in pace behind him as Shouto tugged her along with him in a hasty stride toward the waiting gondola.

A day’s worth of tiredness had caught up with you after spending the entire day with veins full of adrenaline in Neverland.

Everything seemed to be lulling you to sleep.

The gentle vibration running through the idling cable car under you two.

The warmth of Shinsou’s shoulder pressing against your cheek.

The cool breeze occasionally sifting through the opened door beside Shinsou.

The gentle heat of the evening sun beating on your back through the glass walls of the cable car.

Your half-lidded eyes stared drowsily at the empty seat across you and Shinsou.

“Hey, Hitoshi.”

“....Hmm?” You felt his shoulder rumble against your leaning head.

“Tell me if your shoulder gets tired, okay?” You stifled a yawn. “...I’ll move away.”

“It’s fine, just sleep if you want to.” Shinsou's gaze on you softened. “I’ll wake you when we reach the bottom.”

He couldn’t help the tender curl the sleepiness in your voice carved on his lips.

An abrupt shift of weight in the cable car jostled your half-lidded eyes to open fully, in time to watch a couple settle down on the empty seat across, and feel a pair of lips pressing a brief kiss on your forehead.

But all that you could think about was the familiar pair of heterochromic eyes. Staring back at you, wide and stunned.

You blinked. And blinked. And blinked.

Under interlacing red and white tresses, the startlingly pretty irises of stormy gray and frosty turquoise set on a handsome face....only one person you knew had such—

Your head jolted off Shinsou’s shoulder.

—Shouto!

All traces of drowsiness lingering heavily in your body was shaken off with a sense of panic rushing through you. This time, you were fully awake.

You could hear your heart pounding in your ears.

Despite the time that had passed, your feelings for him still remained strong.

But it did not mean you wanted to see him.

Not yet. And definitely not now.

You weren’t ready — ready for what? You didn’t know, but after years and years away from him, he was a stranger.

A stranger you knew too much about. One that you’ve been wanting to be around but not at all at the same time.

You could feel Shinsou’s questioning gaze on you while your eyes held the stare across you. Like a deer caught in the headlights, you were frozen, not knowing what to do next.

Stuck between giving a mere smile and a verbal acknowledgement, you watch the stunned opened expression close like a book on his face, unreadable despite the slight clench between his brows.

Shouto’s lips were set in a hard line.

He couldn’t quite tell what the ambiguous twinge in his chest was for. Was it discomfort because meeting you like this was too sudden?

But the provoking bitter undertone in the ridge inside told him there was another reason which wasn’t as simple.

That it had a lot to do with the intimate kiss he witnessed planted on your forehead by—

Shouto swiveled his eyes to your right, to the man who had fallen past his notice the moment he saw you.

—Shinsou...? His eyes widened the second time.

“Eh Shinsou-san?” He was apparently not the only one who just realized who sat across them.

His gaze made his way over to Momo, not noticing the cloud that fell over your face as your gaze left Momo and fell onto her slender wrist in his hand.

The small jerk of the whirring gondola drew your quiet eyes away to watch it glide out of the station.

You didn’t see the pensive heterochromic eyes which had left the idle chatters between Momo and Shinsou behind to return to you.

Especially the wistfulness in them, as you tried to think of...well, nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing about hands.

The ascension to the top from the main entrance with Shinsou earlier in the day was a swift five minutes, but somehow the way back down felt like time was crawling.

You felt yourself deflating from within as you became overly self-conscious of yourself.

You knew enough about Yaoyorozu Momo to recognize her right away, albeit meeting her for the first time.

You’ve seen how well she worked with Shouto in the event broadcasts from U.A. High and how the rumored relationship between Shouto and her arose from then.

Being a young model popular enough to be featured in magazines, this speculated connection between the two garnered support, running incessantly in the background no matter how much Momo denied in her interviews on the pages.

And now that you were seeing them with your own eyes, from the flustered way Momo denied Shinsou’s question with a blushing shy gaze on Shouto, you were almost convinced they were all true.

The bitterness, no matter how much you wanted it to stop, kept antagonizing you with its nasty voice.

That she was everything you were not, and seemed to complement Shouto in every way possible.

Along with the natural charisma she radiated in their descending gondola, it was hard to miss how picture perfect they looked sitting side by side.

Of how fitting it was for someone handsome like Shouto to end up with a woman elegantly beautiful like Momo.

Similar to Shouto, you’d recall reading in the magazines that she came from an esteemed hero wealthy family and was enrolled into U.A. High because of her powerful quirk.

Not only was she beautiful, the amicable mature way she carried herself, and the bright, bubbly way she introduced herself to you made you like her instantly.

Like moths to a flame, you found yourself growing fond of her.

However, you just couldn’t fathom why his eyes never left you when Momo was right there being possibly the more captivating person in the gondola to gaze upon, besides himself.

You just couldn’t bring yourself to meet them. Your heart that was sinking with your self-esteem just wouldn’t let you.

It was easy to avoid his eyes with Momo drawing most of your attention, but you could feel his gaze on you and at times see his eyes on you from your peripheral vision.

Even without fully glancing at him, words brimming and threatening to spill behind his quiet, pinning demeanor was almost tangible enough to make your skin prickle.

The same urge resonated in you. Too much to say but not knowing how. Too much nostalgia that it hurt so much.

You missed him.

Loving Todoroki Shouto and everything he was, you could not forget him and your feelings for him no matter how hard you tried in the past tiring years, with so much aching pain in your heart.

Worrying for him.

Crying for him.

Waiting for him, when all signs told you to just stop.

But now that you’d seen him the way he was now, you knew you probably should.

You could feel something different about him. The frost he used to radiate was no longer there, and part of you wondered whether it had something to do with the woman beside him.

The intense sense of forlorn filling you that came with it made sitting in their presence unbearable. So when the gondola finally jerked to a stop, an inevitable heavy sigh of relief left you silently.

The door slid open behind Momo and the moment Shinsou moved, you did as well. You rose to your feet with jittery flutters in your guts, eager to get out the stifling seat across him.

The crippling weight of your doubts made it hard to breathe and you desperately needed to get away before the tears threatening to escape you showed.

You bid them goodbye the moment you could leave.

Shouto’s eyes stayed on your stiff back. His eyes were soft and wavering uncertainly as he watched you with uneasiness pounding in his heart.

The sight of the growing distance between your walking figure and him tugged an unexplainable fear palpable enough to make him ache with a bitter yearning.

So strong that it hurt.

The same dark, sinking feeling invoked by the quiet chatroom in his phone reminded him once again.

—that he couldn’t lose you. Not again.

A steel glint of determination sharpened the look in his gaze.

— And definitely not now when you were right here, before his very eyes.

“Thanks for the treat, Yaoyorozu.” Shouto threw a curt smile at Momo who blinked back in hasty surprise, and another at Shinsou.

“I’ll see you guys in school.”

Not another word, he left two puzzled faces staring after him as he ran after you. His jaw was clenched to his gritted teeth as his long legs quickly covered the distance you left behind.

His hand flew out to catch your arm.

“—Wait.”

