#but. alas. my hair is the distinct part. sigh

[three--thirty]

i kinda brought it upon myself but. its sad when people dont recognize me ever

[oblivious-nuisance]

ꨄ 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄

— ft. levi ackerman

a/n: my love for this man is astronomical. also fully projecting on him bc i'm not gonna get this type of affection any time soon :c

warnings: gn!reader, fluff <33

levi ackerman. always unhappy, always curt and stoic, the lines on his face always indicating worry and weariness, rather than previous joy.

clean-shaven, hair precisely parted a little bit to the right, bones and muscles and veins working together to craft the most armonious of bodies, one that you happen to catch a glimpse of any time he rolls up his sleeves before helping somebody, or on the rare occasions when he takes his vest off during the day. and his clothes are perfectly ironed, tie wrapped cautiously around his neck, strong arms carrying, at times, copious amout of books through the monumental halls of the library.

if only his attitude wasn't so unwelcoming...

alas, you'd never find a man who loves the way he does.

calloused fingers would be tracing your soft skin in the dim light of the moon, when you'd be as fast asleep as one could be, however he would not be able to urge his eyelids to close. and yet he'd never be more at peace than in that second.

the distinct fragrance of black tea would greet you in the morning, along with the fading sound of music. the saxophone would do the honours and disturb your deep slumber, but you wouldn't mind, as you'd be up and making your way towards the coquette kitchen, his white dress shirt hanging loosely on your frame, the shadow of a kiss on your temple.

at nights you would sit by the window and read, his head in your lap, turning from time to time, lips planting a gentle kiss on your tummy whenever he'd feel like it. and you'd only blush and keep reading the fantasy novel that you so decided to emerge into, notions of time and space slowly escaping your mind, as only you and your lover would matter.

the faint aroma of cigarettes would lay on his lips as yours would mesh with his, caramel on his tongue as the heated kiss would become even more demanding, to the point where clothes would just be unwelcomed barriers and the feeling of warmth and flesh would be the only treatment for the fire ignited inside of your beings.

and you could only sigh and close your eyes, letting your mind wonder to the way his strong arms would engulf you, sturdy chest pressed to your back, warm water surrounding you both in the small but comfortable bathtub, as you'd mindlessly trace patterns on his knee while his hands would caress your neck and chest tenderly.

and afterwards—

"hey! are you even listening?"

you shudder, almost dropping the coffee that you are holding. wide-eyed, you raise an eyebrow at your friend's sudden burst.

"i-i'm sorry. come again?"

"ugh," connie groans. "i was saying that maybe you could lend me some of your lit notes for my upcoming test."

"huh? why would i?"

"why of course, because sharing is caring!" he tries to grin, failing to impress you the nth time this semester.

"i don't care."

he stops and sighs, trying to play his last card before abandoning the topic. "i'll fail miserably, otherwise. please."

"ah-ha! there it is—"

"good morning."

"mr. ackerman, sir! good morning, sir!" connie cries out, causing you to tremble yet again, this time succesfully dropping the cup all over the ground.

"shit!" you gasp under your breath, kneeling down to pick up the emptied plastic recipient.

before you can look up again, levi is kneeled right next to you, hand reaching out for yours— no, for the cup.

you get up abruptly, only offering the linguistics professor a rushed nod before speeding your steps up ahead of connie, hoping that he misses the way your cheeks brighten up.

"hey! hey, your coffee—" connie shouts as he starts running after you.

the man sighs and turns away.

you make a note to yourself to look around campus later that day and hopefully find a more secluded place, so that you can keep daydreaming, the screenshot of when you matched with the professor on tinder still saved securely in the favourites folder on your phone.

©oblivious-nuisance - all rights reserved

no translations, edits, copying, reposting etc.

[mintymiknow]

Trust Fall - ch. 9 | Lee Minho

summary | character profiles | masterlist

Pairing: Lee Minho/Lee Know x Reader

Summary: Are you ready to open up to Minho, or does all the effort and time still remain futile in an attempt to open your heart? Something between the two of you begins to shift, but are you ready?

Genre: Secret agent/spy au, romance, angst, action

Word count: Approx. 5k

Warnings for this chapter: The mc talks about death/someone dying, but nothing is described in graphic

A/N: Surprise! Here’s another update for the series. I seem to have underestimated my current semester...I’ll be way busier in the coming days and weeks, so updates might take longer than usual now. So sorry. To make up for it, here’s ch. 9 with some swoon moments. I hope to update more, but in the case I get swamped with work, I do apologize for delays. Anyway, enjoy this for now! Again, take note that the scientific and medical things mentioned here may not be accurate or realistic, so don’t take them to heart or something hahaha!

[A/N: the italicized parts are essentially a flashback or recollection of events until the paragraphs become un-italicized again!]

After having your cut disinfected and cleaned in the medical wing - by yours truly, of course - you then proceed to the other medical room where Minho went for treatment. You’re just about to approach the door when you hear muffled voices - Minho and Seungmin.

“You got pretty beat up this time, huh?” Seungmin muses, “Last time you were injured to this extent was what? When you and Jeongin went in blindly into the den of gangs last year?”

Minho laughs tiredly, “Yeah? Well, her safety was my priority this time.”

“Romantic.” the doctor teases before comically letting out a grunt as Minho presumably smacked his arm or whatever.

You feel heat rising to your cheeks, but you shake any weird thoughts away and steel yourself. No time for useless and fluttery “feelings”. You and Minho were being professional, that’s it. You open the door to see Seungmin givin the agent the usual instructions for cleaning and taking care of the injuries he received from the fight prior. Afterwards, he turns around to leave the room, eyes finally falling on you.

“Hi, y/n. Were you able to find the things to tend to your wound?” Seungmin offers a smile.

You nod and smile back, “Yes, thank you.”

“Alright.” the doctor says, approaching the doorway, “Glad you’re safe.”

You give him a soft hum before stepping out of the way so he could walk. Once Seungmin leaves the room, you turn to Minho who is much too preoccupied with looking at the bandages on his torso. It was as if he was too bashful to look you in the eye - were his cheeks actually a shade of pink right now?

He probably knew you were outside when he said things to Seungmin but realized too late that you were just behind the door. If that were the case, why was he embarrassed? Again, you shove those thoughts to the deepest crevice in your mind.

Slowly, you approach the agent and clear your throat. “Are you ok?” you ask timidly.

Minho hums, finally looking up to meet your eyes. They’re tired, you can tell, but the glimmer in them doesn’t waver; you wished you were like that too. “This is nothing.” he replies, nodding his head towards you, “I should be asking you that question.”

You nod, releasing a heavy sigh; that’s all you do in response, and Minho drops the conversation all together. He stands up, lightly patting your shoulder as he walks past you. “Get some sleep, y/n. You need it.” he says.

“So do you.”

“I need to report to Jung.” the agent says flatly, putting a new shirt back on, “I’ll be fine, stop worrying.”

“I’m not worried.” you nearly pout, narrowing your eyes in exasperation.

At this, Minho has to stifle a teasing chuckle, “Fine, whatever. Just get some rest, alright?”

You nod, and Minho takes it as his sign to leave, walking out of the medical room with his hands shoved in his jean pockets. You watch him leave, trying to comprehend why your heart was beating so fast all of a sudden.

You're brought back from your daze when one of the lab equipments rings with a slight dinging sound, alerting you that a test had just finished. You unintentionally jolt in surprise, blinking your eyes a few times to regain your composure. You then glide the wheeled stool over to the far end of the table to retrieve the paper that had printed from the test equipment.

“Hmm.” you hum to yourself, scanning the sheet of paper with your eyes.

You continue to tinker with the red substance from the vial, running tests and combining it with other chemicals to observe specific reactions. You note everything down, unceasingly performing experiments. At some point, you combine the red substance with a few formulas before adding in a drop of liquid from the original serum Cle was currently trying to produce - this was the same serum you had kept hidden from the agents from way back.

As you glue your eyes to your experiment, they widen in surprise as some sort of chemical reaction happens. The liquids combine and fizzle for a few seconds; the red formula mixes with the bronze liquid of the serum, turning into something more copper-like. However, the warm-colored swirls begin to disappear, drastically changing the mixture into a faded yellow color akin to very diluted urine - the liquid was now essentially transparent, save for the subtle tint of yellow.

Your mouth opens slightly, leaning closer to make sure your eyes weren’t deceiving you. If this is what resulted from what you were conducting, that meant you were super close to finally finding the solution. What about that red liquid was so special? You wanted to find out, so you grab another petri dish to put drops of red liquid in, getting ready to examine it under the microscope.

That is, until the door slides open, and a familiarly smooth voice says, “What are you up to?”

Your heart leaps out of your chest, eyes wide as your body tenses. Unclenching your jaw, you swivel in the stool to face the handsome agent, “Going through the samples we got from the last mission.”

Minho hums, eyes scanning the items on the lab table. “Where are Jisung and Seungmin then? Why are you alone?” he asks.

You shrug, “I work better when I’m alone. Please just trust me on this.”

Minho raises an eyebrow before sighing as if he were too tired. Well, his face was still littered with injuries, so you assume he still was tired. “As much as I’d want nothing but to speed things up, you are supposed to be working with your team, y/n.” he says.

“I know.” you start, gesturing around the table, “But I’ll give all my findings and reports to them after. I always do.”

Minho looks at you in a deadpan manner but decides to let you off the hook. Instead, he asks, “What did you find then?”

“Well…” you trail off, still unwilling to tell him everything - just in case, right? You continue, “I have a very big feeling - and I am confident - that these substances are key substances to formulating a solution. Just...give me more time to study them.”

“Good enough.” Minho offers a small smile before playfully flicking your forehead, “Now, I came to tell you to rest. Jung wants you to accompany us on another mission.”

“Why am I needed?” you glare, rubbing the area on your head where he flicked.

Minho answers, “It’s a ball or gala of sorts, and Jung thinks your credentials will allow us easy access into the VIP guest list. Hyunjin somehow managed to come up with some esteemed political cover too.”

You cast your eyes to the floor, involuntary shivering at the thought of having to go on another mission. The last one wasn’t the most pleasant one after all.

The agent isn’t blind to your apprehension; he completely understands and sympathizes with you, in fact. He then reaches a hand out to rest on your head, lighting ruffling your hair. “I promise no harm will come your way.” he gently smiles, but there’s a confidence to it as well, “I’ll keep you safe, promise.”

You look at him with furrowed eyebrows. His eyes still hold their distinct mysteriousness, but you can clearly see the swirls of certainty and warmth in them. It prompts a small blossom of trust, blooming within the dark corners of your heart. You end up sighing and nodding your head, “Fine.”

“Good. Get rested; we leave tomorrow at 4:00 PM.” he smiles once more before making his leave so casually.

You glare and pout, thinking to yourself, “That stupid agent...”

You bite your lip, glancing at your phone laying on the table before your eyes quickly shift to the vial of the now nearly transparent liquid from your tests and experiments.

With a sigh, you squeeze your eyes shut, “This will be the last, I promise.”

Minho doesn’t really understand why his cheeks are so flushed right now as he stands in front of your bedroom door, hand poised to knock on the surface. His eyebrow twitches nervously, but he steels himself and proceeds to knock either way. A few seconds pass, but you don’t respond. Surely, you were back in your room at this time right? He did tell you to rest.

Minho knocks again, sighing when you don’t respond once more. “Dr. Song?” he calls, but no reply.

“Y/n?” he tries, but alas, nothing again.

He didn’t want to resort to it since he knew you valued your privacy, but his mind went into overdrive at your non-response. He scans his own ID in your door’s digital lock, a beeping sound ringing lightly before the lock makes a clicking sound. The agent slowly pushes the door open, being cautious just in case you were dressing or in the shower. When he’s sure you’re not even inside, he sighs and visibly relaxes.

He looks around the room before looking at the photo in his hand. He was supposed to return it to you from the other day it dropped from your notebook, but he had forgotten. Now that he remembered, you weren’t in your room. Minho ended up thinking you were still with Jisung, so he got his phone and navigated to send you a text.

Coincidentally, he received a text from you at that moment.

Song y/n: Agent Lee, I’ve gone out for dinner and coffee. I also told Chan in advance, so please don’t worry. I’ll be back right after.

Lee Minho: Is that so? Are you alone?

Song y/n: Yes, but don’t worry, I didn’t go far.

Lee Minho: Fine

Afterwards, the agent goes to his conversation with another fellow agent and texts him.

Minho: You let y/n go out?

Chan: Uh...yes. Why?

Minho: Chan…

Chan: Haha, I know Minho. But there’s no harm in it, right? Maybe she got sick of the cafeteria food. She promised to be back soon anyway. Remember...trust her.

Minho: I know but still. Now isn’t the time.

Chan: If you’re so worried, go after her. Lix can track her phone for you.

And without a second of hesitation, Minho leaves your room and heads straight to the tech department in search for a certain freckled agent.

Meanwhile, you’re seated in front of a familiar face, eating cheesecake and drinking coffee. The figure chuckles, an amused smile on his face, “Cheesecake isn’t dinner, y/n. You need more than that.”

You sigh, raising an eyebrow, “We’ve had worse things for dinner in the hospital, Hyunbin.”

The male doctor shrugs, smirking, “Admittedly, that’s true.”

“Well, I didn’t call you here to lecture me about dinner habits.” you laugh, leaning forward on the table.

“You miss me?” Hyunbin jokes heartily.

You laugh a bit louder, shaking your head, “Hardly.”

“Alright then little miss doctor.” Hyunbin playfully wiggles his eyebrows, “Why did you want to meet?”

“I have something to tell you.”

“Oh?”

You sigh, slightly deflating in your seat. “It’s about work. I can’t tell you all the details right now, but I needed your input because you’re still better at chemistry than I am.” you lightly chuckle.

Hyunbin chuckles as well, crossing his arms, “That I do not deny. Well, fire away. What do you need?”

“My job right now requires me to...test certain formulas, and one particular formula I managed to dig out was for fluoroantimonic acid - you know, the strongest acid.” you start to explain, careful to say parts of the truth, but also not everything, “I mixed something in the formula, and the overall structure changed. It was barely an acid afterwards.”

“Polytetrafluoroethylene.” you both say in unison.

Your eyes widen in curiosity, and Hyunbin can’t help but chuckle, “PTFE is used for storing superacids such as fluoroantimonic acid, right?”

“Yes, exactly.” you nod enthusiastically, “So, I am right in concluding that that particular chemical reaction happened because of the PTFE...right?”

Hyunbin hums, leaning back on his chair, “I believe so. In liquid or powder form, I think PTFE is more than enough to create such reactions in superacids.”

You release a sigh of relief, leaning back on your chair as well, “Amazing.”

Hyunbin laughs, tilting his head, “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head and laugh, “It’s just a relief to know that I’m doing an...alright job in work.”

“You always do, what are you talking about?” the male laughs.

“Whatever.”

For the next few minutes, you and Hyunbin then converse and catch up with each other, reminiscing about memories in the hospital and so on. After about 30 minutes, Hyunbin excuses himself as he needed to get back to his shift. You also explain that you have to head back to work. When the male doctor leaves the coffee shop, you step out a few minutes later.

You’d be on your way back to HQ, but a certain black-shirt-wearing male with his arms crossed blocks your path.

You curse in your mind.

“Minho.”

“Y/n.”

The agent glances sidewards, nodding his head towards a figure that had just entered his car. “So...dinner alone, huh?” he says a bit hostile.

You sigh, closing your eyes, “I know what you’re gonna say, so don’t bother. I’m sorry I lied, but I knew neither of you were going to let me have dinner with him.”

Minho sighs, lips twisting into a disappointed frown, “You could have tried.”

“We both know what your answer is gonna be.”

“What did you guys do? Talk about?” Minho then shifts the conversation.

You don’t bat an eye as you answer the male, “Hospital stuff. Catching up on how work was in Gongjak. Talking about old memories we miss.”

Minho hums, unfolding his arms, “And speaking of memories…”

The agent then pulls something from his wallet, handing you a small photo. Your eyes widen upon landing on the picture, and when you take it from the agent, you look at him in confusion, “How…”

Minho’s expression softens, though you know he’s still a bit annoyed. “I think you dropped it the other day in the lab. Not sure how though.” he explains.

You slowly nod, eyes glued to the polaroid photo, “Oh. Thank you.”

“The guy is obviously your friend, but who’s the other woman?” Minho asks, “Must have been close for you to go all the way here to meet with Dr. Kang to reminisce on stuff.”

You glare at the male, appalled by the callous tone in his voice. “Yes, we were very close as a matter of fact. Closer than sisters.” you huff out, willing your tears to retreat.

Minho glances at his watch before sighing, “Want to take a walk?”

“What?”

“You look like you need the fresh air.” Minho offers an apologetic smile.

“Ok.” you say softly.

And so you and Minho end up casually walking along a nearby park, letting yourselves relish in the calming wind and basking in the moonlight.

“Hyunbin or Dr. Kang and Ahn Hyejoo - the woman in the picture - were my closest friends in Gongjak.” you suddenly say, quiet enough for only Minho to hear, “After I left SKZ, the three of us started working in Gongjak at the same time. Basically, we entered the hospital together.”

Minho looks at you earnestly, choosing to listen quietly. It wasn’t everyday you’d actually open up, after all. You continue to speak, eyes filled with a certain gloominess, “Hyunbin came from a smaller hospital at that time, and Hyejoo had just finished her training or residency. The three of us had similar shift times and worked in the same hospital floors or area, so eventually, we became friends. As you probably know, I had a difficult time opening up to other people after SKZ, but those two managed to help me through it.”

“Dr. Kang is still in Gongjak.” Minho treads carefully, “Where’s Dr. Ahn?”

“She’s dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” you smile sadly as if remembering a distant memory, “She got into an accident but somehow, her heart survived. So...in a way, she’s gone, but I know her heart was donated to someone who needed it so somehow, she’s still alive. It’s weird, but that’s the world of medicine I guess. No matter what happens, us doctors keep people alive as best as we can.”

Minho can’t help the smile that curls at his lips, specks of adoration and warmth swimming in his eyes as he looks at you. You’ve both now made it back to his car, merely standing by the passenger’s side. The wind howls by, scattering strands of your hair across your face. Minho chuckles softly, reaching out to tuck the stray strands behind your ear; his fingers ghost over the shell of your ear, and you can feel the warmth of his skin.

Your heart hammers in your chest as Minho looks down at you; his features are softened by the soft glow of the moon, and you can’t help but think about how ethereal he looks right now. The male agent’s lips curl into a smaller smirk, “I guess Jung was right.”

You tilt your head, accidentally leaning into Minho’s hand by your ear. He then chuckles, smirk replaced by a small smile, “You certainly are one of a kind.”

And then his hand is gone, and he’s walking towards the driver’s side. You stand there, speechless at his actions and gape like a fish. “Hey...Lee Minho!” you stutter.

“Get in the car, Dr. Song. We should get back and rest.”

“I want to strangle you.”

“How cute.”

Mission day commences, and you and the other agents have gathered in a luxurious function hall in yet another five-star hotel. Apparently, a Cle agent was attending the gala to meet with a prospective serum buyer. The agents needed to infiltrate the Cle person’s hotel room where, as per intel, his papers and plans were being held.

Minho, Jeongin and Chan were to loiter in the gala hall, eyes scanning the crowd for signs of the target. Changbin and Hyunjin would handle getting into the room when the time was right. You were there to ease suspicion as your credentials landed your group a place on the VIP list.

So here you were, dressed in a pretty white dress, hanging back by the wall and sipping some champagne with the three agents. Chan sipped on his champagne glass as well, sighing, “I want this whole mission to be over so we can celebrate and drink champagne comfortably in HQ…”

Jeongin chuckles, “You say that during every mission.”

The eldest agent shrugs, “My point still stands.”

Minho smiles, adjusting the vest of his three-piece suit. “But you’re drinking champagne now.” he laughs.

“Barely taking sips.” Chan laughs, “We’re on duty, so we can’t risk too much alcohol.”

Jeongin then smiles, clasping his hands together, “Well then, time to split up.”

Chan and Minho nod, and before you know it, the three agents are scattering amongst the crowd. Chan goes towards the other end of the hall, blending in by talking to two women who more or less giggle at everything the dimpled man says. Jeongin heads over to the refreshments table, pretending to be knowledgeable on all the wine as a middle-aged man approaches him. Slowly, the orchestra begins to play some classical music, and the gala-goers are either ballroom dancing or engage in conversation amongst themselves.

Minho takes the champagne glass from your hand and places it on the tray of a waiter that passed by. You look at the agent with a tilt of your head, and he smiles, “Shall we dance?”

“I’m a horrible dancer.”

“Just follow my lead.”

You pout at the male, but he merely laughs and takes your hand, smoothly dragging you to the area where other guests are dancing. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close much to your surprise. His other hand gently grasps your own, giving it a light squeeze. Without much choice, you squeeze back as your other hand rests on his shoulder. Soon, you’re both smoothly swaying to the music.

“I’ll admit that I wasn’t expecting agents to know how to dance as well.” you playfully jab, “Are you trained to do everything in existence?”

Minho smirks, “Not exactly. We just pick up on it especially on undercover missions.”

“I think I’ve watched too many James Bond movies.” you tease.

“Oh? So you like those debonair types, huh?” Minho teases back.

You scoff, rolling your eyes, “I’m just trying to see if they depict agents accurately.”

“50/50.” Minho laughs, “Do you want me to start acting like James Bond?”

You raise an eyebrow playfully, “And end up with me in your hotel bed? No thanks.”

The agent laughs again, playfully pinching your cheek, “Why, what a mind you have, dear doctor.”

“It’s true! Have you not watched any of the movies?” you laugh while trying to defend yourself.

