#i say having pretty quickly hit pause on working on a much simpler kind of mod

[aesadraws]

1:30 in the morning, should be in bed but instead I'm making picrews of the pair of custom npcs I'd wanna mod into Stardew if only I had the know-how & time to spare

[jemmahazelnut]

The curse

Summary: Ever since Laxus and the Raijinshuu joined Blue Pegasus, Freed has been looking for a cure to heal Laxus of Anti-Ethernano particles. [Freed/Laxus]

Link: AO3

Fraxus Week 2021, Day 4.

Okay, so this is the first 'serious' fanfiction I write, I hope I've come up with something pretty good. It's not that original and it's not prompt based, but I hope you like it anyway.

The curse

He reentered the Blue Pegasus guild which was lunchtime. Laxus tried to avoid all the people, although the Trimens greeted him loudly and a couple of girls approached him as soon as they saw him. The blond tried not to send them away, even though he felt the usual feeling of discomfort filling his stomach. He had just finished a mission -a real mission- and he had taken the opportunity to do a solo training before returning to that guild. Honestly, the farther away he was, the better off he was.

He looked around until he saw Evergreen, but his friend seemed busy with two customers. Laxus made a small grimace as a girl clung to his arm. He wasn't on duty at the time and he wasn't going to go in. He started to explain it to her but Bickslow walked over.

“Baby, you're finally back. How did the mission go?” he asked as he approached. Laxus tried to gently shake the girl off, however kind he could be with that gesture.

“Well. Has something new happened here?” he asked, noting very relieved that the girl was being taken away from Hibiki. At least the Trimens were beginning to understand when there was no need to upset him. Laxus looked back at Bickslow who seemed uncomfortable and was obviously avoiding his gaze. Laxus frowned. He still hadn't answered and seemed nervous. The blonde looked around the guild, glancing at Evergreen who seemed to be fine and then looking for Freed. But the boy wasn't there. Immediately a certain anxiety assailed him.

“What happened?” he asked worried this time, turning back to Bickslow.

“Uhm... no big deal” he hastened to say the Seith wizard “Just... Freed is not very well, but it's nothing serious,” he continued to say. Laxus raised an eyebrow. He believed him, his friend wouldn’t have lied to him about something like that. But it still seemed like he was hiding something. At that moment Evergreen approached.

“Freed is an idiot. Laxus, you have to talk to him” she told annoyed slapping a cloth on the counter.

“Ever,” Bickslow hissed.

“He'll find out anyway” objected the girl and turned to Laxus “We've already tried but he doesn't listen to us, he continues to bullshit and...” she broke off and then her voice broke “It's enough already that one of us is sick” she murmured.

“Can you explain me what’s happening?” Laxus asked. Evergreen and Bickslow exchanged a glance and then walked towards an isolated room, motioning for Laxus to follow him. The blond made him more worried this time. Sure, Bickslow had told him Freed was fine, but after Evergreen's reaction he wasn't so sure anymore. As soon as they were alone Evergreen turned back to him.

“You know Freed is looking for a cure to heal you,” the calmer girl began. Laxus just nodded. Of course he knew it, more than once he had found him sleeping in the library, or exercising even though he was already exhausted. That boy didn’t understand his limits, but after the last argument they had Laxus had hoped to have convinced him to act with more brains. And it had worked, at least before the blond left on a mission.

“Well, since you left Freed has started not sleeping and trying too hard and…” she paused for a moment.

“Idiot,” Laxus muttered. He should have talked to him again.

“Yes, and he also injected the Anti-Ethernano particles into his body,” the girl said at that point.

“What?” Laxus snapped in disbelief. Evergreen and Bickslow looked at him worriedly. Laxus was already ready to reach his friend and hit him on the head to get something into his brain. Was he mad? What the fuck was going through his head?

“He's fine now,” Bickslow said quickly to calm him down.

“Well, not really. He refused to use Polyushka's cure for three days because he wanted to see if his healing runes would work,” Evergreen pointed out. Bickslow gave her a dirty look but the girl continued to talk. “And in the end Ichiya had to put him to sleep with one of his perfumes, so we were able to rest and cure him,” she continued. Laxus was increasingly incredulous. He knew that Freed was determined to find a cure for him and he knew he could become obsessed with it, but he didn't think he would go too far.

“Where’s he?” he asked him. He had to see him with his own eyes and make sure he was okay.

“Now he has taken care and is fine. He just has to rest,” Bickslow said.

“Where the fuck is he?” Laxus snapped.

“In his room. Ichiya surrounded it with a perfume to keep him from getting out of there, otherwise he would have gone to train,” Bickslow told. Laxus didn’t object and immediately turned to join his friend, mentally thanking for once that embarrassing man with orange hair, who for once did something useful.

He made his way to Freed's room, while Evergreen and Bickslow went back to work at the bar. As soon as Laxus arrived he smelled an intense scent, it was one of Ichiya's. With a slight grimace he opened the door, not even deigning to knock. But when he looked inside, he saw that Freed wasn't there. The bed was tidy and there was no sign of his friend.

Even more nervous and worried he walked away from there and tried to use his nose to find him. Once he moved far enough away from the area full of Ichiya's perfume he detected his friend's and walked down the corridor, not at all surprised at where it was taking him: in the library of Blue Pegasus. As soon as he entered the room full of shelves, he could smell Freed's scent becoming more intense and quickly followed it until he reached a small area with an armchair and a table.

He was surprised to see that Freed was sleeping. He was sitting in the chair, his head was resting on his arms, he was breathing deeply and he had four books open around him. Laxus gave a slight sigh of relief, his friend didn’t seem sick. He had been terrified of seeing him again feverish and poisoned, but he was sleeping peacefully. He was a bit pale and had bags under his eyes, but it was probably more due to fatigue than anything else. Or at least, Laxus hoped so.

He approached and noticed that Freed still had a pen in his hand and that in part there was a piece of paper written by the magician. Laxus glanced at the writing and a new shadow of concern crossed his eyes as he took the paper, carefully reading what Freed had written down. He studies on different runes, potions and spells. Also studies he had done on his own body after ingesting the particles. Laxus felt his nervousness rise again and wondered where Freed had gotten the particles, and where that unhealthy idea of ingesting them just to study them came from.

He put the paper aside and his gaze fell back on Freed. He ran a hand over the boy's hair, pulling it away from his face and after a while he decided to take him to sleep in bed. Trying to be as delicate as possible so as not to wake him up, he passed a hand under his legs and with the other he took him by the back. Lifting him from the armchair, he walked towards the exit of the library. He was actually quite surprised that Freed didn't wake him up, he must have been really tired. He probably was, knowing him he must have been awake all night.

He walked down the hall to Freed's room, but when he opened the door the runic wizard stirred and yawned, blinking in confusion. Laxus found himself blushing slightly for a moment, just hoping that his friend wouldn’t notice as he entered the room and closed the door behind him.

“Laxus?” Freed murmured in a thick voice. “When did you come back?”.

“Half an hour ago” he replied making him lie down on the bed. He decided not to argue with him already, he preferred that he rest a little earlier. Freed, however, sat up yawning once again and running a hand through his hair, ruffling it slightly.

“How did the mission go?” Freed asked.

“Well, simpler than expected,” he replied immediately. Freed nodded and shifted his gaze to the clock, then darkened immediately.

“Well. I guess you have the day off today, you should rest, I'm busy” he said standing up and adjusting his shirt, but Laxus put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Youneed to rest,” he told harshly. Freed looked at him for a moment puzzled, but then turned to the mirror, smoothing his hair and darkening again.

“They told you,” he said coldly.

“Of course they told me. Have you gone out of your mind? What the fuck did you think you were doing?” Laxus asked. “Poison yourself and refuse Polyushka's treatment? You could have fucking killed yourself,” he blurted out showing all his anger, due to his concern.

“I wouldn't have killed myself. It was a ridiculous amount, it would hardly have done anything to me, and I needed it to better understand how the spell would work on a body” he retorted coldly.

“And you couldn't wait for me to come back to try it on me!” Laxus exclaimed. Freed turned to him and his expression immediately changed to cold.

“Maybe if you hadn't left, I wouldn't have been forced to,” he hissed at him. Laxus was speechless for a moment, feeling a vague feeling of guilt pervading him. Once again it was his fault that Freed overstepped his own limits. “I'm fine now anyway. I'm going back to the library, you should really go get some rest, since you are the sick one here.” Freed snarled at him, then quickly left the room. Laxus followed him and grabbed his wrist to stop him. He didn't know what to tell him, he hated arguing with him, and he had no idea how to deal with his friend. He couldn’t make him understand in any way that pushing the limits too much wouldn’t be good for him and that he shouldn’t do it for him. Somehow Freed always found something to argue.

“Freed, listen, I'm sorry for leaving but… you don't need to find a cure. You don't have to go that far, I'm just worried about...” he tried to say calmly so as not to fight again but Freed wasn't really in the mood. He pulled away from his grasp and took a step back.

“I don't think you can talk to me about this,” he told badly. “Worry about yourself” he hissed and then turned to the corridor “We both know this discussion will lead to nothing, so let me study in peace” he concluded and then continued to the library. Laxus sighed and followed, trying to stay calm and find a way to get him to stop freaking out.

“I'm not saying you have to stop finding a cure, just... not in this way, it won't help you stay awake every night and poison yourself” he explained better by following his friend.

“I guess waking up at five in the morning every day to train helps,” Freed spat out badly. Laxus started to argue but Freed stopped at the library door and raised his hand showing that he wasn't finished. “You can train at unreasonable times, do solo missions and push your limits even though your body is full of Anti-Ethernano particles that damage you more every day, but if I stay awake reading, isn't that right?” he asked letting all his irritation shine through.

“You're not reading, you're killing yourself,” Laxus retorted.

“No, I don’t” Freed retorted in a louder voice “As you can see, I am healthy, because I know what my limits are, I know how many particles I can ingest without hurting myself, and...”.

“You don't know!” Laxus exclaimed, interrupting him “The others forced you to sleep and take care of yourself, otherwise who knows how many more days you’d have gone on with that shit in your body” Laxus snapped, his patience vanishing now. Why the fuck didn't Freed understand that he was overreacting?

“For all the days I needed to find a damn cure!” Freed yelled beside himself. “Now leave me fucking alone. Go back and kill yourself in one of those shitty missions!” he blurted out and then walked into the library and the door slammed behind him.

Laxus froze and stared worriedly at the library door. It wasn’t the first time they had argued, indeed, in that last period Freed pissed him off a lot every time he saw him train. But that… that was an overreaction for Freed. Screaming and cursing like that in the middle of the hall and slamming doors wasn't like him.

With a deep breath he tried to calm down for the umpteenth time, and entered the room following Freed who was now sitting in his place where he had found him. He already seemed to have calmed down, and he had resumed reading and taking notes, openly ignoring him. Laxus stayed there for a couple of minutes, thinking about what to tell him so as not to witness another outburst. But he wasn't good with words, especially when Freed was in that mood and turned everything he said to his advantage.

For a while, therefore, he just observed how the wizard drew runes in the air and then erased them shortly after. He didn’t understand what he was doing, especially since the runes he drew were quite simple and he didn’t understand how they could help him, in any case he sat next to him.

“Can we talk for a moment?” he asked in a low voice trying to be as understanding as possible.

“We just did it,” was the cold reply.

“I mean… speak calmly,” Laxus said.

“I’ve already said everything I had to, there’s nothing more to add and we both know that no conversation will help us. You’ll continue to act stupid and train without restraint, and I’ll continue to look for a cure,” Freed retorted without taking his eyes off the book and scribbling something on the paper. Laxus ran a nervous hand through his hair.

“Freed, I just want you to be okay,” he muttered at that point.

The table overturned and Laxus pulled back just in time not to be overwhelmed by Freed's fury. The books fell to the floor and Freed stood up and punched so hard at the shelf next door that it fell over and fell into the next one, causing a chain and knocking the entire row of shelves on his left over to the wall. The books scattered on the ground and a cloud of dust rose.

Laxus stared stunned at the books on the ground wondering what the fuck was wrong with Freed.

“And do you think I don't want the same for you?” Freed snapped out of breath. For long seconds the blonde was silent not knowing how to react. In all those years he had rarely seen Freed lose control, and generally it happened with enemies. Not with him, not in a library, and not like that. Above all, not for a sentence that in itself had nothing wrong with it.

Freed must have realized for himself that he had gone too far, because he put two hands to his head and turned around, starting to walk up and down taking deep breaths. Laxus dared not say anything, not knowing what was best done. He watched his friend calm down and, in the end, Freed turned his back to him, stopped in front of the wall and rested his forehead on it, remaining motionless. The blond remained silent again, evaluating the situation, however it seemed that finally the rune wizard had regained control.

But he was wrong, because he smelled tears and a stifled sob. If he didn't have the senses developed by Dragon Slayer he probably never would have noticed. At that point Laxus got up uncertainly and joined him.

“Freed...” he began quietly, but was immediately interrupted.

“Get out”.

Laxus stared at his friend's back feeling terribly sick. It was all his fault. He knew there was no point in self-pity, so he put a hand on his shoulder. He wasn't going to leave him alone.

“Get out,” Freed repeated dryly. Laxus tightened his grip on his shoulder. He knew that Freed hated to show his emotions, and he himself didn't know if he was able to help him. But he didn't want to go and leave him like that.

“Freed, you can let off steam, you know,” Laxus murmured. He would also get punched if it helped his friend, and was willing to stay with him and console him as best he could if he wanted to cry. He would do anything, hell, he just wanted to help him. He hated seeing him like that. Freed shook his head.

“Then leave me alone,” he said, without taking his forehead off the wall. He seemed intent on not showing up for any reason. At that point Laxus put an arm around his torso and forcibly pulled him off the wall. Freed tried to object but before he could walk away, the blonde hugged him in a hug. He placed a hand on his hair and pushed his head against his chest.

A sob escaped Freed's lips and Laxus was silent, running his fingers through the green locks, hoping that the gesture could somehow comfort him. But it didn't, because he felt his shirt get wet and more stifled sobs. Freed's hands tightened in his garment, rubbing it, and Laxus tightened his grip on his friend's back.

“Freed, I'm fine. I'm not going anywhere, I swear, I won't die from these particles,” he murmured. Freed shook his head but couldn't say anything. He continued to cry silently and tighten his grip. Laxus let him do it and said nothing more, passing only his hand in a gentle caress. A few minutes later Freed calmed down and pulled away from him, wiping his face and breathing softly. Laxus wanted to hold him a little longer, but he understood that Freed needed space.

“I'm sorry,” the rune mage muttered and looked around him at the chaos he had created, then turned his gaze back to Laxus. The blond's heart squeezed, all the anger had passed and in his friend's gaze there was only worry and sadness.

“I shouldn't have reacted like that or blamed you, and it's not your fault that I decided to inject the Anti-Ethernano particles into my body. I just thought I'd study them better, and there was really no danger” he said tiredly, running a hand over his face. Laxus didn’t object, not wanting to argue further about what he had done.

“All right. Don't do it again,” he told. Freed shook his head and sat down in the chair.

“Ok, anyway it's useless,” he murmured. Laxus walked over to him, watching the wizard run his hands nervously through his hair. At that moment he knew Freed must be exhausted. The rune wizard had spent months studying those damn particles, he had been helped by Polyushka but still hadn’t found a cure. He had spent whole nights studying, and he hadn't come to a conclusion. Maybe it just didn't exist.

Laxus pulled up a chair and sat down beside him, taking his hands in his.

“I’ll not die from these particles,” he told in a low voice. Freed shook his head.

“You're not invincible, Laxus,” he said in a broken voice. “Your organs are destroyed... you won't be able to hold out like this for much longer, maybe a year, but then...” he refused to say more and shook his head again, putting his hands on his face and pressing his fingers against his eyelids so as not to cry. Laxus placed a hand on his friend's knee, without knowing what to say. Freed was right, this time he couldn't promise him that everything would be okay. Because he felt his body every day and he knew it was getting worse and worse.

“We both know the cure may not exist and I don't want you to hurt yourself at all,” Laxus told. He placed a hand on Freed's cheek and the boy leaned on it, while another tear fell and wet his fingers.

“I won't stop until I find it,” Freed replied exhausted, staring at him with wet lashes.

“I know,” Laxus whispered. “Just... don't kill yourself working to do it,” he added.

Freed didn't answer, he just stared at him with silently shining eyes and Laxus rubbed his cheek with his thumb without saying anything else. A comfortable silence fell between them and Laxus ran his gaze across his friend's face. For his swollen eyes full of worry, his face pale and tired, the bags under his eyes and chapped lips. Even though Freed was devastated, Laxus still felt like he wanted to kiss him, erase all his worries and pretend, at least for a moment, that it was all right. Pretending that they could have a good future together, that the love Laxus felt for Freed would be enough to keep them together.

But it wouldn't be enough, he knew it. He wanted to kiss him and at the same time he wanted to escape, find a cure and only then start something with his friend. Something that would have been cool, because it was Freed and with Freed everything was good. He was almost leaning forward to bring their lips together, but at that moment Freed closed his eyes and Laxus felt the weight of his head against his hand. That was enough to get him out of his thoughts.

“I'm tired,” Freed murmured. Laxus felt his heart beat wildly and wondered if Freed had seen it. But he hadn't, or he would have acted some other way.

“Go to sleep?” Laxus asked in a low voice, chasing away his thoughts. Freed nodded slightly but didn't move and Laxus smiled sweetly. “Do you go to your room before you fall asleep on my hand?” he then asked. Freed smiled slightly and nodded, blinking and standing up. Laxus put an arm over his shoulder as he led him through the scattered books to the library door.

“I have to fix the mess I made here first,” Freed muttered. Laxus tightened his grip on him forcing him to advance.

“After. Now go to sleep,” he told. Fortunately, Freed didn’t reply and let himself be guided to his room. As soon as they were there the boy stretched out on the bed without even changing, nor without slipping under the covers. Laxus looked at him fondly, then decided to at least take off his shoes.

“Thanks,” Freed murmured with his eyes closed and his mind already succumbing to sleep.

“You know I’m here for you,” Laxus murmured sitting next to him and sliding his hands to loosen Freed's tie, though he couldn't take it off because he was on his stomach. Freed muttered something and then sighed.

“Love you”.

Laxus stood motionless for a moment with his hands still on Freed's collar. He watched the boy wondering if he had heard right. He was about to answer him but realized that Freed's breathing had become heavy. He had fallen asleep. Laxus loosened his tie and then moved his hands through Freed's hair. He pushed back his bangs and gave him a light kiss on the forehead.

“Love you too”.

[morosoro]

Reuben

Chapter 20

Summary: Reubens happy little Valentine’s Day bubble pops the moment he gets home.

Ao3 link here

He came home after school to find two visibly upset Scottish women taking tea on the sofa as his boy crawled about on the floor playing with a stuffed rabbit toy. Playing was a generous term, actually, Neal was more so just dragging it around and giggling as it moved each time his hand did. Quality entertainment for a baby, Reuben was sure.

He avoided the scowls from the older women as he crouched down to play with his son, gently taking the rabbit and making it wave to him. The babe giggled at that too. Oh what simpler times, when your happiness would depend on whether something moved or not. Reuben longed to be in the child’s place as Glynis cleared her throat.

“The Hatters called us yesterday.” She supplied.

Reuben huffed a sigh. He was getting tired of people asking about Jefferson. He’d had to answer several people today when asked, and not once had it been met with the aloofness he thought it deserved, Yes, they had a fight! It didn’t seem like a very big deal to him! “Yeah? What about it?” He asked.

“Mrs. Hatter informed me that Jefferson are no longer friends? That you told him to stop acting like himself? Now she didn’t explain precisely what happened, I get the impression she doesn’t know her son as well as she should, but Edith and I got the gist of it. And we are immensely disappointed. We thought we raised you differently.” The women told him, jaw set firm and spine rigid in her discontent.

“What? In the two months I’ve been here? Yes, a lot of raising done on your part.” He replied sardonically.

“You say that as if we weren’t pivotal caretakers of you since birth. You know full well we brought you up just as much if not more than your parents did. Now I suggest you start explaining yourself.”

“We had a disagreement. So what? It’s hardly the end of the world!” He was instantly in a sour mood as soon as this conversation had begun. He was so done having to explain himself to people who refused to understand. Even Belle had been upset with him when he told her what had happened in full. She’d told him he was in the wrong and that should apologize. He had thought out of all people she would’ve understood where he’d been coming from. Now his Aunts seemed to be antagonizing him too?! How come nobody could just give him the benefit of the doubt or see his side?!

“It was more than a disagreement and you damn well know it.”

It’s not like he’d really meant anything he said anyways. He just didn’t like the implications Jefferson’s words had set on the table. Jefferson needed to be taught a lesson, that’s all.

“Okay so I got tired of the jokes. I’m sorry that I don’t want people thinking I’m a bloody buftie who's shagging a dude behind his girlfriend's back.” He sneered, fed up of the conversation already. “I’m sorry for setting some god damn boundaries. In all honesty I think that if he were really my friend and not just hopeful he could ‘turn me queer’ or whatever then he would respect said boundaries.”

Edith gasped at his language, still remaining silent. Glynis’s glare only hardened. “You sound an awful lot like yer father saying words like that.” She said coldly.

His head whipped over to look her in the eye, bewildered rage taking root. How could she say that?! “You take that back!”

Glynis stared right back at him. “Or what? You’ll call us auld hags? Stomp around and break things?” After a beat of silence where he said nothing in preference of continuing to fiddle with his son’s stuffed toy, the woman continued. “Oh? Ignore us then? Your father liked to do that too.”

He stood to his full height quickly, discarding the rabbit as he went. He gestured sharply as he shouted. “Shut the hell up! I’m nothing like him!”

His son started to cry, obviously startled by the loud volume. He froze, staring down at the scared little boy in alarm. Oh no… what had he done? Had he hurt him- he didn’t think he did… but then again he had tossed away the toy pretty carelessly. Had it hit him? No! The idea made him sick.

Could he really be turning into a copy of his father? Was this proof?

Before he could think to reach for his son to try to comfort him, the boy was picked up by Glynis instead. “I wouldn’t be so sure, the lines seemed quite blurred lately.” She hissed in response.

“Glynis- please!” Edith pleaded, her expression softer but still troubled. “Give the lad break? He’s been through a lot lately.”

“That’s no excuse for bigotry and slurs! Did you not hear him, Edith? ‘Buftie’, ‘Queer’? Doesn’t that upset you?” The other woman asked, sounding incredulous.

“Well, yes…” Edith agreed before pausing to sigh lengthily. “But I’m also aware that he’s in a very tough spot. He’s still only a boy, see… He’s bound to have bad days and ugly moments. We all are, Love.” The other said, calm but firm. “ Besides, shouting at him and making him feel like shite won’t get us anywhere productive...”

Still holding the sniffling child, and with her jaw still set Glynis also sighed heavily through her nose. She seemed to calm slightly before deciding “Fine then, you deal with him. I’ll be taking Neal for a stroll down the paths. I suppose I could use some air.”

Edith nodded. “I think that’s best, dear. Thank you.” She then looked at her still visibly angry and hurting great-nephew. “Why don’t you go to yer room? Put on a tape, read a book… calm down some? I’ll come up and speak to you before dinner, Aye?”

Reuben, with clenched fists and hunched shoulders, let out a grumbled “Fine…” before hurrying his way upstairs.

—

He was only a couple chapters further into his copy of ‘Lord of The Rings’ (borrowed off of Moe, actually. The man had recommended it to him a couple of weeks ago) and the chorus to Genesis’ ‘Land of Confusion’ was playing when there was a knock on his bedroom door.

Sighing, he paused his cassette, marked his place in the book and called for the person to come in. To no surprise, Edith entered, and she had brought more tea for the both of them.

She sat herself on the foot of his bed and offered him the mug, he accepted it and took a sip. They sat in silence for a moment before she finally decided to speak. “You know lad, it doesn’t matter how upset you are, it’s never okay to be disrespectful.”

He stayed quiet, only grunting over the rim of his mug in response. She continued. “But we’re not going to talk about earlier today. Glynis and I are older than dirt, we’ve heard it all. We can take it. I want to talk about what happened with Jefferson.”

“We had an argument. What more is there to talk about?” He responded lowly.

“Why?” She asked. “Why were you arguing with him?”

“Because I was sick of the gay jokes.” He answered. “The ones that implied… stuff. I’m no feckin’ fag and he can’t bloody turn me into one!”

The woman let out a hissing sound, as if she had be burned. “See, what we’re not going to do is use terms like that.” She told him, stern voice in place. “Like Glinnie and I have both said, upset is no reason for disrespect.”

The teen was once again quiet as he sipped his tea again. The woman moved ahead in the conversation. “A person cannot ‘turn’ gay or straight. They either like the same sex or they do not. And it is not a bad thing to be that way.” She explained.

“Sure, okay… whatever.” He replied. “It still doesn’t fucking matter. He crossed a line and it made me uncomfortable so I told him to knock it off. That’s it. I don’t see why everyone’s making such a big deal out of it!”

“Because you hurt his feelings. And I think you knew what you said would hurt his feelings. That’s not okay, Reuben. You need to understand that.”

“I get it!” He barked. “I was just upset, okay? I lashed out. It happens…”

“Then it sounds like you need to work on controlling yourself. Maybe start by thinking things over before you say anything, like why Jefferson’s jokes upset you so much in the first place.” And with that she got up to leave again, throwing a casual “Dinner will be ready in an hour.” Over her shoulder as she went.

After the door shut behind her and he was by himself again he let out a frustrated growl. After setting down his tea, he drew his knees to his chest and raked his hands through his hair frustratedly, head hanging low. Why was he like this? Why was his anger like a light-switch? This was definitely something to bring up with his therapist next time.

He sighed then as he made a small connection in his head. Dr. Hopper had told him last time that he ought to take time for himself to think and figure things out and work on ‘self-improvement’. Edith had just told him to do pretty much the same thing. He glanced to his nightstand where the crinkled pamphlet-turned-coaster sat, and after a moment’s consideration, he reached for it, taking it out from under his mug. He turned to the second page.

‘Ask yourself ‘Why?’. Contemplate response. Consider your reasonings. Repeat.’

Why did Jefferson’s Joke upset you?

“Because it made me uncomfortable.” He mumbled.

Why did it make you uncomfortable?

“Because… I could picture it?”

Picture what?

‘I’m straight!’

‘So is spaghetti until you get it hot and steamy.’

‘Hot and steamy’

Hot and steamy...

“Fuck!” He growled out, tossing the pamphlet away. “This is bloody stupid! I’m not getting anywhere!” He told himself as he rubbed at his eyes, trying to will the unwanted images away. Seriously, what the hell was wrong with him today?! He hated it. He hated himself.

It was hard to believe today had started out so lovely, with his girlfriend in his arms and a promise ring in question.

“I need a nap.” He decided. “A long one.”

———

Doctor Hopper was a strange individual. The kind of man that made Reuben wonder how his son Archie had become… well… Archie. Guys like Archie tended to have strict, straight-edge, academics-obsessed fathers. The type with the big glasses and button-down shirts that they tucked so neatly into their khakis. They were a vision of who their sons would become, but not Doctor Hopper.

No, Doctor Hopper was more laid back. Yes, he wore khakis and button downs but in a much more sloppy-casual sense. His hair was long and he wore a cowboy hat atop his head. He didn’t tip-toe with his words, he just spoke freely from his thoughts (and his degree, hopefully). He was also just odd enough for Reuben to believe he’d likely had a few run-ins with the law in the past. Yes, Reuben could definitely see this man scamming people of their money, or being picked up off the street where he lay a drunk… or something… fool. And yet this man was somehow his therapist and he was supposed to trust him and his advice. It was certainly a peculiar situation.