Your eyes sprang wide at the voice and the large, warm hand halting your tracks by your wrist.

Even though this voice was no longer round and boyish, you knew who it belonged to.

"Can we talk?" His voice was low with a husky undertone to its depth.

You spun around with a snappy sigh.

"Talk?”

Still accustomed to his old height, you found yourself staring at a sculpted chest clad in a stretched v-neck shirt instead when you turned.

Your eyes darted up.

"Oh, so now you wanna talk after ignoring me for four years?"

Now you weren’t just sad.

"Look Shou— Todoroki-san,” An icy hand closed around his heart at how you corrected yourself, “you don’t have to force it. I'm totally okay with this."

The storm of emotions within you simmered over the years was rearing its ugly, bitter head — anger, frustration, melancholy...

At your misfortune for bumping into him today.

At him.

And mostly, at yourself.

You hate the way they gripped you. The last thing you wanted to do was to lash out at him like that, but your mouth just wouldn’t stop.

"I'm really sorry if I was such an annoying inconvenience back then, being so nosy about your problems. I get it, I thought so too.”

Words were tumbling one after another, churned out of you by the pent-up emotions.

"I can see you're happier now and have such a wonderful girl who obviously loves you.”

You didn’t see the way his eyes wavered in bewilderment at you. “I'm happy for you, really."

The tears you’d been trying to hide which were pouring out of your eyes didn’t let you.

You stared up at Shouto through a shimmering lens of tears and blinked them away.

Shouto’s mouth opened, then closed as he watched tears roll down your cheeks, stunned.

“Let’s just pretend today didn’t happen, okay?”

Your voice shook as you lowered your tearful gaze. You couldn’t bear to look at him anymore.

“...let’s just forget about this,” Your lips trembled as you sensed more than saw him tense. “All of this.”

You should have known from day one that Todoroki Shouto was from an entirely different world.

He was the elite while you were meant to blend into the background.

He was powerful, gifted with remarkable quirks while you were powerless with none.

You were a fool.

A fool for waiting.

A fool for hoping.

A fool for pinning after a man who was out of your league.

But you were done being one.

You could almost feel your own heart breaking as you turned away from him.

Enough was enough.

“...Farewell, Todoroki-san.”

Incredulity in Shouto’s eyes followed you. He could not believe what he just heard.

His hand snapped around your wrist and the last thing he saw was the surprise amidst your tears before he hugged your trembling form to him.

It happened too fast, too sudden.

You only realized he was holding you when he spoke.

“I don’t know what you are rambling on about,” The warmth of his chest rumbled against your cheek as you released a shaky breath.

“...but it’s clear that you have absolutely no idea that I can’t be any happier without you.”

Your eyes sprang wide with shock. You tried to process his words drowning in the deafening pounding of your heart you could hear in your ears.

What...?

“Hold on,” You flinched away, ripping yourself out of his arms as if he had scalded you.

This time, it was your turn to look at him in bewilderment.

“Wait wait wait, wha-what did you say?”

A brief pause of silence ensued in your question as you raised a hand to wipe your tears away.

The broad shoulders looming over you were lined with stiffness and so was the look on his face. He looked like he was mulling hard over something.

A shuddering sigh escaping Shouto broke his silence.

“In these few years, what does it mean when I can’t get you out of my mind?”

A flicker of conflict flashed across his eyes as he raked through his hair, the red and white tresses overlapping in the trail behind his hand.

“I haven’t figured it out,” You felt your breath catch in your throat at the intensity of the piercing gleam in his prodding eyes.

“...but I know you are important. Way too important for me to forget.”

Your heart raced as you watched him lower his gaze solemnly to the ground.

“It’s just that...I’m a coward when it comes to you so I’m sorry I made you feel like you’re not.”

His jaw was set in a clench.

“Simply put, I was—” Shouto paused, his fingers slipped free of his hair which fell back over his eyes in a tousled flattering mess. “Nevermind what I was.”

His voice was quieter now as he raised his eyes to you. “I just don’t want to lose you again.” —and for once today, you could actually read him.

The pain in his eyes wasn’t the one you’d seen growing up beside him. It did not have an icy edge like back then.

Instead, the pain in the depth of his eyes was soft and had a remorseful tug of longingness.

And the fact that this look was zeroed on you, you found it hard to breathe in the wistful ache that held you, resonating along with the one you could practically feel radiating from him.

You don’t know what came over you—

“...Shouto.”

—but the tangible air of something powerful between you two made you utter his name, carried over to him in a voice barely over a whisper.

You weren’t sure who went over to who, but all you noticed was how he was towering over you now.

Close enough for you to see a breathtaking softness amongst the colors of his eyes.

Close enough to see his eyelashes lower with his gaze as he drew his head close to yours.

There was a hesitant linger of his intense eyes on your lips you didn’t miss before he pressed his lips between your eyebrows.

“I’m never letting you go again.” His lips whispered against your forehead.

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#todoroki shouto #bnha shouto #shouto x reader #mha shouto #shouto x you #todoroki shoto x reader #bnha shoto #shoto torodoki #mha shoto todoroki #shoto todoroki #bnhabookclub bingo event 2020 #bnhabookclub

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unmaskedagain · 5 years

Text

Day and Night

Okay I got this prompt and as soon as I saw it, I knew I had to write. I’m a huge Tim Drake fan. Its how I got into reading Batfamily fanfiction. I love Marinette. So I thought I’d give it a shot.

The café was small, empty, in a little nowhere town that had the unfortunate luck of being built in the middle of nowhere; somewhere in a part of England most people never heard of. The café, and the town, wasn’t the type of place you went searching for. Anyone who ended up there, that didn’t already live there, always happened upon it be accident. Usually because they were lost.

The two sole customers in café were most definitely lost. A boy and a girl.

The boy-The young man had dark hair, the iciest blue you could imagine, and a broken look on his handsome face. He sat near the window, on one side of the café, watching the rain poor down. He looked tired, forgotten, and lonely. His name was Tim.

The girl- A teenage girl, still growing into herself, had blue-ish black hair and the deepest, brightest blue eyes imaginable. She said on the other side of the café. A solemn expression on her lovely face. Her eyes sad, and just a bit red. Exhaustion seemed to have set in her bones, and held herself in way soldier who just came home from war did. She was jumpy, scared, and above all looked absolutely heartbroken. Her name was Marinette.

He was from Gotham. She was from Paris. And at that moment, there were no two more lost souls in the world.

The café owner was a kind elderly woman who had taken her tea in back to account inventory; she hadn’t seen any harm in leaving the two kids by themselves for a bit.

Tim had gotten to the café first, and had known the moment the girl had entered.

Marinette noticed the boy sitting, alone, in the quiet café as soon as she walk inside.

Neither had talked to each other. They hadn’t had the energy that day to feign niceties. However, as the rain came down harder, the lights flickered, and Billie Holiday’s Good Morning Heartache played its sweet melody… Something just came over the two.

“Running away,” Marinette asked loud enough so the boy across the café could hear her. He couldn’t have been much older than her, she noticed.