You aren’t sure how the conversation moves along, but somehow, you both end up talking about the previous mission - the one where he had gotten hurt to protect you. While dancing to the orchestra’s music, you don’t miss out on how Minho pulls you closer, giving your waist a very subtle squeeze.

“You know…” he trails off, “I’m rarely a shaken or anxious person, but the day of that mission, I was genuinely frazzled.”

“Why?” you ask quietly.

“Because it’s my duty to keep you safe as an agent of SKZ” is what he wants to say - to pretend he doesn’t genuinely care and hide everything under the guise of obligation.

But he lets something else slip past his lips just this once.

“Because I was afraid you’d get hurt.” he says while staring directly into your eyes.

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks, but you try your best to remain calm. “Isn’t that...normal for people you’re working with in your field of work?”

“As skilled as people think I am, anything is possible. The people that attacked us could have killed me and hurt you. Taken you hostage or brought you to Cle.” Minho starts, “I didn’t want that.”

You hum, “Is this what Jeongin meant when you’re nicer and much more caring than you seem?”

Minh chuckles airily, and suddenly, all other noise is drowned out. “This is me showing you the side of me that only Chan and the rest are privileged to see.”

“Why though?” your voice nearly wavers as you notice how Minho lets go of your hand, both of his arms now around your waist.

“Because I trust you.”

You gulp, slowly but surely wrapping your arms around his neck. “Why?” you repeat your question, afraid of his answer. Or worse, afraid of his decision. 

“Because I can.” Minho answers with confidence, “I want you to know that I trust you so that you can trust me as well. I don’t even need you to trust the whole of SKZ. Just me, Chan and the other boys at least.”

You nod, but before you can speak or make any response, Jeongin speaks into his communication device, and you can somehow tell he’s grinning as he does so, “Target spotted. Shall we set the plan in motion?”

“Got it. We’re on standby now.” Minho says, looking past your shoulder to observe the crowd.

Somewhere in the room, Jeongin has managed to engage in conversation with their target, a bit too enthusiastically talking about the wine in their hands.

“I do prefer white wine.” Joengin laughs with practice, “Lighter and sweeter, you know?”

The target hums and smiles unknowing, “Perhaps, but red wine is much better suited for meat.”

“Oh, steaks and such? You’re a man of fine dining, I see!” Jeongin laughs, “Expensive taste.”

“Hardly. I just see it in cooking channels all the time. Makes me really hungry honestly.” the target points out before sipping his red wine.

Jeongin nods, but afterwards, Chan arrives at the scene and pretends to trip, thus dowsing his own glass of red wine on their target. The eldest agent feigns innocence as he gasps and repeatedly apologizes, “I am so sorry, my goodness! Sorry about that, mister!”

Jeongin pretends to watch in shock, grabbing a bunch of table napkins and dabbing it onto the spilled area on the target’s white dress shirt. “Oh dear, oh dear.” Jeongin sing-songs.

The target awkwardly laughs, gently pushing the two males away from him, “Don’t worry, um...I’ll just get changed. It’s just a stain. I have some clothes in my room, so if you’ll excuse me.”

With that, the target hurriedly makes his leave, and Jeongin smiles a bit too mischievously. “Target is on his way.” he says into his device.

A few seconds later, Hyunjin and Changbin speak into their own devices, “Got it. We’re on stand-by.”

Silence ensues as your dancing slows, no longer ballroom dancing but just subtly swaying to the music. Minho’s arms are secure around your waist just as yours are around his neck. Somewhere along the way, you rest your head against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat - steady just like he always was. Minho rests his head on top of yours as well, allowing himself to melt and relax with you in his arms.

Never did he think he’d let himself do such a thing. If Chan and Jeongin could see this, they were probably stifling their snickers.

“Minho.” you suddenly say, voice barely above a whisper.

“Hmm?”

“I...have to tell you something.” you say, unconsciously hugging him closer.

You can feel Minho nodding for you to continue, so you slowly lift your head from his chest to look at him. Your eyes quiver and you have to swallow a ball-sized lump in your throat for you to gather the courage to speak again.

“I’ve been hiding some findings and results from you and the team.” you admit, closing your eyes guiltily, “And one or two vials of evidence.”

You expect Minho to scowl and glare at you coldly, maybe drag you out of the hall to lecture you once again. You, however, do not expect him to hold you closer, inching his face closer just to whisper between yourselves. “I’m not surprised, y/n. I had a hunch that’s what was going on.” he says, and you can swear you hear a sense of amusement in his voice.

You open your eyes to look back at him, furrowed eyebrows expressing your surprise. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You’re not the best liar, y/n.” Minho chuckles, “Though of course you aren’t. You hate lying. I sort of knew all along that there were things you were hiding from me, but Chan asked me to be more understanding of your reasons, and I trust Chan more than anyone, so I decided to listen to him and wait for you to admit it yourself.”

The look of embarrassment that flashes across your face puts a cheeky smile on Minho’s lips before he shifts into a more serious expression. “I do have to ask why though.” he says.

You sigh, looking down at the floor. You’ve both now stopped dancing altogether, merely standing in each other’s arms amongst the busy crowd of guests. “I didn’t know who to trust with this information. The things I’ve discovered could potentially put an end to this Cle serum issue, but I just...couldn’t risk it.”

Minho continues to look down at you expectantly. You clear your throat and bow your head lower, “Sorry, I know you just said you trusted me.”

You feel fingers on your chin, lifting it up to bring you face-to-face with the male. Your eyes meet Minho’s, and there’s some sort of cosmic dance between you two. With raised and expectant eyebrows, Minho whispers, “I’ll let it slide for now since you told me this soon, but please, y/n, refrain from doing that ever again.”

“I know. I’m sorry again.”

He sighs, nodding in acknowledgement. Another blanket of silence covers the two of you despite the orchestra still playing music and other guests chattering with each other.

“Thank you.” Minho suddenly whispers, and it only dawns on you now that he’s mere centimeters away from your face.

He’s so close that you feel his breath mingling with yours, the tips of your noses barely touching. His hands rest at the small of your back, but there’s a certain pressure to his touch as if he was restraining himself from something. Your breathing comes to a stop as does time, and your grip on his broad shoulders tightens. Both your eyes are lidded as you stare at each other; you can tell his eyes have landed on your lipstick-covered lips, and the agent can deduce the same for you - your eyes are definitely caught up in looking at his own lips.

Something in your heart booms - or maybe snaps - and it would seem the same for Minho because he’s leaning closer, eyes now closed as he closes the gap. You shut your eyes as well, preparing yourself for the touch of his lips on yours.

You soon feel the ghosting touch of his lips grazing yours, sending a jolt of electricity up your veins. But just as soon as your lips barely touch, the sound of his communication device going on surprises both of you, and you abruptly pull away from each other.

Embarrassment floods both of you; your cheeks are a shade of deep pink as Minho’s ears turn bright red. Clearing his throat, the agent listens to what his fellow agents have to say. “Target apprehended. We’re in his room. 1117.” Hyunjin says slyly, and it probably was because he was smirking.

“On the way.” Jeongin and Chan say simultaneously.

Minho turns to you, all remnants of flusteredness now gone. “Let’s go.” he says, grabbing your wrist.

But you stop in your tracks, hesitation evident in your body language. Minho understands why, so he offers you a small smile. “Y/n, this time, I promise. No one will harm you. I’m there, Chan’s there, Changbin’s there. Just stay with me, ok?” he says softly.

You eventually nod, answering him by giving him a small smile. Minho flashes one more warm smile before moving his hand to interlace his fingers with yours. With that, you both calmly proceed to the elevators to meet up with the other team members, his hand never leaving yours.

It’s all too familiar.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

*hands Azul fork* Its a dinglehopper! You can brush your hair with it! Happy bday!

***Warning: Spoilers for chapter 3 of the main story!***

“... This is a joke, surely?” Azul asked, pointing the prongs of the fork toward you in an accusing manner. “You do not take me to be incompetent enough to think that an eating utensil is meant for grooming and self care, do you?”

“And furthermore, to refer to a fork by such a silly name... ‘Dinglehopper’? Really? How gullible do you believe me to be?”

“I have lived on land for long enough to understand this much. Perhaps if I were still a wide-eyed merchild, you may have managed to convince me otherwise. Alas, no such luck.”

“The Coral Sea’s curriculum regarding the surface world is, sadly, a bit lacking,” Azul sighed, shaking his head, “so much so that the Atlantica Memorial Museum mislabels a fork as the mermaid princess’s golden comb.”

“I suppose that the distinction does not matter much for those that remain in the waters. I just happen to be one of the lucky few granted the opportunity to journey to the surface and expand my horizons.”

The octopus twirled around the fork in his hands. Silver glinting against sunlight. His expression melted into something more teasing.

“Aren’t you glad that I am now a part of your world?”

[aremiies]

❥ stop being so careless.

pairings: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warnings: slight swearing, a very short drabble, some very bad writing and some tooth rottening fluff for fluff-vember !

not my gif !

—

now, you see, it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. he wasn’t supposed to end up liking her, that wasn’t in his plans at all. it happened during the usj incident . bakugou and kirishima began to attack kurogiri, thinking they’d be able to land a hit on the outlandish looking creature; alas, they failed, but before the students could even think about what else they could do, they were sent flying throughout the rest of the building; their screams and yells filling the atmosphere around them.

after landing on her back, quite hard might i add, y/n winced in pain as she looked around to see where she was, “this looks like the ruins zone...” she said in a hushed tone as she brought herself to stand.

“that’s because it is the ruins zone, dumbass.” another voice concurred.

y/n turned around and was met with two very familiar faces and distinct colored hair, thank the spirits. “kirishima, bakugou, you guys are here! wow, this makes things a lot better... okay, our main goal is to find a way to get back with the rest of the class.”

“well, we have bigger things to worry about right now, y/n...” kiri spoke up. after getting a good look around, the girl finally noticed the abundance of villains standing around the three of them, ready to attack.

“okay, it seems you’re right about that part... let’s just get this over with then.” y/n suggested as she got into a fighting stance. and with that, the three future heroes attacked the villains with out wasting another moment. throughout the entire battle, bakugou couldn’t help but to glance over to y/n whenever he got the chance. she was a very skilled fighter, but of course just like anyone else she would take a few hits here and there as well. seeing y/n get even the tiniest of bruises made bakugou feel some type of way. it wasn’t good, he didn’t like it. in fact, he hated seeing them on her; even when they would spar during classes, he hated there being even the slightest chance that he could accidentally hurt her. eventaully, the three teens had defeated the villains and had a chance to relax.

“great job, you guys,” y/n exclaimed, “you were so good !”

“says you, y/n! even when they landed a hit on you, you acted as if it was nothing!” kirishima praised.

bakugou’s head shot up at the mention of y/n getting hurt, “they landed a hit on you?! where?!” bakugou’s eyebrows furrowed as he grabbed her arm, beginning to search for wounds.

y/n began laughing trying to disguise her wince of pain as she pulled her arm away from the short tempered boy, “bakugou i’m fine! it was barely a hit, more like a slap. i barely felt it, stop worrying. we should probably get going though, we need to get back to the others.” she exited the building the three were in with kiri and bakugou staggering behind. kirishima looked at bakugou with a knowing face, bakugou making the red-haired boy swear to secrecy.

“okay, okay! i won’t say anything... to her at least, but, man mina would love to hear about this one.”

“shitty hair i swear to—“

two days later the class was back to normal— well, most of them were. mr.aizawa was still in the hospital and y/n was trying her best to act as if she was okay, though in reality she desperately needed something to numb the pain in her arms. she might’ve said the hits were light, but, boy was that a lie. everytime she moved her scars would rub against her shirt material which didn’t help the pain one bit. everyone was still somewhat recovering from the shock they experience during the usj incident, and y/n didn’t want her friends worrying about her. besides, she was fine, the scars would heal soon... right?

the students of 1-a sat at their desk talking to one another about who knows what. y/n and mina were laughing about a joke the girl had made about mineta and mina, unknowing about y/n’s wounded arms, slapped a hand on her shoulder in her own fit of laughter.

“ow!” y/n yelled out (much, much louder than intended i might add).

mina covered a hand over her mouth, “y/n, i’m sorry! i didn’t know i hit you that hard!”

“no, no it’s okay. it’s not your fault.” y/n sighed.

kirishima walked over to the two, kaminari and bakugou following suit, “are you guys okay?”

“yeah, i think i just hit y/n’s arm too hard. i think it might still be sore from the other day.” mina explained.

“do you need to be taken to recovery girl?” kaminari asked?

“i’ll take you.” bakugou volunteered without a second thought.

“no! guys, i’m alright. i’m just a bit sore is all.” y/n tried to lie.

“okay, recovery girl can heal that. come on, dumbass.” bakugou gently grabbed her hand and led her out the classroom before the girl could protest any further.

“bakugou, i promise you, i’m fine.”

“no you’re not. just shut up and let me take care of you— i mean it. let me take care of it.” he urged.

y/n smiled slightly at his words and his slightly pink tinted cheeks, “you want to take care of me?” she teased.

“shut up dumbass, just let me take you to recovery girl so she can make you feel better.” bakugou rolled his eyes.

the two eventaully made it to recovery girl’s office and explained to the precious old lady what was wrong.

“okay, dear,” recovery girl started, “take off your blazer for me so i can examine your arm.”

“oh uh, cant you do it with the blazer on...?” y/n chuckled nervously.

“no ma’am, i have to actually touch the skin the wound is on. are you uncomfortable with that?” recovery girl asked.

“no, no! it’s fine... i guess.” y/n slowly took her school blazer off, wincing with every movement her arms made. when she eventaully got it off,her arm was then exposed. littered in small cuts and bruises— as we mentioned earlier, the one thing bakugou couldn’t stand when it came to y/n.

“wh-! y/n, why didn’t you say anything’s about this!” he shouted.

“now, now, you two can talk about this later. let me do this before she gets all worked up. relax for me, would you?” recovery girl instructed the girl. she kissed y/n’s wounds and gave her a lollipop before she exited her office. y/n buttoned up her blazer as she and bakugou walked back towards the class room.

“you should’ve said something about your bruises, dummy.” bakugou mumbled.

“i know, and i’m sorry. i just didn’t want people to worry, because i’m sure they’re still all shocked about what happened, yknow? i know it’s stupid, but-“

“it’s not stupid. but, you really need to worry about yourself more. i don’t want to keep having to take you to recovery girl.” he shoved his hands in his pants pockets.

“why do you care so much? i hope this doesn’t sound rude, but i didn’t expect you to care about me as much as you do.” you explained carefully.

bakugou sighed and stopped walking. y/n looked at him with confusion apparent in her expression.

“bakugou?”

“you’re so careless, you know that? you’re my friend okay. of course i’m going to care about you. i don’t like seeing you hurt, i like seeing you with a smile on your face. i like seeing you laugh i... i— i like you.”

“what?”

“i said i like you, dumbass!” bakugou admitted, “i like you a lot and i-i don’t like to see you with bruises. you’re too worried about other people when you should be worried about yourself... even if that’s one of the reasons i like you... you’re really pretty and caring and your quirk is really strong...”

y/n was at a loss for words. bakugou of all people liked her? i mean, she had her suspicions, but she didn’t expect him to ACTUALLY like her. nonetheless, y/n smiled and walked towards the boy, taking his hand into hers, “i like you too, bakugou... why didn’t you say anything earlier? nevermind that, let’s go back to class, dummy.”

sorry if the end is a little awkward!! i couldn’t figure out how to end it !! thank you for reading !! <3

[everafterkeiji]

Song: Car Window by Thomas Headon

Summary: After the memorable defeat of Aoba Johsai to Karasuno, Iwaizumi meets his lover at an uncanny moment.

Pairings: Hajime Iwaizumi x fem! reader

Word count: 3.7k

Genre: fluff

A/N: PART 2 IS COMING FOR THE KATSUKI ONE MY MIND IS JUST HELLA CONFUSED AND IWA HAS BEEN INVADING MY THOUGHTS

It's quite hilarious how life can reward your dullest moments with an unexpected blessing. A few people have experienced such a thing, sometimes the blessing comes in success or a present from somebody you longed for.

Usually, 60 seconds were easy to endure and its a time you'd like to pass by too quickly knowing what magic or milestone was bound to happen in such a short time anyway? Though there are times where it feels like it holds much more seconds especially when you're working out or either in a really long meeting you hated.

Then again, who are you to underestimate the endless possibilities that were to happen in that time span? Maybe you'd receive a random lottery ticket and you know, you can win or even have the chance to meet a celebrity.

But what could have possibly prepared Iwaizumi for the best 60 seconds of his life?

Here he was, sulking in the sorrow that was brought to his team by the defeat of the match between them and Karasuno, the ticket to nationals slipped away from their fingers. Who was to deny the tears they've shed once they entered the bus, it was their safe space to lean on each other and they spent the rest of the ride comforting each other. All throughout the bus you could hear sniffles and Oikawa trying to hold his team together.

Iwaizumi was seated next to the open window as he listens to Oikawa being the encouraging captain he is, the setter grasps the heart of the team feeling comfort in a while, even Iwa admitted that his friend brought him back to the light.

He had his earphones in, enough of the silly comments his seatmate, Oikawa, has made. He has his arm leaned on the little edge of the window, with his chin resting on his forearm. His eyes desperately wanted to close from his previous crying but he fears once he closes his eyes he'd be brought back to the moment where the ball wasn't saved, to the doubt that floods his mind wondering if he even deserves to be their ace. Gladly with the help of Tooru, this thought was dismissed and now all that Iwaizumi was doing was staring at the sight in front of him.

He takes this time to reflect on what he could do to enhance what he lacked during that match. He wonders if his reaction time was too slow or the power in each spike was unbalanced. Did he even trust himself completely when he played? If he didn't, why did he think it was the right time to question his abilities when there was something at stake?

He sighs to himself as he removes his earphones, knowing not even music was helping him ease his mind. Oikawa has fallen asleep beside him, the setters head leaning on Iwaizumis back. Even if he wanted to push away the boys head, he knew Oikawa was tired of putting on his composed captain facade, so he let the poor boy rest.

Then he hears blaring music from the car opposite to him making his head come upward a bit as he glares at the car, disturbing his triumph at peace. A red light comes on and he rolls his eyes thinking of how he was going to sustain the noise.

But then, that's where he wished 60 seconds lasted forever.

Right before him was the noisy car with one window open revealing a sight that makes his heart flutter and his mind frantically running in circles. He sees a girl with her eyes closed singing her lungs out while she finishes the note with a smile and a giggle, once she opens them, the afternoon light beaming down on her delightful orbs enhancing it's hues, even giving her skin a glass like finish with how healthy it looked, her cheeks painted a shade of pink that were like the flowers that reminded him of Valentine's.

And then these stunning pair of eyes, landed on his love struck ones.

He feels the way his heart registers how lucky he was to gaze at such beauty, like a sunset with all the delightful colors or the overall atmosphere of spring, the feeling of it being so foreign to him but nevertheless, he accepts this new found giddy feeling. He watches how she leans her cheek on her hand and maybe then he should've felt the way cupid's bows ran through him so easily.

Unfortunately, the panic sets in.

With such grace was ahead of him, he worried about his own sake. He wonders if his hair looked presentable, and didn't portray how stressed he was because of the game. He wished he didn't look shiny from all the sweat and tears. He suddenly feels the urge to rummage through his bag and comb his hair and fix his appearance, Oikawa would've teased him for acting so foolish for the girl. But what else can he do?

Admiration and relationships wasn't included in his dictionary since the only thing he looked forwards to was volleyball and his studies. Being in a situation where he wasn't able to act quickly with how flustered he was, brought him down completely. He knew in his games that whatever he did would affect the team in multiple ways but he counted on his teammates so that every action would be returned with a positive outcome.

Now is the opposite.

This could have so many outcomes. Maybe one second there'd be a guy beside her wrapping his arm around her and flipping him off for looking, then theres rejection lingering in the air. Maybe she wasn't into guys? Maybe she has a specific standard and that he wasn't hitting her expectations? Possibly just gotten of a relationship and wasn't interested in dating right away?

Oh god, you've got to stop. He thinks to himself.

A tiny encounter made his mind collapse with so many ideas. He couldn't even mutter a word to her, then his mind leads him to think it'd quickly lead to dating, god maybe even a relationship. He's had zero idea on what her name is so how can he come to conclusions so quickly? He knows he needed to stop asking these unanswerable questions before he could mess up his first attempt to converse with her.

Then with a gentle smile from this gorgeous stranger, he feels the warmth that surrounds him as he returns the smile to her as if it was an instinct. After that he settles for a tiny breakdown, confused to why he did that.

He turns his head to the light noticing how 15 seconds were only left out of this encounter. Hastily, he wanted to ask for her name or at least build up the courage to shout what he wanted to say, though he was left utterly speechless. He couldn't possibly gain that high of an esteem to just speak out to a stranger without blurting out how attractive he found her to be.

But he needed to try or else this moment was bound to be something he'd regret.

"Iwa-chan!"

Oikawas voice surprised him as the setter stretches with a smile on his lips, from the movement he lets his arm rest on the aces shoulder making Iwaizumi panic and irritated at the loss of time.

Meanwhile the young girl continues to stare at the man who has held his gaze the entire time they were there. You see the way his features were all amazingly sculpted, every crevice, every inch, to say that he was handsome was an understatement. Judging from his attire, you could tell he was an athlete, also with how the bags from behind him was shown. You also saw his reaction to meeting you and you wished he didn't see yours.