They currently sat opposite each other, Reuben on a large leather sofa, and Dr. Hopper laid back in the matching armchair. The latter was having a cigarette as he listened to his patient’s concerns.

He puffed out a measured stream of smoke before speaking. “So, basically, you’ve been acting like a cunt to your friends and family and you don’t know why?”

“Uh…” Reuben shrugged his shoulders awkwardly. “Yeah?”

“You just freak out when you feel targeted? As in you just suddenly feel like you have to defend yourself… but really all you're doing is spewing shit?” At the teens nod the therapist took another puff, answering with his exhale “Sounds like anger issues to me, kid. Probably got it from the alcoholic disgrace you call a dad.”

Reuben huffed a worried sigh. “So what? You think I’m going to wind up like him?”

“Nah, unlikely.” The man responded with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You both have issues and bad trauma, but yours is just…” he mimicked the sound of an explosion. “Different. That stuff really shapes a person. You’ll be fine… or well… as fine as someone like you could be.”

Someone like him? He wondered what that implied. He didn’t want to ask. Instead he focused on the positive. “You think so?”

“Yeah, kid. As long as you keep trying to get better, hell yeah! Anger issues? No problem kid. We can manage that with just a bit of work.” The adult said before taking another draw.

Curious, Reuben asked him “What kind of work?”

“Thinking. Self-help work, kid. You know about it, it was in the pamphlet. First off, why do you think you were acting like a cunt in the first place?”

Running his hands through his hair, Reuben groaned. He should’ve known. “Because my friend was making jokes that I didn’t like. They made me uncomfortable.”

“Okay, but why?” The man prompted him to expand on it.

“Because they were implying something that I didn’t want to be implied.”

“So it’s something you’re insecure about then?”

That gave Reuben a moment’s pause. Was he insecure about his sexuality? “.... no?” At least he didn’t think so.

“You don’t sound sure about that.”

Fuck.

He huffed, frustration growing. “What do you mean? I’m definitely secure about it!” He snapped.

“Whoa man-“ the therapist warned. “Don’t go acting like a cunt on me now. I’m just trying to help you figure this out.”

The teen pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated with himself more than anything. “I know… I’m sorry. I just don’t know why it upset me.”

“Then you just gotta think a little deeper about it sometime. But don’t try to rush it. Take your time to figure you out, Y’know?”

“I-I guess?” They were quiet for a moment before he asked “What do you think the reason was?”

“Hey, I can’t really say for sure, I’m not in your head. But to me it just sounds like the jokes just hit too close to home. He hit a nerve, something you're insecure about and don’t want to address. Whatever it is, you should probably address it before you try to apologize to this guy. You do want your apology to be as genuine as possible, right?”

Confused and practically in a stunned silence, he realized the implication his therapist had just made. He only swallowed thickly and nodded, squeaking out a broken sounded “Yeah, right.”

[thetravelerwrites]

Monster Match #24: Bugul Noz

The Traveler's Masterlist

For: @voxnipop​: Hi there! I'm Ariel (Voxni on Kofi). I'm female-presenting agender, and use they/them pronouns. For a brief description, I'm a software engineer and genre-fiction writer. I love learning new languages and skills in my free time. Physically, I am clearly the designated nerd in a family of badasses. Tall, pale, and soft with curly red hair and thick thick glasses. (Compared to the rest of my tattoo-ed, super-athletic family. I love them though, do their taxes for them every year lol.) Always down for a fight to defend my family or friends, but thankfully as a super-soft sweet female-bodied person in the Southern US, most people disengage quickly after that.

In a partner, I honestly want to feel valued and protected. I know my default is to take control and basically be the protector and nurturer, but I'd like someone who reciprocates that care that I give. Intelligence isn't all that important as much as sweetness, and also maybe the ability to cook? I'm living that takeout lifestyle haaaard. Physically, I have a slight preference for larger partners, but I'd be pretty excited to see whoever the match happens with! No preference on SFW vs NSFW, whatever you feel more inclined/simpler to do. Thank you, and hope you hit your goal soon!

You’ve been matched with a Bugul Noz!

In Breton beliefs, the Bugul Noz, or "Night Shepherd"), is a fae-like being who lives in the woodlands of Brittany. He is the last of his kind and is said to be incredibly ugly, which causes him distress. His appearance is so awful that even woodland animals avoid him, and he sometimes cries out to warn others nearby of his approach, so that he won't frighten them and that they’ll go home. He is called the night shepherd because it is generally not safe in forests late at night, when he is most active. The Bugul Noz is not malicious (indeed, rather kind and gentle), he is always alone because of his hideous visage.

Rather than being a spirit to be feared, he’s said to, "fulfill a beneficial office, in warning human beings, by his coming, that night is not made for lingering in the fields or on the roads, but for shutting oneself in behind closed doors and going to sleep. This shepherd of the shades would then be, take it altogether, a kind of good shepherd. It is to ensure our rest and safety, to withdraw us from excesses of toil and the snares of night, that he compels us, thoughtless sheep, to return quickly to the fold."

It was the baleful moaning that alerted you, making the hairs stand up on your neck.

When you first heard the sound, you were spooked but unsure what you could do. You only had your bag, which had a map, compass, and a cellphone that had no service. You’d gone hiking before and never had a problem, but it only took one wrong turn in the woods to lead to disaster.

You didn’t work out much, as you kind of enjoyed being squishy, but walking along hiking trails was your favorite form of exercise because you could take it in your own pace and sit to sketch if you were tired.

You’d gotten lost while hiking during your vacation in France and night had rapidly come upon you. You eventually found yourself in some sort of ravine with a sheer cliff face preventing you from leaving. You followed it until you’d become tired, finding a cave-like cliff hollow to shelter under.

It was then that a gigantic brown bear decided to come back to what you realized was its den, and panicked. It reared up on its hind legs and bellowed at you, and you shrieked in reply.

“Oh, god, please don’t let me die,” You prayed. “All I wanted was a vacation in Europe before I became a serious adult! Please let me live to see the Louvre!”

You heard the moaning again, but it wasn’t coming from the bear. The bear came down from its hind legs and looked behind itself. It stiffened, and then jumped as if startled. The moaning grew louder, and the bear grunted, shying away from whatever it was. Apparently deciding that a fight with whatever it was looking at wasn’t worth it and moved on.

After a moment of waiting for the bear to return, you cautiously stood up. It was still dark out, the stars were clear and bright, but not enough to illuminate the way out.

“Hello?” You called to the darkness. “Who’s there?”

“Est-ce que tu vas bien?” The voice called. It was deep and scratchy, like someone who had a cough.

“I’m sorry,” You said. “I don’t speak much French.”

“Parlez vous anglais?” They asked.

“Angl--English! Yes, I speak English,” You replied, relieved.

“My English… not good,” They said in a very heavy regional French accent. “Follow, s'il vous plaît. Lead you to trail.”

“I can’t see you,” You said.

“C'est pour le mieux,” They replied. “Come now. Not far.”

“How can I follow you if I can’t see you?”

They were quiet for a moment. “Sing?”

“You’ll sing?” You asked, slightly amused.

“Oui,” They said. “Ça va?”

“Okay,” You said, unsure whether or not this was a better option than the bear. “Lead the way.

The… person… began to sing in French a song you didn’t know. Their voice was coarse, but they could carry a tune, and you could follow it well enough to be able to join them for the refrain.

“Singing est très jolie,” They said during a pause in the song.

“Thanks,” You said, smiling. “I like your voice, too.”

“Merci,” They replied with a happy, sing-songy tone. “Sing alone often. Nice to have… partenaire.”

“Do you live out here?” You asked as you walked.

“Oui,” They said. “Près de.”

“Close?” You asked. “I don’t want to impose, but I’m very tired and thirsty. I ran out of water hours ago. I just want to rest for a little while and have a drink and I can manage.”

They were quiet, and for a moment you wondered if they had understood you. You opened your mouth to rephrase it more simply when they said, “Juste une minute.”

“Thank you. Uh… Merci,” You said.

You followed their humming until you reached a hut made of stones. It looked old, like centuries old. It looked like someone had been keeping it up by replacing the old crumbling stones with newer ones. There was a simple door made of sticks and vines.

“Il y a un puits sur le côté de la maison,” They said. “Water. Must draw bucket. Go in. Sit. I get.”

Inside, there was a small fire inside a stone circle on a dirt floor. There was a rudimentary chair sitting next to it, and a simply carved table next to it with a bamboo cup. At the farthest end was a straw and large leaf pallet that you assumed they used for sleeping. Maybe it was an old man who shunned modern society and made his life out of leading lost people out of the woods. That would be noble.

Well, it was much better than your worst imaginings, which were running rampant in your head at the moment.

There was a thump at the door and you heard their voice again.

“Water,” They said. “Outside. You drink. I wait.”

You opened the door slowly, and there was a bucket sitting on the ground full of water. Though you couldn’t tell in this light, it looked clean enough, and you were too thirsty to complain.

“Where are you?” You asked.

“Here,” They said, though you couldn’t see them. “Go now?”

“Why won’t you let me see you?”

“Ugly,” They said. “Scare you.”

You laughed. “That’s silly. You won’t scare me.”

“I scare toutes les choses,” They said sadly. “Best no see. Get you home.”

“If you say so,” You said. “Okay, I’m ready.”

They began to sing again, and you followed the sound of their voice until you eventually came upon a trail. You laughed in relief and rushed to it.

“Go west,” They said. You heard shuffling, as if they were moving away.

“Wait!” You called. “What’s your name?”

“Auberi,” They said. “Be safe.”

You made it back to the town where you were staying as dawn broke. There had been a search team out looking for you, and they were relieved to hear you were alive and unharmed for spending an entire night in the woods.

You insisted you were fine, but they called an ambulance anyway. At the hospital, you asked the nurse, “Have you heard about someone living out in the forest?”

“Que voulez-vous dire?” She asked. “Did you see someone else out there?”

“Not see,” You said. “Heard. There was a person out there who led me out of the woods, but they wouldn’t let me see their face. They sang a song and I followed their voice out of the woods.”

“Ah,” The nurse said with a knowing smile. “You must have met le Bugul Noz.”

“The what?”

“Night Shepherd,” She translated. “It’s a kind creature that helps keep people and animals safe, but it’s said to be so ugly that it scares everything away from it. Not even animals will go near it if they see it. It is lonely and cries because no one will be friends with it.”

“Is the Night Shepherd real?” You asked.

“It’s a fairy tale,” The nurse replied. “But who’s to say it is real or not?”

A week later, you went hiking on the same trail, with a GPS this time in case you got lost again, and went searching for the Night Shepherd. You tried to sing the song they had, but you could only remember the refrain, so you sang that over and over, hoping it would draw their ear.

After a few hours of nothing, you sat down on a large stone and sighed unhappily. Perhaps you had hallucinated the voice, but how would you have hallucinated a song you’d never heard in a language you barely knew?

“Lost again, petit oiseau?” You heard the rough voice say.

“Auberi!” You said, jumping up and looking around only too see nothing but forest. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you?”

“Moi?” They said, sounding surprised. “Pourquoi?”

“I heard a story from the nurse after I made it out of the forest,” You said. “About a creature so ugly that no one would stay with it. Is that you? The night shepherd? Le Bugul Noz?”

They sighed heavily. “Oui,” The admitted. “Je suis.”

“Is that why I heard you crying before you drove off the bear?” You asked gently. “You are lonely, aren’t you?”

They were silent.

“You saved my life,” You said earnestly. “No matter what you look like, I want to thank you for that. Please, can I see you?”

“Je ne veux pas te faire peur.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Scare you,” They said. “Don’t want.”

“You won’t,” You said. “Come out, please? I have a gift for you.”

“Not ask for gift,” They said. “Just want safe.”

“I know,” You said. “But I brought you one anyway. Please? Please let me see you.”

There was a large breath followed by a deep, heavy sigh that blew the low branches around. Then the saplings in the low brush were moved aside as the creature came out into the light.

They were hunched and crooked, with a long neck like a horse, complete with a main of tangled, coarse tan hair. They had three pairs of arms, one of which worked in tandem with their feet to propel their large body forward. They were covered in the same coarse fur as their mane, only shorter and curlier. Their face was flat and revealed a dark hole that seemed to lead to nowhere. They had no visible eyes or ears, but they seemed to hear and see just fine. There was a long tail stretched out behind them that dragged the ground as they walked. You had no way to determine their gender, so you didn’t try.  

They were certainly unusual, but you didn’t think they were ugly.

“Not running?” They asked, their head turning in surprise. You had no idea where the voice was coming from, as they had no mouth, just the dark maw in the middle of their face.

“Not running,” You said. “I told you, you saved me. As far as I’m concerned, you’re as handsome as a prince.” You reached up to touch them, and they shied a little in fear, but allowed you to put your hand on their neck. You stroked their hair and scratched their skin, and there was a strange guttural purring sound from the maw.

“I’m going to be in the village for another month,” You said. “And I came to France to learn about it’s art, it’s culture, and it’s people. You’re part of that. I think I’d like to spend my month with you.”

They leaned their head against your cheek, and there was an odd hollow whistling from the maw, but it wasn’t so bad.

“Teach you all my songs,” They said. “We sing together, petit oiseau?”

“I’d love to sing with you, Auberi.” You said, laughing and snuggling against them.

To get your own Monster Match, buy me a Kofi!

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider becoming a Patron or donating directly to my PayPal.

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[birdsandspades]

I Was Never Good at Waiting (Sugawara X Reader) Chapter 3

- It was your last year in highschool, everything had been going smoothly until you got assigned the new teacher. Sugawara Koushi was handsome, maybe too handsome for his own good. Be he wasn't flirting with you right, teachers shouldn't do that....I guess we will see where this year goes.

Word Count - 3,163

----

Sunlight peeked through your blinds as the soft vibrations from your phone woke you from your dreams. Opening one eye you turned to look at the digital clock on your desk next to your bed. It was 6:00 a.m, time for you to get ready for the day. Lifting your legs into the air you rotated side to side, gathering enough momentum for you to roll yourself off the bed. 

Soft padded footsteps echoed through the silent house as you meandered to the bathroom. You ran your hand over the wall a few times, finally hitting the light switch. The lights flickered on, your eyes burning at the sudden shift in brightness. You rubbed circles on them with your palms, fuzzy white dots filling your vision. 

After the blurry vision dissipated you took a look at your groggy state. Most of the hair that had been inside of your bun had found it's way out, standing up in various directions. The underneath of your eyes were sunken and dark, but this was normal. Tired was just another word to describe your features at this point. Taking out your hair tie you combed through your nest like hair while turning on the shower, attempting to guide the temperature to a desirable position.

Stripping yourself of your nightly bedwear, you stepped inside and pulled the door closed. You recoiled as the cold water hit your back, cursing as you adjusted the temperature once again. Your morning showers were quick, only for the purpose of taming your bedhead, you showered at night for cleanliness. You ran through your morning shower cycle quickly before shutting off the water. You felt around for your towel, grabbing at nothing. You pulled open the shower door, glaring at the empty towel rod. You look in a deep breath, sprinting out of the warm bathroom and into the cold hallway. You b-lined for the linen closet, practically ripping it off it's hinges as you pulled something warm and fuzzy out of the dark hole in the wall. 

After your refreshing, brisk morning run you towel dried you and your wet feet prints.You peaked out of the bathroom again, looking at the bright red numbers on your clock, 6:15. 

Next you brushed your hair, teeth, and dressed yourself for class. Today’s dress was for the most part what you wore every day. A short sleeved light blue button up, a faded red tie (the same one you had received on your first day of first year), your tan plaid pleated shirt, black knee high socks, and to top it off the one thing you could change as you pleased. Most days you opted for the light cream colored sweater vest under your white school jacket, but today felt like a cream cardigan kind of day instead. Most likely because the news reports called for a rainy day today, but also because you wanted to mix it up. 

Your makeup was easy to put on, your hair was just as simple. You had always liked leaving it down but always brought a ponytail just in case. The watch ticking away on your wrist read 6:45, your morning was passing by fast. You gathered your bag and coat before walking downstairs and laying them on the couch. 

Pulling open the fridge doors you pulled out everything you had prepped the night before, all you really had to do was assemble it in your lunch box and you could leave for school. Once you finished that you put it all away and placed your lunch in your bag before pulling on your coat and situating your bag on your shoulder. Walking out the door you locked it behind you and started your walk to school.

Your trip was always the longest part of your day, you had chosen Sejoh because of the impact it had on your moms adolescent life, sure it was out of the way. But that's what legs and trains were for right? 

It took you approximately an hour and fifteen minutes to get to the school from your house. In that time you would walk fifteen minutes to the train station, take two different trains to the station by the school, and walk another ten minutes to the actual school. As long as you were on time, the distance didn’t matter. 

You liked to use the time for writing, mostly songs. It was a hobby only your friends knew about, they also were the only two who knew about the band you had joined last year. It was never an end game option for you, no career would ever come out of the group of ragtag college students who had formed the group years ago. But they were nice enough to let you sing for them when the original member had graduated and moved on from the dream. As long as you could come up with songs, and of course make the time for practice, well they liked having you around. 

You would love to tell the volleyball club about what you did during your weekends away from the club and schoolwork. You probably would have if it wasn’t for the looming threat of every single shitty dive bar you performed at finding out that you indeed were seventeen (going on eighteen, that was important), and in fact not twenty one. But whatever, you were having fun. 

You walked past the front gates and into the lockers at around 8:10, twenty minutes before classes would start. Siding on your slippers you placed your practice gear and outside shoes inside your locker. Today would be your first practice back, it was exciting to say the least.

“Hey, we haven't talked in awhile.” A sweet voice turned your attention away from your thoughts. 

“Yoshiki, hi.” You looked the boy over in surprise, the morning fog still leaving your brain.

“So your homeroom teacher this year is Sugawara-sensei huh? He comes to my class after lunch for science. He seems nice, he made some really bad science jokes yesterday when he introduced himself.” Yoshiki laughed as he remembered the not so funny pun. It reminded you both of simpler, less uncomfortable times you both shared so long ago. 

“I wish I could have heard them.” You giggled, mostly with Yoshiki and less at the statement. I felt nice to take in the easy feeling of being together again, even if it was fleeting. “He was pretty straightforward with the homeroom class. Probably because Yua wouldn’t shut up.”You walked with him down the hallway, his pace matching with yours as you talked.

“I could tell you some of them over lunch.” He paused as you reached your classroom door, his foot digging into the tile. “Unless things are still weird between us?” He couldn’t meet your eyes, his heart pounding in his chest. You had rejected him once, could twice be just as bad?

“Sure, that would be great. Since we ruled out the potentially dating option, all that's left is to go back to being friends again.” You let out an out of place laugh, your enthusiasm forced. You felt awkward, your attempt at mending the relationship uncomfortable to your own ears. 

He on the other hand smiled, it seemed to be just the words he was hoping for. He gave you a brief wave before leaving for his own classroom.

He was right, things were still weird between you. But that's what happens when you fall in love for the first time, try to go on a date, and run away from said date leaving him alone, and then proceed to ignore his calls all winter break. The least you could be was give him a lunch period to feel things out.

You made your way into the classroom, greeting a few students before setting your things down at your desk. Yua and Hiroto were already sitting at their desks when you slid into your seat next to them. 

“Good morning F/N-chan.” They greeted, the unity of their tone made you giggle. 

“No coffee this morning?” Hiroto questioned as he looked at your usually occupied hand. 

“I’m gonna try and quit drinking it so much, save some extra money...” You frowned already painfully aware of the lack of caffeination.

“You're like an addict!” Yua laughed, “I give you a week tops before you crash.”

“Thanks for the support!” You chirped, pinching her exposed arm. You shook your head as she hissed at the pain, the morning bell drowning out her cursing.

Sugawara walked in on cue holding a mug of coffee and a black binder. “Good Morning class.” He smiled as he set down the items on his desk.

“You look nice today Sugawara-sensei!”A voice spoke from somewhere behind you. You needn't look behind you, the high pitched tone was easy to pick out. 

“Thank you.” He smoothed out his suit jacket, nodding in appreciation. His eyes scanned the room before landing on you. “L/N-san, will you come up and take roll for me please?” He gave you a sweet smile, wiggling the board your way. 

“Yes sensei.” You moved your chair back and made your way up to the front of the room. He stood on the other side of his desk, reaching across to take the clipboard and pen from his hands.

“This one is you.” He pointed to your name and smiled sweetly,“Don’t forget this time ok?”

 The class laughed at his teasing remark as you slid the pen out of his hand.

“Yes, sensei.” You mocked him in your head as you walked to the middle of the room looking around the class as you checked off the names. “Maybe if you didn’t walk into class trying to fluster me I wouldn’t have such a hard time functioning.” You finished and handed the board back to him, giving him a forced smile.

“Thank you, you can go sit down now.” He glanced up from his syllabus before sliding it out of your hand. 

Taking your seat again he began the homeroom meeting for the day. It was the same information, just saying what events the school had going on, what the menu was for the day, and if any school deadlines were coming up. Then he broke the class up for independent study as he pulled students to the front for their daily college discussion. Next week this would become a weekly discussion as homeroom would turn into a study hall period for students to get help on school work. 

You were waiting for your turn as the bell rang signaling for the classroom switches. You were a bit sad that you had been the only one left out for the day's discussions, maybe more so that you couldn’t talk to Sugawara. 

Everyone waved a goodbye to Sugawara as he exited the classroom and your next teacher settled into the next subject. Class passed by as usual, your attention fading in and out as you watched out the window. The grey storm clouds had started to roll in as the sky darkened. The sun had permanently tucked behind the clouds around noon, the chill of threatening rain permeating the window next to you.

Before long the bell rang and students made for the cafeteria. As the crowd dispersed, Yoshiki peaked his head in at you and your group of friends. 

“Hey, are you eating in here today?” He made his way over to your desk holding his own bento box. 

“Yeah, you can stay with us if you want.” You beamed as he pulled a chair over to your desk and set his lunch down. It was cutely wrapped, the cloth around it was bordered with brightly colored dinosaurs, as he opened it so were most of the food wrappers. 

“It’s my little brother's box I promise, he took my lunch this morning when he left.His cheeks tinted pink as he shook his head back and forth. He placed both hands over the box, covering it from view.

Giggling you placed a hand over his “It’s ok, dinosaurs are pretty cool.” He relaxed into his seat as you opened your own box. 

“Oh Sugawara-sensei, do you need the classroom?” Hiroto asked as Sugawara walked over to his office door.

“No.You're fine to stay here, I have a few papers to grade in my office.’’ He paused on you, looking between you and Yoshiki.”L/N-san i’m sorry I missed you for our council time.’’ He rested his hand on the doorknob, squeezing it slightly. 

“It’s ok Sugawara- sensei! The class is so big, I don’t know how you could make enough time for all of us in one day.” You waved your hand at the notion and laughed, he had no reason to feel bad. You had all year to college prep, one day wouldn’t set you back.

“I’m free after school if you want to wait in my office? We can run down your requirements before volleyball practice.” He shifted on his feet slightly, Yoshiki’s gaze heavy on him.

You agreed to the offer, thanking him as he disappeared into his office.

“Two days in a row, look at you!” Yua laughed as she slapped your back causing you to choke on your food. 

“Yua-chan he’s our teacher!” Hiroto whispered aggressively as he handed you his water bottle.

“I know, it's just funny seeing how flustered she gets.” Yua winked at you, as if her flirtatious actions would justify the burning in your throat. 

You passed the lunch period chatting amongst your friends, Yoshiki easing into the conversation as if nothing had ever happened. You were grateful for the new start, happy to have your friend back. As everyone finished their lunches, Yua and Hiroto waved a goodbye. They were on a mission to find the raccoon that lived by the track dumpsters, leftover food in tow. You and Yoshiki were left in the classroom, silence settling around you both.

“So, are you still doing soccer with Hiroto-kun?” You tried to fill the conversational gap, hoping it would disperse the awkward feeling around you two.

 “Yeah, but they pretty much benched me. The new first years are really good.” He laughed, sounding sadder than he had planned.

 You opened your mouth when the office door clicked  open and Sugawara peaked his head out.

“L/N-san come here please.” He waved a hand at you, disappearing back into his office.

You looked between the open door and Yoshiki before standing up. You turned to speak, Yoshiki already packing up his belongings.

He said a hasty goodbye, leaving before you could get a word in.

You watched as he walked out the door, turning back to the open office.

“Yes Sugawara-senpai?” You pushed the door open a little more before stepping into his office. 

It was nicer inside then you had anticipated. He had one large window facing the courtyard, while the other 2 walls adjacent to the door were lined with rows and rows of books. A large dark oak desk sat in the middle of the room, free of clutter and debris. He had pushed a small black sofa under the window, it looked comfy and worn in. Like it held more stories then the actual shelves. But the most notable feature of the room was the abundance of small and large plants placed around the room. Some sat on the windowsill, others were placed between the sections of books on the shelves. The larger plants were tucked into the corners of the room, leaves fanning out over everything nearby. But one particularly pretty pink succulent sat on his desk, perfectly positioned to sit in the ray of sun that shined through the window. It looked like it was basking in the warmth, soaking up all the sun had to offer. 

“Can you do me a favor L/N-san?” Sugawara questioned as your eyes stopped roaming. You landed on his hand, reaching out towards you, grasping something out of sight. 

You reached out and opened your hands,“Of course Sugawara-senpai.” 

He opened his hands to drop a few yen into yours. “I didn’t have time for lunch today, can you go grab me a hot drink from the vending machines by the south gym? You can get yourself something as well if you want. There should be enough money for two.” 

“I may be late for class sensei…” You cupped the warm metal, how long had he been holding the coins? They heated the palm of your hand slightly, melding with your own warmth.

”It’s ok, just come in quiet when you come back.” He sat back down, picking up a red pen.

You nodded and smiled before running off towards the south gym doors. You would hurry, maybe if you ran you would make it back before the bell rang.

“Um, what should I get him?” You scanned over the drink options presented to you.“It is flu season, maybe something that will keep him healthy? But he did say he didn’t eat lunch, what's thick. What if he fails me because I got him something gross.” You were shaking your head back and forth, this was becoming much more tasking then it should have ever been. You pushed the green tea button twice, grateful he was kind enough to give you enough money for something as well. 

The rain was starting to come down, getting heavier by the minute. You took the two hot drinks and ran for the main entrance, hoping the rain wouldn’t soak your cardigan too much before you made it inside. 

It was a short walk back to the classroom, you could hear Sugawara on the other side, he had already started the lesson. Deciding to finish your own green tea in the hallway you emptied the container before heading inside. 

You slid the door open just enough to fit inside, attempting to be quiet enough to not distract the classroom. Eyes were all on you as you closed the door and turned around to face your peers. Breathing stopped as they waited for their sensei to reprimand you for being late.

You walked over to Sugawara and handed him the tea before fishing his remaining change out of your cardigan pocket and rushing back to your desk, eyes on the floor as you sat down.

“Thank you L/N-san.”His smile was sweet and gentle as he turned back to the class. “So this diagram differs from the previous in what way?” He continued on with the lesson as everyone's gaze slowly started to leave you. 

After a few minutes it seemed as if everyone had lost interest in your tardiness, almost everyone. Two pairs of eyes from the back of the room bore holes into the back of your head for the remainder of class, you didn’t have to turn around to know who they belonged to.

----

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

----

[melyaliz]

Past Loves and Future babies pt.  4

Masterlist

Fandom: Marvel / MCU  

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OC 

Summary: After realizing Peggy has moved on Steve comes back to the present to take on his biggest mission ever. Have a baby that will save the world

(Play avatar theme music) 

Notes: This whole story was inspired by the idea of that annoying thing where people over fantasize a situation. (I’m super guilty of it) 

I like to think of Dixie as a broken dreamer. 