Tim gave her a small bitter smile, “Is it really running away if you don’t have a home to run from? Or if no one cares or notices you’re gone.” He closed his eyes for a moment as wave of emotion hit him. “When does it stop being running away, and starts just being leaving? What about you?”

“I think I’m doing both,” Marinette answered honestly. Her throat dry, and tears burning in her eyes. “Running away from everything, and still doing the right thing by leaving a bad situation.”

Tim nodded. He was in the same boat. “Where you coming from?” Though he figured France from her accent.

“Paris. And you?”

“Gotham.”

“No one waiting for you?” Marinette asked. He shook his head. “Me either. Aren’t we a pair?”

It went quiet. Billie Holiday still filling the silence.

“I lost all my friends to a liar,” Marinette said. “My partner, uh, teammate was five seconds from having sexual harassment charges filed against him. He got… fired. Now I have to do everything by myself.” If Tim noticed her slip, he didn’t say anything. My parents don’t trust me.” She failed to stop Hawkmoth again and again. She failed to keep her friends from falling into Lila’s clutches. She failed her parents with all her lies and excuses of where she was going and where’s been to the point where they couldn’t deal with it. Too scared and weary of what the daughter they no longer recognized had become. They asked her to leave; move out. Then it was Official Marinette had no one. Marinette was lucky her grandma had apartment in the city she never used. Or she’d have been homeless.

Tim did notice though. “I thought… I thought I belonged somewhere I didn’t. Thought I had found a family; a real family like I always wanted. Turned out I wasn’t wanted. I was a just a placeholder. Not a brother. Or a son.” He had nearly died several times, had lost his spine literally, broke through time, fought aliens and world conquerors, rescued batman from the time stream; dome more than humanly possible. But it hadn’t been enough. Or maybe it hadn’t meant anything to the Bats. A part of him had it all to prove he belonged, that he earned the cowl; that just because Batman hadn’t picked him like had his other Robins, but just let him stay, hadn’t meant anything. But it did. And Tim knew the truth the world had been trying to get him to see. He was just pretending; pretending to belong to and with the Batfamily, pretending he had been a good Robin, pretending they had wanted him.

“I’m a failure,” The bluenette said.

“I’m a pretender,” Tim shrugged. “Name’s Tim though.”

“Marinette.”

She got up and walked across the café and sat in the seat across from Tim. “My friends tossed me aside from something shiny and new. I’m been thrown away.”

Time gave her a nod “The people I thought were my family don’t care that I haven’t been to the manor in almost two years. Or didn’t realize. I’ve been forgotten.”

“Been there.”

Tim leaned forward in his seat, “I make one mistake. And B acts like I tried to end the world. I was rash. I acted out. I made a mistake. I’m human. It doesn’t even matter that I fixed it. He just refused to let it go.” Captain Boomerang killed his father. Tim had wanted to make him pay. It’s not like pointed a gun at villain. He just set the bastard up in a way he couldn’t walk away from. “He never listens to me. I get it, though. I wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want another son. He didn’t choose me.” Tim blinked hard, his fist clenching. “No one ever chooses me.”

“Everything I do has to be perfect,” Marinette whispered. “I can’t mess up. I can’t make mistakes. I have to stay in control at all times. Not like everyone else. I don’t get to be human. I have to be more. I have to be better. I have to be an example,” She hissed the word. “The world’s burning but I still have to be perfect. I still have to be strong and righteous and good. I have to take the high road.” She closed her eyes. “When all I want to do is scream. I have defend the world when no one even bothers to defend me.”

Ilene Woods’ So This Is Love started playing. They listened to the song play, a weight off their shoulders left. Not all of it but some. And at that moment the ridiculousness of their situation hit; they had left their countries, ended up god knows where, stuck in a café to avoid the rain, and were complaining to a perfect stranger about how horrible their lives had been as of late. And they laughed. And laughed until it hurt.

“Why we do put up with it?” Marinette leaned back in her seat. “I mean, I know why. But really. Why?

Tim shrugged, a smile still on his face. We know why. We’re doormats.”

Marinette nodded, “They only want us when they want something. That’s the only time we matter.”’ She looked up, right into his eyes. “But that’s why we’re here, isn’t it? Because we can’t take it anymore.”

“And we know we shouldn’t,” He nodded firmly. “Because we shouldn’t and we’re not.”

“Never again,” Marinette swore. And then stood up. “Pardon, I must use the restroom.”

Then she left. As soon as she was gone, Tim pulled out his phone and looking up any superhero activity happening in Paris. There was a lot. Mostly about a hero named Ladybug, who loved more than just a bit like his new friend.

Marinette, on the other hand, left to Speak with Tikki and Plagg who had fighting to get her attention. As soon as she was alone in the bathroom, Plagg stated, “Him! I wanted him. He’s my new Kitty!”

“I like him too,” Marinette said softly.

They convinced Marinette that Tim would be a good hero; and she needed help.

When Marinette rejoined the table, neither said a word. They went back to telling each other a bit more about their sorrows and heartaches until a relative peace settled between the two. Feeling freer than they had in months.

Marinette drank her, now, cold tea. She placed down the cup, “So Tim, any plans on going back to Gotham. Cause if not, I’d like to make you an offer?”

Tim smirked, the thrill of a potential adventure hitting him, “Is Marinette asking me? Or is Ladybug? For the record, it’s a yes either way.”

Marinette smiled, glad that her new partner was seemed to have high intelligence. “How do you feel about Paris?”

“Love it,” Tim stood up. “I get to design my own look though. Unlike you, I don’t look good in skintight anything.”

“Oh I don’t know about that…” She teased her blue eyes sparkling. “That might be something we’ll have to find out.”

The young man held a hand out, “Care to dance?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” The young woman said as took his hand in hers.

They swayed to the music, laughing and twirling around. An elderly woman watched as once again her café worked its magic like it did for every lost soul that wandered in.

Louis Armstrong’s What a Wonderful World started to play in the background as icy-blue eyes met bright blue. The rain slowly stopped as two lost souls, alone in the world, found each other.

I see skies of blue and clouds of white

The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night

And I think to myself what a wonderful world…

#ml salt #ml fic #marinette dupen chang #Marinette deserves better #tim drake deserves better #Tim Drake #adrien salt

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kisskunimi · 4 years

Text

𝔦𝔱'𝔰 𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔢

kunimi akira wordc; 8k+ cw; 1970s!au, post-war!au, soldier!au, mention of unrelated violence, mature and degrading language, suggestive moments, reader is a sex worker, !shinjū - love deaths!

if you are not familiar with the story, please take the warnings seriously. based on the short story Kamāra shinjū by Sueko Yoshida.

Ⅰ

In the dead of night, from somewhere across the river, a clarinet. It fills the silence that is left behind the steps of men in uniform, lately outings solidly cemented in it’s rhythm. With your hands wrung tight in your jacket, vice like, you soak in the cold. The cobbled paths of Osaka are covered in a light layer of powdered white, crackling softly under the feet of a passerby. Your fingers are red, numb, with only your hard bones to peek through the hardened skin, and with these clumsy touches you drop open your jacket to fall around your elbows.