You felt embarassed when he saw you sing, you weren't ready to face a boy like that and to think that you gave off such a random first impression. You hated the way the sun was shining on you making you think it showed the harsh texture of your skin, not to mention how blinded your eyes were after it. You were flustered to say the least but your eyes couldn't dare to leave his.

Something about him was so pleasing. It makes you come up with dozens of scenarios to who this boy was. Is a girlfriend involved? Is he the type of boy you'd read on a novel? You smile to yourself at how silly the idea was. Usually in novels, movies or books, each meeting was distinct than the other. There are always the unique encounters, then there are the completely weird ones but for you this was somewhat the sweetest thing you've stumbled upon.

Although maybe falling in love under a red light wasn't always the ideal, to the two of you it seemed to fit.

You see brown locks behind him and this makes the pretty boy show a shocked reaction. Shit, is that his boyfriend? You thought. Your eyes lock with this new figure and he happily waves at you catching you off guard. You wave awkwardly, anxious of who this man was.

"Gosh you are incredibly pretty but alas this man likes you, his name is Iwa-"

The vehicle speeds off before he could even finish his sentence. Iwaizumi turns to the setter as Oikawa trembles in fear as he feels flames surround him, the anger irradiating from the spiker. Oikawa lets out a scream as Iwa leaves a smack to the boys head as Tooru whines caressing his throbbing head from the pain. Iwaizumi sinks in his seat, letting the emotions course through him making his lips form a line.

Too many things happened all at once. Oikawa basically hitting on her but suddenly half introducing him? How did he even know? She's gone, he thinks. He lets out a displeased sigh shaking his head while biting his lip, disliking how embarassment and regret was mixing perfectly. He hated how Oikawa had the chance to even talk to her before their chances were dust. Oikawa even managed to let out a compliment he wanted to say but the words were taken from him.

"I'm sorry okay! Don't hit me again please!" Oikawa begs as Iwaizumi lets out a scoff as the setter takes in his expressions. Slumped in his chair with arms crossed at his chest, eyebrows furrowed, and a familiar twist to his lips when he was frustrated in a game. Oikawa chuckles slightly connecting the pieces from the previous events.

"So what? You've lost the love of your life, Iwa-chan?" Oikawa teases making Iwaizumi raise a hand as Oikawa dodges it using his bag as a shield. He thought it was just a coincidence before. He woke up when Iwaizumi was plotting his approach and he happened to catch a glimpse of the two staring at each other like nothing else mattered. He questions if Iwaizumi was actually serious of his feelings for a stranger but when he sees the genuine smile that he gives her, he was surprised.

With an unforgiven action, he just chose to try to introduce him knowing Iwa would've never done it as fast as he could. Although in Iwaizumis eyes, Oikawa flirted with her but in reality he just wanted to help knowing maybe someday, this encounter would bring him happiness. Even if the girl would be miles away, he knew that the impact of them meeting was something that would cloud Iwaizumis thoughts on a daily.

Oikawa notices how Iwaizumi would inspect every face in the street or crowd just to find the girl his eyes have fallen in love with. There were many unsuccessful times where he's mistaken her for someone else and he despises it. Oikawa thinks about how he can help his poor teammate and a bulb appears above his head as he continuously taps the spikers shoulder.

"Have you ever considered a dating app, Iwa-chan?" Iwaizumi blushes at the question but he shakes his head as Tooru takes Iwa's phone and ran to a corner unlocking it. Iwaizumi rushes to find him as Oikawa lets out a gasp and a cackle. The spiker finds him and immediately grabs him by the collar of his shirt yet the setter couldn't careless.

"WHAT IS IT YOU DINGBAT."

"Seems like you're the one who's a step ahead of me, Iwa-chan!" Oikawa exclaims making Iwaizumi furrow his eyebrows but once his eyes settle on the dating app that was open from his phone, heat rushes to his cheeks shading it pink. He puts down Oikawa with a shove before pulling his phone away from the boy.

"So what.." He whispers as Oikawa lets out another laugh, wiping his eyes. Iwaizumi hids the phone in his pocket, locking it. He continues to walk leaving a sigh as Oikawa runs to catch up with him.

"Well don't be shy now. Any success?" Oikawa asks, trying to ease down his playful tone. Iwaizumi turns his head to him, before huffing in defeat.

"Nothing. No one can ever come close to her."

"Maybe she's trying to find you too?" Iwaizumi lets out a scoff. He wished it was true. He didn't think he was the type to be memorable, the guy you'd find yourself dreaming of. He thought he was a mere average boy and that there was always going to be someone better. He desperately wants to meet you but are you really putting effort like he is?

Was it just him who felt a connection?

They weren't put in a universe where it was easy to find your soulmate. The moment where everything fits perfectly wasn't always guaranteed in their situation. Why did they have to meet at a red light? They could've met at a cafe after his practice so he didn't need to worry about the time or how he was going to approach her. He swore if ever he met her properly again, there'd be no hesitation.

For you, you've also searched for this boy. Only hearing a fraction of his name so you couldn't really play detective with a tiny lead. Although the boy that complimented looked familiar, but maybe you were just mistaken? You've downloaded multiple dating apps like him but whenever there was a match, they never looked like the pretty boy you saw. You would recognize him from anywhere knowing his features were very much embedded in your memory. If only their bus hadn't sped off too quickly, maybe then you would've gotten his name. Although his name might just be a crumb in your way to find him.

-

"He can't be any better than me, that I'm sure of." Your little brother exclaims as he flips the magazine page. You sighed resting your cheek and chin on the palm of your hand as you watch your brother curse the man on the magazine. You tilt your head, curious to the envy he had. Your brother was well into volleyball and he usually asks for you to buy him the latest volleyball magazine so he could look up to whoever was on it but his overconfident comments had you laughing every time.

Once your eyes landed on the page, you sat up immediately grabbing the magazine and holding it close to yourself.

Oikawa Tooru. You read.

You take in the way he looks and then you specifically remembered a certain face. Your eyes widen in realization that this was the man who complimented you. The man that could lead you to him. Your eyes scan all the trivia about the well known player and finally finding the team and school he was on. Aoba Johsai.

You immediately grab your phone, typing furiously searching for the said school. You click on their website seeing the latest news about the school. There was a certain article that had an eye catching picture.

It was a group photo of their volleyball team and your eyes landed on Oikawa himself, founding out that he was the captain of this successful team also being a setter. As your eyes scanned through every member, your heart nearly dropped when you saw him. There he was stood next to two other members, smirking at the camera. Like a fool, you let out a squeal, exhilarated that you've found him. You scrolled further finally knowing the names of each member.

Iwaizumi Hajime.

You smile to yourself as you read his name, finding it pretty the way it suited him. You read that he was a spiker and so called ace in the team. With this found information, your heart was jumping in different directions. Your mind was bringing up multiple scenarios of seeing him in his element and that makes heart bubbles appear behind you.

How perfect. You think.

You knew the location of the school and you wonder if it was right to visit. You tried to push back the idea of rejection but maybe it was a sign for you to stop assuming and acting all stalkery. You let go of your phone, pacing around the room deciding on the better option. Visit him and get your hopes up when he doesn't even miss you or visit him and end up having the chance you both missed. Too many what ifs and what abouts rushed through your mind, but trying isn't a bad thing to do.

-

"I'm so fucking dumb, I can't believe myself."

You groan to yourself as you walk around. You gained the courage to finally visit Aoba Johsai, where your little volleyball prince was attended at. Unfortunately, your lack of understanding directions brought you to this poor situation making you look like a lost puppy, desperate to call for help but the thought of people judging you just because you were lost haunts you.

You grew more and more impatient as time passes, counting on your phone as a GPS but honestly nothing was working when your brain couldn't comprehend how you got lost when you followed the directions. You sigh in annoyance.

You took the time today to look as good as you can make yourself, ready to face him. Yet when everything was all set for you, it went downhill just because of some directions. You shut your phone off, frustrated the way the voice kept repeating where to turn. So you run your fingers through your soft hair as you decided to move on your own.

"So where do you wanna eat?" Oikawa asks as he stretches while walking. Iwaizumi lets out a yawn as he gives the boy a shrug as a response. Oikawa checks on his phone scrolling to look at some places they've yet to eat at. Iwaizumi inspects his bags if he's packed everything. He notices his water bottle was missing and he mutters that he would be right back, going back to the gym to retrieve his bottle. Oikawa hears nothing though as he giggles at the compliments his fans have left him.

You bend down tying your shoes as a stranger passes by. You stood right up dusting off the dirt in your knees. As the universe gasps, realizing that the person who went pass you was Iwaizumi himself. Yet they didn't bother to make ends meet as you two walk in different directions.

Oikawa raised his cellphone trying to get a decent angle as he checks himself through it. The lighting was perfect for him and once he was about to snap the photo he notices a person behind him. His eyes widen as his looks at you as you fiddle with your bag. Oikawa sets down the phone as he turns to you with his mouth open. His head turns frantically, trying to search for Iwaizumi. It's her. Oikawa thinks. He takes a good look at you once more just so he can confirm his thoughts if you were truly the girl Iwaizumi was talking about. He found himself familiar at your features as you took a turn, escaping his presence not even knowing Oikawa was stood a few inches away from you.

Oikawa couldn't hold himself together as he lets out a laugh. After it, he turns to the sky with an amused smile before speaking.

"Ah, you're too funny. I'll let them find themselves."

Out of all the chances they gave you, the two of you were at the same place but was running around each other.

You let out a whine as you see a figure walking with his back facing you, seeing the jacket that the team had on one of the pictures you browsed. You let out a sigh before wiping away the sweat you had on your face, freshening up your appearance. Giving up and finally allowing people to help you, you approach this tall figure, tapping them gently on the shoulder.

"Hello! I-I'm sorry, I just wanted to ask where the Aoba Johsai gym is? I got pretty lost." You says with a light chuckle as the person turns around, revealing the man you've endlessly searched for.

Both of your eyes enlarged at the sight of each other, such at a close proximity as you both scan each others faces, making sure if this was finally the reality they longed for.

It's you.

"H-hajime Iwaizumi?"

Iwaizumi eyebrows furrow, curious to how you found out but this leaves a smile on his lips loving the way it escaped through your mouth. His eyes gave out a soft glance before nodding and extending his hand out.

Your eyes dragged down as you stare at his hand that was deeply waiting for yours. You look up at him once more before smiling with tinted cheeks.

"That's me, and you are?"

"I'm Y/N."

"Nice to finally meet you, pretty red light girl." You blush even more as Iwaizumi lets out a chuckle before you shook his hand, both hearts meeting, as fate was sealed once your hands met. Some might say that Cupid stared at the two of you, relieved you both found your way to each other.

Oikawa turns to look at the two of them as he leans on the wall, shaking his head with a sly smirk.

"Fate huh?"

[onomonopetabread]

Declawing the Cat- Chapter 2

“ Can you believe that nerve of that jerk?”

Marinette was absolutely furious. Tikki watched her from the bed as she paced from wall to wall. It was really getting concerning; she’s been ranting for the past three hours. School ended about five hours ago, but Marinette’s little encounter with Felix never left her mind.

“What, did he think that a few thoughtless compliments would get me to trust him? Who does he think he is, the MaYOR?”

That last part was a particularly loud shriek, and if Tikki had eardrums, they would be completely shattered by now. It was time to stop this madness.

“Mari, I know that you’re upset, and trust me, I am too. But… don’t you think that you should calm down? You’ve been at this for a really long time.”

Marinette hardly heard her. “I really tried. I tried to just leave it alone. But nooo, he just had to go and rock the boat! Can’t the guy take a hint? I mean, if someone didn’t talk to ME after giving the third fakest apology given ever, I would know that they hated MY guts.”

“Why should we trust anything he has to say? He hasn’t exactly given us any reason to like him.”

“Yeah, how can you expect us to just become friends with us after what he did? He’s a liar!”

The group gathered around Felix. He’d just been introduced to the class by Adrien, and it didn’t seem as though they were very happy to see him. They were making so much noise that no one had noticed the lack of a certain blue-eyed class president. Unbeknownst to them, Marinette was crouched behind a pillar near the courtyard, watching and listening to the entire thing.

She had been uncharacteristically early to school and was chatting with Tikki in the locker room when she heard Adrien’s voice outside. Naturally, she'd begun to walk outside to greet him. The fact that she had decided to try to get over him out of respect for Kagami doesn’t make it illegal for her to talk to him; he is her friend.

When Marinette first stepped out of the room, her first thought was that there were somehow two Adriens. Then she realized that one Adrien looked like...Adrien, and the other looked like a sad old man somehow ended up in a teen’s body. In about 0.2 seconds, she was absolutely seething. What was he doing here? Why wasn’t he at his comfortable home in the ninth circle of hell?

“Guys, this is my cousin Felix. He’s going to be attending school with us for now on. I know you guys will take him in with open arms.”

Open arms? This clown? Marinette scoffed. She’d sooner swallow a cup of tacks than let that prick into her life. Her classmates however, aren’t as strong-minded as she was. It’d probably be better if she stayed silent and invisible for this and let them make up their own minds about this, just to see what they would do.

“Why should we trust anything he has to say? He hasn’t exactly given us any reason to like him.”

“Yeah, how can you expect us to just become friends with us after what he did? He’s a liar!”

Okay, so far so good. Maybe this time around, she wouldn’t be (almost) the only person that didn’t trust a liar. Oh, how great it will be to openly loathe for once! One by one, more and more voices were protesting letting the rat into their friend group. The entirety of the class was hanging Formally-Dressed Draco to dry, and Marinette was in ecstasy.

‘Yes,’ she thought. ‘Tear him to pieces!’

Just when things were really starting to escalate, the sound of someone clearing their throats cut through the noise.

“Hello, everyone. As Adrien just told you, my name is Felix Graham de Vanily. To answer your question, Mr. Le Chein, yes, I’m the cousin of Adrien’s that impersonated him and sent you a cruel response to your heartfelt videos. For that, I am deeply sorry. I have no excuse for wha-”

What. In. The. World. If Marinette was furious before, she was positively incandescent now. He really was another Lila! Not to mention the fact that he didn’t even have the decency to make the apology seem even slightly convincing. Anyone with an EQ of 3 could see that those puppy-eyes were rehearsed and don’t even get Mari STARTED on that pout. There was no way that her class would buy this, but by the looks on their faces…

“If you’re really sorry...”

…Of course. Of-freaking-course they would believe him. Marinette sighed and walked into the classroom. Once again, she was left to hold the class’ single brain cell, by herself this time since there was no chance in Adrien distrusting his own cousin. Now how was she going to go about this was the question. If he really is Lila 2.0, then her initial plan to outright hate him will boomerang her right in the eye. No, it’s better to just avoid him at all costs; you can’t hate what you never come into contact with.

“Are you really sure that’s going to work, Marinette?” Tikki asked once they were safe inside the room. “You can’t stay away from him forever, you know. He may be a nuthead, but he’s smart enough to notice when you aren’t fawning over him like the others.”

“I know Tikki, but I think I’ll cross that bridge when I get there. For now, I’m going to go above and beyond to make sure our paths never cross.”

“That’s a relief. I thought for a moment there that you were going to do the rational thing for once.”

“Really, Tikki? Sarcasm? That’s beneath you.”

“If you’re looking for a finger to point, blame Plagg. You pick it up after being with him for a few thousand years.”

Marinette stayed true to her word and made it her mission to never be in the same room as the Great Disturbance unless it was class time. Even then, she kept a compact with her so that she could see if he was coming up behind her. Whenever someone began to bring him up into a conversation, she would quickly but subtly change the subject.

After a few days of this, she seemed to really be getting the hang of it. Avoiding him was becoming second nature to Mari. It actually would have been way easier for her if the demon hadn’t kept trying to collect her soul. Like always, Tikki had been right. The little son-of-a caught on to her really quickly and didn’t hesitate to try to reach out to her. In fact, the other classmates would often tell her that he had been looking for her, and she’d had to act as though she didn’t have a clue what they were talking about. That part hadn’t been so easy.

“So, what are you going to make for the big competition, Mari? A dress maybe?” asked Alya.

“Actually, I was thinking about sewing up a pair of suits. I’m not sure what they’ll look like yet, but I really want to try something new this time.”

“Well, I know whatever you’ll make will blow their socks off, girl. Speaking of designers, Felix told me to ask you to meet him after school . He said he wants to talk to you.”

“Is that so?” Marinette asked, feigning surprise (see bane-of-existence, you’re not the only person who can act here).

“Yeah, he really seemed to have taken an interest in you. All he ever asks us is what you're up to. It’s almost an obsession. Do I sense a little romance here? Another blond-haired green-eyed love interest?”

“Not very likely, Alya. Anyways, I guess I’ll have to talk to him later. So, are you going to tell me about your new reporting piece or what?”

What? Don’t give me that face, it’s technically not a lie; Mari did end up talking to him later, didn’t she? Though, to be fair, she wasn’t planning on actually interacting with him until they both passed. No, not passing class. The other pass.

One thing that she had learned about the knock-off Five Hargreeves was that she had greatly overestimated him. For the love, the kid wasn’t fit to kiss Lila’s feet. At least her schemes were clever and thought-through; this amaetur just existed and everything was handed to him on a silver platter. The rest of the class has spoiled him into thinking that it would be easy to capture her attention with a tense grimace of a smile and two ounces of ‘charm’. Unfortunately for him, Marinette Dupain-Cheng wasn’t so easily bought.

So, that’s the way it went for a few weeks; a classic game of cat and mouse. He would try to catch her, and she would slip out of reach at the last minute. If she had to admit it, it was very fun, especially sneaking peeks at the frustrated faces the devil makes when he thinks no one is looking; the coward can’t be emotionally vulnerable for a second.

That’s why she felt so sure that he wouldn’t follow her to the park; the place was way too open for a stand-offish guy like him. She was very safe in the great outdoors with nothing but her sketchpad, a sharpened pencil, and a sleeping Tikki in her purse. She had been working on that design that she was talking about with Alya. Marinette really needed this design to be perfect. Perhaps a double-breasted suit would work? How many buttons would she have to buy? If she was any deeper into her work, she might not have noticed the distinct smell of leather and the tears of the innocents approaching her. She just barely retained her composure.

‘What is he doing here? Whatever, perhaps if I just stay completely still, he’ll go away.”

“Ah, Ms. Dupain-Cheng! How lovely it is to see you. We never seem to talk, do we? It is quite a shame really.”

‘It would also be a shame if you were to get punched where the sun doesn’t shine, Mr. Pied Piper’, Marinette thought. Alas, no matter how much she wanted to move her hand like so, she couldn’t let him win this fight. No, just silent-treatment it out and pray he either leaves or gets struck with a lightning bolt.

“I must say, that is a lovely suit you’re designing there. I love the use of gold thread on the pants. If I may make a few suggestions-”

Him? Give fashion advice? Marinette would rather NOT learn how to dress like an off-brand Crowly, thank you very much. Good grief, he really wasn’t going to stop trying, was he? Alright, no more Nice Marinette.

That’s when she finally snapped and, well, you know how that went. Had it been ANYbody else, she probably would feel guilty for talking to someone so blatantly, but it turns out that she left that situation with zero regrets. If she didn’t put a stop to this whole ordeal, she’ll probably have to carry around a tiny halberd with her for the rest of her life, and as much as she would like to use it, he really wasn’t worth the trouble. Ugh, he makes her absolutely Sick. He’s so slimy, terrible, arrogant, deceitful-

“MARINETTE JOSEPHINE DUPAIN-CHENG BE QUIET!!!!”

Marinette was so startled she tripped over her chaise and fell onto her bed.

“Geez, Tikki! Couldn’t give a girl a warning before you scream like that?”

“You’re one to talk, Ms. The Mayor. And for the record, I did give you a warning; I’ve been calling your name since for the past hour. Are you really going to get all worked up over this, Mari? You said it yourself, he’s just another Lila.”

“I know Tikki, and I’m sorry I’ve been rambling on for so long. It’s just- yeah, he’s a liar, a fake, and way too stoic to be real, but he’s different from Lila. I don't know what it is about him, but I can’t help but wholeheartedly loathe him. Just the thought of him makes a shiver run down my spine.”

“Loathing. Right. That’s it, totally. Is that why you haven’t said his name this entire time.”

“As a matter of fact, yes. I’m very happy you noticed, Tikki. I spent a lot of time thinking up all of those insult names.”

“I’m sure you did, Marinette,” Tikki sighed. “You really don’t like this kid, do you?”

“No, I definitely do not, and not a fiber of my being will ever so much as be happy in his presence for as long as I live.”

@ceres-zephyr here u go!

Chapter 3’s up!

https://qualityladybread.tumblr.com/post/632447827994411008/declawing-the-cat-chapter-3

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 6: WE HAVE BATHROOM INCIDENT

We passed the volleyball pit. Several of the campers nudged each other. One pointed to the minotaur horn Percy was carrying. Another said, "That's him."

Anxious if all the attention, I scooted closer to Percy holding onto his arm. Most of the campers were older than us. Their satyr friends were bigger than Grover, all of them trotting around in orange CAMP HALF-BLOOD T-shirts, with nothing else to cover their bare shaggy hindquarters. The way they stared at me made me uncomfortable. Though I am aware the attention was on Percy. I still felt like they were expecting me to do a flip or something.

I looked back at the farmhouse. It was a lot bigger than I'd realized—four stories tall, sky blue with white trim, like an upscale seaside resort. I was checking out the brass eagle weather vane on top when something caught my eye, a shadow in the uppermost window of the attic gable. Something had moved the curtain, just for a second, and I got the distinct impression I was being watched.

"What's up there?" Percy asked Chiron.

He looked where I was pointing, and his smile faded. "Just the attic."

"Somebody lives there?"

"No," he said with finality. "Not a single living thing."