And Steve as a guilty idealist 

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive​

Connect with me! AO3 / Instagram / Pinterest

DONATE or REQUEST

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

Soft warmth. That was what Dixie felt as her mind slowly slid from her deep slumber to consciousness. Her eyes slowly drew open, The warmth of the morning light falling across her face filling the rest of the room. Well by the morning light filling the room it was probably more like the noonday sun. Dixie had never been much of an awake before noon kind of gal. 

Slowly she moved the sheets next to her were slightly cold. Empty. confused she sat up rubbing her head running her fingers through her hair. Her groggy brain trying to piece together what was off. 

She was not a morning person. 

Then it hit her. 

She was alone. 

Looking around Steve was nowhere to be seen. 

It shouldn’t bother her. It was late. A normal person would be up and out around now. And it wasn’t like he owned her anything. He literally couldn’t even have sex with her. 

Not that that meant anything but… 

Letting out a long groan Dixie lay back in the bed. For a moment she wondered if she just closed her eyes maybe she would wake up in her shitty bed back in Arizona. Mac typing away from being up all night ready to turn in while she was considering breakfast burritos or just going back to sleep. 

Simpler times. 

Times before she had to get a baby pumped into her to save the world by a man who couldn’t even bother to stay the night with her.

Pulling a pillow around her head she tried to close out those unfair thoughts. This was for the better. The less he was around the less she would be attached. The less she was endanger of falling in love. 

Dixie had known going into this that it would be like this. She would NOT let dark thoughts about a man who had no reason to be in love with her acting rationally about this whole situation. Yes, it was hard not to play the fantasy game of destiny and soulmate lovers but this was the real world. And it wasn’t unfair to put those unrealistic expectations on Steve. 

Things like falling in love with her. 

So rolling over onto her side Dixie sighed looking out the large window. The light shining through the thing curtain that hung over it. This was her home now. This was her life. She mine as well make the best of it. 

Even if her bed just felt so lonely. 

--------

It was warm that morning. For a moment Steve wasn’t sure where he was. It was so soft and comfortable. The calmness seemed to be envelop him. Slowly he opened his eyes his body shifting to realize there was an arm around his chest. A small delicate hand resting on his torso.

It all came rushing back. Last night, the day before.  

Dixie. 

She was buried into his back, and for a moment he wondered if she was breathing. Taking her small hand in his large one he gently pried her away from his back. Then turing he lay on his side facing her so he could make sure she was still asleep. She mumbled for a moment brows knitting together before she peacefully went back to sleep burying herself in the blankets. Her soft round face was so peaceful as she rested, her breath gently blew a strand of hair that had fallen onto her face.   

Gingerly he brushed her hair away pulling the blanket up around her before kissing her forehead. 

Everything that had happened. He couldn’t blame her for it. Like she had said last night. They were in this together. 

“Well look at you all bright and early” Sam laughed as Steve walked up to him and Bucky stretched on the lawn getting ready for their daily run. 

“I thought you would want to sleep in today” Bucky smirked and Sam laughed. However, catching Steve’s rather tense stance, Bucky's smirk flattered. Sam on the other hand, didn’t pick up on the subtle tension on their friend’s shoulders. 

“No rest for Captain America?” 

“Not Captain anymore” Steve reminded Sam. After coming back from delivering the stones he had given his shield to Sam. even if he couldn’t get the girl he was going to hang up his colors. Help in the background. 

Be just Steve Rogers. 

“Whatever you say,” Sam said.

“Also you owe me” Bucky shouted hitting Sam on the chest before taking off leading their morning run. Steve trailing closely with Sam several paces behind shaking his head muttering something about “damn super soldiers” 

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

Dixie yawned scratching her head as she slowly walked into the living room, still in her pjs just dragging her bare feet through the plush carpet. Blinking owlishly she looked around the room, the large window that overlooked the beautiful landscape was filling the room with warm sunlight giving the whole room a very happy feeling. 

This place really was beautiful. 

It made her skin itch slightly. Like when you eat something too sweet or smell something that is just… too clean. 

Curling up on the couch Dixie pulled a soft white blanket around herself. What to do, what to do. Pulling out her phone she looked it over for a moment before pressing the call button. 

She shouldn't but… 

“Am I an uncle yet?”

Just the sound of his voice made her want to cry. Her chest twisting uncomfortably. A deep thick feeling building in her stomach. As if her chest was bleeding into her body. 

“Hey Mac.” her voice was light and airy. A bit of a giggle added for effect. 

“That bad huh?” 

Fuck him. There was no lying to her older brother. Years of them relying on the other meant they always knew when something was wrong. 

It was a blessing and a curse. 

“No babies yet” Dixie said doging the second question as she picked at her red toe nail polish that was peeling. “We didn’t really do much last night. He was… really awkward.”

“Oh really?” Mac paused, “You think maybe they got the wrong sibling?” 

Dixic laughed, a real laugh this time. Lodging whatever was ripping into her chest lose slightly. Causing her to feel lighter. 

“I mean I do love me a blonde.” Mac continued. 

“I’m not sure how the whole pregnancy thing would work though.” 

“I mean anything is possible at this point. Gods are real and literally half of all living things were gone for 5 years only to come back as if nothing had happened.” 

“You have a point.” 

“Well I am the smarter one” 

“Can’t argue with you there.” Dixie looked over her even more chipped red nails, she was going to have to repaint them soon. Vaguely she hoped she hadn’t forgotten to pack that color. It was her favorite. It had that Warden Walker feel to it. And if Dixie wanted to channel anyone at the moment it was a woman who wore snake venom on her nails.     

“How are things on your end?” she asked changing the subject from her not so baby daddy to her brother. 

“Eh, not much. The forms have been pretty quiet and I’m waiting on that program you… acquired. It’s still hot so I can’t trade it for another two weeks at least.” 

“Oh yeah I totally forgot about that.” Dixie mumbled digging around her bag looking for her nail polish. “How much longer will you be in Arizona?” 

“Probably not much longer. I’m thinking maybe Denver for a while? Or maybe North Carolina? At least then I’ll be on the same coast as you.” 

“Same coast is nice.” Dixie said, even if he wasn’t in the same state the thought of having him just a bit closer made her feel better. She knew she was being a baby about all this but… as tough as she acted he was the one constant in her life and she missed him. 

“So how’s the new place.”

“Better than anything we could afford.” 

“Please send me pictures.”

“Oh I forgot to tell you,” Dixie smiled as she found the police at the bottom on her bad, “Steve didn’t decorate because he wanted to make sure I had a say.”

“Poor guy, he doesn’t know how shit your taste is.” 

“Yeah, I should have warmed him but now… I feel like maybe he should suffer for his mistake.” 

Mac’s laugh echoed from the other end and for a moment Dixie felt like he was right next to her. The two of them as kids sneaking out when their dad was in one of his moods. Escaping into the night to buy ice pops from the mart down the street and sit on the hill by their house and watch the star trying to figure out the constellations. Just the two of them making plans on when they were going to escape this stupid town and never look back. 

No matter how bad it got they always had each other. 

It didn’t matter how far he was. Dixie knew he would always be there. Just like she would always be there for him. 

---------

“So how was the first day?” Bucky asked as he ran alongside Steve. His blue eyes studying his best friend. He had seen the way Steve had been acting since he got the news about his “destiny” It was like a dark cloud had slowly started to loom over him. It only got worse as time went on until Bucky rarely recognized the man next to him as the car pulled up with the young woman. 

Bucky was the only one who had known what Steve’s plans had been. About going back to Peggy. To start a real life. He had told Bucky the night before he had left. Determination written on his face knowing that this was what he wanted. That he was going to finally do the thing he had been fighting toward. 

A real life. 

Then he came back. Heartbroken. More defeated than Bucky had ever seen him before. If it hadn’t been Steve Bucky had been worried. But he knew that no matter what Steve could handle it. 

Or that was what he had told himself until this. It had happened so quickly after Steve had realized he could never have the one thing he wanted. It was as if he really was going to have to give his whole life to the world. Every bit of him, not just his body but his heart as well. 

Never be able to have anything for himself. 

Which was now, as Steve ran next to him, so focused on just moving. Bucky truly worried. The look on his best friend’s face was so placid Bucky couldn't read him at all. 

Which was rare. 

Turning Steve shrugged, “We just fell asleep. I… I don’t know Bucky.” 

“Yeah I could tell how you kept tip toeing around her all night.” 

“Is it that obvious?” 

“Yeah Steve it really is. She’s not china, she’s not going to break.” 

“It’s just…” Steve sighed trying to find the right words. Trying to explain what it was like to force some woman he didn’t know anything about into his life. And not just his life. His bed, his life, his future.

“She’s a stranger Steve, you both are.” 

“That’s what I keep thinking. I don’t know this woman at all.” 

“Well that’s why she’s here so you can get to know her.”

“There is just so much pressure” 

Bucky nodded, this wasn’t something they could just punch their way out of. In fact there really wasn’t much he could do to help his friend really. It wasn’t like he could just go into the bedroom guns blazing and make sure this woman got pregnant by his friend.

“Now I don’t know her but she’s probably feeling the same way you are. You both just need to take the time to get to know each other.” Bucky thought back to his days when they were both younger. All the women he would take out. They had all been strangers once too. “You just need to romance her, treat her like any other dame. Just take the whole destiny out of it.” 

Steve sighed chuckling as he looked over at Bucky, “I don’t know if you have forgotten in your old age Buck but… I was never very good at romancing a woman.” 

“Well why not start with my tried and true” Bucky said smiling. Steve frowned studying his friend unsure what he was going to say.   

“Take her dancing” 

-GET TAGGED!-

Masterlist 

Story Tag: @itsmeeluciie

Forever tag:  @the-shadow-of-atlantis​​ @coffee-randomness​​ @0hmydeku @xx3fsxx @daisyboobear​​  @jason-redhood​ @hello-i-lovespiderman-blr  @pinkwitch21 @tomhncharliep  @cdwmtjb8

[danganronpa-21]

Naegiri Week Day 5: Fidget

Oh boy. This one is my personal take on the intimacy conversation. As such is the case, I guess I should warn of slight references to  “spicy” stuff, but really it’s pretty tame. In fact, it’s probably the fluffiest conversation about physical intimacy you’ll read. 

I hope you enjoy it!

__________________

This wasn’t the first time Makoto geared up to have a conversation about his and Kyoko’s intimacy. 

No, they’d been forced to have this conversation before. Years before, when they were both younger, and more naive… More willing to promise things to one another that led to breaking the ones they couldn’t keep. 

“Let’s try for our one year anniversary,” Kyoko had said, her voice confident, “It should be enough time by then. We were friends for so long before we started seeing each other. From a sensible perspective, we should be able to do it then.”

That was the first promise to him Kyoko broke. Not that he cared all that deeply. Really, it stung his heart to think about the way she looked that night, trying desperately to be okay with everything that was happening. Her lips smushed so uncomfortably against his own, and her arms wrapped around his back tightly. He could feel the tremors in her body as she forced herself further onto him; he struggled to tell whether she was overly eager or forcing herself to do it at first. Her legs suddenly wrapped themselves around his waist, and she guided one of his hands towards the strap of her silky red dress. He remembered the way he swallowed uncomfortably at the thought. He wanted this. He wanted her. How could he not? She was right in front of him, her violet eyes sparkling and her ruby lips offering themselves to him… her body wrapped around his own, and her hands guiding him to remove her clothing, but… No. He couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t do it. He forced himself back, breaking their kiss, and bursting into a melody of panting.

“What’s the matter?” Kyoko questioned, raising one of her brows at him. It amazed him that she wasn’t struggling to catch her breath like he was. “Why did you stop?”

“Why didn’t you?” He recalled shooting back, his chest heaving slightly as he tried to catch up with himself. God, he must have been holding his breath the whole time they were making out. 

“Why would I?” Her hands drifted slowly down from the back of his neck, towards his shoulders. A signal that things were getting less and less sexual by the second. “I thought you wanted to make love tonight.” 

Makoto couldn’t help but clench his jaw. Did she think he couldn’t tell? Was she convinced that he wouldn’t want her to stop if they were uncomfortable? He hoped she knew him better than that. He kept his fingers crossed, praying that wasn’t the case.

“I do, but…” He paused, his brows lowering in concern, “Kyoko, you don’t, do you?”

Silence. Her features twisted; her gaze darting away from him. She could feel him start to clutch onto the dress jacket he’d worn out to dinner. God, why didn’t she say something? He hated seeing her so distressed like this. He could barely find it within himself to look at her, with her whole body trembling like that.

“I…” She licked her lips, suddenly squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” She released him from between her legs almost immediately; the two of them wiggling into a more comfortable upright position. “It’s okay.” 

It’s okay.

And it was. Of course Makoto had wanted to be intimate with her, to connect with her in that way, but he would never force it. He wouldn’t let her force herself into it, either. Sex as a concept between the two of them had already been hard enough for Kyoko to wrap her head around; the last thing he desired to do was make it worse for her. Letting her force herself into the act would have done just that. 

So he did the only thing he could think to do; he ensured that they closed that conversation for awhile. Three years, to be exact. The same length of time it took for Makoto to pop the big question. That was what placed the conversation on the table for them once again. 

Having gotten so close to doing it before did not make this conversation any simpler to have. If anything, it made it dramatically worse. Makoto wasn’t sure what he should say or do to make sure she prepared more than she did last time, yet he knew Kyoko would fail to lend him a hand in this. It was strange, he thought, that it was just hitting him now that he was unaccustomed to taking the lead. 

He did what he could to make the situation comfortable. The conversation would already be hard enough; he assumed it to be the least he could do. He set up the scene as nicely as he could in their living room; even going as far as picking a sunny day to make the mood lighting cheerful. The windows were thrown open, welcoming a fresh spring breeze into their home. Since the weather was just getting warmer, he figured they wouldn’t leave them open for too long. Just enough to make Kyoko feel like she could breathe. On either side of their plush couch, he’d set up a cozy spot for her. No matter where she chose to sit for the conversation, she would be comfy against two feather throw pillows. Before she’d come down, he’d even gone as far as brewing them each a cup of coffee the way they liked it. Kyoko’s was totally black, as always, while his was mixed with sugars and creams. He’d even picked out her favourite mug to serve it in, and ensured that it was not too hot nor too cold. Just the right temperature to enjoy with an awkward conversation about sex.

Still, all of his attempts, right down to the coffee temperature, would be in vain. In spite of the sunny window, the fresh air, the pleasant seating, and the warm drinks… Makoto found himself fidgeting uncontrollably when they actually sat down to talk. No matter how relaxed he hoped it might be, he knew that some things just weren’t going to work in his favour. 

“Kyoko, before we start, I wanted to ask you how you’re feeling.”

Her grip tightened on her cup’s handle almost immediately. If he guessed, he would probably say that that was a sign of malaise. Her avoidance of eye contact only clued him in further, and he wanted to kick himself. Way to put your bride-to-be on the defence in one sentence, he scolded internally.

“I… It’s a large step forward for us…” She stuttered, trying to find the right words, “I find it challenging to even think about myself being vulnerable to you in such a way…”

Makoto swallowed. Quietly, he prayed to himself that that wasn’t her way of stating that his behaviour in the bedroom worried her. If their first attempt should have been anything to her, it should have been evidence that she could trust him to not take advantage of her. But maybe that wasn’t what she meant. He held out hope that she meant something else.

“I understand that… This is kind of hard for me, too,” He confessed, swirling around the coffee in his mug, “I’ve um… I’ve never actually…”

“You’re still a virgin.” 

He blushed at her finishing for him, but nodded softly. “Yeah. I’ve never been with anyone else before… and I’m guessing you haven't either…”

She nodded, bearing down on her lip with her teeth. “You are correct. You will be my first.”

You will be. Although it was something small, those words made Makoto comforted, albeit only marginally. Clearly she intended to engage in the act somehow; he just wished it to be of her own volition. Like he said a million times before, he wasn’t interested in sleeping with Kyoko unless she was one-hundred percent interested in sleeping with him. 

“So that’s some common ground we have. That’s good, right?” 

She shrugged unhelpfully. Jeez, he’d almost forgotten how silent Kyoko could be when she wanted to. Rather than paying close attention to what he was saying, she picked at the studs on her gloves nervously. A sign that them both being virgins wasn’t helpful enough.

“Can I ask what about being vulnerable to me scares you?” 

Had there been coffee in the detective’s mouth, she definitely would have choked. Hell, Makoto could have sworn that she choked on her own spit. Judging by her reaction, he figured the chances were that the response would be a short one. It all but showed in the way she flicked her head up at him; her gaze strangely fearful.  

“I suppose a lot of it comes from the fact that I haven’t done this before, and it’s an act that… requires a lot of trust in the other party.”

Makoto felt his heart drop into his stomach. “Do you find it difficult to trust me…?”

Alarm flickered across Kyoko’s face with an instance. Before he knew it she was shaking her head frantically, and raising a hand up so quickly that she sloshed coffee on her skirt. “Oh, no! That isn’t what I intended to say at all!” She fumbled, “What I meant was that… I have to trust that I will trust you in the moment. Going into uncharted territory with someone is always difficult, and I often fail to trust myself when things start. I know that I’m secure, when I’m with you, it’s just that I…”

She sighed and brushed a strand of hair away from her face, her shoulders slumping sadly. The poor thing’s words caught in her throat as she attempted to explain them, but Makoto felt as if he had a bit of a sense of what she was conveying. 

“Are you worried that you’ll freak out in the moment because it’s scary, and you’ll worry that you can’t trust me?” 

 Her hand flipped back and forth. “M-More or less…”

Maybe he didn’t have it to an exact science, but at least he could partially read her. He’d just need her to guide him the rest of the way. He placed a sympathetic hand on her thigh, and watched her expectantly. As much as he tried to decipher what little information she gave him, her words would have to be the thing that took his comprehension all the way. With something as delicate as this, reliance on assumption would break them. Being overt was the only way to go. 

“What else bothers you?”

The detective’s head bowed once again. “What you said is a piece of it, but the other part is that I…” Though she did her best to hide her face, he witnessed the blush that spread across it. All over it, really. She turned beet red in a matter of seconds. “I want to be good for you. I want to please you, and I… I want this to be an experience that you enjoy, because I know how badly you want this. If I get nervous, and I pull back, I know I’ll have failed you. I don’t think I could stand to do that. I want to make you happy.”

Makoto shook his head, leaning forward to lift her chin. “Hey, you’re not failing me if you decide you’re not ready for sex.” He smiled softly at her, mustering up the kindest tone he could manage. “This isn’t just about me. If I want this, I want it for both of us. All I want with this is to connect with you, and… and to be with you in a way that is enjoyable and pleasurable for the both of us. But if you want to wait, that’s okay. Hell, Kyoko, if you never want to have sex, then let’s never have sex. Some traditional rite of passage means so little to me in comparison to you.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Kyoko’s mouth, as well as a rosier blush. “Thank you, Makoto,” She paused, “But I want you to know that… I’m really in it, this time. Though I’m absolutely terrified, I want to do this. I just... need to find a way to make the situation less overwhelming.” 

A soft chuckle escaped him as he moved to plant a quick kiss on her lips. He couldn’t help but notice how she leaned into it a little herself. Clearly, the affection was appreciated, for she giggled cutely. “Then let’s figure it out together… We can think of it like another one of our investigations.”

Her brows raised at the word. “Investigations?” 

He never really realized how easy it was to pique her interest in something. It turned out all he had to do was throw in detective words. Maybe I should throw in words like ‘clues’ and ‘evidence’ when she inevitably forgets that it’s her turn to do the dishes, he thought. But he tried not to let thoughts of chores impede his judgement of what to say right then. 

“Yeah! Think of it like... investigating a body. But instead of trying to figure out what killed the person, you’ll be trying to find what makes them feel good. And instead of a corpse, you’ll be working with your partner.” It was a weird analogy, Makoto knew that. But still, he figured it would work as he needed it to. “You and I will just work together like always, searching for clues and answers on each other’s bodies to reach a conclusion. And in the end, we’ll come up with a solution to the mystery, which will… y’know… draw us closer to the light.”

Blushes crossed both of their faces at that point, and the couple turned away from each other. They didn’t need words to know where they were leading themselves. Anything more would just be pushing beyond the self-explanatory, and Makoto felt that to be unnecessary. Just the basics of the analogy was all they needed.

“Does that help at all?”

His fiance stopped for a moment to think, tapping her chin. Then, with a cheerful grin on her face, she nodded. “Indeed. I think that helped plenty.”

It became his turn to smile as he scooched closer to her, placing his head on her shoulder. “I’m glad.”

“As am I,” She snickered, leaning close to kiss the side of his head, “I look forward to our investigation.”

[marshmallow-phd]

Freedom on the Wind

Genre: Bad Boy!AU, Biker!AU

Pair: Minseok x Reader

Summary: You wanted nothing to with him. He was the kind of boy you stayed away from. But you know what they say about the rules of attraction. How could anyone resist?

Moodboard by the oh-so-wonderful @xui-n-soowillbethedeathofme

**

Books were your life. If there was a story line out there, you’d read it. Ever since you were little, you devoured words like a prisoner getting his first meal after days of starvation. Any genre, any level, any author, you didn’t care. You simply loved getting lost in a world that was different from your own, even if it was only subtly altered.

While you didn’t usually care what the plot of a book was as long as it attracted and kept your attention, there was one trope that you avoided like the plague: The bad boy cliché. Of course, typically you didn’t mind clichés. 

An unbalanced couple where one was rich and the other poor? Sure. Love triangles? Your guilty pleasure. Long lost parent? You’d eat it right up.

But those stupid bad-boy-good-girl romance just grated on your nerves. Maybe it was because you were a “goody-two-shoes” (a phrase that you never quite understood) yourself. Your toes always stayed in line and breaking the rules meant you were breaking out in a cold sweat. So why would someone like you ever consider an attraction to the type of boy who wore leather jackets, gave zero consideration for other people, cursed, and rode around on a loud, obnoxious two-wheeled motorized vehicle that could get them killed?

The answer had always eluded you. A real answer, that is. Everyone always chalked it up to “there’s a bit of rebellion inside us all”.

Yeah, right.

That did not exist for you. And that was okay. So you didn’t have any fun stories to tell of when you were in high school that consisted of sneaking out, skipping class, or underage drinking. You still enjoyed your life. The moments you enjoyed experiencing were just quieter, simpler. The kind of moments that other people tended to ignore or forget.

This was one of those moments. You were just wandering through the bookstore, taking your time to shop around for anything that might possibly jump out at you. There was no rush and no need to find a specific something. You’d let the right one take hold of your attention and fall in love.

One book with a black spine and blue lettering finally did grab your eye, but when you pulled it out of it’s space, it caught on its neighbor, sending the innocent novel to the ground. Whispering an apology to no one in particular, you bent down to pick up the book, but someone else snatched it up first.

“Do you always apologize to inanimate objects?” the intruder snickered.

Clearing your throat, you swiped the book from the rude boy’s hand, holding onto it rather than placing it back onto the shelf. After a quick intake of his face, you couldn’t help but admire how cute he was. Youthful features encased sharp, deep brown eyes, highlighted by the smirking mouth.

Then you took in the rest of him. 

He might as well have walked right out of one of the romantic novels you avoided like the plague. His black hair was a bit on the short side with the top styled away from his forehead. A black leather jacket covered up a plain white tee and black jeans with matching boots finished the whole look off.

The cute face couldn’t cover up the personality you knew was flashing before your eyes.

“Might as well be nice to everything,” you shrugged, possibly putting on an air of haughtiness with it. Hopefully that would just make him walk away and leave you alone. “You never know when technology will take over the world.”

He laughed. “Technology, yes, but I doubt books are going to suddenly obtain artificial intelligence and overthrow the human race.”

Unable to find a good comeback, you put the unwanted book back on the shelf with a little too much force before brushing past him. One would think that was the end of the conversation, but no. That would be against the kind of luck you had.

“I’m Minseok, by the way,” he introduced as he followed you down the aisle.

You barely threw him a glance. “Congratulations.”

“You know, for someone who looks so nice, you have a bit of a bite to you.” By the tone in his voice, it seemed like your attitude towards him was intriguing him to keep going rather than putting him off to find a new target.

Stopping in your tracks, you whirled on him. “Maybe there’s a reason for that, hm?”

The purpose of the gesture was to appear as annoyed and irritated as you felt. Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? You were not interested. You had a date with the current book in your hand at the coffee shop and you honestly would rather not be late. Not like anyone but yourself would be disappointed in that, but still.

He just laughed at you again. “Feisty. Maybe if you told me your name, I would walk away.”

“Not going to happen,” you declared. Ignoring him once again, you made your way to the register. But apparently he didn’t get the hint. He stayed right next to you like a puppy. A rottweiler puppy that was pretending to be a golden retriever.

“Hey, find anything interesting today?” Monica, the employee who was usually behind the counter, smiled at you. Since you came in so often, most of the people who worked here knew you. Or at least, they recognized your face. Monica was one of the few you knew very well, often participating in a little small talk about new releases and up-and-coming authors that piqued your interest.

“Just this,” you replied, handing over the book.

She read the cover, smiling. “Nice choice.”

Minseok leaned an elbow against the counter, still trying to keep your attention. “So, how about dinner?”

“No, thank you,” you said immediately. Without looking at him, you took out your card and handed it over to Monica.

She swiped it quickly before bagging up the book and handed you your card back along with your prize, the receipt already tucked in between the pages of the book.

“Thanks, (y/n)!” Monica waved innocently. “See ya soon.”

You cringed. “See you later, Monica.”

Minseok looked like he’d just won the lottery as he kept up with your scurried escape.“Ah, (y/n). That’s a pretty name.”

“No, it’s not,” you scoffed, stopping mid stride. Minseok nearly collided with you, but he managed to dodge the hit. You folded your arms across your chest, staring him down. “That’s just something you say to girls to butter them up. You start by complimenting their name. And then next it’s their eyes. You say something deep and mysterious, comparing them to the sea or stars or some other crap you picked up from the movies. And then once you finally get what you want, you drop them for the next unsuspecting girl.”

“Bold of you to presume you know me.” His eyes were narrowed at you, ready for the battle to begin. But you weren’t interested in any type of lingering fight.

Done with the conversation, you stormed off to your car. From a few feet away, Minseok called out for you after swinging a leg over on his black motorcycle.

“Hey, (y/n)!”

Suppressing a groan, you paused just before you could open your car door, making eye contact with him.

“If I’d asked you out in a three piece suit or a polo, would you have said yes?”

When you didn’t answer him, he slid the helmet in his hands over his head and zoomed off. Hopefully that was the last you’d see of him.

**

You really should be more conscious of the look you had on your face at the moment. The bartender kept sneaking glances out of the corner of his eye in your direction as you twirled the straw of your third fruity house special and you were sure that your expression was one of disgust and irritation, the direct opposite of the other patrons around you. 

To be fair, you’d let Sam and Jamie talk you into going out tonight. You weren’t the “get drunk and dance like a fool in public” kind of girl. Social butterfly was not a term one would find in your “about me” section of social media.

Sure, you’d go out to drink every once in a while, but you preferred the more mellow hang outs - like breweries - over the nightclub you were currently forced to occupy. You might not have been so crabby if Jamie hadn’t made you leave your purse in the car, which had your new book tucked away inside. Of course, she knew it was in there and that was why she made you leave your big bulky bag behind.

Sam downed another shot right as the DJ blasted the latest dance hit through the speakers. Your best friends got those overly excited looks on their faces and tried to convince you to come out with them on the dance floor.

“No, absolutely not,” you yelled over the music. “I don’t even get what a ‘nae-nae’ is!”