This way your shoulders and chest are almost entirely bare, and though you should be used to it by now, there’s a part of you, small and evergreen, that probably will never. Another set of soldiers passes under the lowly light of the theater building, trampling the last remains of cherry blossom with little care. The men are warm as they pass you by, stern in the face but with the playful smell of tobacco and whiskey to carry behind them.

You smile, as you look up at one of them, taking his slowed steps as a certain involvement. “Good evening, Sirs. Can I help you tonight?” The blond with a mustache, broadly built and towering above you, looks you up and down once, then twice, his eyes shaped with a hardness that most men have. The jazzy music seems to blend into the distance until is merged with the silence. You try to get rid of the shivers of your body, and give your most charming smile. “One night is only 20$ for soldiers.” Lies. One night is a fifty for any other girl here, soldier or not. But you don’t get to be picky, working so far outside the professional district.

“You speak English quite well for a foreign whore,” the other smiles, teeth bared with a viciousness resembling a rabid animal, “but not tonight, little mouse.” His dark brown hair is shiny with pomade, slacks held up by tan suspenders. His words don’t sting anymore.

You just pout and blink from under your lashes, hiding your shaky hands between your thighs in hope for a little bit of warmth. The blond soldier stares for a little longer, blatant eyes gliding over your chest and legs, before he slides his hand into his pocket. From out of the black uniform appears an old, red box.

“Would you like a smoke?” he asks, placing a cigarette between his own lips smoothly. His voice is heavy, thick with some kind of European accent, you’re not sure which one. In the last years, many a countries have deployed their soldiers here, though most of them American. They carry stories of cities bigger than life, buildings higher than the sky itself and though you know you won’t, you wish to see them some day. His rough fingers reach over to you, taking your hand in his.

“No, Sir,” you reply quickly though, tracing the cobbles of the road with the tip of your foot. His grip on your hand tightens slightly, calling for attention. The skin rough on your own.

“You should head farther up the street, girl. That’s where all the lovely ladies hang out. And that’s where all the soldiers get out of the bars.” He drops your hand to squeeze your shoulder instead, and puffs a cloud of white smoke into the dark night sky. With some more gazes at your thinly veiled body, he takes a step back. You know this, of course, it’s hardly your first time out here. But lately, the men have been getting both more scarce and pickier, forcing you to drop your prices lower and lower.

“Come on, François. We’re going to be late if we don’t keep going. I won’t have Nakayama show us up on yet another thing,” a swift grimace your way, “definitely not for the cheap price of a twenty.” He smacks the blond’s shoulder, and laughs then. “Move out, Sergeant.” The taller man gives a short nod at his friend in reply, waves you a slight goodbye, and turns on his heel.

The two saunter down the street with obnoxious story telling of the brunet ringing behind them. The lights twinkle in the darkness, bright to dim over and over. You huff and roll your eyes when they disappear behind the corner, watching the warm air from your lungs warp into clouds. Your jacket is pulled closed again, shaking like a reed as you look around. The streets are too lonely here, tonight.

It’s not your night, you feel it already. You glance behind you to peek at the clock in the facade of the building, and take a breath. A quarter past three already. Shit. Deciding swiftly, you wrap your jacket tightly around your body, and start walking the opposite way. Your heels tap on the street, mixing up the music in the background. You run the back of your hand under your eyes swiftly, before crossing the street, as a car speeds by on the next lane.

You pass some civilians and another set of soldiers, drunk and jovial, and come to a halt at the tram stop. The old faces of the houses here have their charm, you think, wishing just a second that you could see them from the eyes of just a visitor. Someday, maybe.

The tram makes a blaring, rattling noise at it comes to a stop. You get on quickly, ignoring the blatant looks of men and women alike. You could probably try in Naha today, hoping there’s more people there on a cold day like this. You take a seat, settling as the vehicle starts moving again, metal cold against your thigh. You only have a couple thousand yen left. Hopefully you’ll make it through tonight, and make at least a little bit of money. Otherwise, it’ll seem like a very cold, long winter.

You pass by men in business suits at a swift pace, almost blowing the top hats off their heads, which makes you smile. It might be a sad, lowly night, but at least the blurred streaks of lights in the distance are pretty.

You arrive in the next district quicker than you expected, and jump out to cross the street with a giggle, ignoring the honking of an angry driver. The smell of hot dogs fills the street here, a few people lining up on the sidewalk.

group of a dozen soldiers mingle under the roof of the bar. But your eyes instead glide to the man standing a little bit outside the group instead, taking him in as he chugs the last of his beer, and leaves his bottle on the windowsill of a neighboring house. His black hair is slightly wet from the snow, and his uniform hangs open to reveal a white undershirt.

You’ve always found it easier to approach men when they are alone. The cold wind sends you on your way, heels tapping on the smooth stone, under the gazes from the few other strangers. At least you’re still being noticed. That’s a good sign. As you take a deep breath, a memory wraps around your mind like a warm scarf.

It was a night like this one indeed, when you met him. When you get close enough, the stranger’s eyes flick up to you, eyebrows rising slightly. Though you wish to drift away into thought, you’ve got more important things to do. So you push any memories to the back of your head, and drop your jacket open as you come to stand next to him. “Evenin’,” the black-haired, young man mumbles, turning his head to look at you better. You smile, and nod at him, before leaning into the wall.

“Good evening indeed.” His mouth twitches with a smile, as you purse your lips. “Want to go somewhere with me, soldier?” He waits for a second, until another late car passes and after he’s glanced at the men further up the street. You wonder if he’s sober enough to understand why you came up to him in particular. It’s not like he’s that handsome. His hand is stuffed into the pocket of his creased slacks.

“Where do you want to go?” he asks, dark eyes gliding down your neck to your chest.

You giggle, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “To make love.” A few years ago, these words would have made you a blushing, stuttering mess. But sadly, you’re not a few years ago now, and life isn’t as easy as you prayed it would be. When you look over your shoulder at him, you can see his slight clumsiness of movements, the slight slowness that alcohol delivers you after three o’clock.

“I’m broke,” the soldier admits, and for one, you believe. It seems everyone is, these days.

You sigh, but lean into him a little, grabbing his arm softly. This is the tricky part, you know this from experience. If you’re too eager, you’ll scare him away. But if you’re too slow, he might just slip through your fingers. His muscles are hard, proof of a hard day of work. “Twenty dollars,” you bring out, hoping with every fiber this man realizes what that number even means. It’s less than half of what most girls on the street are used to asking. A steal, in his eyes. And for you, well, what choice do you have? You’re broke.

And indeed, the man’s eyes glide up to yours at that, his eyes shining with sudden interest. “Twenty?” he repeats, slightly disbelieving.

With another look at the men to your left, catching the eyes of one of them, who gives you a sleazy grin, you nod. “Yes. Let’s go get warm, come on. Wherever you want to go, we’ll go.” You pull on his arm a little, feeling relief fill you as he moves from the wall without any more asking. You were already fearing this night would be totally wasted. And you really didn’t have the money to waste. “What’s your name, soldier?” you prompt, ignoring his cold hand as it travels into your shirt and up your back.