I got the feeling he was being truthful. But I was also sure something had moved that curtain.

"Come along, you two," Chiron said, his lighthearted tone now a little forced. "Lots to see."

We walked through the strawberry fields, where campers were picking bushels of berries while a satyr played a tune on a reed pipe.. . . . . . . . . .

Chiron told me the camp grew a nice crop for export to New York restaurants and Mount Olympus. "It pays our expenses," he explained. "And the strawberries take almost no effort."

He said Mr. D had this effect on fruit-bearing plants: they just went crazy when he was around. It worked best with wine grapes, but Mr. D was restricted from growing those, so they grew strawberries instead.

I watched the satyr playing his pipe. His music was causing lines of bugs to leave the strawberry patch in every direction, like refugees fleeing a fire. I wondered if Grover could work that kind of magic with music. I wondered if he was still inside the farmhouse, getting chewed out by Mr. D.

"Grover won't get in too much trouble, will he?" I asked Chiron.

"Yeah, I mean... he was a good protector. Really." Percy added.

Chiron sighed. He shed his tweed jacket and draped it over his horses back like a saddle. "Grover has big dreams, Percy. Perhaps bigger than are reasonable. To reach his goal, he must first demonstrate great courage by succeeding as a keeper, finding a new camper and bringing him safely to Half-Blood Hill."

"But he did that! He brought two!"

"I might agree with you," Chiron said. "But it is not my place to judge. Dionysus and the Council of Cloven Elders must decide. I'm afraid they might not see this assignment as a success. After all, Grover lost you in New York. Then there's the unfortunate... ah... fate of your mother and Y/N's parents. And the fact that Grover was unconscious when you two dragged him over the property line. The council might question whether this shows any courage on Grover's part."

"He'll get a second chance, won't he?"

Chiron winced. "I'm afraid that was Grover's second chance, Percy. The council was not anxious to give him another, either, after what happened the first time, five years ago. Olympus knows, I advised him to wait longer before trying again. He's still so small for his age... ."

"How old is he?"

"Oh, twenty-eight."

"What! And he's in sixth grade?"

"Satyrs mature half as fast as humans, Percy. Grover has been the equivalent of a middle school student for the past six years."

"That's horrible."

"Quite," Chiron agreed. "At any rate, Grover is a late bloomer, even by satyr standards, and not yet very accomplished at woodland magic. Alas, he was anxious to pursue his dream. Perhaps now he will find some other career... ."

"That's not fair," I said. "What happened the first time? Was it really so bad?"

Chiron looked away quickly. "Let's move along, shall we?"

But I wasn't quite ready to let the subject drop. Something had occurred to me when Chiron talked about Percy's and I's parents' fate, as if he were intentionally avoiding the word death.

"Chiron," Percy said. "If the gods and Olympus and all that are real..."

"Yes, child?"

"Does that mean the Underworld is real, too?"

Chiron's expression darkened.

"Yes, child." He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. "There is a place where spirits go after death. But for now... until we know more... I would urge you to put that out of your mind."

"What do you mean, 'until we know more'?"

"Come, Percy. Let's see the woods.". . ..

As we got closer, I realized how huge the forest was. It took up at least a quarter of the valley, with trees so tall and thick, you could imagine nobody had been in there since the Native Americans.

Chiron said, "The woods are stocked, if you care to try your luck, but go armed."

"Stocked with what?" Percy asked. "Armed with what?"

"You'll see. Capture the flag is Friday night. Do you have your own sword and shield?"

"My own—?"

"No," Chiron said. "I don't suppose either of you do. I think a size five will do you both. I'll visit the armory later."

I wanted to ask what kind of summer camp had an armory, but there was too much else to think about, so the tour continued. We saw the archery range, the canoeing lake, the stables (which Chiron didn't seem to like very much), the javelin range, the sing-along amphitheater, and the arena where Chiron said they held sword and spear fights.

"Sword and spear fights?" I asked.

"Cabin challenges and all that," he explained. "Not lethal. Usually. Oh, yes, and there's the mess hall."

Chiron pointed to an outdoor pavilion framed in white Grecian columns on a hill overlooking the sea. There were a dozen stone picnic tables. No roof. No walls.

"What do you do when it rains?" Percy asked.

Chiron looked at me as if I'd gone a little weird. "We still have to eat, don't we?"

Finally, he showed me the cabins. There were twelve of them, nestled in the woods by the lake. They were arranged in a U, with two at the base and five in a row on either side. And they were without doubt the most bizarre collection of buildings I'd ever seen.

Except for the fact that each had a large brass number above the door (odds on the left side, evens on the right), they looked absolutely nothing alike. Number nine had smokestacks, like a tiny factory. Number four had tomato vines on the walls and a roof made out of real grass. Seven seemed to be made of solid gold, which gleamed so much in the sunlight it was almost impossible to look at. They all faced a commons area about the size of a soccer field, dotted with Greek statues, fountains, flower beds, and a couple of basketball hoops (which were more my speed).

In the center of the field was a huge stone-lined firepit. Even though it was a warm afternoon, the hearth smoldered. A girl about nine years old was tending the flames, poking the coals with a stick.

The pair of cabins at the head of the field, numbers one and two, looked like his-and-hers mausoleums, big white marble boxes with heavy columns in front. Cabin one was the biggest and bulkiest of the twelve. Its polished bronze doors shimmered like a hologram, so that from different angles lightning bolts seemed to streak across them. Cabin two was more graceful somehow, with slimmer columns garlanded with pomegranates and flowers. The walls were carved with images of peacocks.

"Zeus and Hera?" I guessed.

"Correct," Chiron said.

"Their cabins look empty."

"Several of the cabins are. That's true. No one ever stays in one or two."

Okay. So each cabin had a different god, like a mascot. Twelve cabins for the twelve Olympians. But why would some be empty?

I stopped when Percy stopped.

"Percy?"

He stood in front of the first cabin on the left, cabin three.

It wasn't high and mighty like cabin one, but long and low and solid. The outer walls were of rough gray stone studded with pieces of seashell and coral, as if the slabs had been hewn straight from the bottom of the ocean floor.

I held his hand and we got closer to the cabin. We peeked inside the open doorway and Chiron said, "Oh, I wouldn't do that!"

Before he could pull us back, I caught a glimpse of the interior walls glowed like abalone. There were six empty bunk beds with silk sheets turned down. But there was no sign anyone had ever slept there. "Come along, you two."

Most of the other cabins were crowded with campers.

Number five was bright red—a real nasty paint job, as if the color had been splashed on with buckets and fists. The roof was lined with barbed wire. A stuffed wild boar's head hung over the doorway, and its eyes seemed to follow me. Inside I could see a bunch of mean-looking kids, both girls and boys, arm wrestling and arguing with each other while rock music blared. The loudest was a girl maybe thirteen or fourteen. She wore a size XXXL CAMP HALF-BLOOD T-shirt under a camouflage jacket. She zeroed in on me and gave me an evil sneer. She reminded me of Nancy Bobofit, though the camper girl was much bigger and tougher looking, and her hair was long and stringy, and brown instead of red.

I kept walking, trying to stay as close as I could to Percy. "We haven't seen any other centaurs," Percy observed.

"No," said Chiron sadly. "My kinsmen are a wild and barbaric folk, I'm afraid. You might encounter them in the wilderness, or at major sporting events. But you won't see any here."

"You said your name was Chiron. Are you really..."

He smiled down at me. "The Chiron from the stories? Trainer of Hercules and all that? Yes, Percy, I am."

"But, shouldn't you be dead?"

Chiron paused, as if the question intrigued him. "I honestly don't know about should be. The truth is, I can't be dead. You see, eons ago the gods granted my wish. I could continue the work I loved. I could be a teacher of heroes as long as humanity needed me. I gained much from that wish... and I gave up much. But I'm still here, so I can only assume I'm still needed."

I thought about being a teacher for three thousand years. It wouldn't have made my Top Ten Things to Wish For list.

"Doesn't it ever get boring?"

"No, no," he said. "Horribly depressing, at times, but never boring."

"Why depressing?"

Chiron seemed to turn hard of hearing again.

"Oh, look," he said. "Annabeth is waiting for us."

* * *

The blond girl I'd met at the Big House was reading a book in front of the last cabin on the left, number eleven.

When we reached her, she looked us critically.

I tried to see what she was reading, but I couldn't make out the title. I thought my dyslexia was acting up. Then I realized the title wasn't even English. The letters looked Greek to me. I mean, literally Greek. There were pictures of temples and statues and different kinds of columns, like those in an architecture book.

"Annabeth," Chiron said, "I have masters' archery class at noon. Would you take Percy and Y/N from here?"

"Yes, sir."

"Cabin eleven," Chiron told me, gesturing toward the doorway. "Make yourself at home."

Out of all the cabins, eleven looked the most like a regular old summer camp cabin, with the emphasis on old. The threshold was worn down, the brown paint peeling. Over the doorway was one of those doctor's symbols, a winged pole with two snakes wrapped around it. What did they call it... ? A caduceus.

Inside, it was packed with people, both boys and girls, way more than the number of bunk beds. Sleeping bags were spread all over on the floor. It looked like a gym where the Red Cross had set up an evacuation center.

Chiron didn't go in. The door was too low for him. But when the campers saw him they all stood and bowed respectfully.

"Well, then," Chiron said. "Good luck, Percy, Y/N. I'll see you at dinner."

He galloped away toward the archery range.

I stood in the doorway, looking at the kids. They weren't bowing anymore. They were staring at us. I knew this routine. I'd gone through it at enough schools.

"Well?" Annabeth prompted. "Go on."

So naturally Percy tripped coming in the door and made a total fool of himself, almost taking me with him but I had let go of him as he fell. There were some snickers from the campers, but none of them said anything.

Annabeth announced, "Percy Jackson, Y/N L/N, meet cabin eleven."

"Regular or undetermined?" somebody familiar asked.

I didn't know what to say, but Annabeth said, "Undetermined."

Everybody groaned.

"Now, now, campers. That's what we're here for. Welcome, Percy and Y/N. You can have that spot on the floor, right over there. Y/N can have the bed over there."

"Luke." I smiled. He replied with a grin and ruffled my hair.

"Uh?"

"This is Luke," Annabeth said, and her voice sounded different somehow. I glanced over and could've sworn she was blushing. She saw me looking, and her expression hardened again. "He's your counselor for now."

"For now?" Percy asked.

"You're undetermined," Luke explained patiently. "They don't know what cabin to put you in, so you're here. Cabin eleven takes all newcomers, all visitors. Naturally, we would. Hermes, our patron, is the god of travelers."

I looked at the tiny section of floor they'd given Percy. He was a few spots away from mine.

I looked around at the campers' faces, some sullen and suspicious, some grinning stupidly, some eyeing me as if they were waiting for a chance to pick my pockets.

"How long will we be here?" Percy asked.

"Good question," Luke said. "Until you're determined."

"How long will that take?"

The campers all laughed.

"Come on," Annabeth told us. "I'll show you the volleyball court."

"I've already seen it."

"Come on." She grabbed Percy's wrist and dragged him outside. Percy took my hand to come with him, I could hear the kids of cabin eleven laughing behind us.

"See you at dinner." Luke waved.

When we were a few feet away, Annabeth said, "Jackson, you have to do better than that."

"What?"

She rolled her eyes and mumbled under her breath, "I can't believe I thought you were the one. Maybe it was Y/N."

"What's your problem?" Percy was getting angry now. "All I know is, I kill some bull guy—"

I gripped his shoulder trying to calm him.

"Don't talk like that!" Annabeth told me. "You know how many kids at this camp wish they'd had your chance?"

"To get killed?"

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Hahah typo and originality go brrr

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000

[bre-meister]

I need some pre married/family angst

this is early relationship so pre-family and pre-married Cleon. I hope it’s angsty enough I kind of got distracted while writing to fight a huge ass hornet in my room ( I was super terrified ngl). This was such a journey for me to write that I don’t even have an official title for it like I normally try to do lol. This has also taught me that I need to work on angst that is not “person A and Person B fight”. Sorry for the rant here's the actual work:

Claire was mad. No, Claire was beyond mad. Claire Redfield was absolutely furious. Her rage was so blinding that she couldn’t even be bothered to apologize to the nice looking doorman as she barreled through the lobby of the apartment building of the object of said anger. She was sorry - felt the apology in her bones as soon as the smaller man began to cringe and cower slightly in her presence - but again, her anger prevented it from passing her lips.

Secretly, she did take a little pride in the fact that, as she entered the elevator, a young-looking couple decided to “wait for the next one” instead of sharing with her. It gave her a little more time to stew in her anger - pulling from the depths of her soul, every time that she had said it was okay even when it wasn’t - before she came face to face with him.

“What the hell Leon!”

The door to his apartment opened with such force that if circumstances had been different, she would have been worried about possibly putting a hole in the wall. Alas, her attention was not on the wall, but instead on the man lying on the couch in front of her. Leon was clearly either drunk or hungover. Although considering what she’d heard from both her brother - half the reason she was here in the first place - there was a distinct possibility it could be both. Claire wasn’t sure that could actually happen, but if anyone could make it a thing it would most definitely be Leon S. Kennedy.

All that came out of his mouth was unintelligible garble mixed in with a few pained groans. Claire took pleasure in that for a moment and allowed it to further stoke the flames inside of her. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was about to do. She’d kind of just gone on autopilot after getting. Chris’s concerned texts. Apparently, Leon had been ghosting everyone over the last week. So, there she stood, upset and silent until Leon made the mistake of finally speaking real words.

“Red,”

Claire didn’t let him finish. She exploded,

“No! You don’t get to do that, you hear me? You don’t!”

Claire moved towards the couch and yanked off the blanket covering Leon with more force than was probably necessary. The blanket had apparently been completely wrapped around him and, in his current state, that was enough to cause him to tumble to the floor. He let out another grunt of pain as he landed but Claire didn’t care.

“Get your ass up.” Her voice had calmed, steadied to an even tone. Her anger no longer manifested itself in yelling, but instead as a low growl behind her words.

When he didn’t make any effort to move, she said it again,

“I’m not asking Leon. Get up.”

He finally did as told. Standing he slowly moved to the small kitchen behind the couch. There he found a glass that looked somewhat cleaned and began to fill it with water.

This wasn’t the first time that Claire had been there to pick up the pieces whenever Leon fell apart. Safe to say, those instances had never quite played out like this one and Leon was a little jarred and, admittedly, a little afraid of what the red-headed woman might do. 

They stared at each other as Claire gave Leon a moment to swallow the little bit of water that was left in his glass. When he sat it in the sink and she remained silent he let his impaired brain convince him that meant he should speak.

“What’s your problem? Chris piss in your Wheaties this morning?”

The look on her face caused concern. The laugh that followed chilled him to the core. Leon S. Kennedy had faced down and won so many B.O.Ws that he had lost count but at that moment as he looked across the room at a laughing Claire Redfield, he knew that he had quite possibly signed his death warrant. He also knew that if this truly were how he died, several people would help her cover it up, and frankly, he couldn’t blame them.

“My problem?” she continued to laugh, “What’s my problem?”

Leon was getting a little nervous. In yet another mistake, he even let out a few nerve filled chuckles himself.

“No, you don’t get to laugh! This isn’t funny,” and yet she was still laughing. 

Leon was not.

“Do you know why this isn’t funny? Because I don’t think you do.”

He couldn’t have answered even if he wanted to - Claire cut him off as soon as he opened his mouth to fumble through some bullshit excuse.

“You don’t. I know you don’t because if you did you would have had your ass at the restaurant last week, Leon!”

Leon felt his stomach drop. Oh no. He really had fucked up this time.

“Sherry’s birthday.” He felt more than heard the mumbled words slip past his lips.

“Ya, Sherry’s birthday,” Claire turned around to finally close the door and Leon took the opportunity to sit down in one of the few chairs at his tiny kitchen table.

“You know, I was okay with this when it was only me you were fucking over. I know I shouldn’t have been, but I was. I told myself over and over that it was fine, you needed this time, you needed me and I was more than happy to give it to you - everything. I give you everything! But it was okay because you were always there for me too. Most of the time at least. And I get it, Leon, hell I get it more than probably anyone else. What we went through was hell, no one should have to go through that once let alone as many times as you do. But I was there too, I have to deal with that shit too. Sherry has to deal with that shit. She was Twelve Leon.”

“I know -”

“Then where the fuck were you? This was all she wanted! All she asked for for her birthday was for all three of us to be there, together and you couldn’t even get your shit together enough to give that to her. No call, no text, not even a half-assed excuse just nothing. The hurt and disappointment on her face - I’ll never forget that Leon. And to top it off, I had to cover for you and as much as I love you,” she saw that way his whole body seized up at her words, “I’m tired. I refuse to do that anymore.”

“I’m sorry, Claire.”

Claire pulled at her hair which, for once, wasn’t in its usual ponytail.

“Stop! It’s always sorry with you. For once could you just stop!”

“Stop what? Tell me what I have to do to fix this.” He was desperate. He didn’t want to lose her or Sherry. The idea of that - of finally being completely and utterly alone - was almost too much to bear.

“For starters stop making promises if you know you can’t keep them. Stop overcommitting yourself. Stop overworking yourself because that’s always how you get this way in the first place. And stop looking like that.”

“Like what?” he was a little puzzled. He may have also been on the verge of tears but, if anyone asked later he would deny it vehemently.

“Like...like I just killed your puppy or - or like I’m taking away everything from you - it’s making it really hard to stay mad!”

In any other situation, he might have laughed at that but he had sobered up enough between when Claire had burst through his door and now. Now, he really did feel that Claire leaving here like this, Sherry being disappointed with him - that truly was as if everything were being taken away from him.

“I’m sorry. I - I don’t know how to make you believe that I am, but I truly am sorry. I would never hurt you, Claire. I would never hurt Sherry.” He was pleading at his point. He didn’t know what else to do.

“But you did. You hurt us Leon, and I’m not saying that I won’t forgive you, but it’s going to take some time. You fucked up and your usual ‘sorry’ isn’t going to fix it when we always end up in the same cycle again.” She sighed and as the air left her body she could feel all of her anger leaving as well only to be replaced with immense sadness and disappointment.

Claire turned and walked towards the door. A small clang echoed through the silent room and, although Leon couldn’t see from his spot in the kitchen, he knew that Claire had dropped her spare key on the table next to the door.

“Wait! Claire, please, don’t.”

“Don’t what Leon?” She didn’t turn around, she knew she wouldn’t be able to leave if she did. So, head down she gathered her strength and continued,

“Don’t leave? Give me a reason to stay then.”

“ I love you.” It came out in a soft whisper. 

Those three simple words - the first time he had ever said them to her in a non-platonic way. They made her heart soar and ache, both at the same time. She’d imagined this moment a lot but never like this. Never at the end of a fight that had been building for a long time. Never with her back to him, preparing to leave. Never with him sitting in his kitchen, a mess, crying in a way she’d never seen from him. Never like this. And, as much as she wanted to stay…

“ I love you too Leon. But that’s not what this is about. Call Sherry, she deserves to hear from you why you couldn’t do this one thing for her.”

With that, she left. With her, Leon felt a part of him leave as well.

The tears turned to outright sobs as he collapsed on his kitchen floor - dirty. The floor was dirty. He was dirty. He hadn’t cleaned or showered in a while but it was kind of fitting. His apartment was dirty, his clothes were dirty, his body was dirty but he was dirty in a way that was deeper than just the physical sense. 

He’d let them down. The only two people in this world that he still gave a damn about. The only two people he would try for.

Then why hadn’t he? Why hadn’t he pushed himself harder? In the same sense, why hadn’t he taken a break when he had pushed too hard. Why hadn’t he tried harder to stop her? Why hadn’t he?

There were too many questions. If he left himself to ponder them for too long he’d never get up from this dirty kitchen floor and he couldn’t afford to stay here forever. He had business to attend to, phone calls to make.

First, to his job. Claire was right, he needed to stop overworking himself and he’s acquired more than enough hours to take some time off. Then, to Sherry, because he owed her an apology in more than just words. He only hoped she would allow him to make it up to her.

He wanted to call Claire - show her he was trying, that she was right and he would do better. However, he knew that would probably only make things worse. She always gave him the time he needed, now it was time for him to do the same.

But before anything, he had to get up off the floor. The floor was dirty. He was dirty. Leon was tired of the blood and grime that seemed to fill almost all of his waking hours as D.S.O Agent Kennedy. He decided he wouldn’t let it follow him home anymore. So, Leon got up.

On his way to the bathroom he passed by the bowl he kept on his front table by the door. It was a housewarming gift from Claire who knew he was always misplacing his keys and yet never making an effort to get more organized. Always looking out for him, his Claire. 

Leon wouldn’t even let himself question if there even was a ‘his Claire’. Not that he owned her, no one could ever own Claire Redfield. But, looking at the two keys laying together in the bowl, Leon couldn’t help but think they were the same - a matching set. One complementing the other in a way that, while they were separate, they were still part of the same.

Yes, Leon Kennedy got up and as he looked at his dirty face in the mirror, he turned the faucet on because he was tired of being dirty. He was ready to get clean.

[darks-ink]

Darkness - Ectoberweek 2020

Yes I wrote this one because I just really wanted to write Vlad and Danny meeting in Antonym-verse, shh. Don’t say anything.

[first part]

Rating: Gen Warnings: - Genre: Supernatural Words: 2,147 Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Sequel

[AO3] [FFN]

---

“Well,” Danny said, humming thoughtfully.

“Well,” the other person agreed, his bright red eyes absurdly visible in the dark room they were in.