“Fine, have it your way, party-pooper!” Jamie yelled back. When she starts using childish terms like “party-pooper”, that was when you knew she needed to slow down on the drinking. The two of them stay on the outskirts of the dance floor, throwing flashy smiles at you to try and get you jealous of all the “fun” they’re having.

You took a few more sips of your drink, longing for your book. That itching feeling of needing to know what came next never left you alone. Sam had the keys to your car and wouldn’t cough them over unless you had a good reason to go out there. Even though you thought finishing the current chapter of your book was a more than fair reason to go to the car, the others wouldn’t agree. Maybe you did have a problem?

A new body quickly inhabited the stool that Sam had vacated just a minute before, pulling you from your self analysis.

You nearly groaned once you recognized the newcomer. Minseok motioned to the bartender and got a bottled beer in less than a minute.

“You don’t seem like the type of girl who hangs out in these places,” he purred. It was so much like a cat, matching his sharp eyes that you roll your own in response.

You swiveled the stool so your elbows were resting on the bar. “Was that pickup line supposed to impress me? Or maybe you were putting too much hope on the fact that I might have had too much to drink and wouldn’t recognize you?”

“I was just making an observation,” he smiled, if you could count pulling up one corner of his lip as smiling. “You know, since you liked to make assumptions about people, I thought I would give it a shot.”

You slowly pushed the stool back around, completing the three-sixty turn and catching Jamie’s eye on the way.

He’s hot, she mouthed.

No, you mouthed back, shaking your head just the tiniest fraction.

She rolled her eyes and kept dancing.

“I’m not a crowd person,” you admitted as you took a sip of your drink. Part of you wanted to just go back to ignoring him, but he seemed to be the only other sober person around, minus the staff, and it beat just sitting there and wishing that you could be off in another world instead. “When I’m forced to come to these places, I tend to put the wall up, just in case some creep decides to try his luck with me. Not that I ever really get hit on. That’s usually left to my friends.”

Minseok shook his head, sliding his finger down the neck of the bottle. “That’s a shame.”

You scrunched your eyebrows. “What is?”

“People these days are too lost in what looks nice from far away that they won’t take the time to look closer at something less obvious and discover its beauty,” Minseok briefly glimpsed at you, taking in your confused facial expression. “Like a painting.”

Unless you misinterpreted him, he’d just compared you to art. No one had ever said anything similar to that directed at you before. “Potential” was the word you usually were stuck with.

Trying to focus on not blushing while searching to find a coherent sentence to respond with as the bartender approached, you downed the rest of your drink instead of replying. Why couldn’t Minseok stay the typical, one-dimensional bad boy? Why did he have to slowly turn into the deep, misunderstood type? That just might a bad road for you journey down.   

“You want another one?”the bartender asked, motioning to your empty glass.

“Actually, I’ll take the cherry bomb.” Ever since they added a cherry coke and whipped cream vodka drink to their menu, you’d been addicted, even if it wasn’t exactly a cheap drink. To save your wallet, you’d limited yourself to one per night. Right now, though, you were tempted to order several back to back to clear out the thoughts that were starting to form. 

Once the clean glass filled with reddish brown liquid was in front of you, you turned back to Minseok. “So, are you expecting to try and have another shot with me?”

“No, I think I’ve learned my lesson when it comes to you. I still remember the zinger you sent my way in the parking lot.”

You quoted, “‘Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it’.”

“Santayana knew what he was talking about.”

You laughed in shock. How could he actually know the originator of that widely known quote? It was a line everyone knew but usually they couldn't put a name to it.

At Minseok’s questioning look, you explained, “It’s rare to find someone who knows that name. All of my friends recognize the quote, but none of them can recall who said it. They mostly think it’s from a movie.”

Minseok finished off his beer, “Too lazy to look it up?”

“Just lacking motivation,” you corrected after taking a huge gulp of your drink, careful not to dribble some of it on your chin. “They’re okay with going through life without answers to certain things.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And you?”

You snorted. “I need an answer for everything. I like knowing why something works the way it does or why certain things happen.”

It was a control thing, you knew that. But you didn’t fight it. It was simply something you did to make your surroundings more comfortable for you and it kept you sane. From your point of view, at least. 

“But not everything has an answer,” he retorted. “Some things just are.”

“That’s what makes the adventure,” you whispered somewhat flirtatiously. 

Adventure? Yeah, right. Your idea of an adventure was trying out a new restaurant. You were too timid and afraid to do anything truly daring. You were so boring. And it’d never bothered you like it did in this very moment. 

Seeing right through you, Minseok challenged, “I don’t think you know what a real adventure is.”

Suddenly, a beer bottle came sliding down the counter, knocking your glass over when the drinks collided. The sticky pop and liquor spilled all over your lap. Well, at least your pants were black.

“Fuck, sorry!” One of the drunks at the other end of the bar cried out.

“Hey!” The bartender yelled. “Cut that shit out!”

“There are paper towels in the bathroom,” Minseok said as he cleaned up the ice, putting the cubes back into the glass. The bartender tried to hand over an old, dirty looking rag, but Minseok rejected the offer.

You cringed. “I’m not going in there. Have you seen the bathrooms? They’re disgusting. I have some napkins in my car.” You hopped off the stool, the bottom of your nice boots getting soaked in the liquid that had managed to drip onto the floor. You tabbed out with the bartender before he headed to the other end of the bar.

“I’ll go with you,” Minseok offered. “You probably shouldn’t go out there alone around this time.”

You nodded, surprised. So chivalry wasn’t dead.

To get the keys from Sam, you went onto the dance floor and explained what happened, emphasizing that you’d be right back. She offered to go with you, but you told her you’d be okay and that you already had a bodyguard to watch out for you.

She looked over your shoulder at Minseok and shot you a questioning look. You walked off before the look could be followed by a bombardment of questions.

Once out at the car, you unlocked it and slid into the passenger seat, keeping your feet out on the asphalt. You pulled out a handful of napkins from the glove box and start dabbing at your shirt and pants.

“At least I didn’t wear white,” you grumbled to yourself.

“Might have been an interest pattern if it stained, though,” Minseok teased. “Could have started a new trend. Alcohol stained clothes. Could have named it ‘The Morning After’.”

“Darn, I could have had a trending brand on my hands,” you groaned sarcastically. Gathering up the used napkins, you stood up, closed the door, and locked the car back up. You walked over to the nearest trash can and tossed the cold, disintegrating napkins away. Leaning against the wall of the club, you sighed, “Man, that breeze feels good. Too many bodies in a small area, it never fails to make me sweat profusely.”

Minseok nodded. “We can wait a few minutes before going back inside if you would like.” He seemed perfectly fine, even in the ever-present leather jacket. 

“Thank you,” you said sincerely. Pursing your lips, you played with the hem of your shirt. “Also for making sure I don’t get kidnapped. Unless, you being nice to me like this was all a part of an elaborate plan to kidnap me.”

“Still trying to label me as the bad guy, huh?” While there was a little shine left in his eye, most of the teasing was gone from his tone.

“You don’t exactly do yourself any favors,” you argued. “Leather jackets and that attitude will lead to those assumptions.”

“So far, the only one who has had an attitude is you,” he countered.

Well, shit. He wasn’t entirely wrong. Ever since he’d first spoken to you, you’d tried to push him away, make him walk in the opposite direction. Very different from the usual soft person you tried to be. You’d written him off as the stereotypical bad boy and just wanted him to leave you be. But your prickly attitude didn’t faze him at all. He didn’t scoff, throw his hands in the air and storm off like you’d expected. And you were finding yourself less and less eager to put up the annoyed front. 

Grabbing your hand, Minseok dragged you away from the club and deeper into the parking lot, not stopping until he was next to his bike. Apparently, the car next the bike was familiar to him as well as he unlocked the door and pulled out an open-faced helmet. In one smooth motion, he swung his leg over the beast.

“Do you normally have two modes of transportation?” you questioned.

He threw you a look. “It’s my sister’s car. She’s here with her boyfriend. That’s the only reason I came. Unless you thought I was stalking you?”

You didn’t dignify that comment with a response.

Minseok held the helmet out to you. “Get on.”

You scoffed. “No way.”

“Weren’t you the one talking about adventure earlier?” he reminded you.

“That’s different,” you argued weakly. “This thing is a death trap.”

“You sound like my mom.”

Right now would have been the opportune time to turn around and go back inside. By the time he got off the bike, you could be back at the door. That would have been the smart thing to do, the good girl thing to do. Motorcycles were dangerous. They were easily hit by cars that weren’t paying attention. You could be crushed, get road rash, or die in any other painful way if he was to lose control of the bike. There was no box that protected you from the elements, either.

“Don’t you want to know what it’s like to fly?” Minseok asked.

Damn it. That one stupid question was just enough to start tipping you over the edge.

“Then again, you could always live safely on the ground.”

Snatching the helmet out of his mocking hand, you squashed it down on your head before buckling the strap. Not quite as gracefully as Minseok, you hopped onto the back of the bike, almost losing your balance in the process. This had to be the stupidest thing you’d ever done. Maybe it was the alcohol giving you that extra push, taking away your inhibitions and usual way of making smart choices.

The engine roared to life. Slowly, Minseok backed out of the parking space with his feet. Once he was out in the open, he took off.

Everything blurred by you as the wind bit at your face. You clung to Minseok for dear life, arms viced around his torso while squeezing your eyes shut. He laughed at your iron grip but you weren’t loosening it any time soon. The truly surprising part was - despite the fear pumping through your veins at the moment - you were actually enjoying thrill of it all.

After the first few minutes of seeing your life flash before your eyelids, you were able to calm down and open them up to truly experience the ride. 

Minseok was an expert, carefully changing lanes and checking his surroundings for any possible danger. Eventually, you were able to rest your chin on his shoulder, taking in the feeling. Your arms weren’t as tense. Instead, they hung a little looser, fingers still clasped together, but allowing the blood to flow freely. You didn’t think it was exactly how flying would be, but it did make a nice parallel.

Too soon for your liking, Minseok pulled back into the parking space in front of the club. As soon as the engine was off, you got off the bike and handed him the helmet back.

“That was probably the most reckless thing you’ve ever done in your life,” Minseok guessed. No need to verify that fact beyond the shy smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

“Hey, baby girl!”

A small group of drunks came stumbling in your direction. Sensing trouble, Minseok got off the bike and placed himself between you and the unstable men.

“Just keep walking,” he warned.

“Sweetheart, why don’t I take you for a real ride?” one of them snickered.

Your stomach nearly pushed your drinks back up from his innuendo.

“Shut your mouth!” Minseok yelled. His fists were curled tight by his sides.

Fearing that this could turn bad, you place a hand on his shoulder. “Minseok, just leave it alone. They’re drunk. Let’s go back inside.”

“What you are going to do about it, punk?” one of the others spat.

“Maybe we need to show this lady what a real man is,” the last one laughed.

The first one leered at you, pretending as if Minseok didn’t exist at all. “I bet she’d look really pretty on my-”

Wherever his disgusting thought was going, it was quickly derailed by a punch from Minseok. The drunk’s friends were quick to join in, but since he was sober, Minseok had the advantage. That didn’t stop him from taking a few hits, though.

“Minseok!”

A girl with similar features to the leather clad idiot in front of you came running out of the club with another guy behind her as well as the bouncer.

The additional males were able to break up the fight and the drunks scrambled off before they could get into worse trouble.

“Why are you always getting into fights!” the girl yelled. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this was Minseok’s sister.

“Those assholes were saying-”

“I don’t care what they were saying!” she snapped. “You swore you would stop fighting!”

Not wanting to stick around for the family affair, you quickly walked around Minseok, keeping your head down and trying not to be noticed as you wrapped your arms around yourself. You should have known that was going to happen. You should have known that this was all too good to be true. In the end, he was still the delinquent, the bad boy with a temper. And you were not going to stick around and continue to be disappointed. 

“(y/n), wait!” Minseok caught you on the arm right as you reached your car. He turned around, looking at you desperately. A cut a few centimeters wide above his left eye was oozing blood and his lip was busted open. Evidence of exactly what kind of guy you were dealing with. “Don’t go,” he begged, pleaded with you.

“Thank you for the ride,” you said straightly, monotonously, making sure that he could take in exactly where you stood. You didn’t even meet his eye, keeping your gaze down on the black asphalt. “But let me go.”

“No, talk to me,” he insisted through clenched teeth. “I thought I was finally getting through to you.”

You yanked your arm out of his grip. Finally meeting his eyes, you let loose. “Look, Minseok. I don’t know exactly what you were aiming for, but it’s never going to happen. I don’t go out with guys like you that throw punches and ride motorcycles and stomp around like they’re the toughest thing to walk this earth. I like nice guys. Good guys. They don’t go around sporting bruises and blood.”

His shoulders slumped. Defeat was emerging all over his face, but he decided to give it one more try. “Maybe I could be the nice guy.”

You shook your head. “Why are you trying so hard? You don’t know me.”

His eyes held your as he declared, “I know you more than you think I do.”

Not wanting to stick around and risk hearing anything else that might tempt you to forget what just happened, you threw the door open to your car and jumped into the driver’s seat. Sam and Jamie would just have to find their own way home. They could be mad at you later.

Throwing the car into reverse, you sped out of the parking lot as fast as you could while trying not to glance back at the man standing in the parking lot, staring after you.

**

You kept telling yourself that you made the right decision. Minseok was not the kind of guy that you could take to your parents and say “this is the guy I’m dating” and not expect disastrous results. And he wasn’t the kind of guy you wanted anyway.

So, why did you find yourself spending too much time at the bookstore, hoping to see him again? Or walking by the bar on a busy Friday night, hoping to spot that shiny black motorcycle in the parking lot?

Frustrated to no end, you threw your book down on the floor with a yell. You’d gone completely crazy. There you were on the couch, dressed in a comfortable sweater and leggings, trying to read a book centered around a leather-clad bad boy and a well-rounded good girl. The point of the exercise was to prove to yourself that you were right - that you’d made the best decision - but all you could think about was leaning into Minseok’s back as he guided the bike down the darkened streets, the wind leaving behind kisses on your face as the two of you raced away, leaving behind reality for just a little while, believing that man could fly.

It’d only happened once and yet you found yourself missing the way Minseok’s muscles tightened under your touch. You actually missed the smell of his jacket and the way his eyes laughed at you and your timid way of approaching life.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

What was that?

At first, you decided to ignore the sound, thinking that maybe it was just a squirrel passing by or a bird not realizing they would never get through the clear glass. Although, usually at this time of night all the little creatures had already settled down.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Unable to block it out anymore, you stood up and went to the sliding glass door that led out onto the balcony of your apartment. It definitely wasn’t a squirrel.

Parked out in the street under your balcony was Minseok, leaning up against his bike as he fiddled with a rock in his hand.

“About time you came out here,” he smirked up at you.

You crossed your arms, keeping on the air that you weren’t the least bit elated that he’d somehow found you.

“What are you doing here?” you demanded. That in itself was a reasonable question.

He shrugged. “Your friends weren’t too happy that you’d ditched them. They were more than willing to tell me where you lived. Especially after talking to my sister.”

Traitors.

As much as you’d wanted to see Minseok again, part of you still stood by what you’d said. There was no way the two of you could work out. And you didn’t want your heart to get broken.

Minseok waved his hand, “Come down here.”

“Go away,” you growled. For your own sake, you’d hoped that he’d listen. But of course he wouldn’t.

“No,” he stated. “Not until you talk to me. Otherwise, I’m staying right here.”

Rolling your eyes, you went back inside and shut the door. For a moment, you were tempted to just stay there in your living room, but you knew he’d make good on his threat.

After shoving your feet into a pair of sneakers, you headed down to the street below. Once in front of him, you threw your arms up. “Okay, I’m here.”

Minseok actually had the nerve to scoff. “That was much easier than I thought it would be.”

“What do you want?” you snapped.

“For you to listen,” he replied. When you didn’t open your mouth again, he went on, “Look. I’m sorry about the other night. You’re right, I shouldn't have started that fight. Even if I believe that asshole deserved it. But I can be the nice guy, too. I think I’ve already proven that to you. If not, then come with me. I can show you how much of the nice guy I can be.”

His offer was so tempting, like the shiny, blood red apple the witch had offered to Snow White. Because he was right. He’d shown you moments of chivalry and vulnerability that you hadn’t expected. But what would happen to you if you took a bite?

“That night,” you whispered, “you said that you knew me better than I thought. What did you mean by that?”

Minseok cleared his throat. “That was a bit of an exaggeration. It’s just….” he cursed. “This is going to sound really creepy and stalkerish, but hear me out.” Obviously nervous, he ran his fingers through his hair before shoving his hands in his pockets. “You see, my sister works at the coffee shop you go to all the time and I visit her a lot. And I’d see you. I thought you were cute, but then-” Again, he cursed under his breath.

“Then what?” you urged. You were sitting on the edge of your metaphorical seat. This sounded an awful lot like the beginning of a love confession. While love was a bit extreme to be feeling in this exact moment, this definitely felt like the start of something life changing.

“Then I’d watch you read and your face was like a mirror, reflecting the emotions of the book. And it was fascinating. And you were also so sweet to everyone, even that little girl who came up to talk to you randomly… Shit!” Minseok turn and kicked the tire of his bike. “Damn it, this sounds so stupid. I can’t believe I’m actually saying this.”

You tried really hard not to smile. It was a complete failure. “So, what you’re saying is that you developed a crush on me while visiting your sister at work?”

Refusing to look at you, he gave the smallest nod in existence. How could someone so tough do something so cute?

Before you could stop yourself, you stepped up to him and planted a quick kiss on his lips. At least, that was the plan.

As soon as your lips connected with his, Minseok’s bravado shot right back up to it’s normal inflated state. He wrapped his arms around your waist, giving you no escape as he deepened the kiss. And you certainly weren’t protesting.

The kiss was soft and warm despite the cool temperature outside. One of Minseok’s hands left your back and came up to cradle your jaw. Too soon, he pulled away.

“Come fly with me again,” he whispered.

Unable to speak, you simply nodded.

Pulling away, Minseok turned around and handed you a brand new, full-face helmet.

“Is this mine?” you asked skeptically.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist me, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt.”

You scoffed, shoving the helmet back into his hands. “Well, if I’m so predictable, why even bother with me? Wouldn’t that be boring?”

“I don’t think you could ever be boring,” he said sincerely. With confidence, he held the protective gear out for you once more and you took it with no resistance.

Just like that night at the bar, you carelessly jumped on the back of the bike, snaking your arms around Minseok’s torso, although this time around your grip wasn’t as death-fearing. Minseok roared the engine under you and your heart sped up with anticipation.

Bad boys, you realized, weren’t just bound in leather and dangerous. They could be soft and cute and protective. Perhaps all of that was why good girls so often fell for them. They could be unpredictable and at times scary, but in the end the hidden gem underneath made it all worth it. It was a chance that you would be willing to take, knowing that you would never be able to get this boy out of your head. If he broke your heart, so be it. Maybe they were made to be broken.

Minseok gave you one last wink over his shoulder before he took off down the road and back onto the wind of freedom.

[allisondraste]

Temperance (4/?)

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe/ Female, Non-HoF Cousland

Story Summary:  Nathaniel and Elissa were childhood friends, but time and distance tore them apart. In the aftermath of the Fifth Blight, and Ferelden’s Civil War, both Elissa and Nathaniel must attempt reconstruct their tattered lives. As a series of events lead them to be reunited, both are reminded of so many years ago when things were much simpler.

Chapter Summary:   Liss is determined to make that grumpy Howe boy her friend, but she isn't prepared for what that entails.

First Chapter Previous Chapter [AO3 LINK]

Highever, 9:15 Dragon

Liss had made a new friend, or at least she was bound and determined to make that quiet, grumpy Howe boy her friend.  Nathaniel — or Nate, as she had decided to call him — seemed much less interested in the notion, however. In fact, he didn’t seem interested in much at all, especially not normal things that kids should be interested in.  He had been staying in Highever for over a month now, and she had never seen him play, not a single time. He just attended lessons, read books, and followed Fergus around like he was a sad, little puppy. Liss didn’t understand why anyone would want to follow Fergus around.  He smelled like sweat and old cheese.

Papa told her she wasn’t to bother him, but she didn’t think that encouraging him to act like a normal kid was the same as “bothering.”  Nate did not seem to mind it much whenever she left her lessons early and sought him out. While he was never really excited when she dragged him outside to the gardens and enlisted him in her search for the perfect flowers to braid into a crown,  to play games, or even just to hide from Aldous behind some of the bushes, he didn’t complain. The only time Nate got annoyed with her was when she tried to make him wear the flower crown she had so artfully crafted. As soon as the white petals touched his pretty black hair, he blushed and took it off, handing it back to her forcefully.  She tried to remember not to do that again.

Liss had once again persuaded her way out of Aldous’ lecture, this time by reciting the entire tale of Flemeth and Bann Conobar from memory when he asked if she’d even paid attention.  Little did he know she had read several different versions of the tale -- multiple times. She did not need to attend to his instruction, especially when he couldn’t even pronounce the names properly.  She was only eight and she knew that it was Oh-sen, not Ah-sen. Obviously defeated, the man had grumbled about “Bryce’s know-it-all children,” thrown his hands up in frustration, and told her she was free to go.  Thrilled she did not have to sneak away this time, she skipped out of the room and into the open air.

She didn’t make it far as she had hoped before she felt a tug at her arm drawing her abruptly to a halt.  She spun to face the person holding her arm only to see Fergus towering over her with his eyebrows raised.

“Skipping again?” He spoke in a gentle kind of way that he always did when he wasn’t really serious.  “You’re going to get in trouble.”

“Aldous let me go, I promise.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

“Please don’t tell Papa, Fergus.’  She clasped her hands together and pouted, earning her an eye roll and a hair tousle.

“Your secret’s safe with me, sis,”  Fergus answered with a smile, making Liss feel a twinge of guilt for thinking he was smelly.  Just a twinge.

Liss nodded and turned to continue her traipse toward the  courtyard, but Fergus called after her. “If you’re looking for Nathaniel, he’s out at the archery range.”

“Okay,” she chirped and took off running toward the castle gates.  The targets were lined up just inside the walls, where guards sometimes practiced.  There were no guards around at the moment, leaving the area empty and quiet.

Nate stood at the far end, several feet away from a target that was nestled in a corner.  She didn’t understand his affinity for small, secluded spaces, but she didn’t plan on pointing it out to him.  Several arrows already protruded from the target, close to the center, but not quite a bullseye.

Liss watched as he took another dull, training arrow from the quiver, line it up on the bow across his finger, and aim carefully as he drew back the string.  His eyebrows pressed together as he released the string, sending the arrow flying toward the target and landing directly in the middle. The corner of Nate’s lips quirked up at the hit, quickly turning into a grin that spread across his face.  It even lit up his eyes.

“Wow,” Liss exclaimed, causing Nate to jump and dart his head in her direction.  His smile fell briefly and then returned when he realized it was her.

“Did you see that?” He motioned toward the target with his thumb as he walked toward her. “I’ve never done that before.”

“That was amazing ,” Liss said excitedly, “Mama tried to teach Fergus to shoot like that, but he’s better with a sword.  How did you learn to do that?”

Nate shrugged. “I just practiced.”

“Can you show me?”

“You want to learn how to use a bow?” He blinked in disbelief.  “Are you allowed? Father never lets Delilah use weapons. Says it’s not something girls should do.”

“That’s silly.” Liss was indignant, puffing out her chest and turning her nose up.  “Papa says girls can do anything that boys can.”

“Right...sorry.  I’ll show you.” He motioned for her to follow him, moving to stand in front of one of the targets.  She ran after him giddily, eager for the chance to learn something new. Nate placed the bow in her hands and walked forward to retrieve the arrows from the target.  It was heavier than she expected, coarse wood rough in her palms. He returned with the arrows in hand and extended one out to her. “I never got why Delilah wasn’t allowed.  She’d be good at it.”

Liss took the arrow and stared awkwardly between it and the bow, unsure how to hold either, before looking up at Nate helplessly.   He laughed, taking her shoulders and squaring her up with the target. “Which hand do you write with?”

She raised her right hand and wiggled her fingers.

“You want to hold the bow in your left hand, then,” he explained, “And line your left shoulder up with the target when you aim.”  

“Like this?”

“Mhm,” Nate said with a nod, “Make sure your feet are far enough apart that you can balance.  Do you know what to do with the arrow now?”

Liss nodded in response,  hooking the end of the arrow on the string and lining it up with her finger, just as she had seen her mother and Nate do.

“Right!   Now you just shoot it.”

The bowstring was more difficult to pull back than she intended, and her arms shook as she attempted to aim.  Her posture failed her, and when she released the arrow, it soared directly into the ground. Her cheeks grew hot with embarrassment, and she expected to find Nate laughing at her when she turned to face him, but he wasn’t.  He only smiled gently and handed her another arrow. Fergus would have laughed at her.

“It’s harder than it looks,” he said, moving to stand behind her, lining her shoulders up again and holding her in place as she drew back the string and released the arrow.  It wasn’t a great shot, a bit too high, but it struck and sunk into the very top edge of the target.

“Oh,” Liss said, bewildered as she turned to face her friend, “I did it!  Thank you!” She threw her arms around him in an excited embrace. He stiffened, but didn't push her away.

“It’s-,” Nate began to reply, but he paused, blinking in the direction of the door to the castle’s main hall.  Liss turned to figure out what had caused him to stop, only to see her father standing a few feet away, smiling as he always did.  For a moment she worried that he would be cross that she was not in her lessons again, but he did not seem to realize she wasn’t where she was supposed to be.

“Good work, kids,” he remarked cheerfully as he moved closer to them, tousling Liss’ hair as Fergus had done and giving Nate a pat on the shoulder. Despite his typically happy appearance, something was wrong.  He had a heaviness in his eyes she wasn’t used to seeing, and his hand lingered on Nate’s shoulder as he addressed her. “Pup, I need to speak to Nathaniel for a bit. Why don’t you go find Fergus and the two of you get washed up for dinner?”

“But Papa, I-.” She wanted to stay with Nate, and practice shooting more.  She didn’t know why she couldn’t hear what Papa had to say, too.

“Elissa.”  His tone was serious, and she knew she needed to do as he said without protest this time.  She offered an apologetic smile to Nate, whose eyes had widened with worry, as she ran off to find her brother.  

It took awhile to find Fergus, who had been down in the kennels with the Mabari trainers and breeders.  His latest fixation was to have one of the puppies bond with him; however, he had no luck so far. Papa warned him that the more he tried to force a bond, the less likely it was to happen.  Fergus didn’t listen, though, and stubbornly went down to the basement each day to pester the dogs. She hoped it would happen for him soon, for his sake and for the dogs’.

“I shot a bow,” she told him proudly as they walked up the stairs to their rooms.

“Get a bullseye?”

“No, but I hit the target once.” She beamed, as she spoke. “Nate helped me.”

“Good on him,” Fergus said, a chuckle at the end of his words, “Maybe he can help me, too. Get mum to stop lecturing me about it.”  

After washing up and changing into a different dress, one that was not covered in dirty paw prints from being in the kennels, Liss joined her family in the dining room for the evening meal.  Her parents and Fergus were already seated, awaiting her arrival. Looking across the table, she frowned when she didn’t see Nate, his usual seat empty and unset. She turned her gaze to her father, who just shook his head, somberly.

“Where’s Nate?”  She pulled out her chair and sat down at the table that was nearly too tall for her.  “Is he okay?”

Her parents exchanged glances and nodded at one another before looking back toward Liss and Fergus.  

“Sweetheart,” her mother began, voice quivering as she spoke, “Nathaniel received some really sad news from home.  He didn’t feel like coming to dinner today.”

“Sad news,” Fergus repeated, “What kind of sad news?”  