“Peter,” he mumbles, “Peter O’Sullivan.” You hum softly, and cross the littered street with him, under the soft music of the bar.

Ⅱ

You’re awoken by a soft thump next to the bed. When you open your eyes, the soft light of the sun peeks through the curtains onto your face, ceiling covered with the slight swirling of the incense smoke that burns on the bedside table. You glance to your side, at the slowly moving shape that takes up the rest of your bed. Kunimi is already looking at you, probably has been for a little while judging by his expression.

With a quick swallow, you turn on your other side, and pull the blankets up to your neck. In the light of morning, he can see your every flaw, and you’re not ready to lay that openly in front of him. You probably never will be.

His soft breath fills the silence, as you shut your eyes tightly. Kunimi wants to leave. You know this. You see it in his eyebrows, laced together with frustration that fills him top to bottom, in the fearful look he gives you when he thinks you’re not looking. The sadness in his motions, every second of every day. His eyes, though deep as the night sky, are those of someone with doubt in their heart and soul. You wish you didn’t care to pay enough attention to see it.

He wants back to his unit. He has the darkness of a person who’s suffering under the weight of the world, a man who’s fading with the time and the pathetically boring reality that is the life of a deserter. And it comes out in his brisk walk, and the sharpness of glass when it’s late. He’s started to loathe being near you, since you have become the only face of his life. Day in and day out, and you can watch it seep out of his seams when he’s around you. He’s tired of running, you know this.

The Military Police isn’t even looking for him. The patrol and police cars have been sent out in mass numbers just as little, leaving him with the blank reality that people don’t care. There’s no excitement left in being a fugitive, and so there’s no excitement left in being with you, either. And pretty soon after this, he came to the conclusion that being a deserter is painfully, sadly unmemorable.

The boredom is twisting up his insides. It is easy to read it on his face, easy to imagine that any day now, he’ll get up and he won’t come back to you by the time evening comes. Any second now, he’ll get up and walk all the way to Camp Courtney, with the ugly, chipped, green gate that separates it from the street. ‘It’s me’, he will admit, ‘I’m the fugitive.’ And the MP will arrest him and throw him in a cold, lonely jail.

But no matter what— you’re sure he’ll go. It could be tomorrow, or today, or in a week, that much you can’t predict just yet. But one day he will get up and walk all the way to that ugly, green gate with the aluminum roof and there’s nothing you can do to stop him.

You hear him climb out of the bed, feel the slight movement of the mattress at the lack of his weight, and listen as he opens the windows. With one smooth move, he slides open the curtain further, dousing the room in a light too bright for a cold morning like this. You pull the blanket over your head entirely, turning the other way again so you can look at him through a thin sliver of unobstructed view.

He takes a deep breath, and sits down on the rickety chair on your balcony. The breeze plays with his fluffy hair this way, tossing and turning it in all kinds of fun shapes. You let your eyes travel from his dark hair down, his ears peeking out cutely, following the thin lines of his neck to a broad, muscular back that flexes slightly as he leans forward to watch the cars drive past.

And though the light annoys you, this is Akira at his finest. After getting up, he travels to the kitchen to get a glass of water, stretches out, walks over to the window and watches the world awaken. Always. If you’re lucky, he crawls back into bed with you for a little longer after that, because he can.

Lately he’s been avoiding it, avoiding you and though you want to be mad for it, you don’t think you are. The man is tired. Of this apartment. Of you. Of life. You understand that feeling better than most. When a bird chirps from the rain gutter of the house across the street, he takes a deep breath, and turns to look at you. You, a lump under the thick blankets.

You lower the blankets a little to expose your eyes to him, and yawn. “Nimi?” Your voice is quite thick, most likely an oncoming cold from any of the nights you’ve spent outside lately.

He nods, and brings his eyes to connect with yours, attentive and kind, though the lazy lilt of his head says enough. “Hm?”

“Please close the window and the curtain if you’re done, the light is too bright.” Without saying anything, he does. The windows are shut, the curtains closed, making your home feel dim, and you almost immediately feel bad calling him back. Kunimi puts the old chair back in it’s place, and comes to sit at the edge of the bed, his side.

“Come here,” you breathe, opening the warm blankets for him in the hope that it’s enough to keep him settled for just this little while. He runs his slender, soft fingers through his hair, brushes it out of his way a bit, and slides into the blankets like you ask, his warm hands finding your sides almost immediately.

“You were out last night,” you note, melting into the bed more as you tilt your head back a bit to look at his visage. It’s not much of a question, at this point. The young man hums in response, and lets his hand travel to the small of your back, his lips opening and closing over and over as he thinks.

It makes the image of a fish out of water flash in front of your eyes, darting around desperately. You can’t help but think it fits the situation perfectly, fits him perfectly. “What time did you come back?”

“Uhm,” Kunimi frowns a little and looks up to the ceiling as if thinking about an answer, before letting out a sharp breath through his nose. “One, maybe? It could have been two, I’m not sure.” You know he came in at five last night, you don’t mention it. Instead you bring up your hand, and brush your thumb from his chin to his cheekbone, resting it there with tiny circles.

He’s young still, for a soldier, you think. And knowing that he already served for a while, means that he was much too young when he started. He’s also too pretty to be a soldier. Now, you know that the army doesn’t make exceptions like that, but he could have been anything he wanted to be, back home.

You never asked, but every reason escapes you when you think of why he could have possibly joined. A gorgeous thing like him, who hates the army more than anything. It seems backwards in many ways, but then again, that too— is Akira at his finest.

You decide not to think of it, since it won’t make a difference in the long run. He takes a few breaths with closed eyes, pulling his nose into an adorable little scrunch every few seconds. “You went to sleep with your pants on?” you ask, feeling the rough fabric on your skin when your legs tangle together.

“Yeah,” the brunet sighs, scooting a bit closer so he can lay his head above yours on the pillow, “too much work to take it off.” His warmth so close, smell so unmistakably Kunimi that it almost makes you homesick, in a way. Because even when he’s right here, under your fingertips and holding onto you, you know he’s so far away from you and your dull, boring apartment that any tenderness serves no use.

So you don’t respond, and press your body as close to his as it can get, nodding your head with the smallest movements you can make. Your lips press to the base of his throat a couple of times, letting your forehead rest against his skin.

“Where did you go?” you breathe.

With the soft words again, he pulls back a little and gives you a look, staring so openly at your face that you feel yourself getting red. “To Iwa’s. Iwaizumi Hajime, you know? I told you about him, that friend from the same division I left from. He lives nearby. I went to visit for a while.”

You now hum, listening to the little bird from earlier as it sings through the silence. You drop your hand from his face, and roll to your back, watching the last wisps of smoke floating by the eggshell ceiling, and at the tea pot that stands steaming on the counter. You hate the emptiness you feel when his hands travel over your thighs, brushing over your underwear.

“As long as you stay in a friend’s house, okay. But if you walk around too much during the day, the MP will find you and lock you up. You should be careful.” You don’t understand the army, honestly. It’s been six months since Kunimi left his unit in a hurry and ran off into the city, yet nothing— no one seems to be so much as looking for him in the slightest. He doesn’t behave like a deserter, and basically runs around day and night without a care in the world.