Since the man didn’t seem inclined to talk, Danny didn’t bother to, either. Instead he started peering around, blinking his own vivid green eyes. Even though his retained night vision usually did him little good, he was glad to have it, now. He highly doubted ordinary humans would’ve been able to see in the pitch black they were in.

Unfortunately, the room did not include any hints as to where he was, nor why he was here.

“You’re Danny, aren’t you?” the man suddenly asked, his red eyes narrowed. “The Fenton’s adopted son?”

Danny hummed. He wasn’t sure if he was legally adopted, the human world had so much complicated paperwork, but they certainly seemed intent on counting him as their son. “Yeah,” he finally agreed, figuring he should vocalize. “But I don’t think I know you. Do I?”

The man visibly considered that, weighing options against each other. Finally he offered a hand to Danny. “Vlad.”

“Well, you already know my name, obviously.” Danny shot him a grin as he took the hand and shook it. “But I’m Danny.”

“And you’re half-ghost,” Vlad said, a strange emphasis on the ‘half-ghost’. “Aren’t you?”

“Yeah, well, so are you,” Danny pointed out with a shrug. “I think that the more pressing questions are “where are we?” and “how did we get here?”, don’t you?”

Vlad hummed at that, expression somewhere between pleased and aggravated. Someone was digging for information, huh? “Yes, I suppose you’re right. You don’t know either, then?”

“Nope,” he agreed easily, taking his eyes off of Vlad to look around again. The room was empty and featureless, absolutely non-distinct in how bland it was. “But! I don’t think we’re in the Ghost Zone.”

“How can you tell?”

“Not nearly enough ectoplasm in the atmosphere.” Danny leaned over to knock on the wall. “And these are solid. Humans can go through walls in the Ghost Zone.”

“You seem to know a lot about the Ghost Zone.” Vlad’s eyes narrowed once more.

“Yeah, well.” Danny paused, reconsidered. Vlad didn’t seem like a ghost, not like him. Vlad seemed like a human. If Danny could become part human as a ghost, why couldn’t a human become part ghost? “I guess I spent a good bit of time there.”

“And your parents?” Vlad pressed, cold disinterest in his voice.

Danny snorted, dismissive. “You mean my biological parents? Dunno. Can’t remember them. That’s why the Fentons took me in, y’know? Now can we please focus on getting out of wherever this is before we continue the interrogation?”

“Yes, of course,” Vlad said, graciously. Like this was anything to be gracious about. Danny bet that if he’d been in full control of his powers he could’ve beaten the other half-ghost easy. But, alas. He was still fighting to control his core, never mind use his powers properly. He would have to settle for civilized human behavior.

“Good.” Danny turned away from Vlad, walking along the wall, one hand trailing over it. The whole thing felt solid in a uniquely human way. Definitely no ghosts involved here.

The door, when Danny reached it, was no less solid. He grabbed onto the rounded doorknob and jangled it, but there was no give. Definitely locked. “Yeah, we’re not getting out this way.”

Vlad, who still hadn’t moved, the ass, hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose we will have to use our powers to leave, then. I see no cameras of any sort, do you?”

“No,” Danny admitted, releasing the door and looking around just to be sure. “I suppose you’re right. Some intangibility and invisibility should get us out.”

“Yes, indeed.” Vlad crossed his arms, waiting for a moment before arching his brow at Danny. “Well, go on then.”

“Me?” He scoffed. “It was your idea. You go first.”

The man stared at him for a moment longer, his red eyes boring straight into Danny’s, before he sighed. “Fine, then. But only because I suspect I cannot hope to out-stubborn a teenager, let alone one raised by Jack Fenton.”

Danny quirked an eyebrow at that unexpected hostility. Sure, he’d only known Jack for a month or two, but still. He seemed like a good man.

Vlad’s transformation was similar to Danny’s own. A spark of light from the chest, from the core, forming into rings which passed over the body, and shifted it from one state to the other. Admittedly Vlad’s were bizarrely black, while still giving off light, but it didn’t really matter. Not now, at least.

No, Danny was far more interested in Vlad’s ghost form. He looked rather like a typical ghost, up to and including a thematic appearance. And what an appearance. Vlad had gone full vampire on his looks, with pale blue skin, empty red eyes, pointed ears and sharp fangs. His hair, black in ghost form, was swept up into gravity-defying points, and his clothing did not match the suit he’d been wearing at all.

Hell, the guy even wore a cape. What kinda person did that?

But… Vlad had gone and shifted to his ghost form, so Danny supposed he’d better follow suit. Mentally crossing his fingers that his powers would hold—his core was still settling back into proper stability after his accident—he called his core to the forefront of his existence. Light flashed as he, too, transformed into a ghost.

Vlad quirked an eyebrow at him, judgment heavy in the air. “A jumpsuit, boy, really? You are certainly a Fenton, aren’t you?”

“It’s Phantom, actually,” Danny correctly idly. “The jumpsuit is just a coincidence.” He lifted up from the floor, trying to judge how well his core was doing that day. “Now come on, I don’t have all day.”

“And you think I do?” Vlad scoffed, but started floating as well. “I will go first. I expect I will be more likely to recognize where we are than you.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t have to be so haughty about it. “Sure, knock yourself out.” Danny swept out an arm in a wide arc to underline the statement, throwing in a sarcastic bow as well.

The gesture clearly wasn’t lost on Vlad, but he apparently made the choice to ignore it, flying towards one of the walls and flickering invisible before he hit it. With a roll of his eyes, Danny followed, focusing his senses on the feel of Vlad’s core so he could track the man while invisible.

Outside it was… also dark, admittedly, but not as hopelessly pitch-black as inside. A glance upwards confirmed that it was a regular dark—stars barely visible due to a nearby city, and the new moon that was supposed to come that night.

Vlad was still nearby, although invisible, so Danny let himself drift over. “Well,” he said when he was close enough, keeping his voice low since they were still invisible. “I don’t think we missed much time. The moon phase is correct.”

“Hm. And what do you know of where we are?” Vlad asked, a tone of curiosity layered under the smarminess of his voice. “Or have you spent all your time looking up?”

“I thought you were going to focus on our location?” Danny shook his head, realized Vlad couldn’t see, then decided to look around anyway.

And, huh.

“Well, at least we’re not far from home,” he said, feebly.

They were on the outskirts of Amity Park.

“You aren’t, no.” Vlad huffed, a sound of displeasure. “Unlike you, however, I live in Wisconsin.”

Cool. That meant very little to Danny. He was pretty sure that it was a state in the country he was living in, but where, or how far away it was? Absolutely meaningless.

“Okay, well… If you know the Fentons you can probably stay over?” He let his invisibility drop, since the strain on his core was rather unnecessary. The people of Amity Park didn’t look up enough to care about ghosts in the sky. “And if you didn’t… Well, they probably would let you stay over anyway. They’d love to talk more about your half-ghost-ness.”

“Joy,” Vlad muttered, and he could not possibly have put more distaste in the word. “And you do not care to stay invisible, then?”

“I can’t keep it up forever, dude.” Danny shrugged, letting his legs blend away into a tail as he drifted in the direction towards home. “Besides, I know Amity Park. It’s a safe place to fly without invisibility, trust me.”

Vlad scoffed, but dropped his invisibility as well. “Very well, then. Lead on.”

Danny nodded back, then shifted into proper flight, making sure to keep his speed fairly low. As annoying as it was to have to hold back, he knew he couldn’t make full use of his powers, not while his core was still recovering from the transition. One day, hopefully, he’d get back to his prior strength.

Still, that did make him wonder. It definitely seemed like Vlad was a human who’d become half-ghost. How did that work, compared to Danny himself? How strong was Vlad? Did he need to wait for his core to mature the usual way? That almost seemed easier to Danny than what he was going through. A slow progressive growth, rather than having all these powers and not having the power to use them.

And Vlad had conveniently skipped around explaining how he knew the Fentons, too. Honestly, he was kind of giving Danny the creeps. Something about his behavior was just… off. Weird.

Or maybe that was just how slimy he was, how haughty, how superior. Yugh.

Vlad didn’t try talking to him while they were flying to FentonWorks, although he did raise a questioning eyebrow at the neon sign when they landed behind it.

“The glow of the sign will hide our light,” Danny explained with a shrug. He’d been told by Jazz that the sign was an oddity among humans, but he didn’t think it was that weird. “We can enter the house through the door up here.”

“Why not phase inside?” Vlad asked, crossing his arms. “That way no one will see us.”

“True. But it’s also rude to go inside without announcing yourself.” Danny grinned at Vlad, displaying his own sharp teeth, before releasing his core to shift back to human form. The flashing light was barely visible beyond the glow of the sign. “Coming, Vlad?”

The other half-ghost sighed, making a motion like rolling his eyes—despite the fact that they were empty in his ghost form—but transformed back into human form as well. “I would’ve thought that using ghost powers meant we were no longer following human sensibilities, but it’s your house.”

Human sensibilities? What, has no one ever told this guy the rules of lairs in the Ghost Zone? Yikes. “You do realize that it’s a thing in the Ghost Zone too, right? Not randomly wandering into people’s lairs?”

“And how would you know?” Vlad sneered back, his eyes dark for the first time since Danny had met him. “You’re what, fourteen? And clearly new to being half-ghost, too.”

“Yeah!” Danny snapped, feeling his core kick up a notch. He was so tired of this asshole. “Yeah, I’m new to being half-ghost! Because I was a full ghost before this!”

He leaned in closer to Vlad, seeing the reflection of his glowing eyes in Vlad’s. “Just because you think you’re a big deal doesn’t mean you are. You don’t know shit, Vlad.”

Satisfied that he’d gotten his point across, Danny whirled around, pulling open the door and climbing down the stairs. After a moment, he heard Vlad follow.

“You are… a ghost turned half-human?” Vlad asked, quietly. “Not the reverse?”

“Not like you, no,” Danny confirmed, opening the door to the upper floor hallway. “But the Fentons will still want to talk to you.”

“No.” Vlad stopped before crossing the door. Danny, too, stopped, turning around to face Vlad again. “No, I don’t think that that’s going to happen.”

“What?”

“I thought I had found someone like me. For that, I was willing to put up with Jack Fenton, at least for the moment. But now?” Vlad scoffed, a derisive sound. “For a poor ghostly imitation? No, certainly not. Goodbye, Phantom.”

With that, Vlad whirled around, vanishing from sight. Danny could still track his core—apparently Vlad had shifted forms almost immediately—but he was, in fact, leaving.

“Well. That just happened,” Danny muttered to himself as Vlad left the premises entirely. “Wonder what the chances are that the Fentons know more than one guy named Vlad.”

He shrugged to himself, continuing down to the living room, where his family waited. Guess he had some more mysteries to solve now.

Like that room. What the fuck was up with that?

[yungidreamer]

Catch You

The fourth oneshot in my Kinktober series

Summary: Mingi is a guardian angel who loves his assignment. Sure he spends all his time protecting her from a series of unlikely events thanks to a curse that has been on her family since her great grandmother, but hey she’s cute, funny, and smart. It’s not a bad deal really.

Wordcount: 2.7k

Content warnings: Really, nothing...maybe an unrequited crush? This is mostly a pure fluff humor piece and a little bit of how I imagine Mingi would be as a guardian angel out there living his best life.

Suggested music I’m Gonna Be by The Proclaimers and Just the Way You Are by Bruno Mars

Mingi sat at the end of her bed. She was so precious when she was sleeping. So much less trouble, too. Not that he would change charges for anything in the world. She was just a little more work than he had anticipated. Not everyone had a guardian angel because, well, not everyone actually needed one. Most people had ordinary luck, lived ordinary lives, and didn’t have a generational curse.

She was different. Her great grandmother had pissed someone off enough to have gotten a curse that had lasted for four generations. He hadn’t been told what had been done and he hadn’t even thought to ask when he was assigned to her. Maybe he should have, then he would have been better prepared.

Soon she would be getting up and starting her day, and his, but for now she was tucked in and sleeping peacefully. He wished a little that she knew he was there. Maybe it would make things just a little bit easier. She would look a third time before crossing the street or just go a little slower in life that would give him a little more time to react.

Alas, she didn’t know he was there, didn’t know how hard he worked to keep her alive and well, didn’t know that she had worked her way into a little corner of his heart. She lived her life, ignorant of him, as she was supposed to.

The alarm on her bedside buzzed, starting both of their days. While she groped for the ‘damned machine’ as she often called it, Mingi deftly pulled the glass of water out of the way, letting her turn off the alarm before setting the cup down on the bedside table again so it would be where she left it when she got a drink before getting out of bed. She was at least pretty predictable, he consoled himself.

She stretched, took a drink, and threw back the covers with a smile, ready to start the day. First thing was first, he narrated in his head, shower. Together they headed down the hallway to her bathroom. Stripping off the shirt she had slept in, she tossed it into the laundry basket, barely making it in and, somehow, unbalancing it until Mingi hopped forward, catching it and setting it right. Would it have killed her to have the laundry on the floor? By itself no, but the curse sort of worked like a Rube Goldberg machine, relying on a series of highly unlikely events that alone were inconsequential, but cumulatively could lead to her death.

How did a basket of laundry play a part? Well, the laundry falls, covers up the bar of soap that had dropped (something he had picked up yesterday), she steps out of the shower to find that her towel had dropped into the toilet (thanks to a loose screw he had instead tightened three days ago) so she steps out dripping wet instead, leaving a puddle on the floor that, in combination with the soap, makes for the perfect bathroom slip and slide that ends with her smacking her head against the edge of the tub and… well that would be the end of his assignment.

So that was most of his day, spotting those odd, unlikely events in her life that could lead to her untimely end. She turned on the water and undid her hair before stepping in under the water. Mingi checked inside the tub, having a niggling suspicion that something was slightly amiss. Nothing in the tub… the curtain rod was fine… ah-ha! Somehow the hot water faucet was loose and… slowly turning itself on more? Ugh, why? With a sigh, Mingi sat down on the edge of the tub holding the faucet in place. When she was done he would mess with it, make sure it was tight and do a little something to clear the curse that was animating it. But now, he would just hold it and let her take her shower in peace.

“I don't care if Monday's blue, Tuesday's grey and Wednesday too,” she sang as she soaped herself up behind the curtain. “Thursday, I don't care about you, It's Friday, I'm in love…”

Was it Friday again already, Mingi wondered to himself. I guess it is, he recalled, singing along with her as she belted out her favorite start-the-day song for Fridays. She was cute when she sang in the shower, so uninhibited. No one was listening, well no one but him and he didn’t really count.

He felt her hand go through his as she turned off the water, signaling the end of her shower. Letting go of the faucet, Mingi moved over to the other side of the bathroom, deliberately giving her his back while she put on her towel and dried off. She was still singing and he hummed along with her, listening for where she was in the bathroom. Teeth were brushed, a bit of makeup put on, and hair was fixed up for the day.

“You’re having a good hair day,” Mingi commented with a grin.

“Man, if only I knew what I did some days to get this look,” she muttered to herself, almost as if she had heard his compliment. “Not that I am going to complain on the good days.”

“You always look lovely, though,” he sighed, following her as she headed back to the bedroom to get dressed. Putting on her underthings first, she went to her closet to decide what exactly she was going to wear today.

“Hmmm, is it a lacy sort of day or badass business woman sort of day,” she wondered aloud, flipping through her wardrobe.

“You’re badass even in lace,” he said, sitting on the end of the bed, chin resting on the heel of his hand.

“Maybe something that is both?” She pondered, pulling out a vintage styled button up and a dark grey pantsuit.

“Good choice,” Mingi agreed, giving an approving thumbs up. She pulled on her clothes and checked everything in the mirror before deciding she was ready to take on the day. Mingi caught the empty hanger that dropped itself off the rail, putting it back up before she noticed or it could cause any havoc. Giving it a tap and a stern look that said, I’ve got my eye on you, he turned to follow her as she headed down the hall to the kitchen. 

Her steps were confident as she headed to the kitchen to make a quick breakfast. Mingi was always on his toes here. Here he had to be nimble and eagle eyed. Really, why did they have to concentrate so many potentially deadly things all in one place. He had a distinct sense of relief when she picked out granola and some yogurt for breakfast. Thank you, he said to the universe, as she took a seat at the counter and opened the magazine she had left half read there the day before. No stove to watch for things that mysteriously ended up sitting on the element. No knives that seem to leap off the cutting board. No toast that got stuck with the strength of a magnet on the inside of the toaster. No burns from shockingly hot coffee or tea.

“You know,” he told her, taking the seat in the chair closest to her. “I love these days where you make my job so much easier.” She flipped through a couple of pages as she took bites. “Anything interesting?” He peeked over at the magazine to see what she was reading about. Diversity and Dynamics: the wonders of the Amazon Rainforest. “Really? It has 10% of the total global diversity? Neat.” Reading over her shoulder was always fun. She was curious and really enjoyed reading about a little bit of everything. Since she graduated college a couple of years ago, she had kept that curiosity for new information and for all kinds of topics. Without a doubt, he was never bored with her.

Rinsing the dishes, she put them in the dishwasher, which Mingi re-closed behind her when it decided to just fall open again when she turned to rinse her hands. Pursing his lips, he shook a finger at it, sending a warning to the device with his mind. 

“You can be replaced,” he reminded it, sternly. The machine, properly chastised, stayed closed this time.

Well fed and ready to start the day, she headed for the front door, gathering her bag and her shoes along the way. Mingi followed, staying close as she entered the wider world, yet another space where he felt like he had to be on guard. He took a playful karate pose as he stood near her at the bus stop, eyeing the passing people and cars as he hovered near her. With her headphones on, she might not notice something that came up behind her.

“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “I’m watching your back.” Together they boarded the bus and he stood guard by her seat as she looked out the window as the city passed by. This was one of her favorite parts of the day, he could tell by the way her shoulders relaxed and her lips quirked into a little smile as she day dreamed, looking out at the buildings and the people passing by.

When her stop drew near, he lightly brushed her shoulder to make sure that she noticed and pressed the button to call for the bus to stop. He caught the door as it tried to close early on her giving it a parting slap and a disapproving look as the bus pulled away, forcing him to jog to catch up with her. At least it wasn’t far to her office. The modern, tall business block looked largely the same as the other half dozen multi-storey office buildings in the surrounding neighborhood. There was nothing terribly dangerous about the space...except for the hours of tedium...and maybe the long stairwells. Luckily she worked on the seventh floor and preferred to get her cardio going the long way to the bus so that she could pick up a cup of her favorite coffee some mornings.

In her cubicle she put her things down and switched on her computer, taking a moment to spin in her chair while she waited for it to boot up. Mingi gave it a little extra push to keep its momentum, smiling as he did so. With a sigh, she straightened up and scooted her chair in to actually start her work day. If Mingi slept, he might have done it during this part of the day. Spread sheets were just...mind numbing. But at least, when she was in her cubicle, a paper cut was the biggest threat to her for the most part.

Mingi took a seat on the open part of her desk and entertained himself making the leaf of the fern on her desk ripple in the non-existent draft. Nothing anyone would find out of place but at least it was something for him to do.

“Coffee,” she said, pushing herself back.

“Oh are we having actual coffee today or are you going to decide to get a hot chocolate again instead?” He asked as he trailed behind her. Shuffling down the hall, she waved at a couple of co-workers as she passed on the way to the breakroom. In the little kitchen like breakroom she pulled a mug out of the cabinet then shimmied over to the fancy coffee machine. Putting the cup on the little shelf under the spigot, she started going through her options on the screen.

“Mocha, I think, today,” she decided after a lip biting moment of deep consideration.

“Both,” he nodded approvingly. “I like it.” 

“Ahhhh,” she gave a satisfied sigh after taking a sip. “Caffeine.” They headed out of the kitchen and Mingi caught the handle of the cleaner’s mop that decided it wanted to fall into her path just before she turned the corner. He hurried ahead and caught it before she could even see it, giving her a little bow as she passed, blissfully ignorant as she enjoyed the drink in her hands.

The morning was unremarkable and largely uneventful, though he did have to keep her mocha from spilling itself… twice. When lunch came, she decided to go to the little cafe at the end of the block, which meant at least their trip into the wider scarier world was short. Mingi walked ahead of her, using his wings to part the crowds of people to make her walk easier. It wasn’t that people could see him or could even really feel him, but they just sort of instinctively avoided him. Brushing into him felt...odd, perhaps even uncomfortable, like a chill or a static shock so people just naturally avoided it.

They looked into the bakery case as they stood in line at the cafe. Mingi thought the croissant sandwich looked especially tasty today along with the raspberry swirl cheesecake. He gave the case over them a little tap, hoping to bring her attention to them. She looked at both, considering them and did take the croissant but skipped the cheesecake today.

“I hope you aren’t skipping it because you think you need to diet again,” he sighed, watching her eat from the other side of the table. “You’re pretty you know. Not only that, you’re smart and funny, which is what someone should really like about you anyway.” He pointed out, kicking a napkin out of the way just before a passerby would have slipped on it, taking her table with them as they fell. Instead they just passed by without incident.

“You sure you don’t want the cheesecake?” He asked as they got up to go. “You can always snack on it later.” She didn’t get it but she did give it a somewhat longing look as she passed it by on her way out. 

The afternoon passed with only a few minor incidents and it was finally time to head home again. And, hey, it was even Friday! Mingi watched as she packed up her things and shut everything down, ready to head home.

“Do we have any plans this weekend?” He asked as they headed to the elevator. She sighed and looked at her phone, scrolling through something as she paired and pulled on her headphones. “I guess that is a no.” He shrugged and gave her a little chuckle. I mean, who was he to complain about another Friday evening of Netflix and nosh?