“Apparently Nathaniel’s mother has been very sick for some time now,” her father said, “I don’t know if he told either of you.  I know that it is not something Rendon has ever mentioned.”

Liss and Fergus both shook their heads.  She remembered him talking about his father, sister, and brother, but not once since he had been in Highever could she remember him saying anything about his mother.  Especially not anything about her being sick.

“Is she okay,” Liss asked, scooting her chair out and standing up again, hands on the table.

“She died, pup.”  Her father frowned as he spoke, “Last week, actually.  The letter just arrived today. They poor lad wasn’t even able to go to her funeral, to say goodbye.”

“Bryce,” her mother said pointedly, laying a soothing arm on his shoulder.  Liss didn’t understand the exchange, but it upset her to see her father so clearly bothered.  He almost seemed angry.

“Is...Nate okay?” Liss was still standing, fists now clenched at her side.

“No, but he will be,” her father told her softly, “He asked if he could stay in his room instead of come to dinner.  I think he wants to be alone.”

Liss didn’t even ask to be excused before she took off running out of the dining hall, up the stairs in the corridor, and toward Nate’s room. She ignored her parents calls for her to come back, thinking about how she might feel if her mother were to die.  It made her so sad she could hardly stand it and she couldn’t even imagine what Nate was feeling. She knew her father was right and that he probably wanted to be by himself, but she was his friend, and she couldn’t just leave him all alone. If he told her to go away, she would, but she at least had to try.  

When she reached the door to his bedroom, she pressed her ear against the elaborately carved wood, but wasn’t able to hear anything.  She knocked, and when there was no answer, she let herself in, turning the knob and pushing the door open gently. She scanned the room, which was illuminated by a lone sconce on the wall, only to find Nate sitting on the floor in a far corner of the room, his back against the wall.  He traced the edges of a small, golden ring with his fingertips, staring at the ground. When he heard the door creak open, despite Liss’ attempts to be quiet, he looked up at her with swollen, tear-reddened eyes.

“Liss?”  His voice was hoarse, and barely more than a whisper.  

“Mama and Papa told me what happened,” she explained as she moved closer, sitting down next to him, “I’m really sorry.”

He said nothing in response, instead just closing his eyes and letting his head droop.  Large tears rolled down his cheeks and dripped from his chin, and she didn’t know what to do.  She’d never seen a boy cry before, and she was at a loss for how to make him feel better.

“I can go if you want me to,” she said softly, “Papa said you might want to be al-.”

“No,” Nate choked out, urgently, “Stay. Please stay.”

Unsure what else to do, she leaned over and put an arm around his shoulder.  In a swift, unexpected movement, he turned to wrap his arms around her in a desperate hug, his face buried into her shoulder so that she could feel the warm tears as the fell.  He wept and trembled against her and she put her other arm around him, reaching up to pat his head with her hand. It was just as Mama did when she was upset. She wondered if Nate’s mama had held him like this, too, but that made her sad, and sympathetic tears burned in her eyes before dropping to her cheeks.  

“I’m so so sorry, Nate,” she said, squeezing him more tightly, “I’m sorry.”

She held him for a long while, until his breathing slowed and became more even, his grip on her relaxing, his shaky body finally resting, as he fell asleep against her.  She guessed he had worn himself out, and she was glad to see him at peace. She was only slightly bothered that she was now stuck, unable to move him and not wanting to wake him up.

She was relieved when the door creaked open, and she looked up to see her parents standing there, framed by the light from the hallway.  Her father frowned, eyebrows furrowed as her mother brought a hand to her mouth. Nate didn’t hear them, and they both entered quietly. Her father hurried over to pick up Nate, carrying him to his bed and tucking him in under the heavy covers.  Her mother, noticing Liss’ own tears, rushed to her side and held her, much as she had held her friend just moments before.

“It’s so sad, Mama,” she mumbled into the the woman’s gown.

“I know, sweetheart,” she soothed, pressing a kiss against Liss’ hair, “I know.”

“My girl, you did a good thing tonight,” her father said as he knelt to join them.  “But you must be exhausted. How about we get you to bed?”

Liss nodded, still sniffling.  Tonight, she welcomed bedtime, comforted as she was carried to bed by her mother, who was still alive.  She said a tiny prayer before she fell asleep that the Maker would take care of Nate’s mother, and that he wouldn’t take her own, not for a very, very long time.

[fucking-zawa-sensei]

Skyscraper

Title: Skyscraper

Rating: T

Word Count: 2k+

Categories: fluff, high school

Notes: This one is for @yaycreamymancakes who is so awesome and I adore their art so much. They make me smile a lot with their shenanigans on discord, even if I’m mostly a lurker around those parts. They requested some highschool erasermic, in which Hizashi as a growth spurt over summer break and Shouta just can’t keep his eyes off him.

Read it on AO3 here

Skyscraper

The teachers had warned them that the summer before their senior year would be difficult, but as Shouta pulls out the seat of his desk and flops down onto the hard surface, watching as his classmates sink into their chairs in much the same, defeated way, he’s thinking their teachers could have been a bit more serious when they’d tossed the advice out into the air like they were saying something as trivial as, “it’s hot today.”

These internships were nothing like the short, almost laughably simpler ones of their first and second years.

Shouta’s back still aches from all the nights he’d spent hurling himself across rooftops, trying to keep up with his pro hero mentor, while simultaneously coming to the realization that he had years to go before he’d truly master his capture weapon.

Tensei comes into the classroom with a soft smile on his face that almost makes Shouta think his family had taken it easy on him when he’d continued to choose their agency for his studies, but the weak wave the boy gives Shouta before sitting down says otherwise.

Shouta groans and folds his arms on his desk, dropping his head down to rest atop them, blocking out the chatter of his classmates as they wait for the last students to trickle in before homeroom. He’s almost about to doze off when he hears a few people nearby let out little gasps. Unable to shove away the curiosity itching at the back of his mind, he lifts his head just enough to peak out from underneath his long bangs.

The student in front of him shifts to the side and he can see what everyone is staring at.

Or, rather, who they’re all staring at.

Hizashi was always an attention grabber, with his bright hair, styled to stand up, his even brighter glasses, and usually many bracelets, rings, or other accessories adding pops of color to his otherwise standard uniform. Being best friends with the boy, Shouta had gotten used to all the exciting decorations, all the extra pizzazz Hizashi put into every outfit and movement, always talking with not just his hands, but his whole body.

Most of his other classmates had gotten used to it by now as well, having spent the past two years in class together, but those aren’t the thing that is catching everyone’s eye now.

What’s different about Hizashi is not something he’d put on, it’s his height.

It’s his towering, immense height.

Hizashi had been rather small before, perhaps even a little more than usual for his age, a few inches shorter than Shouta if his hair was down.

Now, Shouta isn’t standing up, so it’s hard to tell, but Hizashi looks several heads taller than him.

He looked like a skyscraper, dragging his long legs over to the desk beside Shouta’s.

Shouta can’t help the way he sits up, watches with wide eyes as his friend walks behind him before pulling out his chair and sitting down. Shouta doesn’t miss the way Hizashi’s knees bang the bottom of his desk when he first scoots his chair forward, apparently not used to his new height yet himself either.

When Hizashi turns toward Shouta, he panics, dropping his head back into his folded arms, turning the other way, pretending he wanted some extra sleep before homeroom. It wouldn’t be hard to believe. He’d done this before when he had spent too much time training or just hadn’t been able to sleep well the night before. After the first few times where Hizashi had asked if he was feeling unwell, the other boy had learned to just give Shouta his space and he’d usually recover enough to have lunch with Hizashi and their other friends by the afternoon.

Shouta hears a soft sigh behind him and Hizashi’s chair creak a little as he shifts his position.

He wasn’t sleepy right now.

If Hizashi could see his face, he’d see that it was a vibrant, bright pink.

Shouta’s eyes were wide where he hid them behind his arm.

Somewhere along the lines last year, Shouta had realized he had a crush on the other boy, but had been doing what he thought to be a damn good job of hiding it. Now, though, now, with all that extra height, with those long limbs and sun kissed skin, apparently having spent a large majority of his internship outside during daytime, Shouta can’t keep the heat off his cheeks.

Hizashi looked damn good.

Shit, shit, shit, Shouta curses inside his mind.

It felt like being dragged back to ground zero, like he was realizing his feelings for the other boy all over again, the same way he had the first time, when Hizashi had fallen asleep at the kotatsu during one of their study sessions and Shouta had draped a blanket across his shoulders with a softness he’d never treated anyone else with before. He remembers the moment so vividly, staring down at Hizashi’s peaceful, sleeping face and realizing this boy was someone he could never imagine being without.

Yet, with their internships sending them to separate cities, demanding all their free time, he hadn’t seen the blond all summer break, and had apparently missed quite the change.

“Shit, Hizashi, look at you!” he hears Tensei’s voice trail behind him, as the boy comes up to talk to Hizashi.

“Haha, yeah. Turns out I’m a late bloomer or whatever,” Hizashi laughs out.

Shouta keeps his head tucked safely away, but tilts it just enough to not muffle his ear.

“I’ll say! You must be taller than me now!”

“You? No way!”

“Stand up, let’s see!”

Shouta hears Hizashi’s chair screech as it’s pushed back and the other boy presumably stands to compare his height with Tensei.

“Oh, wow, guess I am!”

Shouta bites his lip.

He’s taller than Tensei?

His face gets impossibly hotter.

At this rate, he’d have to keep his head buried for all of homeroom.

Hell, at this rate, he wouldn’t be able to look at Hizashi ever again.

“How does it feel?” Tensei asks. “Hit any lamps?” he jokes.

Hizashi laughs again and Shouta hears more shuffling and the chair creaks again.

“Ah...I don’t know. I’m still getting used to it. It kind of hurt when it happened, to be honest. Growing pains,” he says, with his tone dismissive. Shouta frowns, his mind switching tracks as he picks up the uneasy lilt to Hizashi’s words, his concern for the other boy overriding his crush.

He lifts his head, turning to look at Hizashi, his flush having disappeared. Hizashi’s eyes widen and it takes Shouta aback for a second, seeing that green gaze uninterrupted by his glasses, which have been pushed back onto the top of Hizashi’s head. The blond’s thumb and forefinger are still pressed against the bridge of his nose, where he’d apparently been rubbing before Shouta had decided to join the conversation.

“Ah, hey, Shouta!” Hizashi smiles, dropping his hand away from his face and pulling his glasses back into place. “How was your summer?” Immediately, Hizashi’s voice has ticked up back to its normal, happy pitch.

Shouta feels the heat resurfacing along the back of his neck and quickly tries to shake off the thought of, he’s happy to talk to me.

“Exhausting,” he answers. It’s the truth. He was still tired and sore from the weeks of training.

Tensei hums his agreement from where he stands above them.

“I feel that,” he says. Tensei rubs at his arms, just below where his engines are. “I thought I was going to lose a limb a few times there. At least with my internship being with my family, I didn’t have to explain when I almost fell asleep at dinner a few times.”

Shouta snorts and Hizashi full on belly laughs at the imagery of Tensei passing out into his salad.

“Yeah...sleep was hard to come by,” Shouta comments, resting his chin against his hand. He’d worked with an underground hero, knowing by now that, that was the path he’d be going down, and while he’d thought adjusting to no sleep at night would be easy for someone like him, he’d collapsed on his bedroom floor a few times coming home after work, not making it to the bed.

“How about you?” Tensei asks Hizashi.

The boy shrugs.

“Ah...the internship really wasn’t so bad...but my quirk got pretty out of control when my growth spurt happened. That wasn’t fun,” Hizashi admits, rubbing the back of his neck and looking at his desk.

“Sorry to hear that,” Tensei says, placing a hand on Hizashi’s shoulder. “It’s better now?”

Hizashi shrugs and Shouta is about to open his mouth, try to say something, anything to get the smile back on the blond’s face, but their homeroom teacher walks through door, calling their attention to her.

Tensei moves back to his seat and before Shouta can say anything, they’re thrown quickly into the first day’s classes.

It’s not until lunch that he gets the opportunity to say anything to Hizashi, but by then, the other boy already seems to be in a better mood, and they’d promised to meet Nemuri at one of the benches outside the school to catch up now that she’d graduated. Shouta walks beside Hizashi as they make their way to the meeting place, unable to stop himself from continuously glancing at the other boy, letting his eyes roam up and down his towering body, still not used to having to look up to see his face.

“It’s weird, huh?”

Hizashi’s question throws him for a loop, making him stumble a bit in his gait.

“W-what?” Shouta asks.

“Me being so tall, it’s weird, isn’t it?” Hizashi asks again, looking down at Shouta with a small, almost insecure smile.

“No,” Shouta insists.

“I see the way you keep looking at me,” Hizashi says. He pauses his step, and Shouta casts a helpless look over his shoulder as Tensei keeps walking on ahead of them, leaving them alone.

What was he supposed to say to that?

Yeah, you’re right. I can’t keep my eyes off you?

“Um…” Shouta mumbles, looking to the side.

“Is it my clothes? I know they’re kind of awkward now...they don’t fit right. I had to get bigger ones, but now these are too big…” Hizashi says, pulling at his shirt. Now that he mentions it, Shouta could see how Hizashi’s clothes sag around him in ways they never did before, obviously too large for his slim frame.

“I guess they think that if you’re tall, you’re also really muscular or something,” Hizashi says. “Not me, though, I still got these sweet, sweet chicken legs,” Hizashi jokes and rolls his eyes, but Shouta hears how his tone is too dark to really be considered funny. It’s too self-deprecating.

Was he really feeling bad about the way he looked now?

“What? No!” Shouta says. “You look…” Shouta runs his hands through his hair. “You...the reason I keep looking at you is because I think...I think you look really good. I think…well I just...like it...I like the new you.”

This time, when the blush comes creeping onto his cheeks, he doesn’t hide it. There isn’t any way for him to cover up his face anyway.

“You like it?”

Shouta nods.

“You like…”

Shouta lifts his head, looking at Hizashi, only to see the blond is also flushed.

“Me?” Hizashi finishes his sentence and Shouta’s heart takes off, immediately kicked into overdrive.

His mouth feels incredibly dry. He opens it, but nothing comes out. There are no words in his head, and now he’s just standing there, wide eyed and slack jawed in front of his friend.

Hizashi waits, but as Shouta continues to not respond, he chuckles a little awkwardly and starts turning.

“I...uh...sorry…I guess I got the wrong idea...I-” Hizashi starts mumbling as he moves to walk away, but Shouta grabs his arm.

“I do.”

Hizashi looks back at Shouta and he holds his breath.

“You do...what?” Hizashi asks.

Shouta can’t believe he’s going to make him say it.

“Like you. I do. I do like you.”

Just like that, Hizashi’s grin bursts onto his face, and Shouta’s heart flutters.

“Good! Great!” Hizashi shouts and steps closer to Shouta, laughing. “Good! Because I do too! I like you too!”

“N-no way…” Shouta whispers.

“Yes way! I like you a lot! I was so worried...when you turned away this morning…” Hizashi’s gaze shifts down to the ground. “I thought you didn’t like the way I looked now...or that something had happened over the summer and you didn’t like me anymore…”

“No, never,” Shouta says, moving his grip down from where he’d been holding Hizashi’s wrist to grab the blond’s hand instead, intertwining their fingers. “I’ve liked you for a while now, since last year. Nothing has changed. Well…”

“Well?” Hizashi asks, squeezing his hand.

“I guess you got a bit hotter…”

Hizashi’s face goes pink.

“Shouta!”

He smirks as the blond pulls his hand away from Shouta’s and uses it to cover up his face, flustered by Shouta’s comment.

“Are you two love birds going to join us anytime soon or are Tensei and I just going to eat by ourselves?” Nemuri shouts from where she’s waiting on the bench with Tensei.

Shouta had almost completely forgotten about lunch, and by Hizashi’s shocked expression, apparently so had he.

Hizashi smiles down at Shouta and offers his hand again, which he takes, and they begin walking toward their friends to undoubtedly answer a whole lot of questions Shouta really didn’t care to talk about.

It’s okay, though, he’s sure Hizashi can give them all the details.

He was good at talking.

More than that, he was good at understanding Shouta’s needs, the way he wouldn’t want to share everything that had just happened between them, wouldn't want to gush over the fine details like Nemuri was bound to.

Hizashi squeezes his hand and Shouta looks up at him.

“I’m so happy,” he says.

Shouta smiles and the words come out easy, “Me too.”

[fantasticallytae]

Panacea

01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader

Genres: angst/fluff, Gang!au themes

Warnings: Swearing

Word count: 3k

~

You look out your window to be hit with a blinding whiteness from the reflecting snow outside. Excitement immediately filling you, you change into warm clothes and go by your day. It's the Sunday you are supposed to be meeting with Jungkook so you try to get boring house chores out of the way.

5:30 hits and you find yourself waiting on the couch scrolling endlessly down the screen of your laptop. You shut it and start bundling up for the harsh weather outside.

Right before you can grab your scarf from the coat hanger, your phone pings with a notification. At first glance, an unfamiliar contact name reads on the screen but you realise quickly who it is. Jungkook saved his number as just 'kook' on your phone. Tapping the screen, a text pops up and reads;

'hey, it's super slippy outside, I'll just go over to get you if that's okay???' As your reading, another message comes up.

'it's Jungkook btw' You understand his concern and quickly type back a simple 'yeah sure'. you press the send button, hoping Jungkook wouldn't find it too casual or passive.

You retreat back to your couch as you wait for Jungkook. A while later the doorbell rings and you shoot up to let jungkook inside. A bright smile makes its way towards you as you open the door and see him. You exchange a 'hey' and head out, locking the door behind you.

'It's so damn cold' He obviously states, bringing his hands up to his mouth to blow warm air on them.

'Yeah but it's also so snowy and pretty' You turn your head and smile lightly at him.

'You really like snow don't you' He says as more of a statement than a question. You both tuck your hands away in your pockets as puffs of vapour float into the air when you breathe out.

'What's there not to like about it?' Confused you ask. Why would anyone dislike this alternate wonderland that dusts itself through into this boring world during winter time?

'All it helps with is tripping you up and freezing your limbs off' He says bitterly, tugging the collar of his jacket higher to shield his face from the cold as if to emphasise his point.

'Spring is the prettiest time of year' He begins 'Everything is bright and colourful' He pauses as he lists all the things spring has that winter doesn't. No amount of persuasion will tell you winter isn't the superior season, so you just inaudibly laugh and shake your head.

'Hey' he nudges you with his elbow 'Don't laugh' He scolds.

'You wanna bet that after this winter I'll make you change your mind?' You ask affirmatively.

'I'd like to see you try' He replies smiling, turning his head to look back ahead of him.

'I hope you don't mind meeting with Taehyung and Jimin again' He says after a short pause, still looking ahead of him.

'Of course not, they're really cool guys' You furrow your eyebrows at how Jungkook even thought you didn't want to meet them again.

'I don't know if "cool" is the right term to describe them' He jokes and you both laugh at your choice of words.

'Whatever' You continue when your laughs die down 'They're fun to be around' You honestly say.

'They really like you' He confirms 'They always ask if we can all hang out'

It's actually quite nice to hear that, you think. You thought Taehyung and Jimin were actually nice people and it's reassuring that they think that about you too. Jungkook must have sensed your prolonged lack of reply so he speaks up.

'Are you flattered or weirded out?' You giggle at him.

'No, it's actually really nice they think that' You speak your mind, rubbing your hands together to create some heat.

You arrive at the entrance to the city's local park, decorated with pretty lettering and a floral pattern. The green that is supposed to be present around you is long gone and replaced with a frosty sheen that gracefully reflects the light, shimmering and giving you an even more immersive feeling.

'Hey look' Jungkook nudges you again, pointing somewhere ahead of him 'They're already here' You see he's gesturing towards Jimins and Taehyungs standing figures a little ahead of you.

You make your way down the snow-covered track towards them, waving when they noticed you were coming near.

'You didn't tell us y/n is coming' Jimin says with excitement in his eyes as he jogs up to yours and Jungkooks side. He squeezes in between you and throws his arms around yours and jungkooks shoulders, walking with you up to Taehyung.

'How about we make use of all this goddamn snow and build a snowman or something' Taehyung nonchalantly suggests, pointing at the snow-covered ground ahead if you, the wide grin that shows his teeth substituting a proper greeting.

'Yeah!' You excitedly say, a flash flickering through your eyes. You jog past Taehyung into the open space ahead of him and crouch down, picking up a handful of snow to use as the base of your snowman. It starts growing larger as it's picking up the snow when you start rolling it along the ground. Everyone joins in after you, copying your instructions to make the torso and the head.

When you think you have a large enough ball, you settle it down to act as the base, turning to see Taehyung and Jungkook working on one, while Jimin rolling a smaller one a little further away.

Apparently, Jungkooks genius approach is to collect snow from around the place and just stick it to the main body, creating an uneven, bumpy shape. You laugh and decide to point it out as he's crouching to form another snowball.

'Hey, wouldn't it just be easier to roll the whole thing?' You rhetorically ask, not meaning for Jungkook to fake being offended at your statement.

'Maybe I don't want "easier"' He pouts jokingly 'You should try it, it's fun' He says sarcastically, knowing your way is probably simpler.

'I'm just gonna stick to the smart person way of doing it' You joke back, turning your back to him to continue work on the snowball, that's until you feel a central force hit you on the back, spattering snow all around you. With a mock surprised expression on your face, you turn your head to see Jungkook with a smirk, already bent down to put together another snowball.

'You're dead' You say slowly and seriously, running towards the nearest tree to use as a shield, packing snow into your hand to use as revenge. You poke your head out the side, just to be met with a snowball flying straight towards your face. You dodge just in time and before he could make another one, you throw yours and hit him square on the top of his head, covering his brown hair with white. He lets out a playful girlish scream and ruffles his hair looking downwards, effectively shaking the snow out. You clutch your sides as you laugh, leaning against the tree for support. More snow is splattered at your face when another snowball hits you in the shoulder so hard you almost tumble. You hear Jimins cheer, giving away it was his throw and you quickly start forming more snowballs.

'It's so on' Taehyung says from somewhere behind the tree you're using, followed by the hit of a snowball and Jungkooks grunt. You can only assume Jungkook has been hit again.

With a small pile of snowballs by your side, you get ready to throw and you hurl it at the closest to you, Jimin. Although he sees it coming and tries to nimble out before it can hit him, it splutters against his dark clothes.

'Damn it' He shouts throwing the one he had in his hand at you, hitting you in the arm. Completely forgetting Taehyung was up and ready to throw his snowball, you feel a cold and wet force hit your cheek. Face stinging from the impact and turning bright red from the frost, you snap your head in the direction of Taehyung, throwing one back, hitting him straight in the jaw. You punch the air in victory, seeing Taehyung in denial that you aimed just right.

In the midst of your revenge, you fail to realise that Jungkook has snook up behind you. Two arms snake around your waist and you feel yourself being lifted up abruptly off the ground.

'Hey!' you shout at Jungkook behind you, as Jimin and Taehyung were crouched, forming snowballs in front of you.

'Cmon, Cmon!' Jungkook shouts from behind your ear to the boys in front of you. Your eyes widening at their malicious plan of catching you off guard and attacking while your restrained, you start thrashing to let loose from Jungkooks hold, trying to avoid the upcoming hits of snow, but his grip stays iron-like.

Taehyung starts throwing but because of the distance, he pretty much misses all of them. You notice Jimin standing still, looking a little lost. Still shielding your face from snowballs, Taehyung momentarily pauses and also sees that Jimin is standing still.

'Hey, what's up' He calls out to Jimin, briefly looking at him from the corner of his eye but throwing another snowball.

'This is like, so unfair' Jimin states, furrowing his eyebrows. Everyone including you giggles at Jimins pointless concern.

'Hey, it's fine' You say with a kind smile, stopping your thrashing, a little surprised that Jimin would be that concerned about you. You found it cute and endearing nonetheless.

Your weight is placed back on your feet as Jungkooks grip softens and he places you back down on the ground. You sense that Jungkook tries to change the topic before things can settle into silence when he says;

'It's freezing anyway. Let's get out of here' You all group together, forgetting your half started snowman project and start heading to the exit if the park.

Before Jungkook can walk too far from you, you punch him in the arm for restraining you and essentially making you a target. He clutches his arm in fake hurt but laughs at your attempts anyway.

'That's what little brats get' He simply says, lightly punching you back.

'You're so small I couldn't help but pick you up' Jungkook grins and pokes your arm, knowing it'll probably anger you. You huff but let it slide, not wanting to fume at him.

You eventually all stop at the doors of a small cosy looking diner. A few odd bells ring as Taehyung opens the door and steps in, the rest of you following. You can't help but notice the beautify lit interior that radiates a cosy festive feeling just in time for Christmas. The whole diner is glowing a calming orange that instantly warms you from inside out.

'What do you guys want, I'll order' You hear Taehyungs voice chime out softly through the chatter of people at the tables. You all tell Taehyung your order and you file into a nearby table lined with plush couches on either side. You are seated beside the large window, although now not letting in any light as its dark outside, Jimin settling to your left and Jungkook across from you. As you all sit there in awe of the ambience around you, you don't bother taking off your jackets as the diner itself is quite cold. It's not long before Taehyung returns, plopping down beside Jungkook.

'Isn't it a little too early for Christmas decoration?' Jungkook speaks his mind when he sees Taehyungs appearance, nodding his head up to the lights hanging off the windows.

'It's already the end of November you grinch' Taehyung retorts back, slightly offended that Christmas starts later in Jungkooks book.

'Woah okay' You start, lifting your hand up slightly in defence 'It is a little early, but It's nice anyway' Taehyung jokingly drops his jaw at yours and Jungkooks similar mindsets

'I kinda have to agree' Jimin speaks up, tilting his head to your direction, indicating his agreement to you. 'Christmas is the next thing to look forward to, why not start now'

'Hey, my point was that is was too early, I didn't say anything about it not being nice here' Jungkook leans forward to support his weight on his elbows as he points briefly to you and Jimin and raises his eyebrow. You smile mischievously though, as you just noticed something delightful that will take the conversation down another path.

'Doesn't matter' You say smugly falling back and crossing your arms 'The decorations are here and this might be destiny' You gleam, averting your gaze from Jungkooks eyes to a beautiful mistletoe plant hung on the ceiling, placed right in the middle of where Taehyung and Jungkook are sitting.

You nudge jimin with your elbow and he throws his head back laughing so violently you worry for the boy's neck. Your shoulders start shaking too, as you see the boys in front of you burning with embarrassment at your joke. You don't subside your laughing even after feeling jungkook kicking you multiple times in the shin under the table.

You are all quickly shaken back to present though when the waitress approaches your table with a tray of drinks in hand. You are handed your hot chocolate as you finally hear Jimins hand-covered chuckles die down, and everyone instantly lights up when they are finally handed their chocolate.

A little time goes by with all of you sipping on your drinks before Jimins curiosity gets the best of him and he looks up in Jungkooks direction and asks;

'How did you guys meet?'

Your muscles stiffen and your eyes are fixed at the table in front of you. You almost choke on the sip of chocolate you had just taken, Jungkook also visibly stiffening and now staring at you wide-eyed. You feel a wave of light shivers down your spine and you cough into your hand. Before you can be reminded of all the details of the night Jungkook saw you, he understands the gravity of the situation and replies;

'Through some friends' He lies quickly, trying to nonchalantly pick up his cup and take a sip, although it looks a little forced.

Jimin doesn't seem to think anything of it though, as he let's out a quiet 'oh' and continues with his hot chocolate. Jungkook, like you, lets out an awkward cough but everything soon falls silent apart from the soft tune wafting through the air from the radio on the opposite side of the room.