If you hadn’t read it in the paper yourself, you’d never even believed that he was on the run. Kunimi doesn’t respond to this, so you look back at him, sitting up on the plush. “Take off your pants,” you mumble, ignoring the coldness when it travels over every inch of your skin. Your entire top half breaks out in goosebumps. With a slight pause, the brunet follows your request, and tosses the piece of fabric on the floor.

He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth when you settle over his body, leaning down to his tummy. Your hands travel down his ribs and waist, squeezing with gentle touches in his soft skin. You press kisses down his navel towards his crotch, as you pull his last layer of clothing down his legs. Kunimi shakes a little when your nails dig into his muscular thighs.

His beautiful hands settle on both sides of your face as you go to work, breath heavier than normal. He cocks his head back in pleasure. You can’t drag your eyes away from him for a second. He’s so pretty, he really is.

His skin warm, like running honey, in stark contrast with his dark head of hair. Dark, calculating eyes that would put the blade of a sword to shame, and the kisses of sun that are littered across his cheeks and nose with a gentleness only heaven can give. God must have worked hard on this one, you think, as you watch the fluttering of his lashes.

Ⅲ

As you walk down Gate street, small snowflakes start coming down from the clouds, landing on the tip of your nose and the length of your lashes. You pull your woolen hat down further, and hold your hand up to protect your eyes a bit more. Can’t have your make-up running. You pull your empty shopping bag closer to your thigh, and speed up your steps a tad.

It wasn’t a day like this, but it was right here, you recall. You were waiting for some soldiers to finish their drink, walking over to them with a little smile. However, they were both far past drunk, so you quickly steered away. It was only midnight, and a figure came out of another bar, clothed in dark clothes but with slightly too long hair peeking from under an ocean blue newsy cap.

“Hey,” you call as he passes you by on the sidewalk, trying to catch his eyes in the process. You are just about to give up on him too, when he stops walking. He takes two steps backwards to send you an intrigued look without flinching for a second. You noticed he still looked younger, then too. Unmarked by the crows feet and stubble your other clients are so easily recognized by.

You clear your voice and lift one of your brows at his expression. “Twenty dollars,” you say.

The young man responds without hesitating, dropping his narrowed gaze for a slight twitch of his lips. “Ten dollars.” This makes you scoff, shaking your head at the ground in disbelief. Does he really think that he can get a woman for a pathetic two thousand yen? No one in their right mind would sell that body for that price.

Your first instinct is to get mad, at the ridiculous offer that dares cross his lips. But when you look up, possibly to cuss him out, you catch his eyes again. His face still has the certain go-lucky calmness most people have lost through the years, and surprisingly, it calms the fire in your chest almost instantly.

You notice truly how handsome he is as you try to form a response, bright in the night light. Unbelievably so. And you— you’ve always had the bad habit of leaving a soft spot open for good-looking men. He looks lost, you have to admit, like he dropped a piece of himself earlier and is desperately looking for it.

Though his handsome face isn’t what eventually makes you agree. You’ve been out in the shadow for almost three hours already, and you’re exhausted. At this point, you just wanted to sit down. Preferably with a warm body pressed to your own on a soft bed, free of charge if you must. Kunimi appears in a moment of emotional weakness of your heart, and stays there for the days to come. He’s alone, soldiers are hardly ever alone at this hour.

You walk straight past the hotels of B.C. Street and take him to your apartment in Kamara. When you enter the living room, where your bed also stands, you put out your hand and wet your lips. “Ten dollars.” He takes a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and smooths it out in your palm, giving you a small, crooked smile. “Do you really have nothing more?” you ask, fighting the frown on your forehead.

“I swear,” he nods, pursing his lips cutely, as he rocks on his feet, back and forth over and over. “It’s all I have left.”

You close the door with a sigh, and loosen your ponytail to let your hair spill out over your shoulders, sitting down on the bed. “If that’s true, how are you going to pay a taxi to get back to the base?” you ask, cocking your head sideways a little. What an interesting person, you think, the blush on his cheeks from the cold painting him in contrast with your dim home.

His black jacket is missing one of it’s gold painted buttons. So it’s true. You raise your arms to take off your sweater, and toss it onto some of your other clothes, as Kunimi averts his eyes to the floor. “Well?”

“I’m not going back,” he admits.

Now, your curiosity is definitely peaked. “What do you mean, you’re not going back?”

The brunet takes off his cap, and lifts his shoulders with a lost expression. “I ran away.” You just respond a quiet ‘oh’, and swing your feet close over the floor for a moment, thinking it over. Though you know that many soldiers leave before their time is done, you’ve never actually met one.

After a few seconds, you look up to study the face of the boy—man, really now. His face is clear, with well-sized features and wild hair that rests over his eyebrows and is pulled behind his ears without much care. He frowns, slightly unsure, as he leans against your counter.

“Whereabouts were you?”

He taps his fingers on the wood as he answers, warming up slowly but surely in the confinements of your small home. “Camp Courtney.”

“So you were a marine?” you fire back. Kunimi nods, looking out the window for a second, until you talk again. “What are you going to do next, now you’ve run away?” This seems to puzzle him for a second, like he didn’t expect your interest in his story. Honestly, neither did you. But you’ve never seen a soldier quite like him. He doesn’t seem to have the same self-importance most of them have when they walk your streets.

“I hope to find a way to get enough money to cross to Honshu. From there I wanna get to Korea or the Soviet Union if I have to.”

“Christ!” you respond in surprise, lifting your brows in doubt. You’ve never deserted. Is that really what a person must do to escape the army? Kunimi just shrugs again, nonchalant with the words. The slightly wet paper you twirl between your fingers stills for a moment. But well, same here. You don’t hand him back the money.

The young soldier, thick blankets pulled up to his chin, stares at you when you walk out the shower and towards the bed. Your gazes cross, and he quickly looks away, which amuses you more than you expect it to. But the longer you look, the colder you feel. You feel a devouring sadness for him, and you don’t know why. It drives you without your own will, wanting to wrap him up in your arms and to press a kiss to his forehead, to make him believe it’s going to be okay.

Maybe it’s the warm light of the lamp in the corner of the room, but his face is filled with a certain loveliness. Despite the calmness he seems to spread, his dark eyes are fearful. You don’t bother putting on your lace panties before you crawl into bed. You lean forward gently, and press a kiss to his cold lips, before taking his hand and placing it on your body.

Kunimi has nowhere else to go that night, and you let him stay over in your apartment. In the morning he leaves, without knowing where to. The next morning, there’s a little something in the paper about him. You read it when going to the top apartment to get your hair done, letting your eyes travel the grayed paper.

‘Marine from Camp Courtney stabs multiple people and runs.’ it says. It’s a short, little article, but you immediately understand it’s about him.