The bus ride home was thankfully uneventful and home was almost exactly how they left it. He had to close a few cabinet doors, pick up a pen that had rolled itself onto the floor, and tighten the shower tap he hadn’t gotten to this morning. Still, it was overall nothing big and soon they had both settled in for a relaxing start to the weekend.

“So, what about ordering something in?” He sent the idea to her, hoping she would skip cooking, just to give him that little extra time off.

“Ooo, pizza sounds really good,” she said aloud, now that there was no one around to think she was odd for talking to herself. Getting out her app, she put in an order as Mingi looked at her adoringly. Sometimes he suspected she knew he was there. Sometimes he thought she did things just to make his job just a little easier and he really loved her for it.

They watched a few hours of a newer drama on Netflix, both talking to the characters as if they could hear them. Complaining when they made stupid decisions and cheering for them when they did something great. It was really his favorite kind of night. Just the two of them and something that made her laugh. He would swear her smile could have lit up the whole world.

Soon it was time for bed and she headed to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. She changed into her nightshirt and pulled out the book she had been reading and climbed into bed. Mingi sat on the other side of the bed, laying back to read the book over her shoulder until she started yawning and shut off the light. She pulled the covers up over her shoulder and turned on her side. Before he knew it, she was asleep, happily making little puffy breath sounds as she breathed.

“Sleep well,” he whispered softly. “I’ll be here keeping watch, don’t worry.”

He really had the best job.

Masterlist

[honeym4rk]

station (jjh)

college! jaehyun x reader word count: 3.0k summary: four times you find yourself alone with jaehyun at a bus station.

There is comfort in the silence.

With every step you take, there is a crunch of fallen, juniper leaves at your feet. Your canvas tote bag is looped around your shoulder, your fingers clinging to the straps like it would shield you from the awkwardness of the current circumstances.

He’s got his hands hidden in the cavity of his hoodie. His knuckle cracking is sporadic, and you cringe at just how many times they’ve made an encore in the past two minutes.

You really should have begged Mark to tag along and leave the shindig so that this wouldn’t have happened- but alas, the boy was still hooked by the prospect of winning the next round of Mario Kart against Donghyuck. ‘It does some good to my self-esteem,’ he’d said. 

So here you are, sauntering bashfully to the bus stop with Jaehyun.

“So, uh- what bus are you taking?” You muster up the courage to speak up after a few minutes of painful reticence. 

“I’d have to take 922 or 153 from the opposite stop to get back to hall,” he sighs. It’s clear that he reciprocates the weird, distinctive tension here.

“And you?” He faces you with his raised eyebrows and you’re baffled by the sudden eye contact made. Your eyes dart elsewhere.

“Oh, I’m taking 922 from here.” You nod your head imperceptibly at the bus stop ahead of you.

A few metres away, there’s a zebra crossing, and you thank your lucky stars that you’re finally about to part ways. Oh, you’re sure Jaehyun is a nice person and all, but that doesn’t change the fact that the unspoken, kind enmity in the air is capable of being taut so hard around your neck that you asphyxiate. 

Ten more steps. Come on.

Five steps. 

Three steps.

“I’ll see you next ti-” 

Yet he doesn’t stop at the crossing. Instead, he continues his stride in tandem with yours towards the station. You stop in your tracks, slowly gesturing towards the beaconing street light with the hand you raised to bid adieu. 

“Aren’t you going to, you know..?” Eyes hinting at the yellow streaks of light, at the bus stop across the road, anywhere away from his own. Jaehyun notices your halt and follows suit.

“Well, I mean, Mark did ask me to see that you got home safe....”

You immediately wrack your brain for an appropriate response to his chivalry. It’s unclear how you should react; he really caught you by surprise. And from the way he’s gnawing at his inner lip and raising a hand to scratch the nape of his neck, you infer that he’s abashed too. All you manage is a small, “Oh,” as more silence ensues, before you start to blabber,

“No, no, thanks, Jaehyun, but it’s really fine, you don’t have to.”

His lips are taut into a firm, straight line and he lets out a surreptitious hum.

“Let me just wait ‘til you board your bus. Is that okay? It’s getting pretty late.”

You want to vehemently object. 

And you’re about to, but you let out a consenting “Yeah, alright.”

He’s invading your desiderated solace- yet something about his offer seems so genuine and saccharine that you comply out of curiosity. You’d heard things about Jaehyun around in school before, good things, especially seeing that he was well acquainted with your friends like Mark, but you’d never really encountered him until tonight, thanks to Donghyuck’s birthday celebration. Being a Linguistics student, fate hadn’t really presented many opportunities for him to meet someone majoring in Pharmacy. 

Therefore- you think to yourself- it wouldn’t be so bad. It’s unlikely that you’ll actually talk to him again, since you’ll probably never be within a radius of at least ten metres from him again. It’s alright, it’s okay. You decide to let him be a gentleman.

So you bask in the quietude shrouding the two of you, as you sit on the metal form, awaiting the arrival of a yearned 922. 

After all, there is the slightest hint of comfort in the silence.

There is also comfort in the familiarity.

You’re sure there’s a sense of déjà vu. It’s a similar scene to what had ensued a few weeks ago, at least, and you’re definitely surprised to be here again, with him . However, you’ve both abandoned the multi-layered cake of unease. It’s almost been completely devoured now. Fortunately.

Jaehyun’s chuckling relentlessly- nearly doubled over laughing- as you recount the earlier occurrences of the Friday night. 

“Yeah, no, but I’d give anything to see the look on Donghyuck’s face again.” His eyes crinkle into small crescents as he runs a hand through his silver hair.

“He looked so confident that it was going to work and I’d already told him otherwise, but I really don’t know what he expected.” 

Tonight, there had been an effort to study in Donghyuck’s apartment; considering the looming exam season. This purpose was indeed fulfilled, to some extent. 

Then Donghyuck, feeling rather ravenous, decided that he wanted to indulge in a quick and easy two-ingredient Oreo mug cake. The video tutorial truly looked too good to be true- you’d seen multiple YouTubers debunk the content-farm produced recipes. 

The wide-eyed boy was too desperate, however, as he credulously decided to fill his mug with crushed oreos and milk to the brim. He swore that it looked and sounded promising until a loud Pop! reverberated in the kitchen 30 seconds into heating.

Everyone gathered around to watch Donghyuck cry over his spilt milk, literally, as his appliance perpetually emitted smoke, its glass door burst open. Burnt mounds of moist black and white cookies were thrown at the white, metal walls of the microwave. Donghyuck fanned the plumes of smoke hastily.

“It looks like a volcano erupted.” Mark added, coughing, as he tried to swallow the chuckle bubbling at the back of his throat.

“Dude- I don’t want to say I told you so but,” You began to implore, before Donghyuck interjected.

“Maybe I should just try again, I think the microwave setting just wasn’t right.” 

And so he did- but to no avail.

The two of you approach the tiny station side by side, and you relish the warm, fuzzy feeling establishing in your stomach. Not quite butterflies, but maybe more like a tiny sprout popping out of the ground.

“To be fair, though, it didn’t taste half as bad as it looked.”

You snort. “Sure, because it’s literally sugar and milk with a dash of hidden carcinogens.” 

He lets out a low chortle. Jaehyun nails the bellowing dad laugh right down to a T, and some part of you finds this endearing.

A flash of bright light emerges as you look up from your feet. 922 has arrived and you’re rummaging through your bag for your bus card. 

“I feel like I left my card at Donghyuck’s, shit,”

The bus halts. 

“Here, use mine, I’ve got a spare.” Jaehyun offers without a second thought, pulling his card from the pocket of his denim jeans. 

“Go on, the bus driver’s waiting.”

You would have thought this through for a little while longer, but he was right. A scowl that said ‘Stop wasting my damn time,’ is plastered on the driver’s face, and it urges you to carefully pick the card slotted between his fingers. 

“Thanks so much- I’ll return it tomorrow, or something.” Your eyebrows furrow together and you clench your teeth together in a grimace.

“Yeah! Yeah, whenever. Good night, Y/N. Get home safe,”

“You too, thanks again!”

Boarding the bus hastily, you wave at him through the glass door as the bus sets off. He doesn’t leave until you’re out of sight.

You can’t help but grin as you examine the portrait on his student pass. He’s handsome, skin clear and glossy, hair parted such that there are a bunch of strands obstructing his forehead. It’s black in this image. You wonder how many colours it's been dyed. His dimples replicate the poked slime in the myriad of videos you’ve seen, and his cheekbones are incredibly prominent. 

It dawns on you that you don’t have his number, or follow him on Instagram, or have any means to contact him at all. You guess that you’ll have to fish something from Mark, but Jaehyun seems to beat you to it.

Unknown, [2340]: hey this is jaehyun lol hope you get back safe :-)

A sudden flash of the many possible outcomes this could entail breezes past your mind. You’re quite uncertain about how this will play out, and you unlock your phone to reply.

Y/N, [2341]: hii hahah thanks again! i can return your card tomorrow, just lmk where i can drop by

Jaehyun, [2341]: yeah sure, i think i’ll be cooped up in starbucks doing work w my friends lol 

Jaehyun, [2341]: u can join if ud like :o

There is comfort in the unknown.

There is comfort in the noise.

Your whole herd of boisterous friends are walking uphill from yet another study session at Donghyuck’s- there’s been quite a number of them since the first. You’re honestly amused by how many people can fit in his apartment. The study group has expanded from a mere four to a whopping seven people in total.

Thankfully, there haven’t been any microwave oven explosions since then, but you’ve had your good share of fun and company, and more importantly, productivity. 

The pack of young adults currently divulging the extensive, latest gossip and hall horror stories, you and Jaehyun stray further behind. You’re trying to listen in and pick apart information, but you’ve joined the conversation a bit too late for context. 

“Oh my god, Lia, you’re going to hate hearing this, but…” Jungwoo begins, his voice entering a decrescendo.

“But Jeno has a girlfriend? Yeah, I figured.” Lia wails. “I saw them together in the library the other day, being all cute and shit. My heart shattered .” She emphasises this by hitting Jungwoo’s shoulder out of pure frustration. 

“How long have they been together, though?” Ryujin quips, to which she gets a reply, but you try to drown out the rest of their conversation.

You tug at the arm of Jaehyun’s sweatshirt, and he leans closer to you as you query, “Who’s Jeno, again?”

“Cute dude that she keeps bumping into at hall, I think,” he mumbles. His words are semi-intelligible, because of the commotion right in front of you.

“Sorry? I didn’t catch that.” The infinite frequencies are hard to tune out, and it gets increasingly arduous to do so when Ryujin gasps.

“Oh shit, the bus is here!” Your friends are immediately ready to break into a sprint, but Jaehyun’s feet seem heavy as he continues to meander with you. 

“Jae, aren’t you coming? The next one’s in thirty minutes!” Jungwoo shouts as they begin to dash across the road.

“It’s fine, go on! I’m just a little lazy. See you!” Jaehyun dismisses him with the wave of his extended hand, and receives an incredulous look. The lame excuse confuses you, bamboozles you, but you wave goodbye to your friends anyway.

It’s been long since you’ve been caught alone here at the bus stop with Jaehyun- you usually head home with Mark every Friday. He’s not here, though. He’s crashed at Donghyuck’s for tonight.

“Uhm, what was that ?” You chuckle nervously, the little sprout in your belly magically reappearing. Truth be told, after the many lighthearted, late-night messages exchanged over the past few weeks, and after unravelling Jaehyun bit by bit, the sprout has grown into a pocket-sized garden. It brings its own butterflies, but you don’t quite have the audacity to admit this. There’s a different kind of trickiness lingering in the air tonight.

“Well, you know- Mark…and it’s- it’s getting late, kinda.” He’s timorous tonight. Under the luminescence of the bus station’s lamps, you see the pink tint land on the tips of his ears, something you’ve learnt happens when he’s rather shy. 

“I wanted to ask you something, too, though.”

“Okay, shoot.” You take a seat. He sits a modest distance away from you, cracking his knuckles instinctively.

“Well, I uhm, I’m not quite sure how you’ll react to this but,” he licks his lips.

“But?” You encourage him to carry on, staring as you await his continuation.

He looks as if he’s got the words at the tip of his tongue, the sea of sentences about to overflow from his mouth, and they’re spilling when he starts speaking again.

“Would you-” You listen intently, attempting to read his lips. However, he’s cut off by the booming wails of a velocious ambulance. You whip your head around to watch the vehicle pass by. 

Jaehyun breathes sharply, exhaling in frustration. The cries subside, so he tries again. 

“Y/N,” he clears his throat, and you face him once more.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“I was wondering if-” 

A fire truck zooms past the bus stop, and your attention is grabbed by the monotonous siren that raids your ears. Jaehyun notices your bus approaching, and he panics. The air-raid isn’t becoming distant; the truck’s obstructed by the imposing red-light flashing. There’s only so much time left to ask what he’s been dying to- and he can’t believe he’s getting cockblocked by the emergency services right now. 

You’re hearing Jaehyun spill a string of words but they’re incoherent- all you can seem to comprehend is the blaring repetitions that are relentless.

“What?!” You shout, fighting past the cacophony. “I can’t hear you!” You’re signing this to him, pointing to your ear and shaking your hand vigorously.

Your bus halts before you. Jaehyun’s in an absolute frenzy now. He doesn’t want to do this online. Something about hiding behind his screen sounds so ingenuine to him, and you’re already standing, shit, but he can’t win against the absolute pandemonium and doesn’t want to embarrass himself in front of the small crowd that’s alighted the bus, but he’s also not sure when he’ll get to talk to you in private like this again, 

So he clamours.

“Do You! Want To Go Out! With Me!” He’s cupping his large hands around his mouth, screaming into the makeshift amplifier with all his might, as you walk towards the front doors of the bus.

You look like a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide open in disbelief as you gawk at the boy who’s sheepishly glancing at everyone and using his hand to defend himself from their stares. The butterflies that have erupted in you are merciless.

And then you burst into a fit of laughter- Jaehyun curses the sirens for piercing through such a pleasant sound- and you nod profusely, one foot already boarding the bus.

The glass doors shut close, and you’re enthusiastically gesturing to your handphone, waving at him. The bus whizzes away.

He’s shell-shocked, and he’s unable to will his hands in drawing his phone from his pocket. The sudden series of vibrations brings him back to his senses.

Y/N (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝),[2257]: WAIT ask me again

Y/N (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝), [2257]: idk if i heard u right

Jaehyun, [2258]: k

Y/N (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝), [2258]: dude come back </3

Y/N (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝), [2258]: YES lol

Y/N (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝), [2257]: yeeeeeeees

It heavily hinders Jaehyun that night, but there is comfort in the noise.

There is comfort in the isolation.

It’s only the blinding fluorescent lights and the cool breeze presenting company at the bus stop- you’re grateful that the occasional cars speeding by are helping you break down the very last walls of tension between the two of you, if there are any.

Whoosh. 

“I really enjoyed today.” He smiles and steals a quick glance at you. You’re at a different bus stop now- a month later and you’re amazed that you’ve gone out with Jaehyun at least three times now.

You catch the slight twinkle in his eyes as he scoots a whole foot nearer towards you on the cool metal bench. The distance between the two of you is closing slowly yet your heart rate is augmenting. It’s accelerating now- faster than any of the rambunctious vehicles that race down the road, their engines revving dirtily.

Whoosh. A black BMW zooms past you both and you take the opportunity to reciprocate the cheeky glimpse.

“Me too.”

There’s fumbling of fingers and twiddling of your thumbs before you notice the sudden influx of light and buzzing and realise that your bus has arrived. Pure languish rushes through every vein in your body- you don’t want this night to end.

Jaehyun begins to stand and shoots a quizzical expression when you don’t follow suit. 

“Let’s wait for the next one,” you grin, your legs swinging back and forth as you continue to glue yourself on the elevated seat.

The sound of his chuckle envelopes you into a warm hug- it’s deep, and strong, yet soft at the same time- and then you’re pulled to your feet by your wrists before he embraces you with confident hesitation too.

“Is this- it’s okay, right?” He just wants to be sure.

“Yeah- very.” You breathe, and his boyish smell fills your lungs. There is difficulty in naming what scented cologne he’s used today; but you devote no more attention. You just wallow in the tangy, mellow fragrance that has permeated your senses.

He’s got his arms coiled around your waist, his palm extended to press your back closer to him. You’re playing with the sharp, freshly cut hairs on the back of his neck. You run your fingers through them and he dives his head further into the crook of your neck. Jaehyun’s muffled voice is tickling your shoulder-

“Your hair smells really nice.” The corners of your lips edge upwards into an unrelenting grin.

“Thank God.”

There is comfort in Jaehyun.

[for-ests]

Hey, not sure if you do smut but I think this request can work without a lot if you’d prefer😁 reader’s an art student and needs to sculpt a full body nude sculpture and Tom offers but gets a bit cheeky

thanks for the request dear! this was fun to write :-) i literally know nothing about art so if I get something wrong just ignore! i hope you enjoy!! i went a diff +route but I still think it fits! [ mlist ] 

Word count: 3, 273

Warnings: slight nsfw,, nudity 

Pairing: Tom Holland x art student reader!

“The issue is… I have no idea who to ask.” You sighed deeply, embarrassment washing over you as you talked to your best friends about your upcoming project. 

Everyone knew you were a talented sculptor. That wasn’t the issue. The issue was that your professional sculpting internship at (your school) was currently learning about Ancient Greece. One of the requirements to pass the semester was to recreate a modern sculpture of someone you knew, and to make it as realistic as possible. Nakedness and all, which was a huge distinction of Greek statues.

There was a big problem though. You were incredibly shy, and you didn’t know who to ask to model for you.

Nudging you with a laugh, your friend flashed you a mischievous smile. “You know a lot of cute guys, why don’t you ask one of them?”

“Cute guys?” You scrunched your nose. “I know like three guys and I would cry if I had to see them naked.”

She sighed. “Fair. Does it have to be a guy?”

*-You nodded regretfully. “It has to be the opposite sex. It’s annoying but I u

erstand why. It’s important to be familiar with both sexes.”

Your best friend air quoted ‘familiar’ with a ridiculous smirk.

“Shut up.” You huffed, trying not to laugh at how dramatic she had become.

“I think I know a guy, he’s an aspiring actor and model.” Your best friend added casually.

Groaning, you shot her a glare. “Why didn’t you say that right away?”

She shrugged. “I like listening to you talk about your art.”

Her compliment almost worked, but you already knew that was partly the reason she was teasing you so hard. The other reason was because she had been trying to set you up with multiple friends for months. According to her, you had been single for far too long.

Her offer made you ponder deeper about your situation. You were slightly awkward when it came to getting to know someone, but you couldn’t imagine asking someone to strip right away so you could sculpt every curve your eyes grazed over. Whoever it ended up being had to be incredibly confident. Shallow yes, but that’s why you were hoping to find someone insanely attractive. Attractive people were usually confident, and responsibly so. “Maybe a stranger would be worse than someone I know.”

Snorting through her nose, your best friend stared at you like you were crazy. “Definitely not. If it’s awkward you never have to see him again. And if it’s not, well you can get cozy with a cutie.”

Taking a deep breath, you rolled your eyes. “I hate you sometimes.” You mumbled under your breath. You knew she was right, but you would never inflate her already enormous ego like that.

“You love me.” She sang sweetly.

“I do, now give him my number and tell him it’s of the utmost importance.”

❀∙∘✿∘∙❀

Days later, that conversation was on your mind as you nervously organized your sculpting tools. Trying to relieve some tension, you slapped a pound of clay against the table, and it echoed throughout the workshop.

Reality was the fact that this so called model boy was on his way to your studio. His name was Tom, and from the pictures you saw–he was incredibly handsome.

You couldn’t believe you had agreed to this, but alas, you needed this experience to pass your class. You just hoped and prayed that Tom was a lot more outgoing than you, and could keep the conversation flowing as you stared intently as his erect… penis.

Your cheeks flared up at the thought. How the hell were you going to do this?

Y/N: help (Y/B/F/N) I cant do this!!! im freaking out

Y/B/F: is he even there yet? lmfao

Y/N: noooooo :((

Y/B/F: if it makes you feel any better, he’s excited and thinks ur pretty

Y/N: why didn’t you tell me that before??!

Y/B/F: do u feel better now tho?

Y/N: no

Y/B/F: ik ur smiling ;) u aint slick

Giggling like a schoolgirl to relieve some of your anxiety, you set your cell phone on the table. Truthfully, your best friend had made you feel better. If anything bad happened, it would surely be a wonderful story to tell everyone in the future.

Your eyes naturally glanced across the room to the clock on the wall. 7:00pm. Tom would be here any minute as scheduled.

You took a deep breath and studied your surroundings. All your tools were in place, and the entire studio was tidied up as if you hadn’t worked the space in weeks. Next, you walked to the wall and glanced at your reflection in the mirror.

With your hair in a bun and your shabby working clothes, you looked suitable at best. You did have a little bit of makeup on to help yourself feel more confident. If you felt good, you could make your client feel good in return.

At least it looked like you didn’t try too hard. You didn’t want this man to get the wrong idea.

Then, snapping you out of your trance, there was a knock on the door.

You straightened out your shirt one last time, and tucked your baby hairs back behind your ears. Scoffing immediately after, you shook your head. Why were you trying to look cute? Who cares!

You rushed to grab the front door, afraid that you were making him wait too long. You flung it open, eyes locking with his right away.

You froze.

He was even more dashing in person.

“Judging by your cute outfit, I think I’m at the right place. Y/N right?”

And a British accent?

“Y-yes!” You flashed a smile to mask your obvious hesitation. You could easily play it off by opening the door and keeping your gaze averted. You were the master of smoothness.

“Thank you for coming, it’s about time I got this project done…” You tittered, locking the door behind him for privacy purposes. “You can set your things on the couch over there.” You pointed, eyes meeting his again when he glanced to the couch and then back to you.