Racking your brain for a hopeless attempt at starting a light conversation back up again to distract you from any flashbacks, you are left empty. You decide to just turn your head to the window and observe the dim view outside, hoping to avert your thoughts. Since the winter darkness finally set in early, the reflection of the interior of the diner is prevalent, but you can still make out the outside.

You can see lamp posts and benches line the sidewalks as they stretch down almost further than the eyes can see. Everything is dusted with a frost which keeps growing with every snowflake that falls. The amount of them falling is almost making it hard to see, which annoys you but there's also something peaceful about it. The lights radiating from the windows of the shops down the street is also calming you think, it's moments like these that put you at ease.

Turning back to the table, you realise that they have started discussing something else while you were daydreaming. You didn't really make efforts to join in because you didn't feel the need to, they were talking about something unknown to you and you liked listening to them.

'And what happened to him after that?' Jimins voice comes louder than the others since he's closest.

'I don't know man, he's probably out of the country by now' Taehyung responds, much to your confusion at the topic.

'Where is his wife?' Asks Jimin.

'Jess?' Jungkook pipes up, seemingly quite disinterested, looking down at his cup, drawing patterns onto the table.

Taehyung hums to confirm and continues on the conversation, mostly to Jimin, as Jungkook doesn't actively try to engage. You circle your finger around the rim if the mug, your thoughts drowning out the conversation again. Jungkook stretches his arm slightly forward to very lightly poke the arm that is supporting the weight of your head. You move your eyes to look up at him first before turning your head.

'Is everything okay?' He asks quietly as if to not interrupt the conversation between Jimin and Taehyung and to keep this private to just you and him. You smile back and nod, you were enjoying the company and everything seemed just right in this moment of time. He smiles back in turn, now reassured everything was fine.

'Everyone's done?' Taehyung straightens his back to stretch after sitting for a while. Everyone seemed to be done so you gradually pile out of your seats and out of the diner, feeling the cold winter air hit your cheeks as you step out.

'We'll be going this way, losers' Jimin says with a cheeky grin, pointing down the street. You took that as Jimin and Taehyung indicating that that's their route home so you and Jungkook are left to head off in the opposite direction.

Ending up being covered in snowflakes before the steps to your home, making both of you look like some type of pretty snow fairy to the other, you accidentally halt your gaze at the same time, looking at each other's eyes for a brief moment. You swear that for a second you malfunction and think you could look into his eyes forever, but you know your just thinking that in the moment, right? You take the opportunity to thank Jungkook for walking you home for the countless time, and you trot up your steps and shut the door behind you.

[akajustjessicajones]

Something Fishy || Fish, Jessica, & Trish (Frishica)

summary: the day daisy gets arrested, jessica decides to blow off some steam by confronting an old enemy. unbeknownst to her, her sister’s ‘investigations’ into the local drug scene have also led her to the same bar... and fish? fish is just trying to run a damn business.

trigger warning: mind control, fish stuff, murder mentions, suicidal ideation mentions, guns, violence, drugs, all the good stuff. nothing overly graphic.

TALKING WITH Lee had been... well, it hadn't sucked entirely. But it wasn't what she'd come to Vortex for. And while the little voice in her mind that sounded suspiciously like Coulson was trying to tell her that talking about this was the healthier, safer option -- she needed to do something. So, she walked away from the bar, less drunk than usual, and made her way up a set of stairs towards the back. The guard at the top, who suddenly came down with a case of knocked out and slumped in the corner, was a pretty good indicator that she was on the right track.

Jessica walked towards a door at the end of the hall. She could hear a familiar voice inside. Good, she was here. She inhaled deeply, let the rage build up in her chest, then kicked the door in. "Hey, Fish," she said, striding inside. "I'm not dead, so I thought we should have a little chat."

FISH HAD been on the phone, working out the details of distributing Vydrate and keeping the club clean as much as she could --- but the profits would be well worth the risk if everything worked out. She had been standing, her back to the door and a hand on the desk, about to finalize the deal when there was a loud bang against her door, the door bending against the pressure and swinging open. Jessica. Fucking. Jones. Of course. Mooney hung up the phone and put a hand on her hip as she watched Jessica enter her office. “I see our time apart hasn’t been good for your manners,” Fish snarled, “and you haven’t learned how to fucking knock.”

She waved her hand to the chair across from her desk, after what happened, Fish figured she could at least humor Jessica with a conversation. “Make yourself at home, darling. Let’s chat.”

"YEAH, WELL, being sold as a sex slave tends to piss people off," Jessica shot back. She strode into the center of the room, but refused to sit down. She stared at Fish with a cold, piercing gaze, jaw clenched tightly. "I don't think I owe you any goddamn manners after that." Fish was goddamn lucky that all she'd broken was the door -- so far, anyway.

She shook her head slowly. "Don't call me that," she snapped, eyes narrow. "And you can stay right where the hell you are. This conversation happens on my terms. I'm just here to make sure you understood our last little conversation. About keeping your end of the bargain after everything you took from me."

FISH’S GAZE wandered over Jessica, but she remained quiet, for now. Letting Jessica say her piece, but at the first pause, Fish shook her head. “I won’t apologize if that’s what you’re here for,” her tone was even, controlled. “If it’s between you or Jenna…” she waved her hand in the air, “I’ll choose her safety over yours any day.” She had gotten no pleasure from trading Jessica like she was cattle to that rapist man child, but she couldn’t say she was sorry --- Jenna was safe because of that shit deal Mooney had made.

Sitting down in the chair, Fish laced her fingers together and set them on the desk, her eyes drifting up towards Jessica’s face. “We’re not renegotiating the terms if that’s what you’re here for.”

JESSICA STARED at Fish and thought of that first night. Begging her not to do this, not to control her again. She remembered being forced into that deal, and getting dragged around like a puppet, having the words and secrets pulled out of her while the shame was stuffed in. If she'd never met Fish, would any of this had happened? Would she have been with Daisy when this goddamn mist hit the city, could she have kept her safe? Kept her sane?

What if, if only.

"I don't want your apologies," she spat, shaking her head again, more erratically. She didn't really blame Fish for making the trade, that part she understood. She didn't really know what she wanted, or why she was here. The frustration made it hard to breathe normally, and the fury made it hard to think. All of it was hitting her like a tidal wave, swelling up in her chest, begging for some kind of release. And it all came back to him and to her, and she didn't know where he was, but Fish was right here, and so much of it, so much of this goddamn mess never would've happened if Fish hadn't grabbed her that first night, if she'd just –

Jessica picked up the chair Fish offered her and threw it to the side. Heard it splinter. "Screw you," she snapped. "This isn't about renegotiating, this isn't a deal or a goddamn game. This is my life," she shouted, grabbing the other chair and throwing that one too. She watched it smash against the wall before turning back to Fish. "And you don't get to just screw with people's lives and walk away."

FISH HADN’T thought of the potential consequences of dealing with Jessica --- of controlling her on that first night they had met. All she had seen was a woman, a bitch with superhuman strength and an attitude that left a lot to be desired. But she had thought Jessica would be useful, a tool that could help make things easier but instead she had Kevin Thompson dropped into her fucking lap. The only glimmer in that explosion was that he couldn’t control Mooney, but Jenna, Jenna wasn’t safe because of Fish’s connection to Jessica. Everything would have been simpler if this bitch hadn’t stormed into the club and broken down her fucking door.

Then again, the only reason Jessica Jones stormed in that night was because of Jerome Valeska --- someone who was immune to her. A sick tangle of coincidence.

Her jaw tightened and Mooney stood back up, placing a hand firmly on her desk as her head tipped to one side, “Then what the fuck are you doing here, Jessica Jones?” But as she spoke, Jessica had grabbed hold of the chair opposite her and threw it to the side, it slammed against the wall and the chair crumbled under the pressure. Jessica’s tone was snappy and then she started yelling. Was that all she was here for? Let out some stress? There was whiskey at the bar if she needed to escape but to come into her office and destroy her furniture?

“Does that make you feel better, Jessica?” Mooney snarled, waving at the broken pieces of wood that now decorated the floor. “You want to have a conversation or not, darling? Calm the fuck down, before I make you.”

SHE DIDN'T know. She didn't know why she was here, or what she expected from Fish. All she knew was hearing her name like that -- it took her right back to the first night she met him. When he'd taken her name, which had never been anything special, and twisted it. She had spent years trying to get it back, trying to make 'Jessica Jones,' into something she could say without wanting to throw up -- and Fish was unraveling that. Just like she'd unraveled every goddamn thread in Jessica's life, one by goddamn one.

Daisy was in prison and Coulson was missing and Kilgrave had screwed off to wherever, but Jessica was still here. In the center of this goddamn mess, staring at Fish who was right here with her. That smug goddamn look on her face, and christ, she hated smug. She could slap smug, if it wouldn't have meant getting close to Fish. She'd learned that lesson. But Fish still had a lot to learn about her.

Jessica ripped down a bookshelf, prying it off the wall, letting it fall to the floor with a tremendous thud. She went for a mirror next, something grandiose and orante, and shattered into a thousand pieces after Jessica slammed a fist against it. Then Fish spoke, and she whipped around. "You," she seethed, stalking towards her. "Don't get to talk about how I feel, got it?" she asked, leaning forward and shoving the desk. No holding back -- it flew back, Fish behind it. "And you don't get to make me feel anything either. You don't get to make me do anything ever again!"

TRISH CREPT along the corridor, her hands tightly gripping her gun. The sounds of the club slowly faded; the further she went, the clearer Trish could hear Jessica's voice echoing down the halls. Meandering down the hall, Trish didn't even track her own path, so intent on finding her sister. A crash quickened Trish's pace and she drew the gun out of her bag. Jess was in trouble. The thought pounded in her head as she stepped over the unconscious body of one of the club's security guards.

An open door. Shattering glass. "You don't get to make me do anything ever again!" Jessica's voice -- angry but alive -- followed by the terrible grind of a desk across hardwood floors.

"Stop!" Trish shouted. The gun pointed at a dark female who bore a smug grin on her face. Jessica breathed heavily across the room. You don't get to make me do anything ever again. -- Another mind controller. -- Kilgrave got to her. Her grip tightened, a finger inching dangerously close to the trigger. Teeth clenched together before snapping apart. "Go, Jess. Get out of here. Run." The words were low and dangerous. Run.

MOONEY WATCHED as Jessia threw a fucking tantrum in her office, a child just like Kilgrave. But there was no stopping her --- no getting near the Tasmanian devil that had been unleashed in her office. “What the fuck is the point of this?” Fish asked, waving a hand around the room that was quickly being turned into shambles. She moved, about to get out from behind the desk when Jessica shoved the desk against her and pinned her against the wall. A small grunt escaped her lips as she glared at Jessica, “Are you going to kill me, Jessica Jones? Snap my neck like you did Kilgrave? I thought you were supposed to be a hero.” She snarled.

Putting her fingers under the desk, Fish’s eyes found the face of another intruder, shouting, demanding that they stop. But while she made her demands, Fish heaved the desk forward and swiftly pulled the gun from under the desk and pointed it at the blonde woman’s head. A cold look in her eyes as the blonde said Jessica’s name. They knew each other. “Friend of your’s, Jessica Jones?” Fish’s mismatched eyes didn’t stray from the blonde intruder, “You going to run, Jessica? Or are you going to handle this bitch?”

IT WAS stupid. And reckless. And it wouldn't fix anything. But every splinter, every shard of glass, every slam and thud and shatter soothed something in her. Like she was taking everything broken inside and forcing it out, and maybe it didn't change anything, but at least it wasn't festering inside her. At least, for right now, she didn't have to feel it. She could break instead of being broken, and if anyone had goddamn earned it -- it was Fish.

But that question stopped her cold. Jessica held the desk in place, glaring at the woman. "I told you before," she murmured, voice low and dark. "I'm not like you. I'm not a killer." She may not have known who she was anymore, but she knew what she wasn't. Maybe she wasn't a hero, SHIELD or no SHIELD. But she wasn't a murderer. She wasn't.

That achingly familiar voice yelled stop, and Jessica did, letting go of the desk and turning around. "Trish," she breathed, heart leaping to her throat. "Trish what are you doing here?" She’s not going to be okay. He just told her to go fill herself with drugs basically. Those words were burned into her mind, and now Trish was here, powder under her nose, eyes wild, that gun in her hands.

"Shut up," she snapped to Fish, stopping the desk with one hand and glaring at the gun in her hand now. "Just stop talking." She turned back to Trish, arms up, moving in front of Fish to block both shots. "Trish. Put the gun down. You don't understand what's going on here, you don't have to do this." Again, a horrible voice whispered in her mind. She shook it off. "Let's just leave, okay? Me and you, we'll leave. Just put that down."

FLORESCENT LIGHTS hummed in the background, pulling Trish's attention between foreground and background in a constant, shifting state. One second. A gun pointed back at her. Two more. Shouting. Jessica standing in front of her, arms raised like Trish might pull the trigger on her. You don't understand... Trish shook her head. "No. Don't --" Jess was the one who didn't understand. Trish was trying to save her here -- save her from the woman with the gun. "She... you can't just let her go! She's the one who let Kilgrave control you. It's her, right?"

When did her hands start shaking?

THERE WAS a strange smile on Fish’s face when Jessica said that she wasn’t a killer --- things would be a lot simpler if she were. Then again, she had died twice before, someone like Jessica Jones wasn’t about to put her down. “So you didn't come here to kill me? Then what was the plan exactly, Jessica? Destroy my office? And then what?” She almost laughed as she waved her hand around at the destruction, “Walk away with our deal still intact --- you protect your friends after throwing your fucking tantrum?” Maybe Jessica and Kilgrave were more similar than they both realized --- they both acted like children.

Fish’s attention snapped to the blonde, the gun still being held steadily upwards despite Jessica putting herself between them --- it might stop --- Trish, was it? But not Mooney, who fucking cared if Jessica got shot? But then Trish started talking and Fish’s nostrils flared. Let Kilgrave control her? The thought was sickening, that Mooney would let that bastard do anything. Maybe a bullet through Jessica’s brain and then one through this blonde bitch’s and her problems would be solved. Kilgrave wanted Jessica and with her removed from the equation, well, things would be looking up again. Still, that was a lot of clean up in her new club, and Trish --- this was a new piece to the game, a new way to manipulate Jessica.

“Convince her, Jessica. Or you both get a bullet.”

FISH'S WORDS were swirling around her head. Between the honesty of them, raw and brutal, and the two guns pointed at her from either direction, i twas hard to think straight. "What did I just goddamn say?" she snapped over her shoulder. She could've stepped aside right now, let Trish take the shot -- but that wouldn't fix anything, it would just be another source of blood on her hands. Another name on her ever-increasing list of the dead. Anoher skeleton in the closet.

And she couldn't let Trish rip herself apart again.

Fish snarled once more, and Jessica could feel the words crawling across her skin, like slime, like insect legs, even without the command attached to them. "No one's getting shot tonight," she said slowly, her eyes still trained on Trish. Fish was deadly, lethal, but controlled. Trish.... Trish wasn't. "It's not that simple, Trish," she whispered, taking a step towards her sister. The words were heavy as her footsteps, and the weight of them crashed over her. "It was my fault that happened, I --" She stopped, clenching her jaw. She reached out slowly, for the gun. Put her hand over the barrel. "It's okay," she said gently. "It's all okay. I'm okay now, I promise. Just put that down, and we will walk out of here," she said sharply, turning to Fish with a pointed look in her eye. "How's that for a deal?" she snapped.

IT’S NOT that simple. But wasn’t it? Jessica’s eyes stared into her own, and Trish’s throat ached, swallowing back tears in a sudden shame — she couldn’t let Jess find out. She couldn’t let her know — Jessica knows it. Prove her right.

The gun felt heavy in her hands and Trish let Jessica wrest it from her grasp. Staring at her own shaking hands, Trish drew in a deep breath before looking up with hardened resolve. Looking past Jessica, Trish’s reddened eyes filled with hate at the sight of the club owner. Trish had heard of Fish Mooney, the woman from Gotham with well manicured hands and a trail of mysterious deaths following her. A woman holding the kind of power that demanded silence. And Trish only now began to catch a glimpse of it as Jessica continued to comply with the woman’s commands. Fish Mooney. Kilgrave. They were all the same and deserved the same fate — a body riddled with enough bullets to keep them down for good before they got fed to the vultures.

Trish’s nostrils flared and she brushed past Jessica, marching straight up to Fish Mooney despite the gun still pointed at her head. She placed her hands on the desk and leaned forward so they were only separated by the few feet the desk provided. This wasn’t Trish Walker. Kilgrave was right... It’s Patsy. The drugs still flooded her veins with that old familiar rush of boldness and she didn’t give a damn anymore if the woman pulled the trigger. “I don’t care what bullshit deal the two of you have. I’m cutting you a new one. You’re going to stay out of my sister’s life before I expose every dirty secret you have to the public. Because next time, Jessica isn’t going to be here to stop me.”

FISH FELL silent for a moment, letting Jessica speak to her friend. The gun was torn away from the blonde woman but Fish didn’t adjust her aim --- she had no reason to, no desire to. Jessica was snapped in her direction about her new deal and FIsh offered a cold smile. “I don’t appreciate your tone, Jessica Jones.”

The blonde woman approached the desk and for a moment, the gun was lowered, “Your sister?” She repeated the words glancing in Jessica’s direction before returning her mismatched eyes to Trish. “Interesting,” they must have been estranged, Jessica hadn’t mentioned her before --- she wasn’t apart of their deal. Fish pointed the gun in Jessica’s direction, slightly offset so that the bullet wouldn’t actually hit Jessica, but close enough. Mooney pulled the trigger and as the sound deafened the room, Fish reached out with her free hand and wrapped her fingers around Trish’s throat. Fish let the gunshot fade from the air before looking at Jessica again.

“Relax, darling,” her eyes locked into Jessica’s as she commanded Trish. “That’s the first command I gave you, wasn’t it? Seems like you both could use a lesson in manners.” Fish put down the gun finally and then lifted a finger as if to ask for a quiet moment. “Trish, sweetheart, the only reason Jessica and I came to any arrangement was because she was useful. And what use could a junkie like you, be to me?" Her eyes finally flickered towards Trish’s face, her nails gripping into the flesh of her neck as she waited for the coming response. “Deals only work if we both walk away with something.”

TRISH GAVE her the gun, and for a second, Jessica thought it would all be okay. She ignored Fish's remark, she didn't care if her tone wasn't appreciated. She thought she and Trish would walk away, and she'd never see Fish Goddamn Mooney again, unless SHIELD decided to raid her stupid goddamn club -- but then Trish walked around her. "Trish --" She barely got a word in before Trish was talking over her. Trying to take control back, and part of Jessica understood, and a part of her was just pissed.

"No, it's not," she hissed, jaw clenched tight. That night flashed through her mind, when she had to try and convince Kilgrave that Sofia didn't mean anything to her, when that had blown up in her face, too. This moment was on the verge of implosion too, and she couldn't handle another goddamn black hole in her life, but she couldn't think, couldn't focus -- she didn't even see Fish pull the trigger, just heard the gunshot and jumped on instinct. She felt it whiz past her, waited for the burn, but it didn't come. Fish had missed. For a second she thought she was lucky, and then she looked up.

Of course she wasn't goddamn lucky.

Fish had her fingers wrapped around Trish's throat, and even from across the room, Jessica could feel the command in her words. Jessica was frozen in place, couldn't even breathe, her body shaking as she watched the macabre scene unfold. But Fish's words were like a spark, igniting something in her. A fire that burned away the shock and the ice, and Jessica stared at perfectly manicured nails digging into her sister's skin -- and she slowly raised the gun in her hand.

It took her a moment to remember it was there. And even as she raised it, the weight so light in her hand, she remembered the other times she'd held a gun. Holding it in front of her sister, with no intention of using it, just scared and shocked and grieving, covered in her mom's blood. But this wasn't like that. It was more like when she'd held that gun to her mother's head, standing there, trembling, shaking, barely able to hold it up. Guns don't seem like your style. It's gotta be easier than using my bare hands.

"She's not a junkie," she said slowly. "And no one's making any goddamn deals with you except this one." She cocked the gun, her finger shaking against the trigger. "Let her go. Stay out of our lives, or I will put a bullet in between those freaky goddamn eyes of yours." She took a breath, trying to steady herself. She didn't want to do this – but she would. For Trish, she would. “You traded my life for Jenna. Because she was yours, your family. Trish is mine, the only family I have left. So imagine what I’ll do for her. I could kill you right now for putting your voice in her head, but I'm working on my manners," she snapped, eyes narrow. "Let. Her. Go.”

THE WORLD was at a distance — a watery illusion around Trish as she jerkily waded through each command that Fish layered on. Lips touching her own. Kiss me. Mean it. Some part of her mind recalled the words, but they were brushed aside in the continued need to relax. Talons relinquished their angry grip on her throat, and Trish’s body shuddered involuntarily at the release.

The gun was in her hands, and then — Jessica stood as the target. The command couldn’t undo the slight trembling coursing through her body or the painful hunger in her stomach. How long had it been? 8 hours? Aim for her head. “Jess,” she said. The word was barely more a whisper from her hollowed voice as Jessica raged at Fish Mooney. Trish was relaxing, relaxing, relax— Jessica was not. Gun still aimed at Jessica’s head, Trish could only stand still and breathe and exist as a mere pawn in this show of power. “Please.”

WHEN JESSICA said it wasn’t her best threat, all Fish could do was offer a smile. Maybe it wasn’t a threat for Jessica, but it was Trish --- her sister that would have to live with the image of shooting her sister in the head and scrubbing the remains from Fish’s walls. Jessica was a hero, wasn’t she? She had to be thinking of what this would do to Trish. After all, when the tables had been flipped, all Fish could think about was what this was doing to Jenna. “Maybe not for you,” she said pointedly before moving a hand up towards Trish’s face, brushing the hair from her cheek and tucking it behind the other woman’s ear.

Moments ago Fish had been disinterested in Trish, she had just Jessica’s junkie sister but now, she had a lead on how to stop Kilgrave’s powers from working. And being that close to that kind of knowledge was intoxicating. But with Jessica there, she’d have to let it go. For now at least. Fish’s eyes moved back towards Jessica as Trish finally held the gun towards her sister’s head. Her shoulders relaxed, her breathing easy. A brow raised at the threat of telling Kilgrave about her powers --- Jessica hated her that much? That she’d ally herself with the man who had raped her? The man who had taken Jenna? What was this ‘enemy of my enemy’ bullshit that Jessica was trying to sell? “Oh, I’m sure he’d enjoy that conversation with you,” Fish said easily before finally moving away from Trish as Jessica lowered her own gun. She hadn’t dropped it, but at least she wasn’t stupid enough to keep it pointed at them.

“Let her go?” Fish tipped her head as though Jessica had lost her mind --- and maybe she had. “And why should I trust that you’ll leave and stay gone? Hmm? Jessica?” Fish waved to her destroyed office, “Or did you let it all out already?”

FOR A MOMENT she really considered it. Shooting Fish, even if it meant she'd be dead. One less monster in the world. But she met Trish's gaze, heard so much in that one word. Please. Christ, once again, she'd led Trish into a mind controller's grasp. This was her fault, there was no one else to blame. And if she died now, without taking care of her sister -- that would only make things worse. S

he ignored Fish's comment about Kilgrave. "I'm done," she said flatly, jaw clenched. She walked up to Trish, took her free hand. "So either shoot me yourself, or we're walking out of here. And if you're looking for an apology..." She glanced around the ruined office. "Well, we can just call this karma." She deserved a hell of a lot worse. But Trish didn't.

Jessica leaned in to her sister. "It's going to be okay," she said firmly, whispering to her. "I've got you. It's okay." She took a step, pulling Trish with her. Testing to see if she would come. "We can leave Trish. We're okay."

THE MOMENT Jessica grabbed her hand, it was like something inside started to break. The chain of command had finally been broken and pure panic could be felt -- coursing like fire through her veins as Jessica whispered about how everything was going to be okay. She felt the tug of Jessica's hand on hers, and her body floated behind her in a panicked state of unawareness.

They made their way out of the office and down the hall and the wave of sound slammed into Trish with an intensity that sent her reeling. All those senses that had been so relaxed now poured into every cell of her body, and suddenly Jessica's touch was too much. Trish yanked out of her sister's grasp and stumbled back against the nearest wall. "Get me the fuck out of here," she snapped, trying to get her breathing under control and thinking of nothing but the drugs hiding in her safe at home. "Just get me home."

[skeletorific]

Heeeey, what's up! I just started following your blog and it is the best thing ever! your characterizations are A+++ on point. Anyway, have you considered the UT/UF/US/SF bros reactions to... Soulmates? like meeting them for the first time? or just being with them?(I believe your ask box is open, if not or if you just don't like this ask ignore:) Thanks for your time!

……Is it weird that I’m pretty sure this is the first request I’ve gotten for soulmate AU? Weird with how common that concept is in this fandom. Anyways for the sake of this the clearest indicator for SOULMATE is a strong buzzing sensation in your SOUL when you touch. However, Soulmates will likely be drawn to each other personally before any physical touch and quickly developed romantic feelings can be taken as an indication of at least soul compatibility, if not mate status. Also thank you so much for the compliment

UT!Sans: Honestly, always kind of assumed he was the kind of guy without a soulmate.

He’d heard others describe the feeling. A tugging, an emptiness, sometimes faint echoes of emotions you couldn’t really explain, like a magnet or a ghost pulling you towards your other half. He’d never really felt that. Well, maybe the emptiness, but he’d always chalked that up to his old pal depressive tendencies (soon to evolve into full on depression).

Not to say he was terribly disappointed. He’d seen plenty of people work out without being soulmates. Undyne and Alphys for instance. They weren’t soulmates, and they were working out just fine. Toriel and Asgore were, and look how that turned out. Soulmates wasn’t a guarantee that you’d workout as partners, or everlasting love or any of that. It just meant there was something deep inside you that resonated. Love or hate, you couldn’t be neutral towards each other, and the universe would do its best to throw you together in some capacity.

So when he’s selling hot dogs to a decent looking human on  a street corner and he feels a strange buzzing in his chest as his phalanges brush yours when he hands it to you….he’s honestly not sure what his reaction is. There’s a thrill, sure, and a cold sweat,  but also a strange urge to just let you walk away and never speak again.

No such luck. You felt it too, and unlike him had no context to explain it.

“Uh….sorry, kind of a magic  equivalent of static electricity.” He says, pulling an explanation out of his ass.

“Oh.” There’s a pause and then something in your eyes glinted. “So is the hotdog free then?”

“….what?”

“Cause you already…charged me for it.” You burst out laughing before you even finish it. “Sorry, couldn’t resist, that was bad.”

His face slowly stretches into a crooked grin. After a few more bad jokes he asks you if you’re doing anything later.

He doesn’t bring up the Soulmate thing. Doesn’t want to put any kind of pressure on you, he knows the concept is pretty unique with humans. Not to mention he’s not sure himself where this is going. But you seem cool. Definitely got the same shitty sense of humor. Papyrus seems to like you too (he doesn’t tell him either, doesn’t need that wrench in the works).

He tells himself it’ll be fine. Just platonic friends, maybe something more, but why rush himself. But he’s falling faster than normal. Its like something inside him…..ever seen a door slightly ajar get pushed into place so the latch clicks? It feels like that. Not a big change, but something feels right that wasn’t before. The connection is simpler, and yet deeper than he’s used to having, and….he’d never forgive himself if he let this turn into another unchased possibility.

Chances are he’ll never tell you you’re soulmates. He doesn’t like how compulsory that sounds, doesn’t want you to think he only became your friend and later your partner because his magic told him to.