‘On the 7th, a marine of first class (20), stationed in Camp Courtney, got into an altercation over a trinket with his superior sergeant John W. Anderson, on the exercise field of Camp Hansen. He stabbed the sergeant in the gut with the bayonet he had on hand and ran away from the camp. Sergeant Anderson is heavily wounded, and will need a month of recovery. With the aid from the Japanese police the marine is doing everything in their power to track down the young man.’

That you’d slept with someone who stabbed a person, doesn’t scare you. You guess he must have been pretty ruthlessly bullied like all those men in the army are by their superiors. He must have lost his self control at a point. In the last couple of years, you’d seen enough bloody fights between soldiers. Once, you’d even seen a person shot in front of you. A simple stabbing doesn’t scare you in this regard.

When you travel back all the way down, back home, Kunimi sits patiently waiting on the stairs to your flat. When he spots you, he sends you a tiny nod, face carrying the distinct marks of exhaustion. “Hi,” he breathes. You respond with the same, and come to sit next to him on the stairs, putting down your groceries at your feet. His uniform has the distinct smell of sweat, most likely because he’d have to put the same clothes on when he left.

“Where’d you go?” you ask, looking over your shoulder at him, and the way his skin glows in the light of the sun. Even in a moment like this, he looks bright. Huh.

“Isabama,” the brunet responds carefully, lacing his hands together between his knees. “That’s where a friend of mine lives, he’s from the same place I’m from. I was at his place, but he tossed me out.” You nod, understanding. Harboring a deserter probably isn’t appreciated in the marine corps.

“You were in the paper,” you admit, figuring he hasn’t had the chance to check. Akira’s lips pull into a tight line, so you guess you’re right. “They say you stabbed a sergeant in the gut.”

“Stabbed lightly,” Kunimi immediately claps back, glancing at you with wide eyes, “just a little, he’s not going to die.”

“He’s going to need a month of recovery,” you point out, picking at the remnants of your nail polish mindlessly. Baekhyun’s dark eyes catch yours again, as he lets out a breath through his nose, and ruffles his hair to calm his nerves.

“He deserves it. I—” You interrupt him though, taking his hand in yours, feeling the cold digits shake in your hold.

“Don’t bother, you don’t need to give me a reason for your actions. But if you stay out here like this, they’ll catch you in the next hour, though.”

Kunimi nods, and looks at the speckled cement under his feet again, clearing his throat. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” He flushes a bit pinker, and gives you a look of uncertainty. “Could I please stay in your flat for a little while? Even if it’s just two, three days?” He takes a deep breath, before continuing a little more.

“Just until the money from my mother arrives at my friend’s house.” To your surprise, an image of the night before crosses your mind. His gentle touches, the honest adoration with which he held onto your skin like you’re the only woman he’s ever had. And you hate to admit how much it warms your heart. Maybe you’re really getting emotionally weak here.

You’ve never been so happy to accept so little money. That’s the only reason he sits here, on your staircase now. And if you could do your life over three times again, you know for a fact that you’d never get the chance to breathe the same air as a man like Kunimi again. So you sigh, and stand up from the cold stone to look at him, picking up your groceries in the process. “All right. You can’t stay here forever, but for now you can come in.”

The next morning you awake late, which Kunimi by your side. You get up, brush your teeth and walk back to the bed to pick up a darling dress that you put on over your white lace, when an impatient knock comes to your door. When you look through the peephole, there’s a policeman in front of your apartment.

There it is, already. You rush to his side and shake him awake, helping him leave through the window. You open the door.

“Oh, hello,” the officer says, taking off his uniform cap to give you a slight bow. You return it.

“Can I help you, Sir?” With your toothbrush still in hand, you look the young officer up and down.

The officer nods, and takes out a little notebook from his pocket. “Probably, Miss. Do you mind answering a few questions?” he asks, and you hum in response. The man starts his speech immediately at that.

“Well, we are looking for a deserted marine. Do you have any idea where he could be? An employee at Pinocchio Hamburger told us he saw a soldier who matches the descriptions. As you know, many soldiers collect there. This employee says he saw you and the soldier leave in the direction of Kamara. Does this sound familiar, Miss?”

You pout though, and lift your shoulders. “When was this, exactly?”

“Three nights ago, Miss.”

You put your hands on your hips, and look at the floor in thought, before giving the officer a lost look. “And what did the soldier look like?”

“A young man, quite tall. His hair is dark and longer than is in style. A marine first class…” The man gives you a short description, along with the note that he’s committed a terrible crime, something you’d never expect from someone that age. You nod, feigning understanding.

“Well, I did meet a soldier near Pinocchio that night, but the description is off. The man I met was a foreign soldier, and he was about twenty nine or thirty. Maybe you can ask the man at Pinocchio again— the employee?” you prompt.

The officer waves his hand in dismissal, and puts his notebook away swiftly. “Ah, this will suffice, miss. I know enough. He’ll show up around B.C. Street eventually. Those guys don’t have anywhere to run, you see. We’ll definitely catch him.”

With that, he excuses himself again, and leaves the building swiftly after. You watch the officer through the window until he gets into his car and drives off down the narrow street of your home, lights disappearing in the distance. Kunimi comes back when night falls.

After that day, the police don’t show themselves again, and for all you know, the MP couldn’t care less about him or where he could be hiding. Though he has hope for a few days, the money of his mother never comes, and instead of getting the rest of your pay, you’re the one feeding him and clothing him for the next six months.

After about two months you had fought up the courage to ask him for your money, but Kunimi simply didn’t have any to give, and he could hardly look for a job being a fugitive. The situation changed ever so slowly. Because more and more, you started feeling grateful that you even had him in your life.

He was a quiet, soft-handed man, who did enough to help whenever you needed it. You weren’t as lonely anymore. And you started to realize that you were sleeping with a man that seemed carved from marble, and the price you paid seemed little for it in comparison. In what world would you be allowed to hold an angel in your arms for only a twenty thousand yen a month? You started feeling heavy of heart, because you really, really didn’t want him to leave.

Ⅳ

When you round the corner at the paint store, you can see the light burning in your apartment. You speed up your walk, stuffing the fifty dollars you made into your jacket pocket and hurrying up the stairs of the apartment. White light beams through the small window next to the door. You turn the doorknob and sigh, kicking off your shoes easily as you enter the heated room.

“Nimi,” you call, lifting the bag of French wine in your hand higher in case he looks over at you. There’s no answer. “Hey,” you call again, looking around the small room with a frown. In the living room, there’s no Kunimi to be found. His jacket, his shoes are all gone, leaving you nailed to your spot in the middle of the room with a heavy feeling creeping into your belly.

The silence feels thick, surprising you with the weight of it. You put the plastic bag on your counters, and look around once more to be sure, before frowning. Had he really gone back to his unit? Had he given up on trying to cross to Honshu or Kyushu so suddenly, without a word to you? Where could he possibly have gone?

You grab your bag and rush back to the door, jamming your feet into your shoes painfully tight, already slamming the door behind you again. You run the opposite way you came from, looking left and right every few seconds in hope for the familiar face, adrenaline rushing through your exhausted body with a feverish pace.