“Awesome.” He nodded, holding your gaze for a moment longer than necessary.

“Do you want anything to eat or drink?” You offered, nodding your head back to the small kitchen in the back of the studio. You wished the studio apartment was yours alone, but you shared it with multiple other college students in your program.

“Water… or beer if you have any?”

You threw your head back in laughter, causing Tom to smile at your genuine reaction.

“Yeah, I can get you one.”

“In the meantime, should I just strip?” He smirked, not trying to be sly with his flirtations. Though your cheeks were dusting with pink, you were able to match his energy. Your best friend definitely set you up with someone she knew you’d like.

“Do whatever you want, love.” You mimicked his British accent. “You’re the guest after all.”

Walking past him, you gave him one last look when he was fully-clothed. Tom was certainly the player type, practically the perfect embodiment of the muse you had in mind. This wouldn’t be awkward for you, and it would be even better for him. Men like him thrived off of cheeky discomfort in their female counterparts.

Yet, truthfully, you were enjoying it as well. It felt nice to be complimented so soon into an introduction.

As you cracked open a can of beer for Tom and yourself, you could hear him shuffling around with his items. The sound of his buckle falling against the floor made you suddenly nervous to turn around.

Inhaling sharply, and gulping down a few more sips of beer, you finally gained the courage to walk back to the studio setup, where Tom had already wandered over to, completely naked.

“You seem to be in your element.” You noted, trying to keep your eyes leveled with his. Now that you were thinking about it, remaining calm and professional was excruciating in front of such an attractive man. And it certainly wasn’t helping that he was enjoying your embarrassment.

And least this was exciting.

Thanking you, Tom took the beer and pressed his lips against the cold aluminum. “I would definitely feel a lot more comfortable if you were naked too, darling.”

“Hey now,” You nose scrunched in a form of mock distaste. The man caught on immediately, holding your gaze with a sort of amusement that was masking desire. “I might think about it if you sit nice and pretty for me for more than five minutes so I can sketch you.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you walked over to your crafting desk. You decided you were going to start with the hardest part, the part which your grade depended heavily on- from the waist down.

But first, you quickly sketched Tom posing in multiple poses until you were satisfied with one. You had him mimic a sculpture you couldn’t recall, where one hand was pointed forward and the other was rested casually on his hip.

“Can I see what one you want to do?” He asked curiously from the stand you had him propped up on for a better view.

“Sure.” You flashed him your finished sketch. The lines darted all over the page, making it hard for him to picture what was going on in your head. The picture you had drawn would not make sense to anyone else but the artist. But apparently you were talented, so he would trust the process.

You were also trusting the process. The situation you were in could only be awkward if you allowed it to be. And so far it was moving along smoothly. You had your favorite music playing softly in the background to fill the silence, and Tom seemed to be relaxed and unbothered by how quietly you worked.

“That’s cool.” Tom whispered, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

Giggling from his sudden proximity, you tried to tease him. “It’s fine to not understand it.”

“I definitely don’t know what’s going on but it’s still interesting.” He admitted.

You set the paper back down on the table, and decided to attempt and sculpt the base. Moving past a still naked Tom, you tried to immerse yourself in your work, or at least make it seem like you were focused. “This takes hours you know, weeks and months- it won’t make sense for a long time.”

“Perfect.” He grinned. “I’ll get plenty of time to know you better.”

Laughing through your nose, you kept your attention on the clay you had dropped on the floor. “You can put your clothes back on.”

“Oh!” He chuckled. “Yeah.”

As you carefully trimmed the base clay with a heavy frame, you lifted your head to find Tom slipping a robe back on. He definitely came prepared. Had he done this before?

“Come here.” You gestured. “I need you to set your feet down on the clay.”

“I didn’t think this would get dirty so fast.”

“Shut up.” You huffed, grabbing his foot and pressing it down hard until the clay took shape to the size.

“Cold.” Tom commented in discomfort.

“I know.” You released your grip on his calf, looking up at him with a sheepish smile. “All part of the process, but good news for you- you’re done for the night.”

“Really?” Tom raised his eyebrows. “That’s it?”

You nodded, standing back up to normal height. “I’m experienced enough to sculpt the feet and legs tonight.”

“When should I come back?” He sounded a tad too eager, but it caused your smile to reappear.

“Tomorrow night if you’re available.”

“And maybe next time you can bring your own alcohol?” You gestured to the multiple beer cans poking out of the recycling bin.

The man flashed you a smile. “Sounds like a date.”

“It’s definitely not.”

Despite your rejection to his amusing advances, Tom’s expressions and mannerisms remained hopeful. Was it possible he was truly enjoying himself?

“I’ll leave my robe here. I’ll see you tomorrow at the same time?”

“Same time.” You confirmed, nodding him off. It was about time you started to really focus. Attractive man or not, you always got the most and best work done alone.

Because after the first night, the dynamics between you and Tom changed. He became incredibly invested in your process, asking you questions left and right, asking if there was any way he could help, and practically just lounging next to you hours after he would have been free to go.

“What do your sculptures usually look like?”

“Since this isn’t my own studio, I don’t have any of my pieces here. But I can show you a picture when I get my hands wiped off.”

“What do you build your sculptures with? It’s hard to imagine that a replica of me can come out of that much clay.”

“My sculptures are built with water-based clay and are fired in a gas kiln to cone 4, about 2150 degrees Fahrenheit… “ You nodded towards the back wall that had an installed kiln for you and everyone to share. “Trust me, there will be a lot more clay. Hundreds of pounds worth.”

“Can I help?”

“No.”

There was no lying that you enjoyed his presence. Whether he was talking your ear off or napping to the peaceful beat of your jazz music, there was never a dull moment when Tom was in your studio.

Weeks passed, and so did the process. Your sculpture of Tom had progressed to week three, and that’s when you started to grow nervous. When you finished, which you were almost done, would you ever see him again?

You had barreled through the awkwardness of replicating his genitals and chiseling his six pack perfectly into the hardening clay- but you still felt like something was missing. You knew even when you finished chiseling away his jaw line and chocolate brown eyes, there would still be something missing. Him. His presence.

Maybe it would have been better if you partnered up with a man that had zero personality.

Since it was just you and Tom for hours on end, your conversations gradually grew deeper, they stretched into new lengths, so much so that you eventually felt like you had known him for years.

When Tom claimed he wasn’t looking for a relationship, you felt your heart fall. That’s when you realized you were developing stronger feelings for your model. You hardly had time to think about trivial things like that, but you couldn’t deny your disappointment.

And you were sure he saw the brief tears glossing over your eyes when you turned away. Yet, he didn’t make light of it.

That’s when you knew it was useless.

It seemed useless until the sixth week, when you finally finished the head. You were too afraid to attach it. Tom had spent the last couple hours with you in the studio. His legs kicked back and occasional whistles streaming from his lips. He had practically memorized your playlist to the extent you had.

“Tom.” You called. “Your face is done.”

He cheered excitedly, pushing himself off the sofa and racing towards you. Tom had learned to give you your space while you worked, but in moments where you summoned him, he barely stood inches from you. The man would constantly touch you in ways you couldn’t deny sent shivers down your spine.

Like he did as he rounded the tabletop, planting himself by your side and placing his hand on the low of your back. As if it was natural.

“Wow,” He breathed. “Y/N,” Your name upon his lips sounded as blissful as the music. “It’s.. it’s wonderful. It looks just like me... wow that’s scary.”

“I’m happy you like it.” You bit your lip, wishing you felt more satisfied with your project. You wanted to impress him, but you didn’t want him to go.

“All I have to do is attach the head, and fire it up in the furnace one more time. Then it should be good to go.”

You moved to do so, wanting to remove yourself from his grip. It hurt your heart to know the bond you had formed with him would come to an end. Why did you even let yourself get to this point? Was it because he was good at flirting?

“Wait-” His sentence faltered when you whipped around to face him- looking somewhat hopeful.

“What?”

Tom paused, his throat tightening with the words he never thought he would admit. But he couldn’t leave tonight with at least trying. He needed to know how you felt. Because he could either leave with you in his arms, or he could leave never having to see you again.

He had been thinking of confessing to you for days now, but now that the time came, his mind was blank. “You really are beautiful, you know that right?”

“Why do you feel the need to flatter me?” You blurted, still unable to decipher the truth behind his words. You didn’t know how to accept such a compliment. Tom had claimed you were beautiful before, but this time it felt different.

His eyes spoke volumes. The beauty his eyes held was something you would never be able to replicate in a statue. It was a sight you found yourself never growing sick of.

Averting your eyes, you tried to move again. Yet this time, Tom gripped onto both of your arms.

“Look at me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I won’t let you play me.”

“I was never playing you, darling.” The tenderheartedness intertwined with his words caused you to slowly turn your head back. Your lip quivered, and suddenly you felt like a schoolgirl all over again. You felt childish and unprepared for the intensity of your emotions.

“I don’t want to leave tonight without knowing if you feel the same.”

You blinked, hand reaching out to grip onto his. “And that is?” 

“I don’t know if it’s love, but it could be.” 

“That’s all I needed to hear.” You said, incredibly softly. 

Tom released your arms. And before either of you could process what to do next, your lips interlocked. 

You gripped onto him tightly, balling his white t shirt into a fist to keep him from leaving your side again. 

“Tom-” You breathed. 

The kiss you shared was laced with a fervent need, one that you had never experienced before, and one that you craved again and again. 

After the passion you felt, the skin prickling desire, there would be no turning back. 

“Fuck, you’re everything”’ He mumbled against your lips. 

You pulled back slightly to gaze at his expression. He had looked so afraid before, but now he was smiling from ear to ear. Much like he did the day he arrived with a teasing attitude, ready to get under your skin and provide entertainment. 

“How long have you felt like this?” 

“Since the first day.” He kissed you again, his hands cupping your cheeks. 

You whimpered against his muscular frame, trying to ignore the fluttering in your core, fluttering that begged and craved for more. 

“How did you wait so long?” 

“I wanted you to finish.” 

You chuckled, cheesing at his straightforward, simple reply. 

You were positive from that moment moving on, that Tom was not what you had thought at first glance. This entire time he had put you and your project first, letting his own desires sit and warm on the back-burner. That was something you would hold close to your heart, something you would cherish. 

He cared for you in the same way you cared for him. 

“Stay with me tonight, Tom.” 

“I would love nothing more.” 

[efrmellifer]

Receptum

5.55, but with more Wymelliferel and Etien's thoughts

Etien stood in the Rising Stones, swaying from foot to foot (a habit she’d picked up in the months she’d been away from Scion duties), the Scions around her—both those new and old, dyed in the wool and relatively new to the movement.

Of their number, she stood closest to Estinien. But of course she did; to have done otherwise would have been the more peculiar choice.

Still, she was attentive as the Scions were invited to another meeting of the Alliance in Ala Mhigo. Not just the Alliance this time, apparently, since they had guests from the beast tribes. All of them. She hummed, only loud enough that Estinien heard it. And maybe Y’shtola, since her ear swiveled back toward Etien.

Ambitious, Etien murmured, not caring who heard her. Estinien chuckled.

She tapped the toes of her boots on the floor while Alphinaud accepted the invitation to the Alliance meeting, still rocking just a little until Estinien caught her by the elbows.

“You’re making me seasick,” he said, voice low so only she could hear him.

The Scions continued talking about who should go, and blah blah Thancred and Y’shtola because summoning,aye, all right.

Then Thancred turned to her. “I think we’ve alldone our part in that endeavor, don’t you, Etien?”

She froze completely, hands coming up to her chest as she nodded, eyebrows pulling together and pitching upward in the middle.

Urianger took the floor from her, stating—rather than asking—in fairly certain terms that he would be staying behind. For the defense, of course.

Then Estinien chimed in. “I’m not coming, either. Aymeric will be there, and I’d rather not be interrogated.”

Etien turned, breaking his hold on her arms easily. “Estinien, he’s just worried about you. We’veseen you more often than anyone else, especially current company, and even we worry.” She let a lock of his hair drift off her curled hand, the way one would release a puff of smoke.

He crossed his arms, obstinate. “Hmph. I will not let you persuade me.”

“Suit yourself, I’m just telling you that Aymeric isn’t trying to pin you down or breathe down your neck. He’s worried about you because he loves you. Because you’re a Scion now, and he knows—” She remembered who she was standing among, and shut her mouth.

Thancred carried on with saying those were staying, stay, and everyone else come along.

“Well, I’ll see you later then,” Etien mumbled, stepping away and towards the door into The Seventh Heaven.

Estinien clicked his tongue as she left, watching the ruffles of her skirt swishing.

“Hath trouble come to Paradise?” Urianger asked, sympathy in his tone and his posture. “Firmly didst thou hold her still, and harshly rebuke her expression of her and Aymeric’s love.”

“You stayed behind,” he replied. “Are you fighting with the other Scions?”

Urianger almost laughed. “Nay, but neither have I taken any for lovers.”

Estinien huffed again. “That is not the problem. They worry about me, I worry about them; their method of worrying is far more doting than mine is. It can be stifling.”

“Ah.” Urianger nodded. “Well, thou wilt see much more of her in the coming days, both as thy paramour and as thy comrade. ‘Twould behoove thee to make thy peace with how she may tend to and treat with thee on and off the battlefield.”

A soft groan from Estinien. “I suppose you have a point.”

***

Again, Etien was sat next to G’raha, but the two of them and Ishgard’s Lord Commander—or was he Lord Speaker for these meetings?—were all sat towards the middle of the table this time.

She sat, looking dazed and happy as he managed to rally the beast tribes, praising them and the component members of the Alliance representation for their strengths, uniting them under their shared purpose. And then, she perked, returning to a more active focus (it was plain in her eyes) as he drew them all metaphorically under the shared banner.

Etien blinked a few times as Aymeric met her eyes.

“I submit that the honor of naming it should go to the Scion whose brave efforts have done so much to unite Eorzea. What say you, my friend?”

She blushed, even inside her ears, then dipped her head to think. “I would call it The Grand Company of Eorzea,” she replied.

Alphinaud turned to her, shocked as he commented, “But that’s the name I…”

She just nodded while the other Alliance members voiced their approval, including the assorted beast tribes. When invited, she joined Alphinaud outside to talk.

Catching the tail end of the conversation, Aymeric sidled up to her before she left to speak with former Crystal Braves.

��It was astoundingly…generous of you to give the new Alliance Alphinaud’s name for it.”

She shrugged. “Well, for one thing, it was better than anything I was going to come up with on the spot, and for another,” she slipped her hand into his for emphasis, “I already got everything I wanted from that time in the Scions’ collective life. I figured I might as well pass it on to Alphinaud, so he could see his dreams come true.”

“You, too, see him as your younger brother then, I take it?”

Etien sighed, her grip loosening, but she didn’t let go of Aymeric’s hand. “Aye, I suppose I do, hmm? He and Alisaie--”

“Closed the gaping wound that came with leaving M’ertle and M’ynstrel,” he finished for her. “I understand. Well, conceptually. Unlike you and Estinien, I never had siblings I lost and found succor in the Leveilleur twins.” He chuckled. “When we say ‘the twins’ now, we shall have to distinguish between whether we meant the Leveilleurs or our own children.”

Etien’s eyes lit with mirth, but she didn’t quite laugh. “You’re right. Though ours look more distinct; only people aware of the details of their birth would know them to be twins.”

“Fraternal twins,” Aymeric pushed gently.

“Well, so are the Leveilleurs, unless there’s something I don’t know. But, it would be their story to tell, and none of my business unless they made it my business.”

“That is enough about the twins for now. Either set.” Aymeric’s voice had sunk closer to a whisper, so Etien looked up at him, listening attentively. “For all my oratory justification, I offered you the chance to name the new alliance so you could choose at least onething on thisgods-awful road you keep getting goaded along.”

“I appreciate the gesture,” she murmured in response, now looking away to hide some of her expression, letting go of his hand so she could fold hers in front of her. “I only regret that I had to do what I did.”

“Had to?”

“I cannot be selfish, or even self-interested. They won’t let me.” She lifted her chin. He knew that motion.

“Please do not cry, my dearest. I could not bear to see it, not after… after everything,” he added, his tone similar in her ear to how it had sounded years ago, when he’d told Estinien that without Alphinaud, Estinien would be dead.

He took her into his arms. “I do not mean… you are free to cry. If not to me, then to whom?” He stroked her hair. “My heart will ache with every tear that falls, but I am your shield, and you are safe with me to express what you must, however you must.”

But she just sniffled. “You’re right. I have to be strong.”

Alphinaud called to her, and she lifted her head from where it rested under Aymeric’s breastbone.

He rested his fingers along her chin, even as she turned her head to look toward the sound of her name. “Go, Etien,” he instructed her softly. “You only need to be strong for a bit longer.”

***

Etien’s mind wandered as she rode her griffin (Nyx was currently resting at the Holy Stables after some medical procedures, well cared for by House Fortemps, as she always had been) through the bluffs of Gyr Abania.

She knew Alphinaud was going to travel the whole way by aether, and he’d be waiting for her, tapping his toe against the stones at Castrum Oriens, but having to slow down a little as he waited for her to fly from Porta Praetoria wasn’t going to kill him. Plus, these griffins were ungodly fast; she was halfway across the Fringes. She was practically there.

She waved, in case anyone in Castellum Velodyna could see her, and held tight for the last few moments of her flight.

She came to a landing by coasting over the top of the castrum’s gates and touching down before she and her mount smacked into the aetheryte, then wandered around looking for Alphinaud, pleasantly surprised by how lively the castrum still was—packages went in and out, training and patrols were still taking place, the whole nine yards.

She tried to pay attention as she asked Riol and Alianne for their thoughts on the Crystal Braves, but as soon as Ilberd came up, her mind began to wander again, wanting to think about anything else.

“One bad apple” made her think of the apples that occasionally grew outside the Gates of Judgment, and then the sweet, crisp apples of Il Mheg. Oh, she missed Feo Ul.The pixie had made their way through Ishgard and tapped on the window of the house soon after the kits were born, eager to see the less-than-literal fruits of their sapling.

They’d tipped their head this way and that and cooed about how cute the twins were, assessing them as they admired. According to them, Landric looked like he would have an affinity for magic, and they traced the curve of Betula’s cheek, then laid their hand upon it the way they did to Etien so often. “A hardy shrub of a girl you have here. A pretty, sturdy little Lacecap.”

They fluttered away from the cradles then, sitting on Etien’s shoulder. “I expect the others will be envious that I have a new set of twins to play with, when these two get bigger. Everyone in Il Mheg misses Alisaie and Alphinaud.”

“Aww,” Etien murmured. “I wish the rift weren’t quite so much of a yawning chasm,” she added, “so they could all come with you.”

“But they can all enjoy it by proxy with their king’s stories. And I imagine they may be itching for one now.” They took off from their seated position, wings flapping hard at first, but slowing as they evened out in the air (and didn’t have to worry about taking Etien’s hair with them). “Take care, Etien, until my next visit.”

She nodded, with a cheery “you too!” and waving as they made their usual wide loop and disappeared back home.

Etien snapped from her reverie when Riol’s voice grew more boisterous, laughing about how glory hunters were stopped before they could start in the Crystal Braves.

She blinked into the dappled sunshine, remembering she was technically on the job, and shook her head to clear it, ears bouncing. “Where to now?” she asked Alphinaud.

He ushered her towards Gridania with diplomatic concessions that they’d take up enough of Riol and Alianne’s time, and that the testimonies that Alisaie and G’raha had gathered were waiting for them. This time, she relented in the name of promptness and traveled to the woodland city on the currents of aether.

And it was just as well, because she would have been disappointed to dismount at the gate to the city only to have to recall her mount to ride to Little Solace. But she arrived in the East Shroud and paid her toll to the aetheryte tender, and walked the relatively short distance between the Hawthorne Hut and the home of the Sylphs.

Even Frixio acknowledged that they had just seen each other at the Alliance meeting, but Etien wasn’t completely humorless about the to-do list she’d been tackling since then, offering the customary dance of greeting with a little smile on her lips. Hells, she was almost disappointed Frixio said no.

But there were bigger fish to fry, like the abducted Sylphs to worry about, and—her ears swiveled backwards before anyone’s attention (other than G’raha’s, she figured) had been drawn to the rapid footsteps behind her.

Well, she supposed they had the Sharlayan envoy to worry about, too, now. As she watched Alphinaud and Alisaie converse about the envoy’s identity, her lips parted in surprise. Not just any representative of Sharlayan, then. Their father.

She swallowed, already imagining the worst possibilities that an unexpected visit could portend. Well, in some ways, this wasn’t unexpected, was it? And yet, her chest was getting tight with the dread.

She took a deep breath. This wasn’t even herfather, so she had no reason to be so negative and scared. It was going to be fine.

And so they all set off. As Etien thumbed out the right number of gil to the tenders, she sighed. It certainly would have cost lessfor her to ride from Gridania when she’d left, if she’d known she was going to be coming right back, with a shorter time limit this go around. Still, as she arrived at Nophica’s Altar and entered the Lotus Stand, admiring its beauty once again, she found it a little difficult to be upset about the monetary cost.

Not when she and the others were commended for their swift attendance, and certainly not when she had a bad feeling about this, this little meeting that still loomed in front of them. She’d have paid a much steeper price to have this feeling go away. It only grew as his boots sounded on the dirt path leading to where they all stood waiting.

She smiled as Fourchenault said that the twins’ mother would be pleased to hear of their condition and was well herself, glad that Alisaie and Alphinaud didn’t have one morething to worry about.