UT!Papyrus: He believes strongly in soulmates but is a little too paranoid about it. Any kind of strong immediate feelings (he assumes) could indicate soul compatibility, explaining his tendency to commit quickly to relationships. Soulmate spotting doesn’t come with a hard and fast list of symptoms. It hits everyone differently and young monsters grow up hearing “You’ll know it when you see it”. Frustrating, to say the least. Thus his tendency to fall hard and fast. He keeps getting disappointed, but as always, Papyrus is an indefatigable optimist.

But for as alert as he is he could never have predicted how it would hit him. He and Undyne were out walking when they saw someone’s purse being stolen. Naturally Undyne pursued, with him close behind. She cut the thief off while he came on them from behind, preventing any escape. The thief whirled on him, face meeting chest……and right where your nose brushed his Soul buzzed excitedly.

Both of you stop in surprise. You drop the bag, yelping as you clutch at your chest. What the hell?! Papyrus staggers a bit, and his eye sockets go unbelievably wide. Undyne is confused but takes advantage of the opportunity to sweep your legs and pin you to the ground. Before she can get too far though Papyrus calls out “WAIT, THAT’S MY SOULMATE!”

All three of you are struck dumb.

“What the hell, Pap, are you sure?” She lifts up your head, none too gently. “This scum?”

“E-EVIDENTLY.” He kneels down and picks up the bag, fixing you with a kind smile. “BUT IF THEY ARE MY SOULMATE THEN OBVIOUSLY THERE MUST BE SOME GOOD IN THEM!”

Naturally at first you want nothing to do with this bizarre monster, chest buzz or not. Especially after his friend made you return the purse and forced you to say you’d come see them tomorrow or Undyne would report you. You show up determined to rebuff any attempts at kindness, you just want to move on.

But slowly, he starts to wear you down. He’s too sweet to hate, and besides, he keeps the angry fish lady off your back. His brother doesn’t trust you but seems to default to his brother’s judgment.

As time goes on the relationship blossoms. Papyrus never forces you to a place relationally you’re not ready to go, but he insists that you can’t not be involved in some respect. He’s one of the few people in your life convinced you’re not a bad person. And somehow he manages to convince not only the others, but you.

Papyrus, with his infinite patience, unbeatable optimism, and genuine sweetness, slowly wins you over. You become a better person because of him. Not that he’d ever admit he did anything. “JUST BROUGHT OUT THE GOODNESS THAT WAS HIDING IN YOU ALL ALONG, DATEMATE!”

UF!Sans: Meeting your soulmate while drunk probably isn’t the ideal scenario, but given the ratio of drunk to sober days he has most weeks its not mathematically that surprising.

Unfortunately for him at the time he’s unable to distinguish the buzz in his soul when his arm slings around your waist from any of the variety of buzzes human alcohol gives a skeleton monster. Given that you’re half in the tank too you likely aren’t really aware of what’s happening either. But he likes your eyes and you’re decent company, and that pretty soft body, damn……one thing leads to another and he wakes up with a splitting headache, a naked human in his bed, and a tugging in his soul that’s becoming more noticeable the more you cuddle up to him.

Fuck.

Red’s never really been into the idea of soulmates. Namely because he doesn’t want to see whoever pairs perfectly with this dumpster fire. So he tamps the feeling down. Probably bad booze. He waits till you get up, you exchange numbers, and you’re out the door.

You hang out a few more times. Sometimes to hook up. Sometimes just to drink or get some food when you’re in the same area. They’re not officially dates, he’s certainly not going out of his way to make it romantic. But you’re funny, sexy, and fun to be around. Seem to think the same about him (for gods know what reason), so he doesn’t feel the need to justify it. The tugging and ache….well, they don’t go away. But he’s getting better at ignoring it.

Or, well, he was. He notices you pawing at your sternum until finally you break down. “Hey, look, I’m not saying its your fault, but there’s like this weird feeling in my chest whenever we hang out. Is that like a magic thing?”

“Uh…” Fuck, he’s usually a better liar but you hit him out of the blue. “Yeah, maybe.”

You’re smart enough not to buy it. You slowly start prodding him for the actual answer until he snaps and tells you. Before it can sink in he vanishes. You don’t seem him for a few days and he doesn’t answer his phone.

You: Red?

You:?

You: Look, its not……I don’t want to be rude but its not a big deal I guess?

You: If you don’t want to be with me like that or whatever

You: But you’re a great guy, be a damn shame to lose my drinking buddy over this dumb universe shit

You: so what do you say?

One hour later

Red: grillby’s tonight?

You: If you’re buying

Red: yeah, yeah, my tab

The two of you do this for months, insisting that this is fine. You’re soulmates. Its whatever. If you wanna hang out, you’re gonna hang out, it’s not because of that.

If he flirts, it’s because he does that all the time, not cause you’re soulmates.

If kisses start lasting longer, outside the context of the occasional one night stand, soft pecks when he’s dropping you off, it’s not….it’s not because of that.

At some point the lines between a relationship and friends with benefits slowly blur into each other faster and faster until you’re officially partners. It’s only then that you start to realize…..shit, guess this soulmate junk may have something to it.

UF!Papyrus: You don’t know what you totally expected when you went out shopping that day. But it definitely didn’t include brushing by two skeletons, feeling a weird thrill in the center of your chest, and having the taller one turn around and shriek “YOU?!?!”

Edge believes in soulmates too. But he’s got something very specific in mind. Someone who will follow orders, keep their space clean, shower him with kisses RESPECT and who’ll help him keep Sans’ ass in line. So coming across a random stranger in the mall and boom, that’s your soulmate?!?!?! Not allowed. Unacceptable.

Alright, alright, he can work with this. He chases you down, and if he somehow manages not to scare you off in the first five seconds of charging towards you your number is demanded requested and you are ordered to show up at his house first thing tomorrow morning.

You don’t know why you’re playing along, but….soulmates, huh? You’d never really thought it was a thing, but that buzz in your chest. That was definitely real. And there’s something charming about his overblown bluster, in a cartoon villain kind of way. You do it. You show up at his house. No one seems more surprised than his brother.

Naturally you’re going to fall short of at least a couple of his standards. You’re only human. He’s furious. How could you possibly be the soulmate of the Great and Terrible Papyrus. In the end he’s not that great at hiding his displeasure, and you storm out after telling him off. Some soulmate, this asshole Pygmalion Project douchebag is supposed to be someone you can resonate with??? Damn, the universe must hate you. For his part he claims its far more convenient that you go, but he can’t help but feel a pang of regret as he watches your retreating form.

You see each other around a bit. You refuse to change stores just because you might see him, but try to avoid him whenever you encounter him. He doesn’t approach you for weeks, but there’s something stirring within him. For the first time he’s feeling…..guilty? N-Nonsense! He never regrets his actions. Only rethinks his strategy!

And currently that strategic rethinking involves paying for your groceries by slipping the cashier some cash when he’s ahead of you in line. Leaving anonymous flowers outside your doorstep. Telling off someone who was getting a little too close for comfort and disappearing before you could…..thank him? Confront him? You aren’t sure.

Finally you steal your nerve and go to talk to him. You do have the address at least. You end up having a lengthy, extremely awkward conversation, in which he comes (and you’re not sure of this) extremely close to an apology. Red is still picking his jaw up off the floor.

Edge gave up on the idea of a romantic relationship after that first night. But maybe….maybe you could be friends. It’s not easy. Nothing with Boss ever is. But that soulmate quality exists for a reason. You find you empathize with his need for control, with his drive and his emphasis on holding himself together. You understand him in a way you haven’t understood many people. He finds you balance him out, and challenge him in a way he isn’t used to being challenged. He can’t get away with his usual bullshit with you. When he crosses the line you stand toe to toe with him and let him know. And while it’s infuriating…..it’s strangely intriguing. You get away with shit Red wouldn’t in a million years. Seriously, how the hell are you doing that?

Whether or not it progresses into a romantic relationship is kind of up to you, but at some point Edge will want to. Maybe his soulmate wasn’t how he pictured, how he wanted. But…..he can’t imagine it being any other way.

US!Sans: Just another night at the club. The only thing (at first) separating that night from any other was that your dance partner was a skeleton. Not your usual fare, but he had a sweet face and had asked you so excitedly that you couldn’t turn him down. He was a good dancer, very energetic, almost running you into the ground with his quick pace. Every touch is gentle, non-intrusive, yet sparks with…something, magic maybe? Either way, it feels good, making the color in your cheeks rise.

As the song comes to an end he straight up dips you down, panting a bit with the energy expended, and as his eyelights meet yours….Both of you feel a buzzing sensation that surprises him so much he drops you.

Sans apologizes profusely and helps you to your feet, then asks you if you want to come home with him. You hesitate, you’re normally not the type to go home with strange guys, but something in the look on his face and the powder blue flush on his cheeks (though stars know how a skeleton does that)……you feel like you can trust him. You agree and take an awkwardly silent walk home with him. He seems more excited than before, and keeps looking at you like he wants to say something but holds it back.

His home is a small but clean one story a few blocks away. On the couch is another skeleton in an orange hoodie, smoking a cigarette that is hastily put out and stowed when you come in. He raises a brow at your presence but doesn’t question it, trading some banalities with Sans. Seems their brothers. He clears out pretty quickly and Sans guides you to the couch.

He explains the buzzing. You’re soulmates. On some fundamental level, compatible. Made for each other, in a way. His eyelights are shining brighter and you swear you can see the outline of tiny stars in the center as he tells you he’s been looking for his for a very long time, and he can’t believe it was someone as pretty as you!

His enthusiasm is catching, and in the end you’re swept up in it. He takes you home and chastely pecks your cheek before running off into the night, practically beaming. You start dating regularly. Sans is almost….overwhelming in his perfection. He’s enthusiastic, kind, sweet, affectionate, solid, honest, and completely infatuated with you.

And that, in a way, is the problem. Sans is already in love with you, but doesn’t know every side of you. While he never brings up anything that disappoints him, you can’t help but feel he fell in love with the idea of you before bothering to get to know you as a person. Not to mention things are moving way too fast. Sure, maybe you’re soulmates, but everything in you is screaming that you can’t be fixing yourself this firmly to a guy that, from a time perspective, you barely know.

Finally you have to end it. It breaks his heart, but you convince him to settle for being friends, for now at least. Someday maybe you’ll be ready for the type of closeness, but for now, you want to spend some time getting to know each other. And though you’re cautious, you find you’re not disappointed in what you find.

US!Papyrus: Stretch sighed and resisted the urge to reach for the cigarettes in his pocket. They didn’t allow smoking in this place. One of the only downsides about living on the Surface, everything was catered to delicate human lungs. They didn’t allow outside food either so he didn’t have a lollipop to fall back on. He was this close to giving in and chewing on one of the toothpicks just to get something in his mouth but he hated when wood slivers fell in his mouth.

Only about an hour left in this thing, and he was seriously looking forward to it being over. Speed dating hadn’t sounded awful honestly. Blue and Tale (he never did feel comfortable calling him Papyrus in his head) had been coming to this place almost every time the restaurant held an event. They seemed to take it as a speed round on making friends. Most of the time they didn’t even end up with an actual romantic date out of it, just another dinner guest for Spaghetti Taco night. They’d been trying to get him and Classic to go for weeks. Classic had made his excuses but Stretch had been….kind of curious. He liked flirting, he liked food being paid for by people not him (Blue and Tale had footed the bill), and with the seven minute thing at least the creepier ones couldn’t stick around too long.

Still, he was reaching his limit. Kind of hard to get past the “Hi, my name is” stage in seven minutes into anything actually fun. Not to mention he was tired. Still, Blue and Tale showed no signs of flagging and he was their ride, so he had a feeling he was in this till the end.

New partner. You sat down across from him. You looked a bit shy, which he guessed was fairly endearing. Cute enough.

“Hey P-” you started a bit. “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were….” your eyes skirted to Tale.

“ ‘saright.” he says. Not the first time that had happened tonight. “People say we could be twins. Name’s Stretch, ‘m Blue’s brother.”

“I’m really sorry, that kind of came off…..racist, I guess? Speciesist? Whatever it is when you imply all skeletons look alike.”

He snickered. “Hey, what’s that saying you humans got? No matter what we’re all flesh and bone underneath. We just skipped the first part.”

You chuckle. “Something like that, I guess.” You told him your name.

“Regular, I’m guessing? You seem to know Paps.”

“Sort of. I’ve been a couple of times when my apartment feels too empty for the eighth night in a row.” You pause. “Sorry, wow that sounds depressing.”

“Nah.Sounds about like my weekends when Blue’s out somewhere.” He leaned back in his chair.

“Anxiety, depression, or just a shut-in?”

“Hmm, mostly the first but hey, the second pulls its weight.”

“I’m the first with the third thrown in for shits and giggles.”

“Well, we’re well-rounded at least.” He pulled a hoodie string in his mouth and started chewing.

“At least.” You chuckle.

“….so not to be rude but that’s kind of upfront for a seven minute encounter.”

You passed a hand over your forehead. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, I’ve been trying to sell myself all night and I think I’m….I don’t know.”

“Reachin your burn out point.” He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. “Don’t worry about it, me too. I don’t mind talking, but if you want we can just sit back, check our phones, get some silence if you want. Sound okay?”

The waiter brought in fresh drinks and you smiled. “Well, I’ll toast to that.”

He chuckled. As you both reached for your drinks your fingertips briefly brushed his hand….and suddenly it was like static electricity, straight to the chest. You were startled a bit but Stretch nearly fell out of his chair.

You….you were…..

Looks like not talking wasn’t gonna be an option.

He runs you down on what’s happening, both of you stubbornly refusing to move from your seats during changeover. When finally the staff tells you you have to he grabs your hand and takes you out back, running you through what just happened. And for once the skeleton with the most chill is looking unbelievably stressed, lighting up a cig as soon as you’re outside the no smoking area.

Soulmates? The very idea is terrifying to him. Talk about fuckin pressure…..he can’t handle this, not after a long night. You exchange numbers and agree to meet up later.

The next few weeks are a roller coaster of Stretch’s wavering commitment levels. Sometimes he’ll ghost on you with no explanation, only to show up on your doorstep with an awkward apology. He takes you for a date but looks like he wants to die through most of it, but then you come over to his place for dinner and he loops an arm around your shoulder. You can never tell which version of him is coming over, and to be honest he feels guilty as hell about it. You’re a good person, hell, he could actually picture himself being friends, even dating you even without the soulmate thing, but that weird spiritual significance the bond adds to the whole thing just takes him places mentally he doesn’t want to be. He has a lot of internalized expectations for how soulmates are supposed to act and doesn’t really feel up to any of them.

Assuming you don’t ditch him during those mercurial few months things do settle down. He starts approaching it like any other relationship, with the same casual savoir-faire. He decides to take the soul bond as more of an added bonus than a bar-setter, and it helps his approach. He’s a good partner, casual and funny, but dedicated.

SF!Sans: You were storming down the stairs of your apartment building as the deafening alarm bells rang, absolutely pissed. You had three projects to finish by the end of the week and the last thing you needed was YET ANOTHER fire alarm. Especially when nothing appeared to be in flames.

You joined the small cluster of your fellow building mates, hugging your sweatshirt against the chill evening air. You walked among them, trying to piece together from various conversation who the hell deprived you of precious.minutes of work.

“Did you see anything?”

“Kitchen fire-”

“Maybe, but who-”

“Fucking asshole-”

“Look, Chief, all I’m sayin is if smoke’s pouring out of the oven, turn it off.” You pause. Bingo.

“I WILL DO NO SUCH THING! THE SMOKE IS WHAT GIVES MY BURRITOS THEIR DISTINCTIVE FLAVOR!” Its the two skeleton monsters you’d seen around a few times. The shorter one was the one yelling, while the taller one looked exhausted and mildly annoyed.

“Look, all ‘m sayin is the firefighters are getting pretty pissed off about having to come back so often. Not to mention stoves are expensive.”

“THOSE FIREFIGHTERS SHOULD LEARN SOME RESPECT FOR THE CULINARY ARTS.”

You’d heard enough. Stomping slightly and eyes blazing, you walked up to them and tapped the shorter one on the shoulder. He whirled on you. “WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT?”

“Hi, excuse me, don’t mean to intrude, but what the FUCK is your damage.”

He looks stunned, for a moment too much so to speak, and his brother is shooting daggers at you but frankly you’re too pissed to care.

“Can you fucking control your damn stove so that I don’t have to tromp my ass out here GODS KNOW how many fucking times this week?! Some of us have work to do that isn’t setting food on fire and you’re getting. In. the fucking. Way.”

He found his tongue. “HOW DARE YOU-”

“I’m just saying, dude, after the fifth time maybe you’d get a clue!”

“Hey, back off.” The taller one said, looking at you with a dangerous eye.

You pointed an accusing finger at the other’s chest. “So get. Your shit. Toge-” Your finger had jabbed his chest at that point and suddenly a buzz erupted in your chest. You reacted instinctively and backed off, yelping a bit. The other felt something too and collapsed to a knee.

“Chief?!” The taller one knelt down beside him. “Sans, you okay?”

He was breathing hard for a minute and he looked up at you with a bizarrely intense face. “…..I’M FINE.”

“Sans-”

“I’M FINE!” He jerked his shoulders out of his brother’s grip and got to his feet. “COME ON, THEY’VE TURNED OFF THE ALARMS.” He walked away. The taller one shot you a dirty look before following.

……What the hell?

Somehow you managed to get the work done. There are no other fire alarm issues. You’re celebrating with a tired glass of wine a few days later when there’s a knock at the door. When you open it, there’s nothing but a plate of burritos there. What the- You flash back to the conversation. Is this….his way of apologizing? Maybe. You’re never one to turn down food and with the high from getting your work done you’re less inclined to be pissed with him, so you take it in and sample it.

Oh gods. If this is how his cooking usually is you can understand why smoke might help. At least it might mask some of the other flavors.

He keeps leaving burritos outside your room and you don’t have the heart to turn them down, but you can’t stand dumping food this much, so finally you show up outside his door and offer to show him a new method. His brother is shooting you dirty looks and he’s very resistant to most changes you suggest, but in the end you manage to churn up something, if not exactly tasty, at least approaching edible. Despite being stubborn and bossy, you kind of find yourself enjoying it. He’s got a sort of charm to him, and definitely has a lot of passion. Somehow he manages to convince you to stop by for dinner sometime.

Blood never tells you you’re soulmates. It sounds….gross and sappy and romantic and NOOOOOO. But he slowly works his way into your favors, toning down his aggressiveness a bit. He surprisingly smoothly transitions you into dating, and before you quite know what’s happening you’re having your first kiss outside your apartment door with the guy who keeps setting off the damn alarm. And somehow….you wouldn’t want it any other way.

(Oh, and Syrup does eventually forgive you).

SF!Papyrus: Last delivery of the night, and you’d finally be off. Least it was this place. You’d delivered enough late night takeout to know the guy tipped well. You knocked.

The door opened, revealing Syrup’s lanky form. “Hey kid.”

“Hey, dude.” You forked over the takeout. “Usual. Your bro not cooking tonight?”

“Staying the night with a friend. On my own for tonight.”

“Ah, explains the smell.” You say, indicating the faint fumes of weed wafting from the living room.

“Our little secret, sweetheart.” He winked.

You grinned faintly. Syrup was just enough of a casual flirt that you always kind of looked forward to him popping up on your route.

“How much do I owe ya.”

“$12.17.” You say, pulling the fanny pack with your change in it to your front. “Though I swear we should put this one on the house, you’re practically keeping us in business.”

“Not sure if that’s a reflection on me or the restaurant.” He handed you a twenty. You started counting out the change but he shook his head. “Keep it.”

“Dude, no, 7 bucks is way too much.”

“Hey, don’t argue, I’m a customer and the customer’s always right, right?”

“Come on, man, at least take some of it back, I feel guilty.” You press into his hand before he can protest again. The bones feel odd against your skin. Coming down to it, this may have been the first time you’d touched him instead of just handing items across…..You only have a second to contemplate this before there’s a thrill in your chest like an electric shock. Seems he felt it too: he yelped, jerking his hand back as the change fell to the floor, scattering coins.

Both of you pant a bit, cradling your hands. The buzzing stays, but is less intense. More like a faint vibration.

“What….what the hell….?” you say, finally looking from your hand to Syrup, only to find him staring at you with a dumbfounded expression. “….Syrup.”

“Uh….yeah.” He knelt to the ground, ducking his face a bit as he collects the dropped cash. “Just….just a stray magic burst. Sorry, happens sometimes.” He stands up and puts the change back to you, still avoiding your eyes. “Shouldn’t be any long term effects.”

“Um….are you okay?”

“What?” His eyelights finally dart up to hold yours, only to look away as he places a hand on the door. “Yeah, fine. Just baked. I’ll see ya later, maybe.” He closed the door before you could say another word.

Behind the door he has a minor crisis. Fuck. He’d gone this long without a soulmate, he’d just kind of assumed he didn’t have one. Now he has one, and its you, the human he’d been casually moving in on for a while now…..fuck, he’s not nearly baked enough for this shit.

Syrup’s not half bad at getting laid but a committed relationship? His confidence goes out the fucking window. Not to mention thanks to dedicating himself to looking after Sans he barely has the time (never mind that since he’s hit the surface Sans needs less looking after than he used to). What….what the hell is he supposed to do?

In the end, nothing. The next few times you deliver, he’s not rude exactly, but compared to every other encounter he’s extremely terse and withdrawn. After a while he finds he can’t resist getting back into playful banter, but he’s shyer, less likely to flirt. What the hell’s the point of getting attached. And yeah, he sees the irony.

Blood finds out, of course. Syrup’s never been much good at keeping things from his brother and after watching him mope around for an hour whenever you drop off food he puts the pieces together. He tells him to suck it up and just ask you out and keeps badgering him until Syrup finally lets it go that you’re soulmates. That seems to get him to back off…..until the next time you drop off food and he just lets you walk away.

Just as you’re about to exit the building you hear Sans barking after you. “HUMAN!”

You turn around to see him dragging his brother forward by his shirt collar, forcing the taller to bend down so he could keep up. It was almost funny. There was an orange tint to his skull that keeps getting stronger the closer they get to you and he’s mumbling protests up until Sans throws him in front of you.

“YOU AND MY BROTHER ARE SOULMATES.” Sans says irritatedly, giving you a terse rundown of what he is. “SO CAN YOU JUST TAKE HIM OUT ALREADY SO I CAN STOP DEALING WITH HIS SULKING?” And before either of you can say anything, he’s stormed off back to the apartment.

[taeguboi]

So Far Away PART 09

Okay, so idk if anyone wanted me to continue with this series but this chapter was like half finished from last year haha and part 08 was posted last July lmao so I thought I might as well finish part 09 and post it during my slight comeback this Easter hols... I really think this might be more of a filler part again and it’s possibly what I was intending back when I opened the document but I guess we’ll never know for sure *sigh* 

01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 <<< previous chapters

Masterlist

“Hey, Yoongi!” Namjoon greets as Yoongi walks towards the seat at which Namjoon is sat.

“Yeah, hey dude… why were you pointing just then?” Yoongi questions, looking back towards the doorway uncertainly. “Have I got something on my face?”

“Oh! No-n-n-no, I… I was just talking to Taehyung here and you just happened to be walking in as I mentioned your name, and he couldn’t quite remem--”

“Ah yes, Taehyung… I don’t believe we got properly acquainted after last night’s little drama… And wouldn’t it be a shame if all I gathered about you is that ‘You’re a fucking idiot, Taehyung’?”

Taehyung lets out a small chuckle at Yoongi’s comment as he invites him to take a seat at the bar. “Come sit and you'll… probably find out that's true” Taehyung jests, patting at the stool next to himself.

“Um, could we perhaps sit by the window there where there's more room?” Yoongi enquires.

“Yeah, sure, of course” Namjoon replies, gathering his things.

“It's just that I not long ago got a text from Hoseok… he seems really worked up about…”

“Uh, I think I'll leave you guys to it then…” Taehyung says with a low nervous tone.

“Nah, don't be silly Taehyung; chill with us for a bit” Yoongi tells the younger.

“It's not that… I just… I don't think that guy likes me…”

“Hey, you weren't to know about…”

“Look it just fucked everything up for me and I don't need to be constantly reminded of it…”

“Sorry, I don't understand…” Yoongi interrupts. “...It seems things worked out just fine for you… You didn't get smacked in the face at least, anyways… Actually, it seems you got off pretty lightly, only being called an idiot...”

Namjoon chips in “Not only that, but, just to catch you up Yoongs, he and Jimin…”

“Alright, no details, thanks” Yoongi tells Namjoon as the three take a seat at the window booth of the cafe, with Namjoon gesturing for Taehyung to take a seat first, which the younger reluctantly does.

“Oh crap, now I can't leave…” Taehyung realizes as he sits down, blocked off by Namjoon sitting next to him.

“My point. I'm sick of tension today. This will be sorted.” Namjoon demands.

“Hoseok isn't such a bad guy Taehyung, honestly” Yoongi adds. “His head’s just a bit all over the place lately…”

“Fine, I'll stay, but if he doesn't return my politeness again, you have to let me leave…”

Namjoon nods in agreement as the three boys spot Jimin and Hoseok heading their way.

“Hey guys!” Jimin greets.

Yoongi leans forward to Taehyung “Just talk to him for a bit” he encourages. “I think you’ll find that he’s actually quite a cool guy” he smiles fondly, leaning back to set up his work.

“Uh, I'm gonna grab a bite to eat… Anyone want anything?” asks Hoseok.

“Yeah, sure… I'll come up with you” Jimin offers.

“No” Taehyung asserts, reaching across the table to halt Jimin from leaving. “I'll go with. What do you want Chim?”

“Seriously, what is with the nicknames today?” groans Hoseok, causing Taehyung to fill with some dread because that was obviously some aim at him, right?

“I'll just have whatever Hoseok’s having” Jimin replies.

“Alrighty” Taehyung nods as he climbs over the back of the booth to get out of his seat without moving Namjoon.

“Taehyung!” exclaims Seokjin from the counter.

“Sorry” he apologizes, walking over to Hoseok who is already heading to the bar to order.

As Hoseok orders for himself and Jimin, there remains tension between Taehyung and Hoseok that the former now intends on ridding.

“Please don't hate me” is all Taehyung can utter to the guy, unexpectant of any resolve… He guesses he would have felt a similar kind of way had Jimin not shown up at his door last night and instead chose to hook up with a stranger.

“I don't know what to think,” Hoseok truthfully replies. “I guess I've been feeling rather… possessive lately about something that's not really mine to keep…”

“I completely understand, man… I mean, I can’t say I’ve been through the exact same thing, but I guess with the way I’ve been around Jimin for the past few-- Ugh, everything is happening all so quickly, I… You have to know it meant nothing to me, and I'm certain he felt the same way about it.”

“Save it, yeah?” Hoseok huffs, unintentionally coming across more aggressive than he wanted to. “Sorry. What I mean is… you're not someone I want or need to be arguing with. I don't think this is a conversation we need to have, either… I can't handle it right now, or anything about Jeon… that” he admits, resting his head in his palms.

“It might not be ideal but, if you ever need to talk about it, or anything at all… it's the least I can do” Taehyung offers, daring to place a friendly hand on Hoseok’s shoulder to get him to look up again.

“I get it now” Hoseok says, lifting his head, and Taehyung thinks he sees something that could be named a smile. He nonetheless removes the hand from the guy’s shoulder, you know, just incase.

“Huh?” asks Taehyung, confused.

“You and Jimin.... you're simple people…”

“Pardon?” Taehyung chuckles, pretending to be extremely offended.

“As in, not complicated… Sure, it seems it took both of you a while to confess or whatever, but…”

“Woah, slow down there… this literally happened this morning”

“Just… keep him. I feel like it's my duty to tell you… I'm sick of no longer being the one people look to for guidance and happiness or whatever… So it starts now, right? And I could really use a new friend right now… Yoongi must be bored as shit with the shenanigans, Namjoon seems to low key want me to move out… Seokjin seems to view life through rose tinted windows…”

“And Jimin?” Taehyung enquires.