You rush back towards B.C. Street, past the bar the Caravan, towards the house of Mr. Irihata, a man Kunimi has befriended not too long ago. Maybe he’d gone there. You start walking even faster when you arrive at the beginning of the crowded street, wrapping your scarf around your neck and covering your nose.

You suddenly feel the urge to sob, overwhelmed with the idea of it that you preemptively brush your hands under your eyes. When you get at the house, you walk around the side, and call out towards the window there. “Corporal Irihata?” The window opens almost instantly, revealing the face of the older man with his thick, bushy eyebrows and a stern face.

“Oh, it’s you,” he sighs.

“Is Kunimi not here?” Your voice is slightly shaky, eyes wide as you watch his expression change, but just barely.

“Oh, that deserter?” he asks, slightly surprised.

“He came here quite often, didn’t he?”

“Yeah,” the older man sighs, “but not today. Is everything okay?” You nod his worries away, too shaky to give into your sadness for now.

“Yes, I’m fine. He’s probably in a bar here somewhere.” You rush out of the street and past the bars along the street, peering inside quickly. No Kunimi to be found anywhere. You arrive on Goya Boulevard, and rush past that too. One by one, you check the windows for his familiar shape, without success. Where would he possibly have gone? Did he really go back to his unit, after all?

Your legs are shaky, knees weak. You’ve heard that deserters are arrested and brought to Kawasaki right away, and brought back home to be sent out again. Did he give himself in knowing that he’d be sent back all the way home, even as a criminal? You can’t even grasp the idea of that. No, that can’t be right. He probably went back to the flat already, he just went out for a walk.

Before you know it, your legs are carrying you back towards Kamara, up the windy, asphalt road to your building. Eyes stinging from the cold breeze and the heaviness in your stomach. When you look up, you notice through the window that the light is on. You’re pretty sure you turned the lights off when you left, so you rush up even more quickly than before, hands shaky. Your heart feels like it’s dancing, but you’re not sure if it’s a happy or unhappy one.

The door opens without any effort, the room bathing in the bright, white light. Kunimi is not here.

With a deep sigh, you shut the door behind you, and drop backwards onto the bed. You must have ran out with the lights still on then. For a long while, you don’t even move. You’re barely breathing, you think, staring at the imperfections on the ceiling like they are the reason for all your misery. If Kunimi went back to his unit, you wouldn’t see him ever again. You stand back up and walk over to the window, pressing your hands against it with a thick, heavy swallow.

He couldn’t have just left like that, he wouldn’t. But where could he possibly be at a time like this, with no money to his name? Suddenly, as with a hard gust of wind, the door blows open and Akira walks in. His dark hair is messy, tucked under a finely woven hat you bought him. And everything that was suspended so delicately in mid air in your mind crashes to the floor.

Your shoulders drop in relief, tears welling up in your eyes where you can’t stop them. “Where did you go?” you bring out. Your voice is shaky, bottom lip pulled harshly between your lips.

“I went out to Gate street for a while,” Kunimi mumbles, eyes slightly concerned at your tone.

He walks over to you as he unbuttons his jacket, and lays his hands on your shoulders, pulling you closer than you’ve been used to the last few weeks. “If you walk around too much outside, the MP will find you,” you whisper, catching his eyes in the process. The young man presses a kiss on your forehead, and walks past you to drape his jacket across the second chair in the room. He drops back in the bed like you had done not too long ago, and lays there, unmoving.

“Don’t think about it anymore,” he calls, closing his eyes against the bright light, “it’s all over anyway.” He doesn’t speak after that, and so neither do you. The silence lasts for a while, as you stare at the man you’ve grown hopelessly attached to over the past months.

Kunimi sounds so sad, so defeated. Like every bit of energy has been sucked out of him, and you hate that you’re left in limbo trying to help him. When he suddenly speaks again his voice is grated, pretty lips forming a slight pout. “Is there any beer?”

You move from the counter to sit on the rickety, wooden chair. “No,” you truthfully admit. “Would you like me to go get some? I got paid.” He takes a deep breath before shaking his head, and spreading his limbs out like a starfish. ‘Never mind’ he mouths. The silence that follows is even longer than the first, and by the time either of you move the sun has lowered behind the horizon so far the sky colors red.

The next time he speaks, you already know what will follow. It’s a cold feeling, piercing through bones and keeping you in place, though you’d rather run away yourself right now. “You know I called, right?” he breathes, and you hum in response. Your fingers are still ice cold, your legs still tingly from the back and forth earlier. “I decided to turn myself in tomorrow, at ten o’clock.”

It feels as if someone has hit you over the head with a pipe of lead, echoing around your mind like the bells of a church. And you try to smile, for him, but your face feels so tense that you’re not sure if it comes across. You lay down next to him and sigh deeply, closing your eyes against an onslaught of tears. Kunimi’s cold fingers brush over your thigh, but you feel like slapping them away. Your body seems to sink through the springs of the bed, so ridiculously heavy.

You swallow, and turn into his arms, fisting your hands into his shirt and your nose into the crook of his neck. “Run away with me, Akira. We can go to my hometown, where I was born. No one will look for you there. And there’s a bunch of abandoned houses,” you say, trying your best to keep yourself from begging, but at this point you know you’re not above it anyway.

“It’s almost fully uninhabited. The houses are old, but they have a garden and a lot of ground. I’ll plant grass in our yard, and cook us something better than eggs for breakfast. And you can fix the floor tiles.” It stays quiet again, you can feel his slow heartbeat against your cheek. But then he shakes his head, and you want to scream until your voice breaks. “If they arrest you, you’ll get sent back home. And you don’t want that, right? That’s what you told me.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” he responds just as quick, swallowing. “I’m tired.” And for one, you believe him. It seems everyone is tired these days.

After your shower, you walk around the room on tiptoes. Kunimi lays in bed, his face peaceful in his sleep, twitching slightly as he dreams. You smile at him for a few seconds, before putting on your favorite lace underwear, and your favorite summer dress. You drink a cup of tea, and a second one, and stare out the window mindlessly for what feels like an hour, but you’ve always been bad at keeping track of time.

Your lover’s dark hair stands up straight, in crazy spikes on his head, making him look ever so small. You move to sit in front of your mirror for a while too, putting on your favorite chap-stick. It’s sweet, like cherry. He once told you he loved the taste of it, and so you loved to kiss him with it in return.

And then you lock the door, and shut the window tight, squeezing the lock until it’s almost impossible to open. You walk to the kitchen, bending to turn open the propane gas. You turn all three gas taps open fully, leaving open the door from the kitchen to the living room and bedroom.

You lie down, and the bed creaks softly under you as well. Like the cry of a child, or the weeping of a loved one missing a lover. You know it well.

Kunimi turns on his other side in his sleep, facing you now. He’s beautiful, every inch of him, head to to. Eternal, in a way. It’s easy to believe in someone like that, isn’t it?

You close your eyes, and decide to count to a thousand.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five...

You take the lighter that always lays on your bedside table, the one to light the incense, and turn to lay on your belly. Face down in the pillows.

The clock ticks easily in the quiet of the room. Heavy breaths.

And you reach a thousand.

And you, with full determination, push your thumb against the spark wheel.

♡ fin.

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