But it was after the pleasantries—including gratitude exchanged for all that Louisoix had done for Eorzea and received in hospitality from Eorzea—that the foul mood that Etien had already sensed came to the forefront, casting its shadow over the conversation.

As the twins made their arguments, Etien tried to remind Fourchenault of the axiom she was sure he’d heard, and that she’d had to fall back on before, but never to a Leveilleur: “To ignore the plight of those one might conceivably save is not wisdom—it is indolence.”

The way he turned it onto Alphinaud and Alisaie felt like a slap, and she hissed, ready to argue.

The confidence with which he disowned them after silenced her immediately. The breaking of their voices as Alisaie moved to follow her progenitor, and Alphinaud told her to give it up, those set Etien’s eyes to welling.

They were so resigned… Had she looked so incredibly smalland alone when she’d set off on that forest path, effectively made orphan by breaking from her family, the way they had just been severed from theirs?

She answered her linkpearl, sighing her way through the conversation with Krile so she didn’t start crying for her surrogate siblings.

As they left the Lotus Stand, she took Alisaie’s free hand, the one that wasn’t folded into Alphinaud’s. “Well… you could always be wards of House Fortemps again. Or take up temporary residence with me, as I imagine Toto will be filling out the paperwork to have you as Aldynns the second she hears this wretched news.”

Alisaie squeezed Etien’s hand, and Alphinaud just looked back at her mournfully.

***

Etien had never been close with Arenvald—it was like that with many of the bearers of the Echo, she’d noticed; Etien could be friendly with them and sympathize with the struggle they shared, but something she couldn’t name stopped her from ever really opening up to them. She had never been close with Arenvald, but she could see just how hard the news of his permanent injury was hitting Alphinaud.

How many more things was he going to lose in this single swoop?

Her heart went out to him, but some vein of bitterness in her started to bleed when Alphinaud lamented that now he knew how heavy the burdens of other people’s dream were.

Nowhe knew.

And he wondered if he’d made the right choice. The slow bleed was a trickle now. Yes, well, it had been a choice for him, hadn’t it?He’d chosen to leave the rest of the Sharlayans and come to Eorzea, to squabble with Alisaie about what their grandfather had wanted and intended.

He’d chosen to… she’d chosen to leave home, too. But he didn’t have the weight of the very star’s conscription on his back with all those dreams.

Hydaelyn had roped her like a lost calf, then Lyse and Papalymo had slipped the hobble on.

The oxbow pinched and the yoke was heavy, but someone had to help Alphinaud carry the dreams he’d been entrusted. They’d come this far together, and he’d said to the Chais, they prevailed together or not at all.

And so they would do on the battlefield. She took his hand for help up onto the airship headed for Carteneau, and off they went.

***

He knew it was dangerous, when the fray pressed in around him on all sides, but Aymeric scanned the battlefield, his gaze settling on Lunar Ifrit, bold as brass and starkly purple where he wasn’t dark as the sky above them.

And zipping around the primal’s feet were streaks of blue and bronze, and dark, night-sky blue and silver.

He could almost hear them, so familiar was he with the way they fought, the sounds they would have made. Etien coming down onto her feet from a perfectly-aimed shot with a low grunt, a growl as Estinien drove his lance forward.

Aymeric couldn’t go to them, not when he was leading this squadron. But, he could do this.

“I need a contingent to break away and support the trio fighting Ifrit. Keep their Academician on his feet so he can take care of the others.”

An Adder and two Temple Knights ran from the Telotek they had been fighting, and Aymeric tried to watch out of the corner of his eye as they approached Ifrit.

Satisfied with their progress across the field, he focused once more on giving his all to subdue the Gnath before him so a porxie could set the poor thing right again.Maybe the Scions wouldn’t let Etien be selfish, but they would never be able to stop him from acting in her best interest.

And he watched her even as Estinien left her side, joining the Scions. Her face was tipped up to the sky as the purple-robed Ascian talked to her.

Whatever he said, it made her eyes narrow, her lips pursing before she bared her teeth. By the time she’d gotten control of her expression again, the Ascian was gone.

Etien looked out over the battlefield, her eyes drawn to a Durendaire shield, drawn to Ala Mhigan soldiers running across the dirt with urgency, but running to instead of from.

And then, she saw Alphinaud, struggling in his work on one of the fallen. When all he got was a death rattle of “Glory be to Garlemald,” he gave up, pounding the earth. So they regrouped with Alisaie, and approached the others.

Aymeric was standing with Hien when the metaphorical dust settled, which surprised Etien little, considering their positions as the heads of the most recent additions to the Alliance (save Ala Mhigo and now the other Allied populations of Eorzea), but it did still warm her heart to see the both of them doing all right after so hard a struggle.

And it had been. It was an overall success, yes, but plenty had been lost in the process. Prefaced by a sigh, she encouraged and agreed with Alisaie and Alphinaud, “one battle at a time, we’ll get there.”

She rubbed at her forehead, feeling a headache brewing and hoping it wasn’t Echo-related. But she dropped her hand as the sky cleared, giving them all clear view of the moon.

It was a lot like hope, wasn’t it? Sometimes it wasn’t evident—in the sky or in the hearts of the people—but it hadn’t gone away. A new phase would come and it would be seen again.

Still, seeing the signal they’d come to recognize, both Aymeric and Estinien came to Etien’s side, ready to help her however she needed to get her home in one piece. Well, “home” was to the Rising Stones; it had been made clear by the way the Scions were talking that they were going to be reconvening there, and all of them had better be there.

Estinien grumbled, but joined everyone on the Ishgardian airship, sticking close to Etien and Aymeric at the side of the ship, massaging Etien’s hand to alleviate her headache, and her wrist to soothe any nausea the flying might cause when she was already in some pain.

She leaned against the wall as the Scions talked about what came next and what they wished they could have done, most of her pain relieved now, but still so tired.

She regretted now saying that the road went ever onward, all that time ago. Had she known she was damning herself, she would have kept her mouth shut.

As the Scions dispersed, Estinien came to her side again.

“A place to settle down. Here? Hmph.” He crossed his arms, leaning next to Etien against the cool stone. “What does he think he’s talking about?”

She shrugged, smiling but looking a little helpless for an answer.

“We have ourselves quite the man.” He shook his head.

At this, Etien vigorously nodded.

“Come on, then,” he reached out to take her hand. “We had best get home to him before he starts worrying.”

As they clasped hands, her bare fingers (fingerless gloves after all) curling onto the metal of Estinien’s gauntlets, she sighed again.

“Surely it cannot be so bad to hold my hand,” he remarked over his shoulder as they walked through the Seventh Heaven.

“No. It isn’t. That one was relieved, actually.”

“Relieved?”

“I’ll be happy to have you home, Estinien.”

“I imagine Aymeric will be, too.” He tried to hide it, with snark, with his hair, but he did smile.

Etien trotted after him, telling tales of the critters here catching her off-guard, but she was trying to hide her excitement in bubbly stories.

The road may still be going on, but she was going to take this detour. She was going back home.

[octoshott]

22. nap

Nap. I’ll do this with my girl Alexandra!! >:3c! Thank you Bulba!! 

Regardless of how much one enjoyed reading it wasn’t exactly ideal to do for... potentially as long as Alexandra currently had been. She’d always been quite the victim of the ‘just-one-more’ syndrome, books included, because who KNEW if just what she was looking for, just what would bring that inciting breakthrough was right on the next page and if she stopped here then it could be a few more hours t’ill she picked back up where she was! 

Twiddling a feathered quill between her fingers, a sigh left her. How long had she been doing this again? It was becoming more an effort to even remember exactly what she was trying to find again... another twirl of the pen between her fingers as her gaze drifted to the bookshelf across the room.

She knew it was a shield of some kind, that much was clear; if she took more than a few moments to recall she could at least bring up the details of what it was surmised to do too, wasn't like her to just go after a simple shield after all.

Maybe some kind of other book could help her out here... alas, the choice to swap her reading material out for something more helpful would just have to wait because Gods why couldn't she focus right now? It was like every little thing in her quarters was pinging her, desperate for her unwavering attention. 

 "... Mn. Hey Mom?" 

Seems like the surroundings weren't the only thing wanting her attention.

And they weren't going to win an attention fight against her daughter, neither.

 "What's going on pup, you doin' alright?" Last she'd checked Quill was comfortably dozing on her bed all curled up in a cosy little ball, it was chilly outside, she couldn't blame the young Firbolg for wanting more warmth.

"Yeah..." A small pout crossed her features, tilted her head back ever so slightly and gazing across the room for a moment, starting to rock back and forth on her heels. "What're you working on?" Her motions were stopped almost instantly, it was so easy to forget that the child in front of her was a mere 8 year old; evidenced more by how effortlessly she was able to rest her arms across the arm rest of Alexandra's chair without having to even try to shift onto her tiptoes.

As Quill rested her head on her arms, Alexandra sighed. "Something that's stumping me, that's for sure." 

"Mn..." 

Alexandra's brow quirked... followed by a soft, almost teasing smile graced her features "There something the matter? So much noise all of a sudden! Weren't you just asleep, why whatever could be causing my little sweetheart to be so vocal after seeming so comfy!" 

That smile only grew as she watched Quill tilted her head and rest it sideways against her own arms. "'m still sleepy..."

"Oh? I'm so sorry if I woke you Quill, do you want to head back to sleep?"

"No... y'didn't... Can I-" She was cut off by a small yawn, pressing her cheek down against the fur on her arms; slowly blinking. "Can I come up there with you?" 

Huh... Not exactly what she was expecting, but not an unusual request either. It'd be a tad harder to focus with Quill on her lap but she was already struggling so why not? Spinning her bolted chair around slow, just so Quill wouldn't lose where she was leaning her weight, her smile lost its more sinister edge. "I don't see why not, come on then."

Though instead of Quill clambering up to settle on her lap she was met soft, fuzzy arms being raised towards her. 

Another quirked brow was shot her way. "Quill... Come on, you can get up here yourself, can't you?" 

"But... 'm tired... and its so much bigger than me..." 

Gods almighty she knew what voice to put on to sweeten the deal. That was frankly not fair. "I've seen you clamber up here before! Don't you try pulling that pouty face with me, pup, It won't work! C'mon!" to accent, she gave a pat to her lap instead. She couldn't just fall victim to the gaze of a child so easily- 

"... Please?"

Hmn. Well. Fuck. 

"... Alright, Alright, hold on." Quill was admittedly fairly heavy, it wasn't as if Alexandra was specifically weak but... she wasn't Florence. Trying to be as gentle as she could, her hands slid beneath the others arms, heaving her up with some effort, though thankfully Quill picked up most of the slack and once airborne was easily able to shift herself onto Alexandra's lap. 

Her head immediately flopped against Alexandra's chest, squishing her ear a little as she pulled her knees up close and Alex couldn't stop the soft laugh from leaving her at the sight. "Comfy, huh?"

"Mhm... you're warm..." 

"Oh. I see how it is" Quill's eyes had been squeezed shut a moment prior but were quickly flicked open as she heard a certain tone grace her mothers voice, glancing up at her with confusion. "No, no. Don't say anything my dear, I see that you only want up here because I'm warm. Well Quill, quite frankly that hurts you know? I'm more than just a comfy spot for you, aren't I?" 

As cruel as it might be, Alexandra couldn't stop the amount of glee bubbling up in her chest from the confusion swapping to alarm in the others expression. "No!!! I wanted up here to be with you too!! Not just cause of that!" 

Another, more vocal laugh left at her the sight, her free hand coming down to cradle Quill for a moment as she lent forward to place her feathered pen back down on the desk. "I'm only playing around with you, sweetheart, I know, I know. I'm always happy to have you up here."

To accent her forgiveness she began to comb her hand through Quill's hair, as gently as she could, leaning back in her seat to watch as the other sulk at the realisation, turning her head completely with a little dramatic huff and staring at the door across the way. "Oh I'm sorry hun, won't you ever forgive me?" 

There was a very distinct kind of silence Quill was giving her right now as she glanced away from her, Alexandra already knew her response; she didn't need Quill's words, if she was truly upset she would've been off of her lap within seconds. Idly stroking her hair, Alex took a moment to try and return to what she was doing. It was, as mentioned prior, a tad more difficult with a young diva cuddled up on her lap but... She was the captain of this ship and such hardships she could manage. 

Though it didn't take long for Quill to break the silence again. "Mom?..." 

"Mn? I am a little busy sweetheart, whats up? I thought you were tired?" 

"I am... still. but... you look really tired too, can you sleep with me?"

It was an odd feeling, having a sudden moment of revelation being delivered from an 8 year old but by the Gods there it was! Her head turned to the semi-circle window she had resting at the back of her quarters, the sun was on its way down and covering the room in a soft glow. 

She was tired. 

No wonder she couldn't focus, she could've sworn it'd been only noon moments prior!  She'd been up so early this morning too... with little sleep the night prior. That explained a fair bit. That was surely enough of an excuse for her to take a break for now. 

The lack of response seemed to garner concern for the younger of the two as she spoke up, catching Alex's attention. 

"Hmn? Sorry sweetheart, you know, you're right, I am quite tired." 

"Mhm! I told you so! So, can we?" 

"... Maybe we could rest for a little bit, though only if the little lady on my lap can get down without being carried. I'd rather rest on the bed, 'm not too fond of sleeping in chairs, not when there's not a comfy lap for me to settle on anyhow."

Quill was already down on the floor before Alexandra could finish, though the last part of her sentence clearly caught Quill's attention as her ears shot up, quickly taking Alexandra's hand between her own and tugging softly. "I know!! We can go get Florence, then you can stay on the chair! Stay there I can go find her!!” 

Pausing for a solid moment as she took a second to register exactly what Quill was suggesting a rather loud laugh followed suit as she slowly stood up, much to Quill’s displeasure."As much as I'm certain Florence would love that, she's most likely busy right now sweetheart, so I think it'll just be us for the time being."

There wasn't really time to properly stretch as Quill was already leading her over to the bed, there was a moments pout at the mention of Florence not joining the pair but that's all it was, just a momentary thing. Didn't stop Alexandra from smiling regardless. 

Taking a second to remove and fold her precious coat as well as step out of her needlessly ornate boots, she was quick to move onto her bed and lean back against the headboard, sighing softly as tension partially fled from her shoulders; finally letting herself relax after a good few hours of what was essentially overworking herself. 

Though before she could truly settle she was met with a rather de-ja-vu inducing sight. Quill, holding her arms outright, despite being a good bit taller than where the bed stopped. Alexandra gave her a look. 

"Quill, you cannot be serious, you are so much taller than this bed; physically lifting you would not do anything." 

What she was not expecting was the pleased look coating Quill's face as she immediately pulled herself up onto the bed with a laughable amount of effort, settling next to Alexandra swiftly. "Nope! 'm not serious, that was 'cause you were mean to me!" 

It was more a laugh of surprise that left her as an arm instinctively came to rest around the back of Quill as the younger laid against her, squirming a little to get comfy. "Hah. Well I suppose I deserve that, now don't I?"

[13-blackbirds]

happy nagamas, @adorable-tactician-charlotte!!

Sorry this is a bit delayed!  Here is my offering of a little bit of Ferdinand/Hubert solstice fluffiness to end the festive season.

I hope you enjoy it and had a wonderful new year + holiday season! 

i’ll follow where you lead

"Why me?"

Ferdinand struggles not to sigh in frustration — it would be unbefitting of a noble to display irritation so crassly — and instead brushes a hand through his hair with a light shrug.

"Believe me, I would not have come to you if I were not out of options otherwise," he says.  "Bernadetta wouldn't even let me finish saying her name before she slammed the door in my face."  Admittedly, he'd been somewhat surprised her door had even deigned to open and thus been unprepared to make his perfectly persuasive pitch.  "Linhardt stepped on my toes four times as he fell asleep, Caspar could barely make it through five bars before running off in boredom, and Dorothea —" had laughed in her signature manner, making a quip about nobility that left him as confused and vaguely contrite as usual before swanning off "— was unavailable.  Alas, Petra is not familiar with the Enbarrian waltz variation."

Hubert's eyes are narrowing so Ferdinand hurries along in his explanation.  "And all other things aside, you are a noble and were raised as such.  I expect learning the proper waltz steps were a standard part of your education."

It goes unsaid that the only remaining candidate for dance practice partner in their House is Edelgard and Ferdinand has the distinct feeling that, however poorly Hubert appears to be responding to his request now, it would double if he impedes on Edelgard's precious time.  Not that he, Ferdinand von Aegir and future Prime Minister of Adrestia, is afraid, of course!  It's only that ... well, he had come across Hubert first and to be perfectly honest, he suspects Hubert, with the seriousness with which he undertakes every task, is a better dancer than Edelgard.  

And with the White Heron Cup only weeks away, and the honour of not only Black Eagle House but House Aegir on the line, he cannot afford to lose time instructing an unpolished practice partner.

Hubert's lips thin and his expression darkens further but he does not immediately decline, so Ferdinand presses forward resolutely.  "Surely, no matter our differences, we are both invested in seeing Black Eagle House prevail in the White Heron Cup!"

It takes a minute (during which time Ferdinand's smile is fixed to his face through sheer force of will) but Hubert eventually nods, reluctantly.  "Very well.  I already know that if I don't agree to this ludicrous idea, you will have no qualms about vexing Lady Edelgard with this and that I cannot permit."  It's certainly less enthusiastic than Ferdinand would have liked, but not unexpectedly so.  He decides to count it as a victory.

The going at first is hardly smooth as they both try (insistently) to lead, but Ferdinand has the upper hand when Hubert scowls at his admonishment since he is, after all, their Cup candidate.  Once Hubert accepts (not entirely graciously) that he must play the part of the follower, he turns out to be an excellent partner, his steps crisp and elegant, able to follow the nuances of Ferdinand's movements with minimal prompting.  Not even his commanding height advantage is as much of a hindrance as Ferdinand had feared. 

And when Ferdinand hears his name announced as the winner of the White Heron Cup (not that he ever had any doubt he would emerge victorious!), he instinctively looks first to Hubert, beaming.  He is pleasantly surprised, and warmed, to spy a miniscule uplifting at the corner of Hubert's lips that, for once, is devoid of any mockery or foreboding.  It's not a bad look, a tiny voice at the back of his head murmurs — Hubert should consider donning it more often.  Then he is swept away in Caspar and Petra's enthusiastic congratulations, the tiny voice silenced for the time being.

Little did either of them know at that time that the memory of those practice sessions would bring them much-cherished measures of peace and warmth through the hard battles and cold nights of the years ahead.

*

The first proper celebration of the winter solstice after the wars (one fought in the open to unify Fodlan and depose Rhea, and one in secret against Those Who Slither in the Dark) is a grand affair, the palace at Enbarr once again decked with thousands of lights, its halls filled with laughter and conversation rather than tension and war councils.  However, for all of its superficial similarities to pre-war traditions, the occasion differs greatly in one key way: it does not honour any saints or deities, but rather the return to peace, the passing of winter, and the anticipation of a new year with all of its hopes and promise.  Nobles and commoners, those with Crests and those without alike mingle freely, taking comfort in food and drink and the festive atmosphere on the longest night of the year.  

Ferdinand remembers, both fondly and with the ruefulness of hindsight he has now, the celebrations of his childhood in this very palace, standing proudly next to his father, a young boy so assured of his bloodline and his Crest and his future, accepting the flattery and accolades heaped upon him by lesser nobles as his due.  He is older now, feels even older than he actually is, and knows much better.  Outside, it has started to snow — the first of the season — fat fluffy clumps floating down gently, aglow in the moonlight. 

Unlike when he was younger, he not only knows the existence of darkness, but understands it intimately.  And among all the glittering gowns and finery of the attendees, his eyes are drawn instead to the slim cut of black velvet, trimmed subtly with gold thread, that marks Hubert's presence in the illuminated ballroom.  He is stationed, as always, at Edelgard's shoulder.  Ferdinand is nodding politely to Countess Bergliez's remarks about the new diplomatic mission from Almyra there that night, when he sees Edelgard murmuring something to Hubert, the Minister of the Imperial Household leaning down to hear his liege better — a most familiar sight.  Then, surprisingly, Hubert's eyes flash upwards, cutting his way, and Ferdinand nearly jumps at the tingle that runs down his spine when those dark eyes meet his.

He doesn't see the way Edelgard's lips curve upwards in amusement or the light encouraging hand she places at Hubert's elbow before walking off, alone, to continue her circuit of the vast room.  He sees only Hubert start toward him and, unconsciously, as though drawn by a thread, he excuses himself to meet Hubert halfway.

"Happy solstice," he says when they reach each other, smiling up at Hubert.

The smile he gets back, soft around the edges, and Hubert's rich "happy solstice" in return warms him more than the spiced wine he'd sipped at earlier.  The opening notes of a familiar melody radiates out from the musicians' corner and when Ferdinand glances over instinctively, he catches a glint of gold and red sweeping away from the maestro stand.

"May I have the honour of this dance?"  Hubert bows formally, pulling Ferdinand’s attention back firmly, and his voice is as steady as ever, but Ferdinand sees the tinge of red at the tips of his ears and is at once delighted and enchanted.

"But of course!" he laughs, taking the proffered gloved hand happily as other pairs, reacting to the music, begin to form around them.  "I'll even let you lead," he adds graciously, grinning, and Hubert responds with an amused chuckle of his own, acknowledging the shared quip.

It's not the darkness of this longest night that matters most, Ferdinand thinks as they sail together across the floor.  It's the reminder that the darkness is passing and he is lucky enough to pass it in the arms of one of his most cherished people.

fin

(and because I am bad at using tumblr, and I don’t know if I tagged you properly in the title, I’ll tag again here: @adorable-tactician-charlotte)