“I don’t know… We’ve never been all that close, truth be told. He’s Jeongguk’s friend, primarily…”

“You guys seem pretty tight to me…”

“Only because they fell out; I can’t trust him, or anyone yet. Anything he finds out from me will just be told to Guk when they make it up again…”

“Well… can’t you perhaps just… be Jeongguk’s friend too?” Taehyung unknowingly asks.

“That’s the thing; I guess I don’t know how to be…”

“I’m sure that’s not--”

“Oh, but it is; we’ve either always hated each other with a passion or messed around with each other… there’s never been an in between, not really.”

“Maybe that’s your answer right there. You don’t know how to be friends with him, so you’re scared because you don’t know what to do the next time you see him.”

Hoseok pauses and judging by the thoughtful expression on his face followed by a small light in his eyes, it seems to Taehyung that maybe Hoseok isn’t all he thought him to be. From recounts of events and descriptions from both Jeongguk and Jimin, he guess he expected for Hoseok to just snap at him and tell him to shut the fuck up.

“I think we can get along just fine.”

*

“Have you calmed down this morning, tiger?” Namjoon jests at Jimin as he slides across the booth, allowing for the boy to sit next to him.

“I’m still recovering from a killer hangover… please don’t remind me of that just yet; I feel terrible” Jimin pleads, hanging his head in shame not only about hitting Jeongguk but also the fact he has a hangover.

“I thought Park Jimin never got hangovers…” comments Yoongi with a smug expression, remembering how it was only the other day that Jimin was bragging how he had never gotten a hangover in his life.

“Yeah, yeah, leave it Yoongs... “ replies Jimin, trying to be as polite as possible, hesitating to ask something on his mind. It seems he won’t need to speak a word though as Yoongi proceeds with the conversation.

“Fine, I’ll shut up about that… But man, you and Guk… What’s going on there?”

“We haven’t spoken since… that.”

“You probably should. Just sayin’” Yoongi suggests.

“I know, it’s just…”

“Please. For the sake of a mate” Yoongi begs, kind of. “I can barely put up with one housemate being miserable… I mean, of course, they’re both miserable because of each other, so I guess it’s unlikely I’m going to get any one of them to improve their mood, but… Well, from experience, Jeon can always at least perk up with his best friend around, and that’ll still be you Jimin… Even if you did smack him one.”

“Again. I feel terrible!” Jimin exclaims, wondering whether Yoongi is enjoying this to any extent. Nah, that’s a stupid idea, Jimin supposes. He’d hate it too if he had to live with Jeongguk and Hoseok, as much as he does have regard for the former.

***

The afternoon passes, albeit slowly and eventually arrives the evening, but Hoseok’s day is only just beginning after regretting that little stunt earlier of skiving from class to wallow in his own pity. The dim lights of the dance studio come on as Hoseok carelessly slings his bag into a corner of the room, thankful that there’s no chance of bumping into him here.

Fortunately for either of the boys, Hoseok and Jeongguk pursue the same interest but in different places, so thankfully, there’s never been an incident of finding themselves alone in the studio and ruining the memories there with… well, you know. This is Hoseok’s escape place, as unglamorous as the room might appear with it’s worn out floorboards and light odour of hard work in the air from all the classes that have taken place throughout the day. He proceeds to dance, with great attempt to focus solely on his upcoming assessment and make up for the time he missed during the day.

Though Hoseok often comes here in his spare time to get away from something, what that may be - usually Jeongguk related, of course, - his mind never fails to wander. Oh, how much simpler life was when feelings didn’t get in the way! Every weekend used to be a new adventure, clubbing at either an up and coming club either in or out of town, or at a regular place he felt was due a visit to catch up with some acquaintances.

This morning could have started just fine. He’d done exactly that, exactly what he used to do. Go out, pull a stranger, wake up relaxed, kick them out, life is good and the day goes on… But that child just had to arrive back this morning from whatever the fuck he’d been doing and…

“Who am I kidding?... I’m just as much of a child as he is” Hoseok thinks to himself, ceasing to dance as he takes a good look at himself in the studio mirror.

“Hoseok?” a voice questions at the door.

The boy turns to see who is speaking, and dread fills him when he sees no one other than his dance tutor whose class he was supposed to attend today. Pushing himself away from the railing at the mirror, he tries to answer in a fluster.

“Uh… Hello…”

“Was there something more important than my class today?” questions the lady.

“I-I-I…” Hoseok stutters, unsure of whether to answer truthfully or with a lie.

“Where were you today?”

“Okay, I skived, but I promise it won’t happen again…” he explains.

“Hmm, it better not” she hums sceptically. “And this is rather unusual behaviour for you Hoseok; you’re always one of my most enthusiastic and talented students.”

“Uh, thank you miss…” he sighs breathlessly.

“Look, I’ll understand if something’s going on, but don’t let it happen again if you don’t have a good reason!”

“I won’t miss!”

“Indeed! Now try not to be too long this evening Hoseok. We’re closing at 7 tonight.”

“Understood.”

As the tutor exits, Hoseok returns to facing his own reflection. It’s as if the conversation he’s just had with his displeased tutor has given him a deeper insight to himself - actually, that’s exactly what it’s done. In this moment sweeps a huge realization; he’s been letting his drive to acheive his ambition slip from getting too caught up in all the personal life issues.

Think about it!; Last week, you almost fainted in a class from the sleepless night before worrying about Jeongguk; a day before that, he left early because of a stupid text from him; the week before that he was almost late from sleeping in again!... Come to think of it, Hoseok had never been late for a class before that one time many months ago when he had to sneak out of Jeon’s bedroom to continue to keep up the secret of the two of them sleeping together, back when it was a secret.

And this Taehyung guy that apparently Jimin is now dating was right; Hoseok and Jeongguk never learned how to just be friends. It would make home life a lot more pleasant... and the advice was coming from a guy who had literally practised what he preached. Sure, maybe the other guys had become annoyed with how much Jimin liked to talk about his new neighbour and friend from what he’d been told, but from where Hoseok stands, whose life is simpler at the moment? His, or the boy next door to Jimin who knew how to take things step by logical step?

“You can’t do this anymore. Move on.”

Part 10 here

[ahiddenpath]

Nanowrimo Week 1 Update

Hey all!  The end of today marks the first week of Nanowrimo!  The benchmark for today is 11,667 words total.  Yikes!  

There’s a progress update and a snipped of my draft below the cut ;)

Okay, first: some housekeeping.  My old Nanowrimo word Count Blog Widget done broke on me!  I’m guessing there’s an external image issue or some kind of bandwith issue due to Nanowrimo usage?  I switched to a simple HTML tag that doesn’t rely on external images.  It doesn’t look as nice, but it works, and that is more important, lol.  Here’s the HTML to add to your bloggy:

<strong>Nanowrimo Counter 2017:</strong>

<img src="http://picometer.writertopia.com/words=11131&target=50000">

Just change 11131 to your total word count, and you’re done!  So easy :D

Okay!  So, my progress!

My current word total is... 12,774!  Which means I’m about 25% done and 1,100 words ahead, so I’m doing alright.  One concern is that I think I’m going to run out of outline about 15 days into nanowrimo, so I have to put effort into outlining the last few chapters of Seeking Resonance ASAP, lol!!!  Otherwise I’mma hit a wall in a week or so, oh noooo!

Crap, what happens next?  I have no idea, lol!  XD XD XD  WHO’S DRIVING THIS THING?!

So far, the writing has been alright.  It hasn’t been flowing super well, but it hasn’t been a tooth-pulling nightmare, either.  This is a terrible rough draft, but that’s normal for Nanowrimo (and honestly, normal in general).  It’ll shine up just fine later.

If you’re interested, he’s a raw excerpt from Nanowrimo Week One!  SO MANY ADVERBS, lol XD  Tentative title:  In Which Koushiro is Hazed by Children and a Grandma.

Although he had never been to Eimi’s market, her descriptions and an online search had led him here without difficulty.  Admittedly, he had expected more than a stretch of stalls lining either side of a cobbled street.  It seemed so quaint and sleepy, hardly worth her almost daily visits.

But this is what Eimi-san likes.  Koushiro approached the end stall, feeling oddly out of place.  The closest thing he had seen to an open air market was news stands and street food vendors pushed too close together in Tokyo, and those were flashier and louder.  Instead of a middle age man screaming into the passing crowd, he encountered an old woman dozing in a chair behind the cart.  Colorful vegetables were stacked in wooden crates tipped towards the street, a rainbow display of food.

Sweat beads that had formed during the walk merged into droplets that slid down his forehead.  Koushiro was so focused on finding food Eimi usually purchased at her market that he hadn’t considered what to buy.  He tried to think of what she had served him in the past, but quickly realized that, even with the ingredients, he wouldn’t know how to make it.

Chicken noodle soup.  They say that’s good for recovering, right?  But what goes into that?  Carrots?  Onions?  Perhaps a salad would be simpler…  He checked the lettuce stock and was alarmed to find that the old woman carried multiple varieties.  There’s more than one type of lettuce?!

So great was his panic that Koushiro failed to hear the approach of pattering feet.  When a high voice shouted, “Aegis!”, he jumped forward, and the crates rattled when he hit the cart.  The old woman stirred, straightened, and stared at her customer.

“Ah, good afternoon,” Koushiro said.  He tried to smile at the old woman, but most of his attention was the children swarming at knee level.  Three kids, a girl and two boys, had materialized, forming a fairy ring around Aegis.  Koushiro tensed when the girl threw her arms around the dog, but Aegis sat quietly and wagged his tail.  He relaxed, reassured that Aegis wouldn’t jump and accidentally knock the children over.  

The taller boy stood on tiptoe to see the old woman over the cart.  “Baba, look!  It’s Aegis!  Why do you have Aegis, mister?  Where is Eimi-oneesan?”

The old woman blinked, then leaned forward.  “Eh?  Is it Aegis, Minoru?  I can’t see over the cart.”

“It’s Aegis, it’s Aegis!” the girl cried.  “Pretty Aegis!  We missed you!  Good doggy!”  

Koushiro stepped back, unsure of how to behave.  His classes were usually offered to students pursuing higher degrees, and he hadn’t interacted with a child since he was one, himself.  Although they had different faces, these three seemed identical at a glance.  They painted an idyllic picture of children enjoying summer in the countryside: denim shorts, tee shirts, sneakers, tanned skin, messy hair, and the occasional dirt smudge.

The children continued to love on Aegis, which frankly looked like harassment from Koushiro’s perspective, but the old woman was focused on him.  Koushiro cleared his throat and said, “Um, pardon me, but do you know Anami Eimi?  I’m doing some shopping for her, but I’m afraid I forgot to request a list.”

She stared at him for a long moment before answering.  “Yes, we all know Eimi-chan.  She’s visited our market most days for years.  We were looking forward to seeing her again after her tour, but she never came.  We were going to send Minoru over in a few days to check on her if she didn’t stop by.  Is everything alright?”

“Um…”  Was it his imagination, or were the other vendors watching this exchange?  Koushiro gave himself a tiny shake and forced himself to look at the woman addressing him.  “I’m afraid Eimi-san took ill a few days ago.”

Minoru stopped mid-pat and whirled around.  “Eimi-oneesan is sick?!” he shouted.  Koushiro’s mouth twitched into a grimace that he quickly straightened. 

The old woman sighed and cupped her cheek.  “Oh, the poor dear.  There aren’t any colds going around…”

“What’s wrong?!” Minoru demanded.  “Will she get better?  Can I visit?”

“Um-”  If Koushiro inched back any further, he’d be standing in front of the next cart.  What was he supposed to say?  While Eimi would find Minoru’s concern endearing, Koushiro doubted that exposure to a loud, energetic child would be welcome at the moment.  “I’m afraid she isn’t well enough for visitors.  Eimi-san was in the hospital, but she’s discharged and on bed rest now.”

The boy’s dark eyes went wide and wild.  “Eimi-oneesan was in the hospital?!”

Why does he feel the need to parrot me at screaming volume?  “Y-yes, but she’s recovering.  She needs some quiet and good food, which is why I’m here.”  He smiled at the vendor, hoping he didn’t look as overwhelmed as he felt.  He must have failed, because she slid from her chair to her feet and walked around the cart.

While the children fussed, Minoru over Eimi and the younger two over Aegis, the old woman approached and tugged the handle of one of Koushiro’s cloth bags.  He surrendered it and watched as she packed it with vegetables.  “Like I said,” she began, “Eimi-chan has come here most days for years.  Minoru walks Aegis when she’s away on short trips.  We all know her…”

She placed a few carrots on top of the growing stack of vegetables, then paused.  Although this woman was a stranger, Koushiro was instantly wary of that mischievous smile.  “Or at least, we thought we did.  Who knew she had such a cute boyfriend?!  Good for her!  But really, making a young lady walk back and forth alone every day, goodness!  You’re supposed to escort her!  Honestly, we were all trying to set her up!  You had better take good care of her while she’s sick, understood?  My oldest grandson is quite handsome, you know!”

Koushiro lifted his hands and moved them in flustered motions, but he was too shocked to string together a vocal denial.  “Hey!” Minoru cried.  “I’m not the oldest!”

His grandmother tittered and patted the boy’s head.  “I’m afraid Eimi-chan is too old for you.  Akio is about the right age.”

“Nuh uh!  I’m ten!”  Minoru stomped his foot and jabbed his thumb against his chest.  “That’s double digits!  I bet Eimi-oneesan isn’t that much older!  Akio-oniichan is waaaaaaay too old!”

“Oh, my.”  The old woman grinned at Koushiro and shook her head.  “Regardless, it seems we old ladies don’t need to play matchmaker after all.”

Koushiro’s frozen tongue finally came unstuck.  “T-that’s not-  I’m afraid-  Eimi-san and I aren’t-  We’re friends.”  He assumed this would appease everyone, especially Minoru, but the boy stomped his foot more violently.

“What!  Why not!  If I were bigger, I would date Eimi-oneesan and take care of her!”

“Oh dear, oh dear.”  The old lady tipped her head to the side, but Koushiro recognized the glint of mischief in her eyes.  “Hush, Minoru, don’t scold the poor man.  I didn’t mean to put you on the spot, dear.  Here, please take these.”

Okay, so that’s it!  I’ll check in again next week!  Please cheer me on, and thanks for reading! 

[readbookywooks]

2. In my mind, President Snow should be viewed in front of marble pillars hung with oversized flags. It's jarring to see him surrounded by the ordinary objects in the room. Like taking the lid off a pot and finding a fanged viper instead of stew. What could he be doing here? My mind rushes back to the opening days of other Victory Tours. I remember seeing the winning tributes with their mentors and stylists. Even some high government officials have made appearances occasionally. But I have never seen President Snow. He attends celebrations in the Capitol. Period. If he's made the journey all the way from his city, it can only mean one thing. I'm in serious trouble. And if I am, so is my family. A shiver goes through me when I think of the proximity of my mother and sister to this man who despises me. Will always despise me. Because I outsmarted his sadistic Hunger Games, made the Capitol look foolish, and consequently undermined his control. All I was doing was trying to keep Peeta and myself alive. Any act of rebellion was purely coincidental. But when the Capitol decrees that only one tribute can live and you have the audacity to challenge it, I guess that's a rebellion in itself. My only defense was pretending that I was driven insane by a passionate love for Peeta. So we were both allowed to live. To be crowned victors. To go home and celebrate and wave good-bye to the cameras and be left alone. Until now. Perhaps it is the newness of the house or the shock of seeing him or the mutual understanding that he could have me killed in a second that makes me feel like the intruder. As if this is his home and I'm the uninvited party. So I don't welcome him or offer him a chair. I don't say anything. In fact, I treat him as if he's a real snake, the venomous kind. I stand motionless, my eyes locked on him, considering plans of retreat. "I think we'll make this whole situation a lot simpler by agreeing not to lie to each other," he says. "What do you think?" I think my tongue has frozen and speech will be impossible, so I surprise myself by answering back in a steady voice, "Yes, I think that would save time." President Snow smiles and I notice his lips for the first time. I'm expecting snake lips, which is to say none. But his are overly full, the skin stretched too tight. I have to wonder if his mouth has been altered to make him more appealing. If so, it was a waste of time and money, because he's not appealing at all. "My advisors were concerned you would be difficult, but you're not planning on being difficult, are you?" he asks. "No," I answer. "That's what I told them. I said any girl who goes to such lengths to preserve her life isn't going to be interested in throwing it away with both hands. And then there's her family to think of. Her mother, her sister, and all those ... cousins." By the way he lingers on the word "cousins," I can tell he knows that Gale and I don't share a family tree. Well, it's all on the table now. Maybe that's better. I don't do well with ambiguous threats. I'd much rather know the score. "Let's sit." President Snow takes a seat at the large desk of polished wood where Prim does her homework and my mother her budgets. Like our home, this is a place that he has no right, but ultimately every right, to occupy. I sit in front of the desk on one of the carved, straight-backed chairs. It's made for someone taller than I am, so only my toes rest on the ground. "I have a problem, Miss Everdeen," says President Snow. "A problem that began the moment you pulled out those poisonous berries in the arena." That was the moment when I guessed that if the Gamemakers had to choose between watching Peeta and me commit suicide - which would mean having no victor - and letting us both live, they would take the latter. "If the Head Gamemaker, Seneca Crane, had had any brains, he'd have blown you to dust right then. But he had an unfortunate sentimental streak. So here you are. Can you guess where he is?" he asks. I nod because, by the way he says it, it's clear that Seneca Crane has been executed. The smell of roses and blood has grown stronger now that only a desk separates us. There's a rose in President Snow's lapel, which at least suggests a source of the flower perfume, but it must be genetically enhanced, because no real rose reeks like that. As for the blood ... I don't know. "After that, there was nothing to do but let you play out your little scenario. And you were pretty good, too, with the love-crazed schoolgirl bit. The people in the Capitol were quite convinced. Unfortunately, not everyone in the districts fell for your act," he says. My face must register at least a flicker of bewilderment, because he addresses it. "This, of course, you don't know. You have no access to information about the mood in other districts. In several of them, however, people viewed your little trick with the berries as an act of defiance, not an act of love. And if a girl from District Twelve of all places can defy the Capitol and walk away unharmed, what is to stop them from doing the same?" he says. "What is to prevent, say, an uprising?" It takes a moment for his last sentence to sink in. Then the full weight of it hits me. "There have been uprisings?" I ask, both chilled and somewhat elated by the possibility. "Not yet. But they'll follow if the course of things doesn't change. And uprisings have been known to lead to revolution." President Snow rubs a spot over his left eyebrow, the very spot where I myself get headaches. "Do you have any idea what that would mean? How many people would die? What conditions those left would have to face? Whatever problems anyone may have with the Capitol, believe me when I say that if it released its grip on the districts for even a short time, the entire system would collapse." I'm taken aback by the directness and even the sincerity of this speech. As if his primary concern is the welfare of the citizens of Panem, when nothing could be further from the truth. I don't know how I dare to say the next words, but I do. "It must be very fragile, if a handful of berries can bring it down." There's a long pause while he examines me. Then he simply says, "It is fragile, but not in the way that you suppose." There's a knock at the door, and the Capitol man sticks his head in. "Her mother wants to know if you want tea." "I would. I would like tea," says the president. The door opens wider, and there stands my mother, holding a tray with a china tea set she brought to the Seam when she married. "Set it here, please." He places his book on the corner of the desk and pats the center. My mother sets the tray on the desk. It holds a china teapot and cups, cream and sugar, and a plate of cookies. They are beautifully iced with softly colored flowers. The frosting work can only be Peeta's. "What a welcome sight. You know, it's funny how often people forget that presidents need to eat, too," President Snow says charmingly. Well, it seems to relax my mother a bit, anyway. "Can I get you anything else? I can cook something more substantial if you're hungry," she offers. "No, this could not be more perfect. Thank you," he says, clearly dismissing her. My mother nods, shoots me a glance, and goes. President Snow pours tea for both of us and fills his with cream and sugar, then takes a long time stirring. I sense he has had his say and is waiting for me to respond. "I didn't mean to start any uprisings," I tell him. "I believe you. It doesn't matter. Your stylist turned out to be prophetic in his wardrobe choice. Katniss Everdeen, the girl who was on fire, you have provided a spark that, left unattended, may grow to an inferno that destroys Panem," he says. "Why don't you just kill me now?" I blurt out. "Publicly?" he asks. "That would only add fuel to the flames." "Arrange an accident, then," I say. "Who would buy it?" he asks. "Not you, if you were watching." "Then just tell me what you want me to do. I'll do it," I say. "If only it were that simple." He picks up one of the flowered cookies and examines it. "Lovely. Your mother made these?" "Peeta." And for the first time, I find I can't hold his gaze. I reach for my tea but set it back down when I hear the cup rattling against the saucer. To cover I quickly take a cookie. "Peeta. How is the love of your life?" he asks. "Good," I say. "At what point did he realize the exact degree of your indifference?" he asks, dipping his cookie in his tea. "I'm not indifferent," I say. "But perhaps not as taken with the young man as you would have the country believe," he says. "Who says I'm not?" I say. "I do," says the president. "And I wouldn't be here if I were the only person who had doubts. How's the handsome cousin?" "I don't know ... I don't ..." My revulsion at this conversation, at discussing my feelings for two of the people I care most about with President Snow, chokes me off. "Speak, Miss Everdeen. Him I can easily kill off if we don't come to a happy resolution," he says. "You aren't doing him a favor by disappearing into the woods with him each Sunday." If he knows this, what else does he know? And how does he know it? Many people could tell him that Gale and I spend our Sundays hunting. Don't we show up at the end of each one loaded down with game? Haven't we for years? The real question is what he thinks goes on in the woods beyond District 12. Surely they haven't been tracking us in there. Or have they? Could we have been followed? That seems impossible. At least by a person. Cameras? That never crossed my mind until this moment. The woods have always been our place of safety, our place beyond the reach of the Capitol, where we're free to say what we feel, be who we are. At least before the Games. If we've been watched since, what have they seen? Two people hunting, saying treasonous things against the Capitol, yes. But not two people in love, which seems to be President Snow's implication. We are safe on that charge. Unless ... unless ... It only happened once. It was fast and unexpected, but it did happen. After Peeta and I got home from the Games, it was several weeks before I saw Gale alone. First there were the obligatory celebrations. A banquet for the victors that only the most high-ranking people were invited to. A holiday for the whole district with free food and entertainers brought in from the Capitol. Parcel Day, the first of twelve, in which food packages were delivered to every person in the district. That was my favorite. To see all those hungry kids in the Seam running around, waving cans of applesauce, tins of meat, even candy. Back home, too big to carry, would be bags of grain, cans of oil. To know that once a month for a year they would all receive another parcel. That was one of the few times I actually felt good about winning the Games. So between the ceremonies and events and the reporters documenting my every move as I presided and thanked and kissed Peeta for the audience, I had no privacy at all. After a few weeks, things finally died down. The camera crews and reporters packed up and went home. Peeta and I assumed the cool relationship we've had ever since. My family settled into our house in the Victor's Village. The everyday life of District 12 - workers to the mines, kids to school - resumed its usual pace. I waited until I thought the coast was really clear, and then one Sunday, without telling anyone, I got up hours before dawn and took off for the woods. The weather was still warm enough that I didn't need a jacket. I packed along a bag filled with special foods, cold chicken and cheese and bakery bread and oranges. Down at my old house, I put on my hunting boots. As usual, the fence was not charged and it was simple to slip into the woods and retrieve my bow and arrows. I went to our place, Gale's and mine, where we had shared breakfast the morning of the reaping that sent me into the Games. I waited at least two hours. I'd begun to think that he'd given up on me in the weeks that had passed. Or that he no longer cared about me. Hated me even. And the idea of losing him forever, my best friend, the only person I'd ever trusted with my secrets, was so painful I couldn't stand it. Not on top of everything else that had happened. I could feel my eyes tearing up and my throat starting to close the way it does when I get upset. Then I looked up and there he was, ten feet away, just watching me. Without even thinking, I jumped up and threw my arms around him, making some weird sound that combined laughing, choking, and crying. He was holding me so tightly that I couldn't see his face, but it was a really long time before he let me go and then he didn't have much choice, because I'd gotten this unbelievably loud case of the hiccups and had to get a drink. We did what we always did that day. Ate breakfast. Hunted and fished and gathered. Talked about people in town. But not about us, his new life in the mines, my time in the arena. Just about other things. By the time we were at the hole in the fence that's nearest the Hob, I think I really believed that things could be the same. That we could go on as we always had. I'd given all the game to Gale to trade since we had so much food now. I told him I'd skip the Hob, even though I was looking forward to going there, because my mother and sister didn't even know I'd gone hunting and they'd be wondering where I was. Then suddenly, as I was suggesting I take over the daily snare run, he took my face in his hands and kissed me. I was completely unprepared. You would think that after all the hours I'd spent with Gale - watching him talk and laugh and frown - that I would know all there was to know about his lips. But I hadn't imagined how warm they would feel pressed against my own. Or how those hands, which could set the most intricate of snares, could as easily entrap me. I think I made some sort of noise in the back of my throat, and I vaguely remember my fingers, curled tightly closed, resting on his chest. Then he let go and said, "I had to do that. At least once." And he was gone. Despite the fact that the sun was setting and my family would be worried, I sat by a tree next to the fence. I tried to decide how I felt about the kiss, if I had liked it or resented it, but all I really remembered was the pressure of Gale's lips and the scent of the oranges that still lingered on his skin. It was pointless comparing it with the many kisses I'd exchanged with Peeta. I still hadn't figured out if any of those counted. Finally I went home. That week I managed the snares and dropped off the meat with Hazelle. But I didn't see Gale until Sunday. I had this whole speech worked out, about how I didn't want a boyfriend and never planned on marrying, but I didn't end up using it. Gale acted as if the kiss had never happened. Maybe he was waiting for me to say something. Or kiss him back. Instead I just pretended it had never happened, either. But it had. Gale had shattered some invisible barrier between us and, with it, any hope I had of resuming our old, uncomplicated friendship. Whatever I pretended, I could never look at his lips in quite the same way. This all flashes through my head in an instant as President Snow's eyes bore into me on the heels of his threat to kill Gale. How stupid I've been to think the Capitol would just ignore me once I'd returned home! Maybe I didn't know about the potential uprisings. But I knew they were angry with me. Instead of acting with the extreme caution the situation called for, what have I done? From the president's point of view, I've ignored Peeta and flaunted my preference for Gale's company before the whole district. And by doing so made it clear I was, in fact, mocking the Capitol. Now I've endangered Gale and his family and my family and Peeta, too, by my carelessness. "Please don't hurt Gale," I whisper. "He's just my friend. He's been my friend for years. That's all that's between us. Besides, everyone thinks we're cousins now." "I'm only interested in how it affects your dynamic with Peeta, thereby affecting the mood in the districts," he says. "It will be the same on the tour. I'll be in love with him just as I was," I say. "Just as you are," corrects President Snow. "Just as I am," I confirm. "Only you'll have to do even better if the uprisings are to be averted," he says. "This tour will be your only chance to turn things around." "I know. I will. I'll convince everyone in the districts that I wasn't defying the Capitol, that I was crazy with love," I say. President Snow rises and dabs his puffy lips with a napkin. "Aim higher in case you fall short." "What do you mean? How can I aim higher?" I ask. "Convince me" he says. He drops the napkin and retrieves his book. I don't watch him as he heads for the door, so I flinch when he whispers in my ear. "By the way, I know about the kiss." Then the door clicks shut behind him.